He reaches in his tool box.  “These are nipple clamps,” He says, holding them out like Exhibit A.  

Adjustable nipple clamps with spring action

“Here,” he hands them to me, “Look at them.  Take your time.  Really get to know them.”  The chain makes a little noise as it pools in my hand, and that sends shivers through me – shivers of – anticipation?  fear? delight? 

i’m looking at them but i’m distracted by the cloud of wondering what they’re going to feel like.  

“See,” He says, “They’re adjustable.  You can make them so loose they’ll barely stay on,” He takes one back, demonstrates turning the little screw, “Or…”  and i watch the opening in the clamp disappear, “excrutiatingly tight.”  His voice is calm, just describing.

i can barely breathe. 

He takes the clips back.  “Of course, you don’t even need real nipple clamps,” He says.  “A clothespin, a couple of clothespins will  work just as well.” 

“Oh,” I gasp, “That would hurt!”

“Your point?” He says. 

Then, “Where do you keep your clothespins?”

“i – i don’t think i have any,” i say, hoping that’s true.

“Ok,” He says.  “No problem.  A clothes hanger will work too.”  My eyes widen, and he nods, “You know, the kind you hang pants on.  Here, I bet you’ve got one in your closet.”

If you were expecting one of my usual training stories, I apologize. Of course my training school stories are fantasy. They are a “One-Handed Read.” BUST magazine defines that as: meant to be enjoyed in the privacy of your own boudoir, with perhaps a toy or two to assist in the fun—consider it “cliterature.”

My one handed reads are generally a bit beyond what I’d actually do in real life. For example, I have no interest in being used by more than one man in real life. I know some people do, it’s just not a kink of mine. But in fantasy, I can really appreciate the idea.

In real life, training for a submissive can look very different.

Getting back to that hanger He was talking about…  He had me bring Him one from the closet, just an ordinary skirt hanger with the spring clips, except He said it had to be one that He could move the clips back and forth on the little bar.   Cause, you know, He had to be able to adjust how far apart they were so they’d fit on my nipples. 

O, my. 

He didn’t even use them that night.  The next day, He called and told me that i had to spend 5 minutes looking at the hanger and touching it, and then write about what it was like.  Here’s what i wrote:

“Dear Sir,

As you instructed, I examined the hanger for 5 minutes.  Here are my thoughts: 

“I can’t believe I’m really doing this.  I can’t believe doing this can make me wet.  Do I just get wet no matter what he says?  It’s a nice enough hanger.  There’s the clips.”  I moved the clips up and down several times.  I played with the part that goes on the closet rod a little, spinning it round and round.  “I don’t think he could really put these on my nipples.  I think it might, like amputate them.  That would be sad.”  Then I just began to get pictures of memories – of the other night, in bed, the hangar, holding the clips near my nipples, thinking about you saying that you’d make me hold them open over my nipples, then other things from that night, your hands, the mark of your hands on my ass, and all the time, I’m looking at the hanger, so now when I look at the hanger it’s going to turn me on.  “OMG, he’s frigging eroticizing the hanger,” I say to myself.  My body tingles.  Especially my nipples.  I touch my nipples with the steel rod of the hanger (through my clothes.)  I feel myself getting wetter.  I think some of the same thoughts I had earlier over again.  

Finally, five minutes are up and I start writing this.  Writing this turns me on too.”

Amazingly, remembering that still turns me on. Just like the memory of a flogger stroking my inner thighs gently can make me shiver with pleasure. Eroticizing the object…

He had me put the hanger in its own designated spot in my closet, it wasn’t supposed to mix with my other hangers.  Really.  So when i’d see it, i’d think about – well, you know. 

And I did think about it. I kept that hanger there for a long time, and even now, every once in a while, when I see that kind of hangar, I remember those times and smile.