Welcome again to this week’s Dungeon Crawl!
Training a submissive – something many might fantasise about perhaps? I do 🙂
When I wrote Trust Me to Know You, I didn’t want to write about a naive or innocent young woman who meets a Dominant and begins a relationship where he ‘trains’ her to be his submissive. Gemma comes into the story having been in numerous relationships with different kinds of Doms. She has learnt a lot, although that doesn’t mean things don’t need improving.
Jason, her current Dom, decides she needs a little refreshing, reshaping or refining, enabling him to put his mark of ownership on her. He takes her into his dungeon for a taste of his own style of training…..
Please come soon, Jason. I fidgeted uncomfortably. I had reached point when I had to stand up and risk his wrath when the door opened and closed behind me. His voice was right by my ear as he bent down.
“Mmmm. Not tight enough.” He stood behind me and began to undo the lacings.
“Sorry, sir,” I said and sucked air in through my mouth as he drew the corset tighter around my waist.
“I want you to be able to breathe comfortably and stand up dead straight, understand?”
“Sir.” He finished adjusting the corset and I felt almost robotic in my stance.
“This corset will help you concentrate on what I want you to do for me. You’re a fidget, Gemma. You flinch and wriggle far too much.” Jason poked my back. “I’m sure I’m not the first dom to comment on that?”
I had been disciplined before on my restless tendencies. The scenes flooded back into my memories. Not unpleasant nor unwanted like others – these memories were laced with nostalgia and reminded me of my innocent days.
“There are scenes I want to do with you but you will have to learn to be very still and not jiggle when you’re touched. So I’m going to train you to stand like a statue. Plus a little endurance to go with it.” He went to fetch something out of my visual range of floor staring.
“What kind of things?” I could not help asking
From behind me, Jason reached round with his hand and flicked at nipple as a clear act of censure.
“A Wartenberg pin wheel perhaps. How did you manage with that previously?”
“Er. I fidgeted a lot,” I confessed and he grinned at my honesty.
“So we’re going to train that tendency out of you. Discipline your squirming body.”
My mind raced, training with my new master! Over my years as a sub, I had found that each dom had their own style and requirements when it came to training their subs to do as they wished. My bondage man had been keen on endurance and made me hold bricks above my head or stand on tiptoes upon a small narrow stool. I must have been fitter back with him, as I could not imagine my body would cope with the ordeal of such strenuous poses.
Another man, with whom I had spent a few weekends, had used dripping hot candle wax to make me hold squats or encourage me in my pathetic attempts at press-ups. He had been my anal trainer too and I had been grateful to find him patient and easy going with my anxieties over being hurt. Little by little, he had coaxed me, rewarding my advancements with orgasms. He had never punished me for failing if I had entered into the spirit of trying something new out. My adventures with him had been tiring and perhaps the most progressive of all my dominants. I had a feeling that Jason fell into this category of trainers – a pusher of limits.
“Arms out in front and hold this in them,” instructed Jason.
Jason handed me a ball. A heavy water filled ball the size of a netball and I gripped it tightly as if I had been given a cannonball to hold. My arms ached immediately and the corset felt even tighter.
“It’s very simple. Do not move your arms or for that matter anyone other part of your body. I’m going to be touching you. Each time you flinch excessively I’m going to keep count. You will punished. A suitable penalty for each movement.”
I took deep breaths and focused on the ball. I knew that was why he had given it to me. My painful distraction.
“Keep your legs apart,” he said close to my shoulder.
A finger ran down my arm, not quite ticklish and I managed to ignore the sensation. Other pokes, prods and pinches followed. With my back and belly rigidly contained in the corset, he targeted the fleshy part of my thighs or under my armpits. When he touched my clitoris with a simple stroke of his finger, it felt so nice I forgot the ball for a second.
“That was definitely a flinch,” he told me.
“Ooooo,” I whimpered. My shoulders were killing me and my elbows sagged. However, the scene was erotically charged and I gushed below with every hushed admonishment. I did love to be trained.
“Straight, Gemma. Arms straight.”
He pulled my arms forward locking my elbows back into place. On and on, he toyed with me. Reprimanding me when my arms sagged or when I moved fractionally.
“Six,” his count continued.
“Please, sir! My arms!” I pleaded.
“I didn’t tell you to speak!” he said quietly. “Nearly there. Just a little while longer,” his voice tormented me.
After an eternity, he stopped and took the ball out of my hands. For a couple of minutes he massaged my shoulders. “Not bad. I’ve seen far worse. Squirming little subs with no discipline. Seven in total. In the past I would have inflicted seven little stabs with one of my electric wands.”
I blanched at the mention of the punishment.
He patted my sore bottom. “Don’t worry. I know it’s a hard limit for you. Out of interest, why?” Jason always seemed curious about my thresholds and limits.
“I had a great uncle, an electrician. He killed himself in an accident. Electrocuted. I don’t remember him much, but I suppose I have a fear of electricity.” I remembered my mum crying when she had been told the news. I was probably five or six years old.
“Fair enough. You would have thought he would know better,” said Jason drolly.
“I don’t think they were as well trained back then,” I suggested.
“Well, speaking of training. Your punishment. How about rubber bands on the soles of your feet?” He headed towards a drawer.
What! I tried to imagine what they might feel like, pinging against my tender flesh. I found out all about rubber bands. They were painful and definitely a punishment that must mirror the shock of an electric prod. He put two bands over my right foot and drawing back the elastic, pinged my sole with the stretched rubber. I screamed at each of the seven twangs and acknowledged it was a very effective and eye watering discipline.
“What do you think of fidgeting now, Gemma?” he asked removing the bands from my foot.
“I’m going to try harder to be very still for you, sir,” and I meant it.
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He lives a secret lifestyle, but even with wealth and power, he cannot find companionship to meet his needs. He seeks a woman, with whom to have an enduring relationship and yet, it has to have something special, perhaps challenging, to entice him.
Gemma Marshall, a young woman with a secret past, resigns from a good job to work as an intern for J.D.Lucas Ltd in the heart of the City of London. Within weeks, she is seduced by the company boss Jason Lucas.
A whirlwind of weekend trysts at his country mansion leads to revelations from both of them. Her terrifying nightmares are re-awakened by him and his need to dominate her. Their passionate and highly erotic affair reaches crisis point when her ex-lover comes to seek retribution from her.
Can Gemma survive another relationship with an alluring master of the bedroom? Will she find love at last or turn her back on her natural impulses?
Trust Me to Know You is a fictional account of two people who begin a journey together and it is the first volume of their story. Both characters are sexy, know what they want in life and how to have pleasure in their sex lives. One takes control and the other yields. In the bedroom there are the erotic scenes of kink, the trappings of BDSM and it can be intoxicating – and dangerous.