Learning

Learning

by Thndrshark

Part 1 of 5

Ok, it was as much my fault as anybody. I had as much as asked for this, encouraging Adam to do what he wished. I just wished he didn't have so many vivid fantasies. I had no idea how long I had been down here. I was having trouble telling the passage of time. I was blindfolded, but could feel the bright spot of light splashing down on me. He had visited me twice so far, only to find some way to increase my pain. One element always remained the same; the long dildo shoved up my ass. It was soft on the outside, but hard inside, holding my body upright. The pole that ran up it was hollow, I figured out, by the stream of water that was being forced inside of now. The water was cold and I squirmed from the pressure of the icy liquid that now filled my bowels to near busting. I thought it might actually cause some damage, but suddenly it stopped. I was relieved, but the cramps began almost immediately, and I moaned behind the gag.

At first, it was the pole, with my ankles bound to my thighs and my arms bound behind me at wrist and elbow. A tight corset was laced to my waist, restricting my breathing to short pants through my nose. Add a posture collar, a huge ball gag and blindfold, and he left me. After a couple hours, I had begun to ache, my knees screaming from the harsh bend and the unrelenting stone floor. Then my shoulders began their burn. I could keep my elbows bound together for a long time, but my shoulders always began to hurt first. I couldn't scream, and I knew it wouldn't help. Any squirm or bounce forced the dildo farther up my ass, or ground my knees into the floor. I was miserable, but I could also feel the dampness build in my pussy. After awhile, I found if I flexed my butt, I could rise up and down on the pole, essentially fucking my own ass. A wash of humiliation spread across my face and I could feel tears well up. Of all things, I hated anal sex, and though the dildo up my ass was bad enough, the fact that I desperately wanted to fuck my own ass to get off seemed beyond my abilities to cope. I felt the blindfold dampen from the tears, but despite it all, I still began to move, forcing the hard object in and out of my anus. I couldn't help myself, even when the pain began to threaten my own consciousness. My own body betrayed me, and though I wanted to die from humiliation, I moved on the dildo, feeling an orgasm rising. The pain of the procedure made me come quickly. As I finished, the water inside of me ran out and I passed out.

"Good morning, slave," he said, startling me. I had been unable to measure between waking and sleeping, each bearing their own level of torment. "How have the last 48 hours been down here," he asked, knowing I couldn't answer. I could feel him fumbling with my gag, and after a moment, the large ball was pulled from my sore jaws. Just as quickly, he replaced it with a ring gag, then affixed a rubber strap with a hose in the middle, around my head. He attached an industrial strength syringe to the end and began pushing. I soon could feel a sweet sludge running into my mouth, and down my throat. "This is a special mixture I made up, to keep you healthy. It doesn't taste so good, but you'll have to get used to it. It"ll be the only thing you eat for the next six weeks." I groaned at that, knowing he had many things planned.

After feeding me, he replaced the ring gag with an inflatable gag, blowing it up until my jaws screamed. For a moment he disappeared, then I felt him tugging sharply on the laces to the corset. Despite the intense restriction, he was able to close it even more. I could imagine the sight of my waist, certainly into nearly an hourglass shape. He continued to pull, until my chest was so restricted I was afraid I wouldn't be able to inhale at all. But finally I felt him tie the laces off. As I concentrated on the simplicity of breathing, he leaned me back, helping my knees rise off the floor a bit. When he leaned me back forward, I screamed through the gag. He had placed some sort of sharp edge under my knees. I knew it wasn't actually sharp, in that it wouldn't cut my skin, but the edge added immeasurable pain to my knees, bringing tears to my eyes. I could hear him leave, and I wailed through the gag. I thought my knee caps would split under the force, and I knew I would have to endure this until he chose to return.

Ok, so call me curious. I never thought of myself as strange, just because I liked being submissive. My parents never understood the guys I dated, but they didn't understand us much anyway. My little sister and I never got along, so she avoided me like the plague. She was four years younger than me, and was easy to ignore. I didn't want their approval, just for them all to leave me alone. I had some fun to explore, and I intended to live out my fantasies.

I had met Adam at a "vanilla" function, but we somehow had gotten off on the topic of fetish. Before long, we were dating and experimenting in bondage and submission. He was almost ten years older than me, but he was rich, handsome and kinky. I couldn't ask for much more. I knew I was a catch. At only 22 years old, I looked 16, with long, lean legs and long dark hair that reached my middle back. I had always loved tight things, probably a cue to my love for bondage, and had spent whatever money I could on latex and leather, or anything that held me snug. On the night we met, I was wearing a lace number, a tiny dress that barely covered my ass, and really stretched around my breasts. At 5'6", 108 lbs, 38-22-34, I had quite a figure, and I loved wearing things that clung to that great shape.

Being a good looking 22 year-old woman, it was hard to just come out and tell people I was kinky. You figure it would be easy! The truth is that every nut case or semi-pervert would want me as their own, and that led to dangerous things like stalking. I had to be selective whom I told. I wanted to find someone that could support me in my interests, even expand my horizons, and do it in style. I had a little experience with submission, having found the odd boyfriend who was interested. I learned I enjoyed bondage, but wanted steel and leather, not soft rope. I also learned I was a masochist; the pain not exactly enjoyable, but certainly helpful in getting me off. But all the boyfriends before Adam couldn't afford to keep it up. They would spend their life savings on equipment for me, but could never sustain it in a lifestyle. And then there was Adam: Lots of money, a geologist working as a consultant, a huge house in Bel Air and a wildly kinky attitude.

For the first couple months, we explored together, getting more and more intense with our experiences. After our third date, he found a private party to attend. We drove up in a limousine to a house that miraculously rivaled his own. I was dressed in a slinky black number, excited to show off my new man, but when we stopped, he didn't open the door. Instead he turned to me.

"It's time to up the ante," he said. Every time he said that, he had something new in mind. The last time, it was pulling a pony cart around his backyard. That was fun! This time, I wasn't sure what he meant. "Strip."

For a moment, I looked at him, but then jumped to it, pulling the dress off my shoulders. I glanced forward at the limo driver, noticing him watching from the mirror, and my face blushed in embarrassment. But Adam had a serious look and I knew I couldn't stop. Soon I was naked, even without shoes.

"Turn around and lift your hair." As I did I could feel something cold reach around my neck, then encircle it. I found myself staring back at the limo driver, my humiliation clear on my face, and his excitement on his. The metal, wide and heavy, fit perfectly, clinging to my neck as Adam did something in the back. "Lower your hair now." I did so, holding my hands on my lap, but he could tell I desperately wanted to touch. "Go ahead." My hands rose, feeling the cool metal snug around me neck. It was a good two inches wide, if not slightly more; not quite a posture collar, but more than a choker. a ring dangled from the front, but as my fingers traced the surface, they found no lock. The metal seemed seamless and perfect. A thrill ran through my body.

"Hands behind your back." I obeyed instantly, and could feel him attaching more cold steel. As the wrist cuffs locked on, he pushed them together and with a click, locked into place. I could not pull them apart. He moved to just above me elbows, fitting wider cuffs there, then again pushing them together. My bare breasts forced out as my back arched, my shoulders bent backward and my elbows joined. Another click and they locked into position. I was no longer able to move my arms. He moved to my ankles, applying two more cuffs. These were joined by a scant three inches of chain.

"I have a gift for you," he said, a smile on his face. Pulling a box from beside him, he produced a pair of ballet shoes. I groaned inwardly. A week ago, he had brought home a pair, and insisted I try them. I slipped them on, then pranced around the room for twenty minutes, boasting I could walk in them for hours. I could tell they excited them. I didn't want to admit my toes were screaming in pain, so I didn't. Now, I regretted it. I could say nothing as he fit them on my feet. Snapping a leather leash to my collar, he nodded to the limo driver who jumped out and ran to open the door for us. Adam stepped out, then with a tug on the leash, pulled me out. As I stood in the shoes, balancing myself on their points, feeling my toes begin to cram into the end, I could feel the limo driver's eyes on me. The cool air on my body made my nipples taught. He must have construed that as excitement.

"She's a submissive slut, if I may say so, sir," the driver commented.

"Yes, she is," Adam responded, admiring his prize.

As we stood in front of the door, I braced myself for some humiliation. I had come to believe this was another dominant/submissive party, where there would be other couples like us. I would feel the rush of embarrassment as I was greeted at the door, but once in amongst the other slaves, I would be ok. This would be the first party we had attended where I was fully naked and bound, but he always upped the ante in many stages at once.

The door finally opened, revealing a properly attired butler, who smiled at Adam, looked me up and down, then waved us in. Adam gave me a tug and I carefully stepped up the stoop into the ante room. Once inside, he dropped my leash as he took off his long coat, and I glanced around the room. Beside me, a tall mirror reflected my form, and I couldn't help but be excited by the sight. If I had any fault, I was vain. Standing in front of the mirror, I loved my own long legs, how the ballet shoes molded my already aching calves, my perfect ass and thin waist, and then my large breasts, made even more impressive by the arm bondage. My makeup was simple but perfect, and my long, dark hair cascaded down my back. I could see Adam had added a small rubber band near the top, holding it in a gathered manner so that it trailed down my back evenly. I could feel the leather leash dangling between my breasts, and swinging to subtly touch my bare pussy. I had been shaving fully since I was 14, and by now my skin was a smooth, stubble free surface. A strong depilitator had helped over the past year, and shaving was an every-other-month proposition at most.

Adam grabbed my leash, breaking my self admiration, tugging me off into the other room. I had to hurry to keep up, taking tiny, three inch steps, one quickly after the other. Focused so much on my feet, both the pain and the brisk pace, I didn't look up when the butler opened the main room. Once inside, Adam stopped to survey the crowd, and I glanced up. My knees buckled. The room was a ballroom size area filled with small tables and plush chairs. The entire room was filled with both men and women, all clearly affluent and beautiful, and all fully clothed. I understood now that I was the only visible slave in the group. I could feel my face burn with the heat of humiliation, tears streaming down my eyes, any trace of my arrogance before disappeared. I lowered my head in shame, and followed Adam into the room.

We were led to a chair near the middle. Adam took it, then tugged me to my knees beside him. He tied off the leash to the gnarled armrest end and promptly forgot me. I knew from limited experience that a slave kept her head bowed, avoiding eye contact, which was fine with me, ankles together, knees open and her back rigid and straight. The cool air tickled my bare clit and I knew despite my humiliation, I was wet. Adam enjoyed a drink, greeting friends and waving across the room. Now and then someone would approach, shaking his hand, then asking about me.

"She's a slut I found at a party. She gave herself to me as a sex slave, and it's all I can do to keep her satiated."

"Maybe you'd consider selling her?"

"Maybe," Adam said, startling me. "Feel free to examine her." The man eagerly pushed my head back, feeling my breasts, pinching my nipples hard, then running his hand down to my crotch. Two of his fingers found my pussy, sinking in deep. He pulled them out.

"You're right. Look at how wet she is," he said. He then grabbed my head and shoved it to the floor, the leash barely allowing me room to reach it. My ass stuck up in the air and, without preamble, the man shoved the same two fingers up my ass. I wanted to cry out, but was afraid to. Instead, a low moan erupted from my throat as he pumped them in and out.

"She's enjoying that too much," Adam said with a chuckle, and the fingers pulled out. I rose back to my kneeling position, my face red again. "Don't go away with those dirty fingers. She'll clean them for you." The man presented the fingers before me. I could smell my own ass on them, see some pussy juice as well. I opened my mouth, extending my tongue, and he shoved them inside. I sucked them clean, running my tongue up and around them, like sucking a cock, until the taste of my own pussy and anus was embedded in my mouth, and the fingers were clean. He pulled his hand away, and I let my head drop back down. I could feel tears growing again.

After a few more visits, with varied explorations, Adam was offered a cigar and joined by four other men, who pulled their soft chairs in a circle around me. Adam untied my leash, then had me crawl into the center. From his pocket, he removed a large ring gag, which he forced into my mouth. At first it didn't fit, but he soon realized that if he wedged the top behind my front teeth, with the rest at and angle into my mouth, he could slowly force the ring forward until it locked into position behind my lower teeth as well. I thought my jaw was going to dislocate. I had never had my mouth forced so wide. I could already feel my jaw muscles beginning to cramp from the distension, but Adam tied the strap off in back and began work on my hair. He quickly formed it into a ponytail, then threaded the end between my wrists. With a hard pull, he forced my head backward until I found myself staring at the ceiling. His hands left me and I could tell my head was locked this way.

For a long time I was ignored, though I could tell eyes were on my heaving breasts. After a short time, I could sense Adam leaning in toward me. But instead of making a change, his cigar found my mouth and with a tap, he knocked off the ashes onto my tongue. Still red hot, they seared me, making me cry out, then fell against the back of my throat. Soon, other men followed suit, dropping their ashes in as well. I began to cry, both from the pain, but also from the culmination of humiliation. Never before had I been used as such an object by as many people, treated like an animal. I could feel the tears falling onto my aching shoulders, then onto the floor. I was ignored, and soon more ash fell into my mouth. In resignation, I swirled it around with my tongue and swallowed it, accepting my role.

End of Part 1