In Training, copyright, 2001- by L. Sandahl
Ask me about the power of the word, 'no' and I'll smile like Mona Lisa ;
enigmatic. Depending on your perspective it can be one of the most powerful
aphrodisiacs, releasing your most obvious desires and deepest needs, or it
can be as bad as getting rejected. That word was like a catalyst which set
past memories and present needs in motion. I lost count the number of times
she'd played with me in a wicked - although not sinister way - bringing me to
that sinfully sweet moment that makes time worth living, only to stop and say,
"nooo, sweetheart, you're not quite ready yet."
I couldn't ever remember craving someone's touch so much. But that was before I'd agreed to be her submissive. I didn't yet understand all the
reasons why I wanted to be there with her, only that I knew I wanted to stay. Sometimes it's an odd attraction; you bury the memory but store the reaction
to that unknown need. My thoughts came like waves; strong and intense, then
distant and faint. Thoughts not measured in hours but in moments before this
one, this one, and to the ones that would come later. All would finally settle in the same place - on her.
The sun, as usual, would rise and set, but I was no longer the same person.
But I was still 'in training' as she called it, still learning how to obey
her without questioning and it wasn't coming easily. There was a lot of fear
and resistance in surrendering control to a Mistress who had the power to unlock and control my feelings. I had to learn trust if I was going to find
myself - or lose myself - in her. For the time being I was like a two year
old child that became impatient and frustrated when I couldn't have what I
wanted or when I wanted it.
That night, while restless and unable to sleep, I listened to the low humming
sound of the ceiling fan and stared into the darkness while she slept peacefully beside me. The sweet, erotic scent of my favorite oil, ylang
ylang lingered on her body and I wondered whether this wasn't also a part of
her continuing plan to drive me crazy? How unfair to lie there listening to
the sound of the waves at low tide gently lapping and slurping against a shoreline that laid wide open for their pleasure while my own body longed for
the same. I tried not to fight this urge, but to go with the flow and began
squeezing my ass cheeks together, then releasing them in sync with the rhythm
of the waves. Then my hands joined in, slowly caressing my breasts and
sliding back and forth over my belly but inexorably inching their way to that
place she'd forbidden me to touch all day.
Everything, all past and present needs came together and seemed so much more
intense than the situation warranted. I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled
slowly and tried to think about my choices. While I desperately wanted to
obey her the prospects of spending a night like this with this pent-up, aching need was unbearable and the recognition of this fact seemed to tip the
scales in favor of finding a more suitable and quicker solution.
It was 'do or die' time. The risk was great and if I got caught I didn't want to even think about the guilt, shame and most certainly the punishment
that would be forthcoming. But at that moment the need was greater than the
I climbed quietly out of bed and with the full moon illuminating the path I
headed for the beach. Once free of her immediate presence I walked leisurely, even stopping on occasion as if window shopping to inspect the
seaweed and unfamiliar creatures which had washed up on the shoreline. When
a sudden gust of wind caught the end of my T-shirt and filled it like a billowing sail above my waist I took it as a sign. I pulled it over my head
and with reckless abandon tossed it carelessly aside.
Wearing nothing but a hedonistic smile I became immersed with natures' sex
toys. Cool, wet sand massaged my feet. Warm air whipped over my body in playful, stinging slaps. Waves circled, then sucked at my ankles leaving
rings of white froth that reminded me of a time when, lying 69 with my lover,
I got a little dribble of love juice on my face and I had opened my mouth wider because I knew it was only going to get better.
My nipples, which were always the first to register the slightest changes in
my surroundings, became hard and erect as the ocean waves splashed over them
with the same shocking effect as the ice cubes that Mistress had used on me
only hours before. The thought of her drew me momentarily out of my lascivious pursuits. In one last attempt at self control I stopped to
consider the consequences of my impending actions and weighed betrayal against desire, reflections against reflexes. But I couldn't wait any
longer. I found a place in the dry sand to lie on. Then I slowly opened my
legs to the brilliant, star filled sky; to the million twinkling voyeuristic
eyes above and to the breeze which blew gently between my legs like a lover's
Closing my eyes, I began to imitate her fingers, rubbing myself in rapid little circles. It could've been different but Mistress had said, 'no.' Now
my wetness, while not unexpected was annoying and served no other purpose than a painful reminder of an immediate need. There was no reason to prolong
the moment; no time to fantasize, no need to wait for her permission to cum.
Like an animal in heat which responded to a physical need, after one low moan
and a single grunt I came hard and quick. From this sexual summit I waited
for my heart to stop pounding and the rapid breathing to quiet as I floated
down through a vague semiconsciousness. As if from a distance I was only dimly aware of the waves and warm air that unexpectedly brought the familiar
scent of sweet, erotic ylang ylang.
A taunting voice asked, "Did you lose something?" and I opened my eyes to see
her standing there with my T-shirt dangling from her long fingers. My hand
froze like one who got caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. Having
exposed more than my naked lust - shame and guilt lay next to fear and I found it difficult to look at her because I was feeling an upheaval of
feelings that I presumed would be permanent.
She walked slowly around me as if studying a specimen and then began to smile
in a way that didn't ease my anxiety. Should I dare offer her an apology?
After all, who among us is not passion's slave? But I knew better. Any attempt on my part to turn this scene into something beyond shining shit was
just an illusion. She finally stopped at my feet and fixed a deliberate, steady gaze on my hand.
"I see you've decided to take matters into your own hands." At least she had
a sense of humor and I almost smiled. Almost. I swallowed a lump of guilt
instead and kept quiet. Then she dropped the T-shirt at my feet and casually
sat down on it.
"You won't be needing this for a while...for quite awhile in fact, so I'll
borrow it for now." Her words, both a distraction and a source of stimulation cleared any and all thoughts except the desire to please her. I
felt my pussy begin to tingle again as if an electrical current had just been
turned on. Like one who senses the weakness of their prey and enjoys the playtime before the kill she asked, "So tell me my sweet, little slut, how
many times did you ache for me today?"
"All day, ma'am."
She smiled and leaned back on her elbows. "Spread your legs for me." As I
opened them to her penetrating gaze she continued, "that's it, open them wider so I can watch you when you ride that wave again and again. When in
training it's not so much about learning one thing after the other. Sometimes it's learning one thing over and over until you get it just right.
Now go ahead, my sweet pet, go find that wave."
The betrayal is torturous pleasure when the things we do in private to please
ourselves turn on us. Embarrassed, I didn't want to meet her eyes, but I couldn't help not looking either. It was like being in a sex shop and
staring at bondage toys. My eyes were drawn to, captivated, and held fast in
their presence even though the thoughts of using those toys scared me. But
soon that trickling heat of arousal would start - until like now , I surrendered to a need that was inflaming my mind as much as the desire that
was burning through my body.
Her eyes orchestrated my pleasure as she silently commanded by gazes which
alternated from my hand then back up to my eyes; then she'd nod her head for
me to continue as I played pure rhapsodic solos for her, one after the other
until exhausted from several encores I reached a thundering finale.
In life, it's not accidental nor perverted that what feels good is good for
you. If submitting one's will to another is perceived as bad then I want to
feel that way all the time.