The Training

The Seduction-2

I stepped back, took one of her hands in both of mine. “Come on in, Heather,” I said. “Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to, baby.”

That got her. She acted as if she had just awakened from a long sleep, eyes blinking. They grew ever wider as she crossed over the threshold. I usually made no secret about my kinky interests, but I didn’t broadcast about it either most times. Spread throughout were the usual tasteful chairs, couches, tables, lamps and artworks, but in my domain, in my home, there were other things that also provided hints as to my lifestyle. And little Heather got an eyeful.

The loft was a converted two story, with half of the old ceiling taken out and stairs added for the upper level. From my bedroom space upstairs I could lean on the chest high wall and look down on the huge open space, especially during parties, and watch all the slaves writhe in torture. In one far corner on the right, opposite the stairs stood a whipping post; I hadn’t tucked everything away from the last girl I had writhing there, and ropes and cuffs still hung from shiny hooks. Near the center of the floor was an X-frame. Right now it stood upright, but it also could tilt all the way back parallel to the floor and hide as a support for a table top or remove the table and it became a convenient rape rack. Along the wall under the stairs was my equipment storage, all my whips, hoods, cuffs, ropes and whatever else I needed hung neatly from drilled in hooks, all easily covered up with a specially made false closet cover. Over to the left, near the kitchen/breakfast nook area was a wardrobe closet that held costumes for different scenes while next to that was a sturdy bondage pole that allowed me to taunt a bad slave with some tasty food while I ate. But my favorite, my all time prized possession, that I never tried to hide, was the cage. Right now it stood on the floor, halfway between the door and tall windows, the downstairs bathroom just a few yards to the left. Its round base provided good stability, but wouldn’t allow anyone to lie down and stretch out. The painted black and red bars were strong and spaced narrow enough so that no one could just bend them and slip out. But besides that a heavy duty electrical winch was installed overhead.

Sometimes, while I worked at my desk in my room upstairs or sat up in bed reading it was nice to gaze across the empty space at whatever punished slave occupied the cage as they swung over the floor far below. Usually, I took the slave to bed, but sometimes I got a SAM that just didn’t know when to quit. So I threw them in the cage, hoisted it to the same level as my bedroom and left them there all night. It sure was a nice feeling, knowing they were just mere feet away, swinging in limbo. Depending on the situation I’d leave them untied so that they could carefully lower themselves to the cage floor in the dark and sleep. Often times I’d wake up and find them still exhausted, their arms and legs dangling in space. But usually I tied them up, arms overhead or behind their backs. Of course, no matter what, they always got a locked on gag. Listening to terrified shrieks was nice the higher they climbed, but after all, I did need to get my sleep. And in the dark the mewlings of a gagged slave are so soothing.

Speaking of soothing, I had to make sure Heather felt at ease – at least for right now. I wrapped an arm around hers, drew her further into my home. “So...What do you think?”

Heather kept looking up, down, all around. “Oh...my...god.”

“That’s good, for a start,” I said. I don’t think Heather heard me, her eyes had settled on the cage.

I led her over there; gently guided her inside, shut the swinging bars, but didn’t lock it. “See, you can get out anytime.”

Trembling fingers wrapped around the bars and Heather said in a small voice, “But then it’s not really a cage, is it?”

My eyebrows shot up. Oh ho! “No. No, it’s not,” I said, and shoved the latch bar across the front with a clang. I backed up to the equipment wall and retrieved a sturdy, golden lock and put it to use. The lock’s click echoed.

“Now it’s a cage,” I said. While Heather inspected her new, shrunken world, I paced around the cage. Oh, she was hot. That red hair when grown out would seem like a flame, the pale skin would mark so well, the delicious curves of her hips, the thin wrists and perky breasts that basically screamed out for restraint and torture. Already my p***y ran hot at the idea of her crawling to my commands. We weren’t there yet, but we sure were headed in that direction. But there was one last test.

“Do you want to get out?” I said from behind her.

Heather turned around. Her eyes looked deep into mine. “Yes. Please.”

Through a sheer act of will I forced myself to remain calm, to keep my hand from quivering in excitement as I reached through the bars and cupped her warm, flushed cheek in my palm. “You can come out, baby. After you take off your clothes.”

Heather’s eyes widened, but not that much. Still, she drew back what little distance she could before bumping up against the bars behind her.

“That’s the price,” I said. I returned to the equipment wall, grabbed a cat o’ nine tails and the lock’s key. “Your clothes for this key.” I held it up, draped it by its chain around my neck and allowed it to nestle between my breasts.

Heather swallowed, lowered her eyes. She kicked off her shoes and, with her tiny feet, pushed them through the bars.

“So far, so good,” I said and twisted the cat’s blades to form a tight braid.

Bang! They hit right across the bars. “Hurry up! I haven’t got all night.”

Heather screeched when the cat impacted the bars, but her hands frantically pulled her halter’s top string at the base of her neck. The halter fell away and revealed a strapless bra.

“Move!” Bang! Another hit, this one nearer her face and Heather shrank back. “I said move! Let me see those titties!”

Heather scrambled to comply, hands reached up to the center of her freckled back and the bra fell away to land near the shoes. Modesty took over and Heather tried to cover up those perky breasts.

“No!” I said. “I said I want to see them. And take off those pants.”

Heather hesitated, just the briefest moment, but when I readied the cat for another strike her hands flew to the pant’s button and zipper. She wriggled out of them, then her white, cotton hip briefs too. Before she could kick them out of the cage I reached in, grabbed them and flung them far away. “You won’t need those the rest of the night. Now, turn around. Slowly. Let me see you.”

Arms at her sides, Heather turned about. She kept both eyes spotted on me though, as much as possible, wanting to see my next move.

Nice. Very, very nice. This selection was a real winner, physically. Milky shoulders, and we could do a lot with those breasts. The arms were just the right length, the stomach flat and the back not bony at all. Wonderful ass. Then there were those curvy hips again, connected to nicely rounded thighs, firm calves, thin ankles and tiny, pretty feet with clear lacquered toes. Yes, a real beauty.

“Good,” I said. “It’s obvious you know an order when you hear one. Now squat down.”

Heather blinked. “What?”

“You’ve earned your way out of the cage. But you’ll come out on your hands and knees. Do it. Now!”

Slowly Heather squatted and I opened the cage. She crawled out, a little unsure, but it would soon become second nature.

“Now, this is a cat,” I said, holding up the multi-bladed whip. “I use this for warm ups.”

Heather’s eyes widened, realizing the implication. “Warm ups?”

“When you see me with this, it means you’re not being punished...yet. It’s to get the blood flowing. Get you ready for something else.” From the wall I selected a short, light brown whip, double-bladed, the points tapered to sharp leather edges. “There are others that I use, depending on my mood and what you’ll deserve, but this one I save for special occasions. Special punishments.” I brought my arm down, fast, and the blades exploded like a little bomb across Heather’s back and she screamed.

Oh, yes. A couple of nice welts already started to rise from that pale skin. Heather’s panty breaths and audible gulps were the only sound. I stood stock still, waiting, waiting. But she didn’t make a dash for her clothes, or the door. She held her ground.

“What do you say?” I said.

“Wha...Huh?”

“You say, ‘Thank you, ma’am’.

“You’ve got to be kid -”

Another smack across that virgin skin. Another screech from Heather.

“All right, all right! Thank you, okay? Thank you.” Heather said, holding up a hand.

I stayed the whip from another strike. “Well, it’s not exactly what I wanted, but I’ll take it. After all, this is your first time.” I grabbed her hand, lifted Heather to her feet. Confusion clouded Heather’s face: Was this all? Just a little strip, then a few, severe lashes and we were done? No, of course not. I placed a protective, guiding arm around her, my hand reaching up to stroke that wonderful neck, while the other slowly circled around an aroused n****e (Oh, her skin is so soft!) to distract and calm her while I led the new slave-toy further into my home of a dungeon. The little defiance that Heather exhibited on her knees disappeared, replaced by nervous energy as we stood before the whipping post.

“Now, don’t be afraid,” I said, while I cuffed her wrists and brought them high overhead, then secured her ankles to the base of the post to keep her from scampering behind it. “All you have to do is tell me to stop. Just say, ‘Mercy mistress’. You understand?”

She swallowed and nodded.

“No. You have to say it. Say it or you’ll be punished. ‘Yes, mistress’,” I said.

“Yes. Yes, mistress,” she whispered.

“That’s right. That’s right.” I tilted her head back. Placed my mouth on hers. Trembling lips, an unsure tongue, but delicious. Absolutely yummy. After getting my fill I pulled out, her taste still in my mouth. Heather’s eyes were closed and she moaned and licked those precious lips.

“No more talk,” I whispered. “Just scream.”

From the equipment wall I selected a single-tail, heavy handle, tapering to a feather point in six feet of pure, woven leather. It had cost me a mint, but it had given me my money’s worth. Like now.

Crack!

“Oohhh!”

Swish crack!

“Aaahhhh!”

Swiiisshhh craaaack!

“Aiiiiihhh! Oh god! Ohgodohgod!”

“Wrong name,” I said.

Crraaaack!

“Ahhhhhh, ah ah ah ah!”

“What do you call me?”

I stepped forward, reached around Heather’s side and twisted an erect n****e that brought forth another scream.

“What’s my name?”

“Mistress!”

Another twist and pinch.

“Aaaaaiiieeee! MISTRESS! Mistressmistressmistress!”

I stayed my hand. “Yes, that’s right, baby. You just keep on saying that along with ‘thank you’ and everything will be just fine.”

I stepped back.

Crack!

“Thank you, mistress!”

Craccck!

“Th-Thank you, mistress.”

One more. A real good one.

Ccccraaaacck!

“Eeeeiiooooo! Mistress! Mistress! Please, don’t. No more. No more!”

I covered the distance between us in a flash, sunk my hand into that short, red hair and wrenched her head back. “Oh, I think you can take more. A lot more.”

“No, no, I can’t!”

“You’re not lying to me are you? Don’t you f*****g lie!”

I held her like that, waiting, waiting again for that phrase, those words that would bring all this to a sudden end. Heather rolled those light green eyes back at me, the whites nearly taking up both sockets. She licked her lips.

“You are lying!” I said. “You can go all night, can’t you? Well, so can I.”

I backed up, lit into her again and Heather’s screams echoed off the walls. She jerked this way and that, her body heaved in quick breaths, tears flew away from her face to stain the wood of the whipping post, but she never dared try to fool me again. Then, at last, her back criss-crossed in red welts, and my face running in sweat, I stopped. Heather hung in the cuffs, her knees pointed outwards. That’s when I suspected.

I could fall in love with this girl.