PART FOUR o – Training

  I was horrified seeing these videos. I thought they were all a put-on, but no. One mommy had done it first, then others imitated and shared photos and amateur videos. Then another mommy had to outdo all the others. Two friend mommies over to have the same game. Then three. Next thing you know? Mommy gang party. One slut wouldn't py, and they all had paddles and whips to get the idea across to him. Strict mommies had gotten together, had a few drinks? That was that. Deal with it.

  They had to compete and outdo each other. One was subjected to a mommy bang party, where the objective was he had misbehaved, and they were all going to take turns teaching him a lesson he would never forget. What I had done to him st time over my knee in the basement? They all took turns doing worse. First one to get tears, got a prize. First one to get crying? Another prize. First one to get screaming? Another bigger prize.

  Then, one had to "win". She was tired of her slut, and wanted another. Like breaking up with a boyfriend for another, for the hell of it. His one mommy friend over party? Started out like the make out share party… then the friend mommy wanted to try him out. She punished him and raped him, and his owner let her go. When she decided he would do? She expined this mommy was going to take him home. She would retrain him to her tastes, and as he had just experienced, she was a lot stricter. He begged not to be given away, and they ughed and dragged him off to what was ostensibly the garage. The st bit, was the original mommy showing her throwing his clothes out. He would be naked and unable to leave his new "home", and would be much more strictly trained much to the amusement of his new owner.

  No retionship, no sense of… anything decent. One other "winning" mommy topping them all or at least in the competition, showed off two sluts. Both were helpless and blindfolded and she had a friend mommy over to py. She said she couldn't bring herself to force homosexual activity on them, but she was "getting over it", so it would happen eventually, and she would "win".

  Good sweet Christ. I wanted to show him these things, to show him he was "owned" by a good and decent "mommy". I was better, I was the best he could get. The only thing stopping me? I was afraid I would scare him that this was where it would lead to. I decided to err on the side of caution for now.

  This, was where the naughty compulsion could lead you to, without a sense of "when". Did these mommies start out with a firm sense of "when" and lost it along the line somewhere and now couldn't find it again? Or… was this part of the rules of their mommy games with their sluts. Was I just seeing standard group sex people, with a new name for the game. Or, had I just seen how it could happen. Just one little… aw, be fun to show someone my doggy tricks… maybe just one peek for my room mate to see what went on in the shower. Hey he's blindfolded and tied up in here for naughty shower… oh, you wanna take a pee? Go ahead, we're not looking. Ha ha. He wouldn't know which room mate ogled his situation. A couple times, and it probably broke the ice to try… yeah, that could happen. I wouldn't go there.

  I'm human. Did I never get winked at by a girlfriend's guy? Think… just once, wouldn't it be fun to… no! I don't do that. So, I don't. This was the same. Not being the circus freak. Not being the weird attention whore at the serious career office. I had joked about the tickling "help" though, hadn't I? Watch it, Hurry. That's how it starts.

  No. I was safe with myself. I had the natural inclination to fire girls off the wall for looking at him wrong. That's the safe pce to stay at. Plus? He liked it. When you're jealous of your lover, it shows concern and vested interest.

  I scratched my naked little doggy and told him he had been a good boy on his little walk. I smiled, and said to myself in my head that this was just a selfish pleasure for me alone. I proceeded to try out my toys. I tied the little brush into his mouth for a bit gag with rope hanging extra at both ends dangling, and pretend scrubbed the dresser. I "dipped" his head into the sock drawer and back up for another scrub on the dresser top. I got behind him and bounced my midsection off of his naked butt, pulling on the "reins" to show him how I would ride him one night like a naughty little slut. You're my doggy? You'll be my horsie too. I don't know what unique feature a giraffe gives sexually, if anything identifiable. But, I'd use him for that as well, if I could figure out what a giraffe was even for.

  I had an epiphany. I tied a clean hand towel for a gag fpping above and below his mouth, and showed him how he would become, one night, a human sexual washrag. I would scrub every inch of my dirty body off with him. He seemed into it. He already licked any part of me clean or dirty I ever presented him with, so why not.

  I was in a rush, I was warm and tingly all over practically non stop. I only had to stop and think about several things quick, and the warm rush came back again. Over and over as many times as it struck me again. I knew I was feeling the romantic part of love, the endorphins and chemicals. On top of that, I was feeling a poignant spot of it, one of those magical moments where your fascination increases and lingers on.

  He had a series of experiences with regur girls that were either fun fluff or downright negative. Home and school had been less than magical for him, the period where many people's carefree fun was at some zenith. A nerd that craved the greener grass on the other side of the septic tank. A guy that did everything he was "supposed" to do with girls, and ended up in the all too real friend zone trap, then used for a "too nice" show boyfriend to be used in all ways and given practically nothing for it. Gingerbread for the parents to marvel at how good of a girl their sweet little daughter was, when the harsh reality was she was everything except.

  My own school experience while maybe not as unfulfilling as his own, had not been quite what I had pictured for myself. He went off to the service, and his stars changed. He looked up one night, and his consteltion had shifted a couple to the right. He must have wished upon a star as a kid, because his wish had been heard by some interstelr power in the universe and granted. He was simply picked up over some MPs shoulder, carried politely over, and his combat boots set down on the other side of the septic tank of life. Here you are. You belong over here. With us. He got to see life from that side of the fence. Instead of the show boyfriend, he was now viewed as one of the polite bad boys around.

  Some polite and quiet hard ass that all the bad boys looked up to, singled him out. Courted him. Finished him. Had the intellectual capacity coupled with emotional intelligence and street smarts to reunite him with his true self he thought he had left behind. He reintroduced him to himself. You will no longer be two halves, I will reunite you. There will be no weld line, no brazing mark. You will be recast wholesale, and poured back into the mold that is the shape of you. What you were, what you became? I'll make you into a complete, homogeneous whole.

  Were things okay? Yeah, they had been okay. Then things got good? Yeah, real good. Then why not go from good to great, and live your life out not just being happy and not able to define it. Why not wake up everyday with rays of sunshine beaming out of your asshole. He could go back to being the nerd, he could still be the quiet hard ass, and each would make the other into more. Intellectuals wished to be hard. Hard men wished for more intellect. You have both. Be more than the sum of your parts.

  This was what he accomplished with what was to be the untimely short end of his abbreviated life. This was what got sent back for me to find. Quit trying to be like everyone else. Just actually be yourself, be different, and beam with pride. Your own acceptance of yourself will now be more powerful than any other's. You'll have to impress yourself, because they all set their own bars too low for greatness. And no one needs to know, until that great day. Like a gathering cloud of gas no one quite notices as anything spectacur, you can quietly and ignominiously compress in on yourself, and fsh over and ignite. Become a bright star. If it doesn't quite happen, you'll know you tried your best, and live out your days as a gas giant. Still quite a spectacur sight.

  Almost all the other boys wanted what everyone else wanted. That hadn't worked, so… he wanted something different. He had always been drawn to that "different". Now reunited with both halves of himself, he could quit wondering why and just go for it. He no longer needed, he simply wanted.

  This was the polished treasure sent back for me to locate. He satisfied both the look and fascination I wanted. The part of me that wanted traditional niceness. Everything about me that made me different and detracted, he was fascinated with and found irresistible.

  I could be tall and big boned, and he liked me more for it. I was able to gently control conversation and decisions and I didn't get fought over it on some philosophical issue. I could take his hand and lead him and he followed. This was deemed generally "wrong" or worse held up to be some kind of ideal for girls not naturally inclined to it. He just marveled at the difference and the engineer in him saw bridges hard to traverse being skipped over and marveled at the work being done all by itself with no effort. What did he say, an engineer always takes the easy way out.

  I made jokes that came back and got sweetly blushed at. I could decide when we consummated our retionship. Also how, what we did, and why. He bent to my will, and did it willingly. I took my naughty secret desires out of my trunk, and showed him. He touched my radio again and again and begged for more of it. He enjoyed every st thing about me, that made me different then asked me to be even more different. He asked, then reaffirmed and in the end all but begged me to further it.

  If being swatted willingly was fun, why not unwillingly. If some was good, more would be better. If pretending to be taken was fun, how much more fun would being taken unwillingly be for an incomparable experience. If it was a fun and naughty game to be "punished", then why not take the quotation marks out of the air surrounding it. He trusted me and loved me and simply gave himself over to me. Use me, do what you want with me. Whatever you want. I had dared him that first night, now he dared me back. I did. I took him completely.

  This morning in the shower, I got the quick fruits of it. I had asked him to submit and surrender, and he had. He asked and begged. I was high and in a rush, waiting for that magical shower. We were both different, we would be more different, we would do it all our own way.

  I hadn't taken anything off but my hikers, he had no clothes on and was either unashamed or enjoying it. When I grabbed him and toyed with him, he pushed gently and pretended to struggle. No, please don't and we both ughed and had fun. I pyed some more naked fetch. I put my knees over his shoulders and settled down to some serious slutty kissing. The kind that signals its starting.

  I kiss him. I initiate the kiss. My tongue goes in first. If its a dance, I lead and he follows. I hold him and separate when I feel like it, and go back again when I feel like it. He melts into me when I do it. He melted on his knees for me now. I bodily dragged him up on the bed with me, and took him more. Sluttier kissing. More insistent, dirtier, harder. He melted like butter. I hadn't pyed with the rough rope, so I showed it to him.

  "I thought you liked your discount chains set."

  "I do. But I missed the tying. Its convenient to click you in now. This always took time. I miss you blushing and holding your wrists out for me when I tell you. I miss seeing the marks and teasing you about them. I miss taking the time to let you go. Hearing you promise things. It was more… intimate. It was our little ritual before it happened. It was another little ritual when I let you go."

  "So, you bought the rough stuff."

  I smiled and nodded. Licked the tip of his nose pyfully for quick surprise and silly fun. I dangled it in his face, ran it over him, let him feel the extra roughness. I dragged it across his nipple with no force and he winced at the scraping.

  "Give me your hands. I'll demonstrate."

  He held his wrists to me, and I wound it around one, then around the other in a wide series of wraps, a tight figure eight. I held the loose ends snug, and pinned his hands above his head to hold him down.

  "You can feel it. It cuts in. Its uncomfortable. It will remind you, that you're captured for me to use. And… the more you pull…"

  I mounted his hips, held it firmly above his head, and tickled him for a little while. Until I got the pulling and twisting and begging, then finally the first few screams with nervous ughter and more were coming… and I quit and restarted several times. I then brought his wrists up, and slowly unwound the tight grasp on his wrists and as the rope unwound slowly, you could feel and almost hear it peeling out of the skin the rough braid had dug into. He marveled at the deep marks, the perfect imprints of the ligature marks.

  "That? Was just a few seconds of you pulling. Imagine a nice, long session where you were pulling and twisting helplessly. These marks would be so deep, so red. They'd st so long, and everyone would know what caused it. No hiding it. I miss seeing you hide marks in public. I smile and look at the marks, and you just blush and cover up, all shy."

  "This rough stuff. It would… bruise me more."

  "Oh. Way more. If you sat still, it would be bad enough after a while. This was seconds, imagine a few hours of you screaming and pulling to escape, but you can't get away. The more you pull? The worse it cuts in and burns and cuts into you. Mm."

  "Are… you really going to use it on me for that?"

  "Maybe not right now, but… definitely. Many wraps around your wrists, your ankles. A long time of making you twist for your life to get away, and you can't. Get that nice rope burn around your waist or your thighs, where I use it to hold you down, to keep you still, to take it more. Oh, yeah… I can't wait. It'll be for when we have days of privacy. When I let you go, finally? You're gonna sit there and rub your wrists and ankles for a while. They're gonna get tender and hurt. When I hold you with my hands after that first time? That's gonna hurt too. You won't be able to leave the townhouse, because there will be no hiding what I did to you. I'm gonna get so wet seeing it. Like my whip marks on you. I'm gonna put marks on you. Show that I own you. Does that make you hot thinking about it?"

  It did. I gave him another demonstration. I wrapped it tight around his mouth and held the ends tight, for a gag and a handle. Threw him around some by it. When I slid it out of his mouth finally, letting him go, he felt the corners of his mouth. He had felt the roughness, how it bit in and he couldn't wiggle his head.

  I was toying with him, pying with him. I did it easily and confidently. No more misgivings about how or why, I just wallowed in my dominance over him. It now came easily, and unbidden. I wasn't pretending anymore, it had become real. I didn't have to act or put on a show. I was just reality acting, being myself. Typecast if it was still acting, which it had to be because I turned it on and off at will when it was appropriate to do so.

  "Hmm. So, you're a… rope expert. From growing up on the farm? How convenient for me. Its nice to know I'm being tortured by an expert."

  "Hmm. I guess, I kinda am. Rope is like whips. To most of the world? Seeing whips around is strange, and something really weird is going on in that house. Rope, too. You walk into someone's apartment, and see piles of rope around, you think what the hell is this used for. Why is it so handy and ready to grab. Now, on a farm? You need whips around handy. You need all kinds of cord and rope."

  "So, tell me about rope then."

  "Hmm. Someone, is getting all hot and bothered, mm?"

  He blushed and nodded.

  "Hmm. All right. Naughty bedtime story about rope, huh? Rope is like whips. It wasn't invented for use on people. Whips are for animals. Rope is for securing something. So hay bales don't flip out and cause an accident on the road. To tie a gate shut and keep the animals in that broke the tch. You rope a calf, to do things you have to do to it. You tie things to the wall or the rafters, for more room. You tie an animal's back legs together, that kicks and can kill you. So they can walk slow, and not kick you. They keep it up? You can whip them, to teach them a lesson. The rope holds them, for their lesson."

  "You'll teach me lessons. When you get me in your own townhouse?"

  I whispered in his ear, lurid.

  "Lots of them. All the time…"

  He blushed.

  "What about all the… sailor's knots. You're like some… boy scout earned all his merit badges."

  "Oh. You're a regur person. You know a bow, you tie your shoe with it. So you can undo the ces easily. You only know probably one other thing. You tie a knot. There's a million different knots, that's a square knot. It works loose? They tie two or three square knots over."

  "It works."

  "Like a turd works as a pencil, sure. You can write your name. Sort of. Knots are, half science half art. You really like hearing this?"

  "Its… I never would have believed it, before that third date started? If someone told me I was going to get hard and wet and squirming for it, from hearing a naughty bedtime story all about rope and knots. Now? I'm… practically dripping."

  I touched him, and giggled.

  "We'll keep it up. I know how to have fun with that situation, ter. So… using a turd for a pencil."

  "I love the ever so delicate way you farm girls put things. Girly girls are so crude."

  "You want things to stay put. You might need them handy to get undone, you might need to get it undone with one hand, while you hold something else."

  "Mm. I don't know why it was so hot? But, when you had that knot you just yanked to let me down after working me over with the wet towel, in the women's shower room? It was hot."

  "That's a hitch. Your shoece? You need to pull both strings, to undo it. If you don't, it makes a little knot and now you're stuck. Its like a half bow. You yank the one string. Its free. You can hold something up, and drop it when you need to, one yank. You can drop a gate on a pissed off cow, and you can't let go of the rope got them in the stall finally. You'd get killed if you didn't let the gate fall when you yanked."

  "Its… hot when you run the rope up over a pipe, and over to you. You look so sexy standing there. All… proud of yourself."

  "Hmm. That's a simple pulley to throw rope over something, like a pipe or a rafter. You can hold way more up, after its already up? When its thrown over and back down like that. Yeah, I guess its dramatic to you. You're strung up helpless, like a hay bale. I yank the hitch, down you come free. Does it make me seem more… powerful to you? The way I control you like that."

  More blush.

  "Yeah…"

  "Well? I'll have to do it more. You just wait till we have our own fraidy hole."

  "What. Same things would happen to me down there. Same hole."

  "Well, yeah. But… I'll leave ropes ying around. That one I throw up over the pipe? Hitch to the gate? Pffft. Things like that just left out. Handcuffs hanging, waiting to just click click and there you are. Helpless. At my mercy. Hoping against hope, I decide I'm going to have some mercy on you. I'm going to have a few strategically located… tie points. Wrap hitches. Pulleys. And… this should get you all hot…"

  "Go on."

  "Hmm. I just know it. You know how you're strung up, hands over your head, dangling, waiting for me to give it to you, as long as I feel its necessary this time?"

  He nodded and blushed.

  "Its cheap. I'm going to have a little… electric winch. I'll click your wrists in, they're waiting for you. Then walk over and push a button. Up, up, up… nice and snug? There. When I'm done using you? Push another button. Your hands come down. Let me guess. Hot, right?"

  "Smoking hot. Industrial… whatever."

  "That's why I wish I could get you down to my barn alone, when everyone's away at some fair or a big faraway auction. The barn? Has privacy. You can scream your head off, no one will hear. And all this… stuff is all around me, with lots of open room to use the big whips on you if I want. I definitely will, believe me. Can't pass that fun weekend up. I'll take full advantage of that. Then throw you over hay bales, to take you. Tie you to posts for more. Tie you over a hay bale to sleep if I want. Wake up and decide to wake you up with a particurly harsh rape? Right there, waiting for it. Use you all night like the dirty little slut you really know you are now."

  I felt his interest meter. Leaking.

  "You, are springing a leak."

  "Is the rope talk done? What about… kinds of ropes."

  "Oh. Cotton rope is soft, finer weave. Won't damage things tying things down. I use it to put my boxes and bags on the roof rack, so I don't drive home feeling like I'm in a supply wagon, looking for things that should be ying on the seat handy for me. Like my drink or my phone or my Bluetooth pyer. So, it hurts you less to tie you with it. Same thing, even though it was for loads you want protected and still need secured. When I use cotton rope on you? It shows that mommy cares, and wants to protect you and not damage you, or your finish. The marks are less noticeable, and go away quicker. Its mommy being sweet, securing you when she needs you secured. It wont ruin the finish of the table legs in the kitchen, too."

  "And, the rough stuff?"

  Sometimes, you want that roughness. You don't care if it roughs the finish up of the thing getting tied down, or the thing its tied to. It doesn't matter. What matters, is that something won't slip out. It grabs and holds. Like hobbling an animals legs together so it can walk but not run or kick. Cotton rope? Doesn't control as good. The rough stuff works better. Knots won't slip as easy, hurts more to try to get free. When mommy comes at you with the really rough stuff? You know that for the night? Mommy wants you to be even more helpless. For it to hurt to try to get away. Mommy doesn't care if it marks you up. You're not tied to an expensive kitchen table, you're tied to some old post in a dirty basement. Who cares. That's the kind of night you can look forward to, when mommy comes for you with the rough stuff in her hand. I want it to hurt more, I want the marks to be worse, to st longer. That's mommy not caring that night."

  "Will those nights… happen?"

  "Oh. Definitely, they will. You can count on it. Every once in a while? Be extra rough with you. Let you know I can. Tie the ropes tighter, to hear you squeal when you pull. You can even get some blood on your wrists and ankles, if I'm using you particurly rough that night. Those nights will happen. Sometimes you ride a slut gentle, some times you ride them… rough."

  "Any other ropes?"

  "The cotton, fine weave is the original soft rope. There's other kinds of even softer now. Some are shiny and pretty. Think… decorative ropes. On draperies, lines at the bank. Or curtains at shows. That? Would be for a special occasion. The photo I take of you? It would be all pretty, tied up with decorative but still somewhat functional rope. Very gentle marks left. Say, for an anniversary? Of our first rape… that would be the night for using you like… my little princess. Show you how valuable you were to me, that I really cared about how it felt."

  "Will I get that."

  "Once in a while, sure. You? Are not going to be some spoiled princess slut, thinking its all for your fun. You exist for my pleasure. You're just along for the ride. Rough or sweet, or in between. But yeah. You'll get gently used once in a while. Definitely. Pretty ropes, maybe some soft, shiny fake satin sheets. Sweet pictures to add to my collection."

  "Collection."

  "Oh. When I first said okay, and I told you I needed a couple weeks to look into it? I started keeping pictures, videos. Of every single training session. Every one of them. I save them. I have them in a special folder on my ptop. I'm going to have a complete, very explicit collection. Naughty movie nights? Will be way more fun. We'll be able to have naughty movies two weeks straight. In our townhouse? We'll make popcorn and watch the good ones. I'm picturing cuffing you to the chair, making you watch a rough one. Big screen TV in our bedroom, py a really twisted long one while I use you. And when we're done training you? I'll have it all saved."

  "I'm gonna make mister computer wizard organize it. Sort it. Name it what I want. Make a list to click on and go to stuff. So… when I go away all weekend for a big game or tournament? I'm gonna call home, we can see and talk on our videophone app. I'm gonna know, that you're at home. Watching your favorite porn. Of me using you. I'm gonna have you put something on I like, you'll show me on the camera that's the one. I'm gonna have you… take care of yourself right in front of me on camera. Let me see it go off. Demand you clean up your mess, while I watch and tease you on camera. I'm going to use you and have fun with you from two states away."

  "Really?"

  "Hun… I'll make you use a toy in front of me. Tell you what I want next. And if you don't do it? You'll know what you'll get when I get home, for defying me. Tell me what you think will happen then. Go on."

  "Basement."

  "And in the basement?"

  "Whip jeans off of me… "

  "And more. After I've whipped the jeans off of you the first time? So you know how hard the bullwhip can lick you when I want… after you get your final greased up hard one we talked about… you'll do what my voice tells you on the phone. Because you'll know what happens when I get back if you don't please me. I'll be letting you see me getting off, too. Its a two way street. Neither one will ever go looking for fun anywhere. Its at home, even when we're apart. Plus? You know I'm gonna rough you up a little right before I go. That first night? You get the rough ropes right before I go. There's at least a day or two you won't leave the bedroom. Other marks I leave on your ass or anywhere else I don't want shown in public without me there? I'll just leave them good enough they st till I get back. Don't think for a second I can't get a week out of them. You know I can and will."

  "Because you're showing how much I mean to you, really."

  "I am. I'm a strict mommy, I have to keep you in line. I'm keeping you from getting yourself into trouble. I'm just getting wet doing it, its a bonus."

  "You mentioned your barn, you said use your big whips on me. You mean big whip."

  "No. WhipZ. Plural. Every whip has an original purpose. Every one has its own use on you."

  "Riding crop."

  "Riding crop is for riding. Short, handy. Most people think whips are for whipping, most hardly ever get used for that. I touch my horse, its like a joystick to control complicated things fluently. Like barrel racing. I'm rubbing with more or less pressure, to lean more or less. Running ft out and racing? He knows walk, canter and gallop. Long race, I want to set pace. The taps or rubs, coming lighter or harder, faster or slower, let me set a fine control on pace, and keep it adjusted for the long haul."

  "I just got tied and whipped till I cried."

  "You did. Sure. You also… get tapped, and pointed at, when I sat on you for… lecture time. I've taught you some mommy riding commands. Deeper, softer. You're my fuck horse. Mommy rides you. Mommy commands you. That's you. My own personal slut I like to ride. So, I take the time to teach you how I like it."

  "Mm. I like mommy rides."

  "Mommy likes them too. I see someone wants the whip naughty documentary now too, huh? Okay. But if that thing explodes? You're going down to the basement for it. Its going to hurt more without the love chemicals protecting you from the pain, turning it into pleasure. Extra shame and humiliation to get it like that, helpless and being punished without the pleasure chemicals. If I ever wanted to hurt you mean? I'd give you some hand over my bare thighs. You'd pull around and squirt off. Then? Really give it to you good when you'd really feel it, and die from shame."

  "You'd do that?"

  "I will. When you need real punishment, to finish this off? Sure. You're going to squirt in my p, then I'm really going to y into your naked, squirming ass. Probably with the big brush you're so scared of. Do that job right. You'll be helpless over mommy's p. And mommy will beat you into complete submission. Stand you up, and make you show me the marks. Then, you'll get it all over again. With the new giant paddle. I mean really good. Then, you'll show me those marks. I'll have a nice video of it, to show you when I need you to remember to listen. This comes over the next weeks, before we're done. When I've done that finally? I'll have you disciplined. I'll get crying and begging when I threaten you with the scary thing. You'll be a fully trained slut then. More useful to mommy, when you're fully trained."

  "Hmm."

  "Why you so wet hearing about it, hmm? You'll learn how to beg, after that. I guarantee it. But, that's another day. If you don't squirt off hearing about naughty whip talk. So, that's a riding crop. There's tons more."