Lina could scarcely believe her ears, but she slowly placed a knee on the edge of the bed, which forced her to push her bottom up into the air.
“Very good, Miss Blanchet. I am very pleased. Now the other leg. But you will part your legs wide, so that I may have access to your cunny and your bottom.”
It was far too much for Lina, who put her lifted leg down on the ground again. She remained with her face to the mattress but pulled her legs together closely. “Mr. Blackstone, sir, please,” she said. “I... I... I cannot—”
“You can, Miss Blanchet, and you will. You will lift your bottom, and spread your legs, and I shall have access to your cunny to do with as I see fit. You shall be trained to obey and submit to the will of your master. You have earned ten lashes with this display, and should you continue to disobey me, you shall find that there are other ways to punish disobedient girls. Now. Place your knees on the bed or you shall find out what they are.”
Lina obeyed, clumsily, and her face burned again as she pictured herself, what she must look like, her bottom thrust into the air and her legs apart as she had been told time and again to never, ever do.
Another long pause preceded Mr. Blackstone’s next step in her education, and it was more torturous than the previous one, for she had no idea what to expect next, or any way of imagining what it might be.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, and pushed herself up a few inches in surprise when she felt something cool against her wet place, what had he called it? “Cunny?” Was that the name for this part, a part that she knew only as “womanhood,” if this was in fact what it was?
And why, she wondered, did it feel so... so... strange? Almost good, even though it was so wrong. His fingers dipped into her wetness, and stroked the layers of her “cunny,” and then, unexpectedly, she jumped again, her whole body giving a jolt, as he touched upon something in the center of those folds that shook her like a small ball of lightning.
She exhaled sharply, and he did it again.
His fingers moved all over those secret, untouched places. When he circled her other hole, the one decidedly for her bottom, she gasped again and was shocked that the touch of his fingers was almost... pleasurable.
“When you become a mistress to my associate, Miss Blanchet, you will be expected to offer him the pleasures of your cunny, your bottom, and your mouth, whenever he demands them, for you are a servant to your master in all ways. You will submit to him and allow him to take his pleasure as he requires. He has requested that I give to him a trained girl, one who knows how to submit to him properly and accept his cock inside of her without modesty, with obedience and submission.”
Inside of her?
Cock?
Lina’s mind spun wildly, and although she could not be sure what any of these words meant, she suspected that she knew where this “cock” would be placed: in the very throbbing center of her, those places that cried out for his touch as much as she desired to hide them away.
His fingers were gone, and another whimper gurgled in her throat. His fingers grasped her right wrist next, just as his body brushed against the inside of her thigh. With a gentleness that contrasted with the force with which he was handling her before, he pulled her arm up to her back, and repeated this gesture somberly with her left hand. She knew, when she felt them, that the straps wrapping around her wrists were the same kind that she had seen dangling from the four posters of the bed.
When his fingers released her wrists, they dropped until they pulled against a countervailing force from above, and she realized that her hands were strapped to something hanging above her.
“In time you will learn to restrain yourself if your master requests that you do so. You shall be expected to remain motionless if this is what is asked of you, or to move as is required by your master. But sometimes you shall be tied down so that you understand your master’s power over you, so that you are humbled, and he may do with you as he pleases.”
As he said this, she felt him wrapping thick straps around her ankles, the force of them pulling down and to the sides. In combination with the arms restraints, she was paralyzed, spread apart with her bottom in the air, for Mr. Blackstone to do with as he pleased.
“Sir,” she panted, as the realization that he could do whatever he liked to her spilled over her.
“Miss Blanchet, I believe I mentioned to you that you will not speak unless I request that you do so, did I not?”
She sniffled and pondered whether or not to respond. “Sir, yes,” she said after a pause, “But sir, I m...m...must insist, I am not...this is most improper, I...I...”
Something cold, like polished stone, touched her in the very center of her anus, cutting her off mid-sentence with the shock of it. Her hole squeezed and pulsed as the object, with a sweetly agonizing ache, pushed a little bit inside of her.
“Oh, sir, Mr. Blackstone, sir,” she breathed. “It’s not... it is... most...”
“Miss Blanchet, it is most improper to gallivant about with a young man a fortnight before your own wedding. Surely, this is not so very improper as what you have already done.”
Lina opened her mouth wide at that moment to protest most strenuously, for while she was certain it would make very little difference to Mr. Blackstone, she was indignant at the suggestion, yet again, that she had done anything improper at all with Mr. Carrington.
“Si—” she began, but Blackstone was already near her mouth with a leather ball of some sort, and he popped it between her lips, pushing her jaw open, at the moment she chose to speak so brazenly. He tapped it in gently, over her protestations, until her jaw ached, as it was spread open so wide. The ball had straps sewn into it as well, and he tied these around her head so that try as she might to expel the ball, it remained in her mouth, stretching her jaw open a bit uncomfortably, and her words were muffled by it so that she knew they just echoed in her own skull and came to Blackstone as snuffed moans.
And then, the cool, hard object kissing her anus pressed in further, making her howl into her gag. A sharp pain made her yelp. She went stiff and silent, as the cold, long object slowly, slowly, pushed inside of her deeper. Slowly, inch after inch of cool smoothness sinking deep into her body, the cool ivory warmed after a few moments, until the only thing she could feel was the rock-hard fullness of it in her bottom.
Her eyes were wide, and she screamed into the gag, but even more strangely, she found her body craving the object inside of her. She wanted it even deeper, touching even more intimate places. Places inside of her that ached in ways she never could have understood were touched for the first time and awakened, and while the bright red of her cheeks revealed her humiliation, the damnable wetness between her legs served only to tell of the truth within her body.
Mr. Blackstone pushed and pushed, ever-so-slowly pressing the hardness into her deeper. Each inch that filled her made her legs tremble more violently, as the cacophony of sensations crashed together inside of her. The object seemed to get wider, stretching her open, making her eyes water, and then, suddenly, it plunged into her as though sucked inside. A lip seemed to plunge inside of her, and the object was narrow again. It seemed that it was secured inside of her by the lip of the object, which pressed against her anus from within.
It became apparent to her that still protruding from her bottom-hole was some part of the object, perhaps a handle or bauble of some kind. She recognized its presence when Blackstone began to push it, slowly and gently, in small circles, which caused the long piece inside of her to press against her insides in opposite directions, stirring to life an ache like the one in her cunny in... that place.
“I intend to fuck you in your bottom-hole, Miss Blanchet, but first you must learn to accommodate the size of a man’s cock. And learn to crave it, obediently and submissively, so that when your master chooses to pleasure himself in this way, you will open to him and accept his attention willingly.”
Lina could do nothing but breathe heavily from her nostrils, and open her eyes wide,
as a moan came from her throat without her being able to contain it.
“You will leave this object inside of your bottom-hole until such time as I remove it. Do you understand, Miss Blanchet? Nod in assent if you do.”
She did understand, and so she nodded.
His fingers went, suddenly and unexpectedly, to her wet cunny, and her eyes went wide as he slipped one inside of her, penetrating yet another intimate and forbidden place. One of his fingers brushed over the nub she had touched in the bath the night before, but as he did so, he pressed against its root from the inside.
Her whole body jerked violently against the restraints.
She heard Blackstone breathe behind her as his fingers played with her for a few moments, making her jerk violently, and then pausing in his attentions as her body shivered and cried out for another stroke from him. The pressure of the ache seemed to build, always rising, never abating, and all she could think of was that she wanted more.
“You have a very tight cunny, Miss Blanchet. So very soft, and hot.” He stroked the flesh against which the object in her bottom-hole pressed, and Lina felt as though she might faint. “I will enjoy teaching you to use it prop...erly.”
Was it her imagination, or had Mr. Blackstone’s voice suddenly changed, had he stumbled over what he was saying? His fingers clawed toward her hardened nub, from inside and out, and she screamed uncontrollably into the ball as another wave of terrifying pleasure overtook her.
His finger began to slide in and out of her cunny, and then he added a second one, which stretched her open with a sharp pain that slowly subsided. She was beginning to quiver everywhere: she could feel her cunny quivering, her bottom-hole spasming around the hard object inside of it, her legs trembling and her toes curling. Moans were escaping her throat, pouring into the gag, and she was no longer in control of herself.
The excruciating pleasure continued to intensify, always increasing, somehow giving her a promise of relief, but never delivering it.
Just as she reached an excruciating new high, his fingers slowed, and she whimpered.
She felt his body close to hers, as he leaned over her restrained body, the fingers of his free hand making lazy and arousing circles on her burning bottom. “Have you ever spent before, Miss Blanchet?”
Lina sobbed into the gag and let her head hang. She did not know. She only knew that she could not endure this torture, surely there must be something that would relieve it. She desperately wanted him to continue stroking her, stroking that place, though she wondered if she would only ever reach a higher plane and never ever be relieved of this ache.
“I am going to make you spend, Lina, so that you may know what it means.”
His fingers began to stroke her anew, quickly now, and the painful, thrilling crescendo continued. Lina lost control of her body and herself, and then, violently, it was as if her entire body hit a wall, but a wall of satisfaction, all at once, and she screamed and shuddered as the most pleasurable and frightening sensation she had ever felt took over her entire body.
She was unaware of time, of how long her body shuddered until it was weak and limp. During this time she could only feel the wild depletion of the fire that had been building inside of her, and then the reduction of herself to something exactly as he had described it, with that odd word: she was spent. A blur of multi-colored stars encroached on the edges of her vision, behind her tightly closed eyelids, until the feeling ebbed away.
When she at last returned to the moment, and became aware of where she was: restrained, in that humiliating position, on a bed of leather, she became aware that perhaps much time had passed. She did not know where Mr. Blackstone was. Her breath was heavy and rough, and when she opened her eyes, she could see only the dimly-lit room in front of her.
A whimper left her throat, and when it did, she realized that it was almost a plea, a desire to know where he was... strangely, though she could scarcely believe it herself, it was a desire to feel his hands again on her body.
When at last he touched her, he placed a warm hand gently on her burning backside. The burn of his touch against her sore skin grounded her, and she responded by pushing toward him, like a plant leaning toward the sunlight. He used his thumb to make another long, circular movement with the object in her bottom, and the gentle soreness that pressed on every intimate part of her from within reignited the cravings he had so easily dispensed of just moments before.
She sobbed again, but it was not a cry of displeasure, rather of longing, because she had come to understand something of what he planned to do to her even before he said, quietly and firmly:
“You are never to spend, or make yourself spend, unless you are explicitly commanded to do so by me, Miss Blanchet.” When he leaned over her body, she felt the heat of his bare skin against her back, and the understanding that he, like her, had removed his clothing, sent another shudder through her body.
He placed a hand gently on her throat, leaving it there long enough for the strength of his hands to sink through her skin and make her aware of their power, before he slid his fingers over her jaw, and in a fluid motion, loosened the strap that held the gag in place and pulled it from her mouth.
“Tell me that you understand me, Miss Blanchet, so that we may proceed with the next phase of your training.”
Lina gulped a few deep breaths, and then, with her face toward the mattress, sweat snaking down her temples, in a voice that was nearly a moan, “I understand, sir.”
“Tell me what you understand.”
“I... I... will... not...” her mind drew a blank, she could not think of the word he had used. “I will not... do the thing... the... sss...” She let out an exasperated sob.
“You will not spend,” he urged her, though there was an unexpected gentleness in his voice. “No matter how much you so desire.”
“I will not sp...spend,” she repeated. “Sir.”
He said nothing, and she heard him move behind her, his footsteps retreating and then returning. She wondered what he had retrieved from the wall of devices, what new and glorious torture awaited her. The fear that had gripped her before was not gone from her chest, but it had subsided and converted into something less monstrous. She could not lie to herself and pretend that she didn’t want him to continue to use her body for pleasure, to feel again the same excruciating pleasure she had just felt.
The dim light of the room disappeared as though the lights had gone out, and it took a moment for her to connect this blindness to the heavy, raw silk that had descended over her eyes. Anticipation writhed in her chest as the fabric tightened around her head, and she was enclosed in a vulnerability even deeper than the one she was already subjected to.
“M...Mr. Blackstone?” she whispered, after several moments had passed. Her skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and now she was beginning to feel cold.
The pressure on her wrists changed, and then her hands were free to fall to her back. He took each one in turn in his hands, and placed them on either side of her head again. “Remain as you are,” he told her, before loosening the straps that held her ankles.
She did as she was told, her body trembling, every inch of her skin alight with a desire to feel his hand upon her. She was surprised when she felt his fingers beneath her chin next, lifting her head gently, so that she had no choice but to rise to her hands and knees with the guidance of his fingertips.
Once she was propped like an animal on all fours, his hands traveled to her shoulders, brushing over her electrified skin. Involuntarily, she sank toward his touch, leaning into the strength of his hands, not knowing why she might do such a thing. He pushed her up to a seated position, with her legs spread apart, so that her bottom sank between her splayed and folded legs.
His hands traveled down her arms to her wrists again, and he took them in his grip and placed them behind her back, drawing each wrist to one of her ankles, opening her fingers to place them around her ankle and close her fingers there. As he did this, his bare
skin touched her, on her thigh, on her hardened nipples, along her ribcage. His skin was hot, and behind the flesh she felt a steely hardness.
“You will hold your ankles like this for your next session, and be a good girl, and not let go, or you shall be punished, Miss Blanchet.”
She trembled, her thoughts swirling, racing ahead to wonder what he might do next.
He ran a finger over her lip, making her gasp. “Do you understand, my plaything?”
Plaything.
The word held no connotation for her, she could not recall where she had ever heard it, or if she had. Yet it sent a shiver through her, a slew of barely-formed and filthy thoughts. The seemingly endless liquid that poured from between her legs gushed hotly onto her thigh.
“Y...yes, yes, sir.”
His finger was still on her lip, heavy, pressing down. She tilted her neck with the pressure, not understanding what he might be doing, and he lifted the finger from her flesh to catch her chin and tilt her face upward.
She knew that he must be on the bed now with her, kneeling as she was. The position, with her legs still spread wide, became slightly uncomfortable as he pushed her down on the shoulder while tilting her head slightly up using the finger beneath her chin.
From her chin, his fingers brushed over her cheek, and then meshed into her hair, tightening a grip and pulling slightly so that her mouth fell open in a pained gasp. Without realizing it, she let one hand drop from her ankle to steady herself against the motion, and the fingers in her hair tightened until a tear squeezed from her eye. “Keep your hands on your ankles, Miss Blanchet. You are going to use your mouth now to pleasure me.”
Without knowing what that could mean, she placed her hand quickly back on her ankle.
She sensed that he was very near to her. The heat of his body radiated against her cheek, and some part of him pressed against one of her thighs. The scent of his body was musky, intoxicating her.
Something brushed over her lip, as soft as calfskin, as hot as Mr. Blackstone’s flesh. It was wet, and a liquid smeared over her upper lip.
Theirs to Train: A Victorian Menage Romance Page 10