Tara Me - The Training

“You owe me three more,” I said. “I’ll collect later.”

I walked back to my cabinets and took out a silken rope. Once I returned behind her, I took both her arms and pulled them to her back. Taking my time and tying the rope with the utmost care, I gently but securely bound her arms.

“I like you in this position,” I said, moving to stand in front of her again. “Your breasts pushed out in silent offering to me.” I slid a finger under the chain, caught her eyes, and gave a slow, upward tug on the chain.

Her eyes fluttered. “Oh, God.”

“Like that, do you?”

She let out another moan. “Yes, Master.”

I lifted the corner of my mouth in a smile, pleased she had taken to the clamps so well.

“Spread your legs.” I slipped a hand between them; she was slick and ready.

Almost.

I needed her more heightened. More sensitive.

I knelt between her legs and placed a kiss on her clit, then leaned back and blew gently. I stuck my tongue out and licked her slit from bottom to top, still focusing my attention on her clit. I placed soft kisses on her inner thighs and trailed a line to end between them, where I nibbled on her clit more. Sucked it into my mouth. I reached up, grabbed the chain, and pulled. She yelped, and I worked her clit even harder, bringing the pleasure and pain closer together in her mind. I grazed her with my teeth and gave the chain another hard tug. She jerked against me.

I dropped the chain then and slid two fingers into her, reaching to the place— right there —I knew would make her totally unhinged. I swirled my tongue around her clit and pushed my fingers into her again.

She gasped and climaxed around me.

Fuck.

I heard her heavy breaths as I stood and noted the faint flush coloring her skin. Her breasts looked fine, but she’d had the clamps on long enough for the first time.

“Deep breath, my lovely,” I said, taking a clamp in one hand and gently cupping her breasts with the other. Her warm breath floated across my shoulders and chest. “Another one,” I said. “Exhale slowly.”

This time when she exhaled, I released the clamp as slowly as possible. She gave a sharp intake of breath as the blood returned.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Her voice was tight. “Yes, Master.”

“Very good.”

I reached between her legs again and stroked her still sensitive flesh. She jerked her hips toward me.

“Another deep breath,” I said when I felt her relax. “Exhale slowly.” Again, I removed the clamp, dropping them both to the floor. I slipped a finger into her, lightly brushing her clit with my thumb, hoping to alleviate some of the pain. Her hair tickled my cheek as I murmured how pleased I was with her. How proud. She sighed.

“Spread your legs wide,” I said, backing away.

I left her there for a few minutes, knowing she felt the warm air between her legs. Knowing her every nerve stood on end. She looked beautiful.

Fucking lucky-ass bastard.

I took the warming lubricant from the top of the table and returned to stand behind her. I reached around and swept my fingertips lightly across her delicate nipples. She groaned in reply, backing her hips toward me.

I merely chuckled. Within minutes I’d spread the lube onto my cock and fingers.

“You told me recently that having my cock in your ass made you feel completely consumed,” I said.

She jumped when I applied the lube to her backside.

“Ready to be consumed again, Abigail?”

—NATHANIEL—

She mumbled something under her breath I couldn’t make out.

“Either stay quiet or speak so I can hear,” I said, giving her ass a sharp smack. “Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Very good.” I took hold of her bound hands. “Now bend over.”

She moved slowly, getting her bearings. I kept a firm grasp on her hands with my left hand, wanting her to realize she could let go and trust me. Her legs were spread wide, giving her a steady stance and giving me an incredible view.

“Very nice, Abigail,” I said. “I love how open your ass is in this position.” The lubed finger of my right hand circled her. “Let’s see if you were telling the truth about using your plug.” I pushed into her a little. “I can’t wait to take you here.”

She groaned and pushed herself back against me. My finger slipped deeper.

Fuck.

I slowly fucked her with my finger, making sure I kept a firm grasp on her hands to ensure she wouldn’t fall. Her head fell between her knees, hair trailing over the floor and sweeping against the hardwood with each thrust of my finger.

I slipped another finger into her. Pushing slowly. Stretching her. Preparing her. She was still so tight.

As she grew accustomed to my fingers, I started rethinking my plan. Taking her here, in the middle of the floor, wouldn’t work. I couldn’t hold on to her, work her body, and thrust without putting unnecessary strain on her arms and shoulders.

Glancing around the room, my eyes fell on the whipping bench.

Perfect.

“Have you missed this?” I asked. “Missed me preparing your ass for my cock?” I pushed deeper. My cock ached for friction, and as much as I wanted nothing more than to remove my fingers and thrust into her, I knew I couldn’t. She trusted me to make this good for her, and I treasured that trust.

I stilled my fingers, and she stopped moving as well. When I was certain she was steady, I let go of her arms. Keeping my fingers inside, I slipped my other hand between her legs and stroked her slickness.

“Very good, Abigail,” I said. “You have been using your plug. Missed my cock, have you?” I brushed her clit.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Yes, Master.”

I continued teasing her clit with one hand while slowly stretching her with the fingers of the other. Every so often, she’d let out a soft whimper of pleasure.

“I’m going to remove my fingers,” I said. “When I do, I want you to move to the whipping bench.”

I use it for chastisement , I’d told her once. But it serves other purposes as well. Would she remember? Dare I hope I’d gotten her to a place inside her head where she trusted me implicitly?

I slipped my fingers from her, slowly removing them, and gave her clit one last swirl.

“Stand up for me,” I said, with a tug on her hands.

She stood slowly, her hair falling softly into place around her face.

“To the bench, my lovely.”

She didn’t hesitate. Knowing, hopefully, she had done nothing requiring punishment.

“I’m so proud of you,” I told her, when she had positioned herself. “The way you trust me.”

She was bent over the bench with her backside to me—her arms were behind her back and she’d kept a wide stance with her legs. I moved behind her and leaned over.

“You can feel it in this position, can’t you?” I asked, slipping a prepared finger inside her again, causing her upper body to move against the bench. “Your nipples.” I pulled out a bit and her body moved slightly. “How they scrape the bench with every push of my hand?”

Again I worked to stretch her with my fingers and slid a hand between her legs to graze her pussy. I wanted her to ache for me. Wanted to get her to where she hungered for my cock. The movement of her body against the bench, the gentle stretch of my fingers, the play of my fingers against her clit—they all worked to get her there.

She moaned.

“What is it?” I asked. “What do you need?”

“Oh, God,” she said as I pushed deeper.

“What do you need?” I smacked her across the ass, and she gave another moan. “Tell me.”