by Sharon
The Training Of Sharon J.
Sharon J. was, at 31, the owner of her own small but highly successful cosmetics company. She was 5’ 7”, with long auburn hair, blue eyes, 135 pounds, measurements 38D, 32, 36. She wore makeup tastefully. She wore business suits, but always with pants. She never liked skirts or dresses. On the rare occasions on which her friends saw her in dresses or skirts they told her how beautiful her legs were, but she always preferred pants. She dated sparingly, never having much time or inclination for a man. She was known as a tough but fair boss. She was proudest of never having cried since she turned 12. After a long workday she turned her key in the lock of her apartment and entered. Waiting inside her apartment, a man grabbed her arms from behind. Before she could cry out another man shoved a handkerchief with chloroform over her nose and mouth. Her feeling of panic made her hyperventilate. She saw and felt her world spin, then succumbed to the fumes.
Sharon awakened spread-eagled on a table, her ankles and wrists attached to metal constraints. She was neither blindfolded nor gagged but she was naked. Straining her neck, she looked up at him. He was a white-haired man, slightly heavyset, in his fifties. He was dressed in a solid blue business suit and a turtleneck sweater.
“Hello, Sharon. Please do not be afraid. If you answer all my questions honestly I will not harm you. You can see the wires from your ankle and wrist constraints are attached to this machine. It is a lie detector. If you answer any of my questions less than truthfully an electric shock will go through your body. Do you understand?”
Sharon nodded, trembling slightly.
“Say ‘Yes, Master.’” He commanded.
“Yes, Master,” she softly replied.
He asked Sharon many personal questions, her name, all about her family, when she felt happiest, most afraid, most embarrassed and so forth.
When he asked her which scared her more, spiders or snakes, she paused then answered, “snakes.”
She felt the surge go through her whole body. Her mouth opened wide but no scream would come out. It lasted only four seconds but the pain was intense. She writhed and shivered and panted, her breasts quivering.
He smiled, “Do you know what mistake you just made, Sharon? You made the mistake of thinking you have some control over what happens to you here. You have no more control. You shall never know my name, but I am your Master. You are, from now on until your life ends, my little slavegirl, my slut, my whore. Do you understand?”
From a dry throat Sharon heard her words, “Yes, Master.”
After asking her a few more questions he put a gun in his right hand. He touched a switch and Sharon felt her restraints snap off. He commanded her to get up and led to down a hallway to a cell. The cell
door was made of iron bars, with a typical metal lock. Inside the cell were a cot, a commode, a sink and a cup.
The Master closed the cell door behind her, “If you scream or try to escape you will be severely beaten. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” Sharon almost choked on her words.
After he left she spent 36 hours alone in the cell, temperature 69 degrees, with no clothes or blankets. She exercised and rubbed her body to keep warm. She had plenty of water but no food. After the 36 hours were up she saw her Master coming down the hall with a delicious meal in his left hand, gun in his right. He was dressed in a plaid shirt and dockers. He set the meal down on the floor.
“This food can be yours, my love, but,” he cupped his groin softly with his left hand, “you must kneel before me and suck me off. If you decline my offer you will not be punished in any way, but you will not have the food.”
She looked at him, her head trembling and her eyes filled with fear.
“Well, what will it be?”
She hesitated then said, “I’ll have the food.”
He ordered her to turn around and, after opening the cell door, handcuffed her behind her back. He forced her to her knees, then dropped his pants. He thrust his penis into her mouth. Holding the gun in his right hand, he softly cupped his left hand behind her head. He stroked her hair gently.
She was no virgin but had never done this before. She felt emotion overwhelming her. She wanted to please him so she would not be harmed. She was repulsed, yet excited. She felt her heart pound like a hammer. She was not used to being frightened or nervous. After several minutes of licking and sucking from her, he came. She almost gagged, but forced herself to swallow his semen. He took off her handcuffs, left the food and utensils in her cell and closed the door.
She felt numb, like something inside her had broken or snapped.
An hour later he came back down the hallway carrying sheets, blankets and a pillow.
Looking into the cell he commanded, “Kneel. Look directly into my eyes.”
She obeyed promptly.
“From this moment on you are no longer Sharon. Your old life is behind you forever. You are Leeta.” He paused, “What is your name, my little slavegirl?”
“I am Leeta, Master,” she answered weakly.
He smiled at her and walked down the hall. She arranged the sheets, blankets and pillow on the cot. With the sheets and blankets over her she was plenty warm, but she found that she could not stop shivering or crying. Sleep came to her much faster than she expected.
PART 2
Leeta was in her Master’s bedroom. She was wearing a pink and white teddy and panties and white socks with frills like little girls wear. Her only restraint was that her hands were handcuffed in front of her. Her Master wore silk purple pajamas. She had figured for some time now that he wasn’t a bad looking man, and could probably find a woman, but preferred S&M and having a complete slave. Inside the bedroom were a large bed, a chest of drawers, a closet, a chair and a desk.
Her Master sat her in the chair and told her to watch. He calmly made a two-story house of cards with playing cards on the desk.
“Leeta, my little slavegirl, will you submit to my will?”
“Yes, Master, forever and ever,” she answered.
“Will you obey me?”
“Yes, Master.”
He commanded her to make a house of cards as he had just done. She tried but her hands were shaking too badly and perspiration made her fingers too slippery.
“You have failed me,” he hissed, “You have failed to obey me.” She swallowed hard and felt her knees start to shiver. He pulled her by the hair and made her kneel in a corner of the room, facing the wall. He stuck the end of his whip in front of her face.
“Kiss the whip,” he commanded.
She did so, feeling tears stream down her face.
“Do you think you deserve punishment?” he asked.
“Yes, Master, I’m very sorry, Master. I tried . . .”
“Silence!” he interrupted her, “You will be whipped twelve times. In between strokes you will say ‘I worship you, Master.’ If you fail to say this then the count of the strokes goes back to one again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” she said in between sobs.
He lifted her teddy and pulled down her panties. The first eight strokes were to her back, the next two to the back of her thighs, the last two to her buttocks. He told her she was going to be left alone to think about what she had done for a while and how she had failed to obey him. For fifteen minutes she knelt with her head leaning against the wall, sobbing softly. Then he came over and gently held her, putting her head under his chin, stroking her shoulder softly and kissing her tenderly. She cried a little more loudly and tried to speak but couldn’t.
“I love you, my pretty little slavegirl. Don’t ever forget how much I love you.” He pulled off her panties and started rubbing her vaginal area. When he felt her body had responded sufficiently, he stuck his hand inside her and made a fist. She cried out as her body stiffened. She shut her eyes and bit her lower lip.
The next day he made her walk the treadmill. He always forced her to do this in lingerie and high-heeled shoes. She was handcuffed in back and could not touch the handrail of the treadmill. As she walked he slowly increased the speed and inclination of the treadmill. If she fell off before fifteen minutes were up she was whipped or otherwise punished. She almost always fell off. He fed her so that her weight never got over 120. If somehow it did get over that, he promptly gave her an emetic and an enema, despite her pleadings. She figured it was not that he found her that much more attractive at a lower weight; it was his way of helping to keep her physically weak. In red corset, panties, stockings and high heels, Leeta could tell by the timer on the treadmill she had lasted over 13 minutes. The Master increased the speed and inclination one last time. She stumbled and fell to the floor. She was despondent. She really thought she would last the fifteen minutes this time. She sobbed, her lo
The Master stroked her cheeks softly and looked into her eyes, “Do you know what time it is?”
She swallowed and whispered, “It’s time for punishment.”
He knelt her against the wall and took off her panties. He spanked her twenty times hard with his right hand. Her breathing finally calmed, thinking her punishment was over. Then he entered her. She gasped. This was the first time he had done this. He had fisted her, forced her to perform oral sex, beaten and even tortured her a bit, but never had anal sex before. The pain was intense. He put his arms around her waist and squeezed. She thought for sure she would pass out. Then she hoped that she would, but she didn’t. Finally he came inside her. Her body was drenched with sweat and shivered all over. The corset, normally tight, felt like a second skin over her sweating breasts. Her high-heeled red sandal shoes also felt tighter than ever.
Slowly and gently he took her clothing off her, relieving her of the pain of its tightness. He carried her to the tub and bathed her, whispering in her ear periodically how pretty she was and how much he loved her. He took a long time shampooing her beautiful long dark auburn hair. He rubbed soap on her breasts many times.
As the tub water drained she heard herself saying, “Thank you, Master.” He dried her off and forced her to kiss his feet for several minutes.
Leeta thought back to when she was Sharon, a successful owner of her own company. The Master’s men had kidnapped her. She was his sex slave, now and forever. She knew better than to try to escape, and never considered suicide. She figured her best bet was to try her hardest to please him, knowing this would make the pain much less. She found herself really wanting to please him deep inside.
PART 3
Leeta the slavegirl, formerly known as Sharon, lay on the basement floor wearing only a cream-colored babydoll. Her only restraints were the handcuffs on her ankles. Her Master smiled broadly as he spoke.
“You know, Leeta, you’re such a wonderful little slavegirl I’ve done you an injustice keeping you all to myself. But,” he said as stroked her cheek, “I could never bear to share you with another man. Good news, though! We have a visitor.”
Down the basement stairs walked a woman, at least six feet tall in her high-heeled leather boots. She was thin but well-bosomed. Her hair was black, in a long braid. Her entire outfit was black leather. She carried a whip and a small black box. She walked in an arrogant manner.
Leeta’s Master ran to her and kissed her cheek, “Domina, it’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, old friend,” her voice was low but not husky, “This must be the little slavegirl Leeta I’ve heard so much about. Is she well-trained?”
“See for yourself,” the Master smiled.
Domina forced Leeta to give her “ponyrides” around the basement, Domina riding Leeta, whipping her buttocks gently from time to time.
“Faster, faster,” Domina cried loudly. Finally she grabbed Leeta’s right thigh with her right hand and brought Leeta down to the concrete basement floor headfirst.
“That wasn’t very fast at all,” Domina spoke in a singsong manner, “You’re not a very good slavegirl after all and will have to be punished for not listening.” Domina whipped off her black leather panties and forced Leeta to perform oral sex on her for several minutes. Leeta’s tongue would no longer stretch from her mouth after a while. Domina grabbed Leeta’s forearms in her hands. She pulled Leeta off of her, then rammed her knee into Leeta’s stomach.
“That was disappointing, too, honey,” Domina shook her head, “and I had heard such wonderful things about you. You’re a pretty little chippie, though. Tell you what, you can make it up to me,” Domina discarded her black leather bra, “kiss and lick my breasts.”
Leeta did so obediently, becoming more passionate about it at Domina’s urging. After several minutes Domina sat Leeta against a wall, in a spot in which the Master had placed a couple towels.
“You are a good little slavegirl after all!” Domina sounded pleased, “We have a special treat for you.”
As the Master handcuffed Leeta’s hands behind her with a second set of cuffs, Domina put her outfit back on and opened the black box. Crawling out of the box and into Domina’s hand was a tarantula. Leeta gasped.
Her Master knew she had a special fear of spiders. As Domina walked toward her Leeta wet herself. She couldn’t stop. Part of the towels became drenched with urine. Leeta kept opening and closing her mouth but couldn’t speak. She closed her eyes but reopened them when Domina pulled her long auburn hair. In her black-leather-gloved hand only a few inches from Leeta’s face Domina held the tarantula.
“Should we let it bite her?” Domina asked Leeta’s Master.
He stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. After thirty seconds he answered, “No, we better not, she might get some disease.” The two of them laughed uproariously as Domina put the spider back into the box.
Leeta felt lightheaded and dizzy, like she would faint. The room was spinning. Taking the handcuffs off her ankles, her Master forced Leeta in and out of the shower. Just before her forced her out he set the water hot enough to burn her a little. She screamed. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to kneel in a corner of the basement, dripping wet. With dry towels slowly and forcefully Domina dried off Leeta, who was sobbing and shivering.
While the Master and Domina talked, the Master forced Leeta to write 500 times on notebook paper, “I peed on the floor like a bad little girl.” He told her that if he thought the handwriting were too poor on any line he would force her to do it over again. When Leeta finished she put down the paper and slumped against the basement wall. Domina and her Master kissed on the lips, a long and luxurious kiss.
“Time to go, old friend,” Domina finally said.
“Would you like to visit Leeta again?” the Master smiled.
“She was a disappointment in some ways,” Domina answered smirking, looking straight at Leeta, “but watching her sob and shiver made up for it. How about it, hon, would you like me to visit again?”
Leeta swallowed and answered softly, “Whatever is the Master’s will.”
Domina walked up the steps, carrying her whip and the black box with the tarantula.
As Domina closed the basement door the Master asked Leeta, “Did you enjoy your evening?”
“Please no more spiders, Master,” Leeta whimpered, “I’ll say anything you want, do anything you want, be anything you want. Please no more spiders.”
“Are you making a request or humbly, helplessly begging?” the Master whispered.
“I beg of you, Milord,” Leeta whispered as the Master stroked her hair.
“Then I’ll consider it,” he replied, kissing her cheeks forcefully and repeatedly.