AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes. Sir,” I bowed my head, hands clasped in front of me.
“There is plenty I can think to do with you without touching your sore derriere,” he ran a finger down my nose and tipped my face up to his. “Go get ready.”
I quickly exited the bedroom and headed to his lair. The door was unlocked; he must have stopped by on the way to the bedroom. I quickly placed my clothes in the closet and found lurking inside an underbust corset. It was black with elaborate stitching, flat steel bones and a steampunk finish - leather trimmed and with silver hooks at the front. A struggle to put on, as it had been a long time since I had cinched my waist in tight and in the end I left the lacings relatively loose. Satisfied with my appearance I went in, my bare feet pattered on the dark wooden floors. After a quick bathroom stop, I went and knelt by the divan. Maintaining the posture was hard. When I rested my bum on my heels it hurt, so I had to sit up putting pressure on my kneecaps.
Please come soon Jason. I fidgeted uncomfortably. I had reached point when I had to stand up and risk his wrath when the door opened and closed behind me. His voice was right by my ear as he bent down.
“Well done. Very sexy too. You can stand if you wish,” he whispered. Walking around me, he examined the corset and ran his finger around the edge under my bosom.
“Mmmm. Not tight enough.” He stood behind me and began to undo the lacings.
“Sorry, sir,” I said and sucked air in through my mouth as he drew the corset tighter around my waist.
“I want you to be able to breathe comfortably and stand up dead straight, understand?”
“Sir.” He finished adjusting the corset and I felt almost robotic in my stance.
“This corset will help you concentrate on what I want you to do for me. You’re a fidget, Gemma. You flinch and wriggle far too much.” Jason poked my back. “I’m sure I’m not the first dom to comment on that?”
“No, sir.”
I had been disciplined before on my restless tendencies. The scenes flooded back into my memories. Not unpleasant nor unwanted like others - these memories were laced with nostalgia and reminded me of my innocent days.
“There are scenes I want to do with you but you will have to learn to be very still and not jiggle when you’re touched. So I’m going to train you to stand like a statue. Plus a little endurance to go with it.” He went to fetch something out of my visual range of floor staring.
“What kind of things?” I could not help asking
From behind me, Jason reached round with his hand and flicked at nipple as a clear act of censure.
“A Wartenberg pin wheel perhaps. How did you manage with that previously?”
“Er. I fidgeted a lot,” I confessed and he grinned at my honesty.
“So we’re going to train that tendency out of you. Discipline your squirming body.”
My mind raced, training with my new master! Over my years as a sub, I had found that each dom had their own style and requirements when it came to training their subs to do as they wished. My bondage man had been keen on endurance and made me hold bricks above my head or stand on tiptoes upon a small narrow stool. I must have been fitter back with him, as I could not imagine my body would cope with the ordeal of such strenuous poses.
Another man, with whom I had spent a few weekends, had used dripping hot candle wax to make me hold squats or encourage me in my pathetic attempts at press-ups. He had bee
n my anal trainer too and I had been grateful to find him patient and easy going with my anxieties over being hurt. Little by little, he had coaxed me, rewarding my advancements with orgasms. He had never punished me for failing if I had entered into the spirit of trying something new out. My adventures with him had been tiring and perhaps the most progressive of all my dominants. I had a feeling that Jason fell into this category of trainers - a pusher of limits.
“Arms out in front and hold this in them,” instructed Jason.
Jason handed me a ball. A heavy water filled ball the size of a netball and I gripped it tightly as if I had been given a cannonball to hold. My arms ached immediately and the corset felt even tighter.
“It’s very simple. Do not move your arms or for that matter anyone other part of your body. I’m going to be touching you. Each time you flinch excessively I’m going to keep count. You will punished. A suitable penalty for each movement.”
I took deep breaths and focused on the ball. I knew that was why he had given it to me. My painful distraction.
“Keep your legs apart,” he said close to my shoulder.
A finger ran down my arm, not quite ticklish and I managed to ignore the sensation. Other pokes, prods and pinches followed. With my back and belly rigidly contained in the corset, he targeted the fleshy part of my thighs or under my armpits. When he touched my clitoris with a simple stroke of my finger, it felt so nice I forgot the ball for a second.
“That was definitely a flinch,” he told me.
“Ooooo,” I whimpered. My shoulders were killing me and my elbows sagged. However, the scene was erotically charged and I gushed below with every hushed admonishment. I did love to be trained.
“Straight, Gemma. Arms straight.”
