novel by Jay West

Training Carrie by Her Master

by Jay West 

Chapter 44

It was apparent as soon as we started fucking that Carrie was as good
as her word. Her mood was bright, and she was enthusiastically
participating in some very unrestrained sex. We were laughing and joking a
lot of the time, which might sound strange to some, but was an earmark of
some of our most enjoyable sex. When we had both cum several times, we
switched to a more relaxed tempo, while talking about miscellaneous, non
hill-climbing subjects. I asked Carrie if she was willing to renew her
wedding vows this weekend. “Oh, I had forgotten,” she said. “You want to
re-shoot our wedding with me in my new gown. Sure, that would be fun, maybe
we can make a few minor changes to improve the ceremony.”

    Our first ceremony had been prepared in only a few minutes, and we had
both agreed later we could have done a better job. Now was our chance, and
I told her we should talk about it over lunch. Carrie was sitting astride
me and humping me at a leisurely pace. I noticed that the brown dye we had
applied to her nipples and areolae had faded noticeably, and pointed that
out to her. Looking down, she agreed, and said we should reapply it before
the wedding, and this time make it much darker. I agreed, and asked her
what else we should dye, since hadn’t shown any allergic reactions to the
dye.

    “Do you still want my pussy bright red?” she asked. I told her I didn’t
think I would like that in the long run, although I admitted it would be
striking. I asked her how she thought Philip would react to that. “Never,
mind, Master,” she said, “I wouldn’t want Philip to see me like that.”

    I told her there was one other thing I would like to do to her, and
that was to put my initials on her body, sort of like a tattoo without the
needles. She said that was a great idea, and asked if we could paint “owned
by” plus my initials on her. I suggested we could do it on the inside of
her thighs, just below her crotch. If we kept it small, it wouldn’t be
noticeable unless she spread her legs. She liked the idea, so I charged her
with deciding the exact words and placement.

    Finally, we seemed to be approaching the end of the insatiable phase of
our sexual relationship. Previously, after we had cycled through all of our
favorite positions and perhaps tried a few new ones, we would both be ready
to start all over again. Now it seemed that one cycle would satisfy both of
us for at least a few hours. I thought that was sad in a way, but at the
same time I knew we, especially me, wouldn’t be able to keep up our
original pace indefinitely. We came together one last time, and Carrie
stretched out on top of me for some finishing kisses.

    After a few minutes of nuzzling, I asked Carrie if she was too tired to
do her weight training, and she said No, she would like to do that. As we
were walking to the spare bedroom, I told her to decide during her exercise
what we would write on her thighs, and we would do the dyeing right after
exercise. She said she had already decided, it would be “Slave of” on one
thigh, and my initials on the other. I asked her why she wanted “Slave”
rather than “Property.” She said because we were each other’s property, but
she was my Slave, and that made it simpler. I laughed and complimented her
on her analysis. She thought I was teasing her, but I said I was giving her
a genuine compliment because her decision made perfect sense.

    After Carrie’s exercise, I took her to the kitchen for a glass of
water, then we showered. I made sure I soaped, then rinsed Carrie’s breasts
and inner thighs thoroughly. Once we were both dried off, Carrie lay down
on her back on the bed, and I rounded up the equipment. I got some make-up
remover and cotton swabs from Carrie’s dresser, and thoroughly cleaned her
nipples, areolae, and the inside of her thighs to remove as much body oil
as possible. Like before, she said I was turning her on during this
process.

    We had decided to use the brown dye for both applications. Before
applying the dye, I told her we should leave it on an hour this time to
make a darker effect, and reminded her that she would have to remain still
for that time. She groaned, but said to go ahead. I applied the dye to her
breasts, being careful to exactly match the natural outlines of her
areolae. Once I had a thick dye coating on her breasts, I moved to her open
thighs. First I stencilled what we had agreed to using a ballpoint pen, then
showed it to Carrie with a hand mirror. When she agreed that it was Ok, I
carefully traced over the writing with a Q-tip that was saturated with the
dye. It was soon finished, and as I was putting everything away I reminded
Carrie not to move.

    I ran to the basement and shortly returned with “The Story of O.”
Pulling up a chair beside the bed, I told Carrie we would start again from
the beginning, and when I got to a part she found exciting or stimulating,
she would tell me and we would talk about it. She started to object, but I
gave her a stern look and said, “Are you going to disobey your Master,
whose initials are being imprinted on your thigh as we speak?”

    I only expected a “No, Master,” but she actually smiled as she said it.
I told her to relax and listen to the story, then began reading to her.

    We didn’t get very far into the book during that hour. It turned out
that every description of O’s treatment by the other characters in the
story excited Carrie. The opening pages, O partly undressed by her lover in
the presence of another man, O bathed and dressed by the uniformed women,
her first fitting with the slave bonds, it all made Carrie hot. And by the
time we got to O’s presentation to the masters, and her first fucking and
whipping, Carrie’s juices were running down her ass onto the bed. She
became very embarrassed that I now knew this secret about her. It was hard
not to be amused by her predicament, but I knew that would be the worst
reaction I could show her right now. Later, of course, when she had
overcome this inhibition, we would both look back and laugh about it.

    At the end of the hour I put the book down, to Carrie’s visible relief,
and began carefully removing the dye residue. I talked to her as I worked,
first asking her when she had first read the book. She gave me a quick look
of recognition, realizing I knew that she had read it – or at least some
passages – more than once. She said she started reading it after her first
interview with the organization. I asked her many more question, trying to
understand if she saw herself as O, in the situations O experienced, during
her time at the organization. The short answer was, Yes.

    Carrie was getting more agitated as I continued to press her on the
subject. I decided to back off for awhile, but not forever. The final
question I asked her was, “Were you disappointed to find that you would
only be trained by one man, rather than several different men?” She had
been pushed a little too far, and she got angry. She asked me what I wanted
to hear. I looked at her and smiled, and said “I want the truth, Slave, and
I want it right now.”

    That took her back a little, and her attitude softened. She was
thoughtful for a few moments, then she said, “Master, I thought I would be
required to have sex with many people after I became a slave, but I wanted
to be a slave in spite of that, not because of it. I did expect to be
trained by more than one man, possibly even by a mix of men and … women.
But what you really want to know is, ‘Do I wish I was having sex with
anyone other than you?’ The answer is No. Not now, not ever.”

    “I was sure that was the answer, Carrie, but here’s why I asked: Now
that I realize how strongly you identify with O, I’ll try to find ways to
recreate some of the book’s situations for you. Of course, there’s just the
two of us here, but I’m sure I can think of some scenarios you’ll find
interesting. And if we’re ever free to leave here, the possibilities open
up even more.”

    Now she was blushing. “Master, you wouldn’t give me to other men, you
promised that wouldn’t happen!” I told her I hadn’t known she had these
kinds of fantasies then. But I promised her nothing would be done to her
without her consent, and we would always talk about it before any firm
plans were made. I didn’t want to tell her yet, but it wasn’t other men I
wanted to see her with, it was other women.

    When I had removed all of the dye, I went to the bathroom and returned
with a damp wash cloth. After rubbing the wash cloth lightly over the dyed
areas, I showed that there was no dye residue on the cloth. She wanted to
know how she looked. I told her she would have to see for herself, and had
her close her eyes while I pulled her off the bed and led her to the
mirror. I told her to open her eyes and look at the stunning woman in front
of her.

    Carrie gasped when she saw how dark her areolae were. They were a
perfectly uniform chocolate brown. She frowned as she looked at me in the
mirror, and asked, “Are they too dark for you, Master?”

    I reached around her and cradled her breasts in my hands. “They’re
beautiful, Carrie. I think we should keep them this dark from now on. What
do you think?”

    She smiled and put her hands over mine. “If my Master likes them, I
like them,” she said. I slid my hands out from under hers and told her to
stimulate her nipples for a little while. Sliding my hands slowly down her
sides and over her belly, I began lightly touching and teasing her labia,
then penetrated her with several fingers. She leaned back against me and
closed her eyes, but I told her to watch her beautiful breasts while she
played with her nipples.

    After a few minutes, I positioned a chair in front of the mirror and
sat Carrie at the front edge of the chair. She opened her legs wide to look
at the message on her thighs. She laughed and said, “Oh, Master, you wrote
it backwards.” I said I was sorry she would never see the message the way I
saw it, and told her how proud and happy it made me to see another mark of
her Master on her body.

    I sat on the floor in front of Carrie and took her labia in my fingers,
eliciting a deep sigh. I told her we were going to do something we had
never done before, and it might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but we
would take it as slowly as she wanted. Then I let go of her with one hand
and slowly penetrated her pussy with a finger. She smiled down at me and
said she liked that. After lightly moving around the walls of her vagina
and moving in and out for a minute, I withdrew the finger and then pushed
two fingers into her. Repeating the process, I then slowly pushed all four
fingers a small way into her. She gasped. “Just relax, and open for your
Master,” I told her. I left my fingers just inside her vagina for a moment,
then started gently moving, twisting my wrist back and forth slowly and
pushing ever deeper into her.

    When I had all four fingers in Carrie up to the last joint, I asked her
how it felt. She said I was stretching her, and it hurt. I said it hurt
because she wasn’t opening herself to her Master, and that she needed to
relax. She said she would try, and asked how much farther I was going. I
told her I was going to put my whole hand in her, far enough that I could
penetrate her cervix with a finger. She begged me not to do that, but I
told her to be quiet and concentrate on opening herself for her Master.

    Tucking my thumb into my palm, I tried to make my hand as small and
rounded as possible, then began very slowly pushing farther into her,
rotating my wrist back and forth as I pressed farther in. I softly repeated
the command “Open,” over and over as I burrowed into her. She didn’t speak
again, but she began making whimpering sounds. I stopped moving, and asked
her what was wrong. She gave me a pleading look and asked me again to
please stop. I asked her if the pain was too much, and she said she was
afraid. “Look down at my hand, Carrie, and see how you’ve opened for me,” I
told her.

    She kept her eyes locked onto mine, and shook her head. “Please,
Master, I don’t like this,” she said. I told her to look down right now,
and describe what she saw. She took a breath, looked down at my hand, and
gasped. “Your hand is in my pussy, almost up to your wrist, Master.”

    “Can you open a little more for me, Carrie? We’ll stop immediately if
you’re in pain, but I don’t think you are. I think you’re just afraid. Your
pussy has never been this open for your Master, and it’s a strange
experience for you. If you want me to stop, it’s your decision.”

    She looked me in the eyes again, took a deep breath, and asked me to
kiss her. Being careful not to move my hand inside her, I reached up and
gave her a tender kiss. She smiled, and said, “I’m yours, Master, use me
any way you choose.”

    “If I was just using your pussy, Carrie, I would have my cock in you,
not my hand. I want this to be an experience we share. Tell me how it makes
you feel, having my entire hand inside you.”

    “I can’t describe it, Master. I’ve run out of new ways to describe how
submissive you make me feel. You own me, you control me, I’m yours for
whatever you want.” I pushed my hand a little farther, until my fingers
were up against her cervix.

    I pushed against her cervix, and her eyes opened very large. She was
gripping the chair arms so hard that her hands were trembling. “Open for
me, Carrie, I want to be inside your womb. Just a finger for now, open for
your Master.”

    “Oh, God,” she said, and she opened. My middle finger slid through her
cervix. I smiled at her and told her she was my good girl. She gave me a
weak smile in return, and whispered “I’m so embarrassed, and so afraid, but
I love you more than life. I’m yours to command, Master.” I told her that
was as far as we would go for now, but I wanted her to experience one more
thing before I removed my hand. I told her to ask me to curl my fingers
into a fist. She groaned, but we both knew she was now beyond denying me
anything I wanted from her. “Master, please make a fist in me. I want to
feel your fist in my pussy, fucking your Slave. Please fuck me hard with
your fist, Master.”

    “No, Carrie,” I said quietly, “I’m not going to fuck you hard with my
fist. But I want you to feel my fist in your vagina. You want that too,
don’t you Carrie?” She nodded her head.

    I pulled my hand back a little, until my finger was clear of her
cervix. Slowly and carefully, I moved my thumb to the side and curled my
fingers into a fist. “Oh, God,” Carrie said again, “I can’t believe how
that feels.  Please, Master, move your fist inside me. Please be careful,
don’t hurt me, but I want to feel your fist move. Can you rotate your hand,
Master? Very slowly, please.”

    “I’ll be happy to move my hand for you, Carrie. Would you like to cum
for me while I move my hand in your beautiful, tight pussy?”

    “Yes, Master, may I please cum with your fist inside me?”

    “Cum now, Carrie, as many times as you like,” I told her. Immediately
the heat, the fluid release, the muscle contractions, were flooding my hand
with sensations. I thought this was as close as I would ever come to
understanding how her orgasms felt. I knew the pleasure of my own orgasms,
and now I had an idea how hers felt from the inside. Somehow, this was much
more intimate than when my cock was inside her during an orgasm.

    After Carrie had cum many times, I told her I was going to slowly
remove my hand, and I wanted her to watch as I came out of her. Leaving my
fingers curled into a fist, I slowly pulled back, rotating my hand at the
wrist as I retreated from her pussy. She watched my hand come out of her,
then she looked up at me, tears running down her cheeks.

    “Did I hurt you, Carrie,” I asked, putting my dry hand to the side of
her face.

    “Only a little at first. But Master, you took me in the most literal
sense possible. You own my soul now, Master. All of my barriers are down,
I’m afraid I’m lost.”

    “You’re not lost, Carrie. Trust me, I will never take advantage of your
vulnerability, just as I trust you not to take advantage of mine.”

    She looked at me sharply. “Is it true, Master? Can you still love me
after what you just did, what I let you do to me?”

    “We just explored a new avenue of sexual expression, Carrie, that’s all
that happened. It was an intense experience for both of us, but we’re the
same people we were before. Nothing has changed. With time and repetition,
this will become another method of giving and receiving pleasure, and
you’ll see that our love and our partnership are as solid as ever.”

    “No matter what you say, Master, you’ve changed me forever. I feel
totally open to you. I want to share everything I am with you, I feel like
all of my barriers have collapsed. You truly own me, Master.”

    “I’m honoured to own you in so intimate a way, Carrie. I love you and
cherish you. Will you re-marry me this weekend?”

    She laughed softly, obviously eager to lighten our moods. “Yes, Master,
gladly and enthusiastically.”

    “Sit back in the chair and relax, Carrie, while I wash my hands,” I
told her as I went into the bathroom. When I returned, I picked up her ring
attachment we called the “manhole cover,” and asked her if she would like
to wear it for awhile. She smiled and nodded. I took it with me back into
the bathroom, where I attached two dental floss loops through holes in the
disk.

    I returned to Carrie, kissed her tenderly, then knelt in front of her
and attached the plate to the four rings in her labia. Then I went to the
spare bedroom and returned with her leash. Kneeling before her again, I
attached the leash to the two dental floss loops. A pull on the leash to
one side or the other would cause the plate to twist to one side or the
other, and she could interpret that as a steering command.

    “I think it’s been long enough that we can start using your rings,
Carrie,” I told her. But your Master commands that you tell him if you feel
the slightest pain in any of your piercings, is that understood?”

    “Yes, Master,” she said, smiling at me. I told her to stand up and fold
her arms behind her back, and watched as she complied. She still had to
strain to grasp each upper arm with the opposite hand, but she smiled at me
as she obeyed my command.

    “You will walk two paces behind me whenever you are being led like
this, Carrie,” I told her. “You will adjust your pace so that the leash is
taut between us, but not pulling hard on your rings. Do you understand?”

    She nodded that she understood, and I added a last requirement, that
she keep her eyes downcast and her head erect. “Look only at your
beautiful, chocolate brown nipples,” I told her. She immediately
straightened her posture, raised her head, and lowered her eyes.
“Excellent,” I told her, and started walking toward the kitchen.

    After I had taken a few steps I felt tension in the leash as Carrie
adjusted to the relative position she was told to maintain. As we walked, I
told her she wasn’t under the formal speech rule, and I wanted her to talk
to me. I asked her how it felt being led like this. She didn’t answer, so I
asked the question again, with a little insistence in my voice. “Please
stop and put your Slave on her knees, Master,” she said with a tremble in
her voice.

    Looking around at her, I asked jokingly, “Why, do you feel like kissing
my feet again?” She broke her commanded Pose and raised her eyes to meet
mine, and I knew in a flash that was exactly what she wanted to do.

    I should have stopped the exercise and helped her to talk through her
intense feelings, but I was really curious where she would go with this
worship crap. Turning to face her, I said, “For raising your eyes, you’ve
just added to the punishment you have coming the next time we go to the
basement.” She lowered her eyes again. I walked up to her, took hold of her
nipples, and eased her down to her knees. She immediately bent down and
kissed each of my feet once, then rested her forehead on the floor between
my feet. Her back was perfectly straight, as if she were Posed for an
enema. I stood still, curious what she would do next. She didn’t do
anything, she held perfectly still.

    “Talk to me, Carrie,” I said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

    I didn’t know she was crying until she spoke. “You overwhelm me
master,” she said. “I can’t deal with the feelings I have, the intense
feelings of submission and domination. You do things to me that reduce me
to nothing, to an object for you to use as you please, then you expect me
to be your partner. I don’t know how to reconcile those things, Master, I
don’t know how to behave. I know I should simply obey you when you command
me and be your partner when you want a partner, but I can’t make the switch
like you can. Help me, Master.”

    “Unfold your arms and stand up, Carrie,” I told her. Sobbing softly,
she struggled to her feet. I detached the leash, then said, “Go to the
bedroom and lie down on the bed, on your back.” She turned back toward the
bedroom and walked away slowly. I went to the kitchen and made two
sandwiches. Returning with the food and two soft drinks, I set everything
on the table, then sat on the edge of the bed looking at Carrie. Tears were
running down the sides of her face. I leaned down and kissed her softly.
She returned my kiss, then told me she was sorry. I stripped and got into
bed beside her. Holding her in my arms, I asked her what she needed me to
do to fix things. She said she didn’t know, she didn’t think I was doing
anything wrong, the problem was with her.

    “Tell me what you need from your Master,” I said.

    She repeated, “I don’t know,” over and over again.

    “Let’s try to start with the extremes, and see if we can work toward a
middle ground. First, tell me if you want to stop being my Slave.”

    “Oh, no, Master,” she answered. “Please don’t ask me that, it’s
unthinkable. I was born to be your Slave, I must be your Slave.”

    “Ok, Carrie,” I said, “let’s look at the other extreme. Do you want to
just be my Slave, and terminate our partnership and our marriage.”

    “No, Master,” she said, “I couldn’t give that up either. Please listen
to me Master, there’s nothing wrong with our relationship. You’re wonderful
to me in all of your roles. The problem is that I’m not able to deal with
my emotional reactions. I don’t want to change anything, except I want to
become the perfect slave, wife, and partner you deserve.”

    “Then it’s easy, Carrie,” I said with a smile. “All you have to do is
let go, and let me catch you. I won’t let you fall, and you’ll then see
that you already are everything I want and everything I could ever ask for.
Just trust me and let go.” She hugged me tight and began sobbing. I held
her and kissed her gently and let her cry as long as she needed to.

    After nearly an hour, Carrie had regained her composure. We were
nuzzling and kissing, and I told her I was starving. She said she was
hungry too, so I helped her out of bed. We each grabbed a sandwich and a
soda, and I told her to sit in a my lap while we ate. She told me she was
sorry she had broken down. I told her I didn’t want to hear her say she was
sorry any more. If she was feeling sorry, she should stop doing the things
that made her sorry, then no apologies would be necessary. She smiled, and
said I was right.

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4 thoughts on “Training Carrie, chapter 44

  1. Oh my….I can so identify with this chapter. I wear Master's initial on my inner thigh, up near my pussy. It started as a way for me to be reminded of Him when i was away…and now it is retraced daily by one of us.
    Fisting…i still remember the first time, and it was much as described here…I had to ask what He was doing and was convinced it would never work…but the feeling of that connection…and yes the orgasms….are amazing.
    Finally, letting go and opening up…i am so better than i used to be, but at times i still need to be reminded…He is not always a mind reader, He will always catch me…..I just have to let go…
    hugs abby

    Like

  2. Letting go is about the bravest thing you can do Abby, and it is also the most beautiful gift you can give your master. Trusting your master to do something you never thought that it would work and still surrender to his will.

    It's the best feeling ever. For him.

    Hug,
    Han

    Like

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