The next morning. It was Saturday. A glorious day off, except for me. I was absolutely sure that Erin would be working me to the bone with discipline and punishment. The last three days I had been in more punishment and bondage situations that the last three weeks with Jason.
When I woke, Erin and her husband were still in bed. I was still chained to the bed, and of course had to pee. Really badly. I had not gone since I had gone to sleep the night before. But I knew better than to wake Erin and ask to be unchained.
I lay quietly, the pain in my bladder keeping me from thinking about anything else except going to the toilet. When Erin finally stirred and looked over the edge of the bed at me, I bowed my head and asked politely, "Mistress, may I use the toilet?"
Erin sighed and said, "Just a moment." She went in and used the toilet first, then came out and unlocked me. I went in, peed (thank goodness!) and came back out. I assumed a relaxed obedience stance, kneeling in the corner, waiting for instructions.
The first instruction was to fix breakfast, which I did quickly. I am a decent cook, and I served Erin and James. Erin actually allowed me to sit at the table with them. Both she and her husband were dressed (though I happened to know James was in chastity inside his pants), and I was naked. This once again reinforced the fact I was not a full fledged member of their household, I was a servant and submissive, below Erin's slave in status.
After eating breakfast Erin leashed and collared me and took me outside.
"We have some gardening to do today. I was going to do it myself, but since you are here, I think you can help.
I was outdoors, in their back yard, and naked. It felt incredibly exposed, the property was relatively large and the walls around it were high, but still... someone could look over at any time. Most of my neighbors did not know of my special status as an owned slave.
But, there was really not much choice. I followed the leash, went outside and was directed to an area that needed weeding.
"I am going to be planting some flowers on this side, I want this whole area weeded by the time I am done." It was a large area. The sun was hot, making me sweat already, and I hadn't even started.
"Get to it, slave!" Erin barked.
"Yes mistress." I knelt and suddenly realized she had not given me any tools. "Mistress... may I have a trowel?"
"No," was the simple answer.
Figures. I knelt and began weeding with my bare hands. Such is the life of a submissive. I was collared and chained, and the chain was wrapped around a tree a short distance away.
I worked hard on weeding. I think I did a pretty good job. There wasn't a lot of weeds, I think Erin takes good care of her garden. I had a nice, tidy pile of nasty invasive plants sitting on the grass and was just about done when Erin came over and said, "well, I am done, I hope you are."
"Yes, Mistress," I said obediently. "I think I have just about finished."
"Really? I see you haven't even begun on this area here." It was a section next to the flower bed where I was working. My heart sank. "I... I thought... you only wanted this part done."
"Oh, Siobhan. First of all, remember your terms of respect. Second of all, I said to weed this entire area, and you are barely half done."
I knew what was happening. She wanted to punish me. It actually didn't matter what I did at that point, she would make sure there was some failure so she would have an excuse to punish.
"Mistress. I am sorry, Mistress. I will take care of this immediately, Mistress."
Erin walked away and I started in on the area she had shown me. It was an irrigated dirt area that had been prepped for flowers, but needed some weeds pulled out. I crawled around, hands and knees, getting myself filthy dirty, pulling weeds.
After about ten minutes Erin came back out and observed. I didn't stop working.
Finally she spoke. "You are filthy. That's enough weeding. Get your filthy body in the kitchen."
"Yes, Mistress."
She led me on all fours, crawling into the house. Damn... I had never been so continuously subjected to bondage, humiliation, and submission... well, since I had been to the pony farm.
It became clear why she wanted me in the kitchen. I had not done the dishes.
That was a major mistake. I did them, but I knew what was in store.
"For your failures today, for your filthy state, your inability to weed properly, and your complete and utter failure to maintain the kitchen, you will be punished." Erin said this sternly, and with a bit of satisfaction.
I simply hung my head and said, "Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."
Erin took me into her dungeon. It's a room in the back of her house. It's been modified a bit. It has some extra sound proofing, the window has been blacked out and covered, and it has a little special equipment in it.
I've always been scared that Jason would get the idea of having a dungeon from Erin.
She tied me down on a table. Arms tied back behind me and pointing down toward the floor. My thighs were tied to a rope loop that went around my waist. This kept my knees all the way up, exposing my ass and pussy quite effectively.
Erin then quickly tied my feed back, giving them some slack but they were pulled back enough that it was impossible for me to cover my ass or pussy in any way. It was obvious from the position she had me in what she was going to work on.
She flogged my pussy. A nice multi-tailed flogger, which doesn't cut like a single tailed whip. But, it made my cunt sting and burn. I wriggled, moaned, screamed a little. Screamed a lot. It was glorious. I would never admit it to her but I live for being tied like that, helpless and vulnerable, and then punished.
She whipped me for about 10 minutes, after which she took a break, had a glass of water, and looked me over. I was still whimpering, but no longer crying.
As she stood over me, she said with a sort of kind, thoughtful respect, "You know, I have been thinking. It takes a lot of effort to properly discipline a bitch slave like yourself. Here I am, working up a sweat, exerting myself, all because you failed. That hardly seems fair."
She put the glass of water down and untied me. It took a little while because I was trussed up rather nicely.
"I think you should be able to punish yourself. Don't you?"
I looked at Erin with wide, surprised eyes. "What?"
"See, there you go again. Try it again."
"I'm sorry, Mistress. Yes, Mistress, as you please."
"Better. Sit down there, spread your legs."
I sat on the table and spread my legs. She handed me the flogger.
"Whip yourself. Whip your pussy. I want it nice and red. Do a good job."
Whoa. This was a new one. I wasn't tied up, but was expected to punish myself, to show complete obedience.
I did. I took the flogger and started whacking my pussy. I actually tried hard, too, striking it with all my strength. It hurt a lot. I couldn't get it as hard as she was doing it, because the angle was odd. She had more room to swing at a better angle. But I did a pretty decent job. I cried some while I beat my cunt, and finally she told me to stop.
You know, I thought Erin would let up on me some, since it was my last full day there. In some ways she did, I suppose, but because I was there the full day it didn't seem like it. After I was done flogging my own pussy, she told me to take a shower and wash off the dirt from gardening.
Notice that during all this James was basically just living his life, doing his hobbies, paying bills, whatever. Normal husband stuff. But because I was the "guest" submissive, I got all of Erin's attention. I think I resented him some for that.
Anyway, Erin and James went out to do some shopping. I was left in the house to amuse myself. A relief, really. One catch.
A posture collar.
Yeah. A dumb device designed to just make things a bit more uncomfortable for slaves and submissives. I'd worn them a number of times before, and they really aren't too bad. They are a form of bondage that is designed to let you know you are restricted, you can't move completely freely, but you can still move around and it doesn't actually hurt.
This one sort of hurt though. It had a spike thing in it. It pointed directly up against the under side of my chin, into the soft fleshy part there. This was a serious posture collar that was going to insist that I keep my head up at all times.
I remember this was an ancient medieval torture device, except in that case it was a sharpened fork that was driven deep into the victim's chest just above their collar bone, and into their chin. They couldn't dislodge it and any attempt to speak or lower their head just got them impaled even worse.
This wasn't that bad. The bottom of the spike was rounded, and while the top that went into my chin was sharp, it wasn't like... razor sharp or anything. Sharp enough to make it pretty uncomfortable, though. I had to keep my neck up and straight, and my chin up in order to keep it from digging in, which it did anyway.
So yeah. Erin and James left, I was left with my hands strapped behind my back, but free to roam. I turned the TV on and sat down to watch.
Thing was, my chin was forced way high. Watching TV required me to look down my nose, and even then I kept lowering my head and getting poked. I could tell it was beginning to dig a hole in the flesh and I needed to adjust.
Sitting on the floor helped. The TV was at a better angle and I rested my head on the seat of a chair.
Eventually that was also pretty uncomfortable and I lay down on my side. This worked a lot better because laying my head on the floor I didn't have to physically use the muscles in my neck to keep my head up. The back of my neck was beginning to hurt and resting on the carpet was just... wonderful.
Eventually I had to go to the bathroom, and struggled back to my feet. With my wrists cuffed behind my back it was a little difficult and I managed to impale my chin more than once. The sharp spike had definitely broken skin. Ugh.
I peed and pooped and managed to clean myself with my hands still cuffed, which was a fete, let me tell you. Though I kept jamming my chin down on the spike. The only way to keep it from slowly drilling its way through my lower chin and into my mouth was to lay perfectly still.
Fortunately there was something on TV and I just lay naked on the carpet and watched. Until Erin and James came home.
Thank goodness. It was mid afternoon and Erin and James had gone grocery shopping, and had gone to the dry cleaners. I sat up on my knees with legs spread in a submissive position, though I couldn't bow my head with the posture collar on. They went about their business, and then Erin and James went upstairs.
I was being left alone, though it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience because of the collar.
At about 3 in the afternoon Erin came down and told me it was time to drill my submissive positions, and learn new ones. This I could do, and thank goodness, she removed the collar! Oh, it felt wonderful. One thing about bondage is that it feels soooo good when it stops. (It feels good when I am in it, too, to tell you the truth).
So Erin reviewed some of the basic positions with me. She led me into the garage. The floor was concrete and a little cold. I understood instinctively that this location was chosen because it was less comfortable than the carpeted interior of the house. I was to be exercised, trained on the cold hardness of concrete to reinforce my submissive and obedient nature.
She ran me through the basic submission of kneeling, hands behind back or behind my head. She began to emphasize good posture and exposure. For example, always keeping my head up and face directly ahead unless the position called for looking down as a sign of submission.
My back was to be perfectly straight as well. This did not come naturally to me, and she snapped me with a riding crop whenever I did not meet her standards.
As the training went on I realized just what a poor, untrained slave I had been for Jason. My attention to detail in serving him had really been bad. Erin was making me aware of this, and it was not easy for me.
For example, my head position was sloppy. To help me remember and train me, Erin put on another kind of posture collar, less severe than the other one with the spike, which she referred to as a punishment collar (it really was, too, there was no way it could be worn for long without it becoming quite painful). The collar helped me keep my neck extended and head in a good position, even when looking down in submission. I discovered that even when in the worship position, kneeling with face on the floor and arms outstretched, my head and neck could use training to keep them extended and looking sharp.
Next, Erin taught me what she called punishment positions. We had not gone over any of these. She explained, "while you are not being punished, it is necessary for you to experience the pain and strain of the punishment position in order to learn how to execute them correctly. "
"Yes, Mistress," I said obediently. I didn't look forward to this, but knew it was a good experience.
She went over three positions. The first, the raised attention position, was simply standing very straight on my tiptoes.
Wow, that was hard. The precise position was demanding. Arms to the side, hands next to my thighs, elbows slightly back but arms straight. She whipped me several times until I learned how to do this. Neck was straight and raised (the posture collar helped with this), and face down slightly to show obedience and regret for whatever I was being punished for.
And then onto the toes.
Hold it.... for ten minutes. You try it. Try standing on your toes without moving a muscle for ten minutes straight. I mean it. Your legs start burning and eventually shaking. Trying to hold the exact position was hhhaaarrrdddd.... and she swatted me hard with the crop when I didn't do it properly.
We actually did the raised attention position several times. I thought I would die.
The prone punishment position... it was horrible as well.
"Lay on your stomach," Erin said. I did.
"Legs up off the floor." I lifted them. "Knees can not touch!" She barked. I raised them a little more.
James was there for most of this, observing. I kept wondering why my next door neighbor was watching me do these hideous exercises.
"Raise your head," Erin said. I did. It made keeping my legs off the floor a little harder.
"Breasts off the floor," she said.
Now
that was difficult. I bent and curved my back, and used my arms (which lay at my sides) to get myself up. My boobs are not large (thank goodness) but big enough it was really hard to get off the floor so the nipples didn't brush the concrete.
Instantly my back ached and my legs started shaking.
"Arms and hands off the ground." I lifted my hands off the ground, next to my ass, about three inches above the concrete.
"Wow," I said. This was painful. My body started out well, though strained. It didn't take long before I was shaking. When my nipples brushed the floor, Erin struck me with the crop on my ass and I jerked back up. If my knees touched the floor, I got the same treatment.
It felt like an hour in that position. It wasn't. James later told me it had been about five minutes but it felt like an hour.
The last punishment position was actually a lot simpler and less painful. I stood on a simple board, wrists behind my back, bent over at a 90 degree angle. Erin measure the angle, and I was to maintain it exactly.
OK, yes, that was a lot of strain.
"Let me help you. This will actually help a lot, believe it or not." Erin produced two nipple clamps with cords dangling from them. The clamps went on my nipples and were pulled down and tied to the board beneath me.
"There, if you keep the twine restraints below you tight, you will be at the right angle. If you pull too hard, the clamps come off, and that means you off. If the twine goes slack, you are bending too far. Got it?"
"Yes, Mistress."
That actually helped. I had a very precise guide. It was painful as heck, my lower back and thighs screamed after a while, much worse than the clamps, but I kept the position precisely.
Punishment positions training took about two hours, total, after which we took a break.
I literally got down on my knees and kissed Erin's feet in thanks for allowing me to take a break. She seemed to like that. I totally needed the break. I was exercising muscles in my body that had never been exercised before.
The final set of new positions involved submissive to physical intrusion. That is, submitting to something that would enter my body. Whether that was a penis, a dildo, or some other object of my master's (or mistress's) choosing.
The first was a position I had learned while in high school, frankly. For some reason, dominant males liked this position when being sucked off.
On my stomach. Knees bent. Arms behind me, hands reaching out and gripping my ankles. If done properly, this causes a slight bowing of the back, and my breasts were to lift up slightly. My face, of course, is to be raised, mouth open, ready for whatever service is desired.
For this, Erin practiced having me take a dildo.
The next position was a formal variation of the first, and another one which was used frequently. The formal position was slightly different than what I had provided to Jason and others in the past, but it was still familiar.
On my stomach. Knees bent, and ankles available to my hands. Grip them if necessary.
But, raise the buttocks, and make sure the knees are spread far apart. There is a trick to this. If I spread my knees too far apart, by hips would go down. If I had my knees too close to each other, there was no easy access to my cunt (or ass).
During my time in this position, my face was flat down against the concrete floor of the garage.
James watched me, of course, while performing these positions. He was thankfully silent. I honestly don't think I will ever think of my neighbor the same way. And I don't think he will ever think of me the same way.
We practiced these positions several times, and then the last position was introduced.
Formal pussy presentation.
It started on my knees, bowing before my mistress.
Then, I would rise up and slowly move my body back. Once in the upright position, I would move my hands behind me to help me as my body continued back to where my shoulders touched the floor.
Erin reached a hand under my back, her hand made a fist to show the distance between my back and the floor, and she explained I was to keep my back arched at all times.
My knees were spread at a 45 degree angle, exposing my cunt. Because I was still sort of in the kneeling position with my ass on my feet, my hips were raised and my cunt was more accessible.
My hands were to be relaxed and resting on the floor next to my legs.
Mistress Erin fondled my pussy flesh while I lay in this position, and then announced we were ready for dinner.
Wow, Erin and James were going to take me out to Saturday night dinner! I was so overjoyed! To be allowed to accompany my mistress out on a date. Well, sort of a date.
I suddenly realized how in just four days I had come to think of Erin as my Mistress, and to be devoted to her service. I was proud of the progress I had made. She was damned good.
Erin's only demand for dinner was that I dress nicely, but wear no panties. Easy.
When we were at the restaurant (a nice Italian place close to home), the reason for the "no panties" rule revealed itself. Mistress Erin instructed me to play with myself under the table.
Again, easy. Yes, there was some risk of being seen but frankly that just excited me all the more. I almost wanted someone to discover me. So, I hiked up my skirt just a bit, moved my hand down and began rubbing.
I came, a nice, quiet, gasping orgasm, somewhere between the salad and the entree. This show pleased Mistress Erin.
We got back from the restaurant at about 10, and I was given sheets and blankets to make my own bed on the couch. Wow.
I didn't have to sleep on the floor. I had graduated from restrictive sleep sack, to simply chained on the floor, and finally to sleeping on the soft couch with a pillow. I swelled with pride and once again thanked Mistress Erin for her kindness.
Jason was due to pick me up the next day. It was bittersweet. I had really enjoyed the rough handling and discipline at Mistress Erin's. But, Jason is my owner. I missed him. I love him. I needed to be with him again and was eager for that.
I slept well that night.
Maybe that would be hard for some people to understand, how I could be happy and enjoy the time when it consisted of being caned, tied up in tightly constricting sleep sacks, forced to wear painful collars, flogged, hobbled... well, that's for another blog entry. Maybe it would take up a whole book. But the bottom line is that I loved it and it fulfills something very primal inside me.
Armbinders are evil bondage devices, designed to keep one's hands and arms secure and completely immovable behind the back. The are long term, not easily removed because of the tight lacing involved. I've worn them many times before, and appreciate the tight constricted bondage they represent.
When she was done, my forearms were completely pressed together and elbows were not just touching, but smashing against each other. That thing was tight, and I was completely immobile.
Erin admired me sitting there, arms strapped behind my back, hair nicely brushed and pulled back to expose my face, naked, with my head tilted up to accommodate the collar and spike.
In my own home, with the very same armbinder, posture collar, and spike in place, I felt more at home and less intimidated. The psychological effect was powerful. This was my house. I might be in bondage and subservient, but it was my house. I lived here with Jason.
Finally, she said it was time for my final preparation.
Jason got me the loveliest gift during his travels. A decorative posture collar. It's made of a copper material with a green copper leaf pattern on it. It looks just like a pretty choker or necklace, jewelry of some sort. Except it is high enough it really presses my head and chin up.
