Training a slave- part two

She hadn’t been entirely wrong though, I considered, she would begin to appreciate her new role eventually. She would gain immense pleasure form pleasing me.

But there was a great deal of painful training to undergo before I could allow her to enjoy herself like that, and my plans for this afternoon were no exception.

Slipping my keys and wallet into my jacket pocket I left the house, quickly striding the short walk to my car.

I was quite looking forward seeing Chris again.

She was a nurse, a good nurse.

I say was, because she no longer worked for the NHS.

After an unpleasant incident, she had been summoned to a staff tribunal, and although nothing had been proved, it was universally felt by her superiors that she had irrevocably ‘blotted her copy book’ and she was pressured to leave.
It was fortunate that her management wasn’t as familiar with the facts as I was, or she would certainly have been in a great deal more trouble.

It would be wrong to say I liked Chris; she frightened me too much for me ever to feel truly comfortable with her, more that I felt fascinated by her. We all have our own little idiosyncrasies, and I was no exception. But there was ultimately a point to what I was doing. The fact that she seemed to enjoy inflicting pain for pains sake intrigued me. I don’t think it ever gave her any sexual fulfilment, she was simply sadistic.
It is difficult for me to say anymore without getting her into deep trouble, so suffice to say, she had an unnaturally vicious streak down her a mile wide that made her perfect for my purpose
It was for this reason that I had arranged to meet her.
The pub was bustling with office workers when I reached my destination, young ladies in tight short skirts and crippling high heels. Their false laughter and mixed perfumes filled the smoky atmosphere as they jostled for position on the mating hierarchy, each trying unconsciously in their own way to catch the eye of one of the painfully casual, be-suited clerks at the bar, and then looking away indignantly if they succeeded in attracting their attention
Feigning disinterest, the overly ambitious businessmen in the making leant so far back over the bar as to be comical, desperate in their attempt to look disinterested and nonchalant.
As I watched I couldn’t help but think how much less complicated a life of slavery must be, freed from the obligations these people felt to exhibit themselves for selection.
Debbie had no need to maintain this charade; any responsibility or pressure that had existed in the outside world had been stripped from her with the clothes from her back.
She had no ‘image’ to maintain. She had no heels or supporting straps or constricting bands with which to mould her body into the shape that society dictated.
She led a truthful existence, without any external trapping s to deceive the onlooker, her only purpose in life being to do her Masters bidding.

I made my way through the noisy rabble to find Chris already seated at the far end of the lounge, halfway through her first drink.
She got up as I approached. Smiling broadly.
Tall and lithe, and not altogether un-attractive, it was difficult to believe that this harmless looking woman could have been the perpetrator of such needlessly painful acts during her last period of employment. Shuddering inwardly at the thought, I smiled back, kissing her lightly on the cheek before making my way to the bar to buy our drinks.
“So you finally did it,” she remarked, looking at me over the rim of her Vodka.
I nodded; Id filled her in with the details of my activities over the phone.
I knew I could trust her to be discreet. I knew enough about her past to ensure she would spend a the rest of her life in jail should I ever feel the need to ‘spill the beans’
I turned the conversation briskly to the matter in hand.
“What do you think Chris, is it practical?” I asked expectantly.
“Certainly” she smiled, “anything’s possible, you of all people should know that” she took another sip of her drink,
“Even with anaesthetic its likely to be extremely painful though, probably for a week or two at least”
I nodded; Id expected that, though I felt a twinge of pity for Debbie, if Chris said it was going to be painful, she meant it.
“Have you bought the tool?” she inquired, a glint in her eye and a half smile on her face,
Again I nodded. “Well, what are we waiting for “ she asked abruptly, finishing her vodka and grimacing at the bitter taste before making swiftly for the exit door. I hurriedly bolted my own drink and caught up with her.
Half an hour later, we were back at my house, Chris carrying a handbag filled with the equipment she required.
She stopped me just at the top of the stairs to the cellar
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” she asked, “Its permanent you know, once its done you can’t undo it”
“I know” I replied, eager to get the operation under way.

I led the way down the stairs and turned at the bottom in time to see Chris’s face light up at the sight of Debbie hanging exactly as I had left her, looking only marginally recovered from the ordeal she had undergone three hours ago.
Despite the continuing pain in her buttocks, I saw Debbie writhe in embarrassment momentarily under our gaze, before remembering her position and standing stock still in order that my guest might continue her examination
Her red eyes opened wider however, as Chris pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and knelt down to closer examine her shaven, exposed sex.
Delicately pulling back the folds of tender pink flesh she quickly exposed the clitoris beneath, grasping it with her forefinger and thumb and tugging experimentally.
Debbie gasped at the sharp, warning pain this sent surging through her pelvis.
“Should be straight forward”, commented Chris airily “the clitoris is quite well pronounce anyway so I’ve got reasonable target to go at. We’ll start with the slightly easier nipples though, have you got the tool?”
Out off my jacket I pulled the device she had asked for, causing Debbie to begin breathing heavily, unsure as to its use, but worried all the same.

I had been to my local hardware shop that morning and bought a leather punch.

Designed for putting steel eyelets in leather, it was pre-loaded with a stainless steel eye, and the material placed between its jaws, before squeezing the handles firmly together.
A small sharp cutter punctured the hide and pushed a steel sleeve through the resulting hole. It was met on the other side by its mate and the whole thing was squeezed tightly together, leaving a reinforced metal lined opening of about an eighth of an inch.
Designed for creating lace holes in shoes, it was perfect for my plan.
I could see that Debbie wasn’t as appreciative of the mechanics of my machine as I demonstrated it to Chris on one of the fronds of a leather thonged whip
The relation between it and her clitoris and nipples started to become terrifyingly apparent.
Her mind desperately searched for a way to prevent the inevitable pain and damage we were about to inflict upon her, knowing that if she protested she was likely not only to have the operation done anyway but also be whipped soundly for her reluctance to submit herself for the piercing. Tears began to appear in her eyes for the umpteenth time that day and she began to try to mentally prepare herself for whatever torment might be coming.
Noticing Debbie’s involuntary movements, Chris’s face took on a worried expression.
“That could be a problem” she commented, pushing her ginger fringe away from her face,
“I need her pelvis absolutely fixed in order to site this ring properly,
Its not as important for her to be still when I pierce her nipples, but one slip either way down there”, she motioned towards Debbie's smooth mound with her head, “could ruin the whole thing. Her natural instinct is going to be to pull away”
I thought quickly. What could I use to hold her pelvis motionless?
Suddenly, I remembered something I’d seen in the back garden. It was a basketball practice net, a long smooth solid steel pole, about an inch and a half in diameter, mounted in a large flat base plate. It would need modifying, but it was exactly what we needed.
I quickly found my tape measure, hacksaw and file in my toolbox and after measuring the distance between the base of Debbie’s stomach to the concrete floor we headed out to the yard.