The timer dinged just as I was finishing my second set of lines. I tried to write “to do so” quickly, but he was suddenly beside me and “Put the pen down,” he said.
He almost sounded like he was amused, but when I quickly glanced up, he was quite serious. The words on my lips, “But I…” died away.
“Yes, Sir,” I said.
Looking over my shoulder, he said, “Those are acceptable. I’m going to set the timer again – this time, when it rings, drop the pen immediately and bring the journal to me. Questions?”
“No, Sir,” I said, and realized that I had started calling him Sir without even thinking about it.
It was a tortuous process. “I will follow directions. I will spread my ass cheeks wide when told to do so.” I wrote it over and over, careful with my penmanship, attentive so I didn’t write a word wrong. Each time I wrote it, I could see myself standing in front of him, obeying him.
Every 5 minutes the timer would ring, I’d stop in mid-word and carry the book to him. He showed me how to present it to him, head bowed, holding it out for his approval. Twice, I had to redo a set for having made a mistake.
The process was slow and tedious, but deep inside me, some part of me was feeling very small. Very chastened. And very submissive.
When I had presented the journal for the final time, he smiled. “Good girl,” he said. “Now read it to me.”
Blushing, voice shaking, I began. “I will follow directions. I will – I will spread my – my ass cheeks wide when told to do so.”
I got through the first set and he stopped me. “No,” he said, “Start over. Say it like you mean it. I’d like to hear some enthusiasm.”
His gaze pinned me, and he went on. “If you’re going to do this, put your energy and effort into doing it well, girl. Or don’t do it at all.” I was flustered by the look in his eyes. He seemed almost scornful. I flushed, embarrassed, and even more embarrassed to realize that I was aroused. A quick image of me on my knees in front of him..
But he went on. “I don’t train subs who don’t want to be trained. So try it again. This time, see if you can convince me you mean it.”
I did it again three times before he was satisfied with the level of sincerity in my voice. Then he made me read all ten sets aloud. I worked up a nice frenzy of sincerity. By the tenth set of lines, I felt like I was practically begging him to tell me to do it.
He smiled when I had finished. “There ya go,” he said. “That was convincing. Now we can do this inspection. Turn around, open your legs and spread your ass cheeks.”
I didn’t let myself hesitate or think – I obeyed as quickly as I could. And if there was a deep humiliation in standing there exposing myself like that, there was also pleasure, my pussy wet and throbbing. When his hands touched my cheeks, kneading them, caressing, I almost moaned.
“Lean forward just a little bit,” he said, “There ya go, we don’t want you to fall over, but that gives me better access.”
“Better access.” My heart pounded. His fingers traced the crevice between my cheeks, circled the puckered entrance, and stopped. I whimpered, not wanting him to stop, not wanting him to go on. “Have you been used here before?” he asked. “Fucked here?”
“No,” I replied, my voice shaky again, “No, Sir.”
“I didn’t think so,” he said. “You’re very tight, we’ll have to widen this entrance.” I shivered, but I couldn’t tell if I was terrified or thrilled. I had read so many books, and thought that I wanted this, but now I was terrified.
“Have you been spanked before?”
“A – a couple of times,” I answered. One hand were still exploring my backside, without actually penetrating me, but I was dreadfully nervous.
“Spanked with what?” he asked.
“With – with his hand,” I said.
“Did it hurt?” he asked.
“A little bit – it, mostly it felt good,” I said, feeling very brave for admitting it.
With one finger pressing gently at my rear entrance, he moved his other hand forward and penetrated my wet pussy. I cried out. He had entered me without any trouble, and he pressed another finger inside me now. I felt helpless, caught between the fingers deep inside me and the finger poised as if he would penetrate me behind as well. I was still holding my ass cheeks open and trying to stand still but I wanted to impale myself more deeply on the fingers in my pussy.
“How does that feel?” he asked, but I couldn’t answer, I was overwhelmed with sensations. Fear and longing and lust all jumbled together, but I couldn’t name them.
He laughed. “Let’s start here,” wiggling the fingers pressed deep inside me. “How does that feel?”