Training Carrie by Her Master
by Jay West
I told her it was time to go upstairs. We would shower together, then
find some way to pass the time in the bedroom until nearly lunch. I asked
her if she wanted another picnic this afternoon. She said how about another
grand tour of all the “unrest areas,” to use her phrase, instead. I asked
her if she wanted to wear her harness, and she said she would rather Philip
see her naked than see her in that. If it was Ok with her Master, she would
like to save the harness for the basement or for weekends. I told her that
was perfectly acceptable, her Master didn’t want to offend Philip any more
than necessary. It looked like Philip had more or less accepted her
nakedness and her Slave status, we should not push him farther than that
for the present. I told her we could take the nipple clips and weights, and
put them on her after we were out of sight of the house. She smiled and
said that would be nice. She asked if she could have the butt plug, too. I
She kissed me, then jumped up and assumed the Waiting Pose, in
anticipation of being told she was under formal speech. Not to disappoint,
I got up, clipped her wrists behind her back, kissed her, and said, “Formal
speech, let’s go.” With my hand caressing her ass, she walked to the door.
I unlocked the door, grabbed her kit, and followed her up the stairs.
In the mural room, I took off her bonds. I told her to move her kit
into the bedroom, and handed her the nipple clips and weights. I told her
to put them with the plug in the bathroom, so we wouldn’t forget them, and
wait for me there. I noticed by the bedroom clock that it was 10:45. I went
looking for Philip, and found him doing laundry. I told him we would like a
light lunch at noon, whatever he could easily fix. I said we were taking
another hike this afternoon, and not taking any beer with us. He smiled.
Returning to the bathroom, I found Carrie as I knew I would, in the
Waiting Pose. I asked her if she would like another enema, and she said,
“Yes, no soap, please.” I said Ok, just body temperature water. She asked
how she could choose that temperature without a thermometer. I told her if
it didn’t feel warm or cold to her fingers, it was pretty close to body
temperature. She prepared the enema, handed it to me, and assumed her Pose
on the floor. Following our usual ritual, I slapped her lightly on the ass
when the tube was in, then started the flow.
I warned her before removing the tube, then told her she could do her
waiting in a sitting position today. She hopped up and sat down, and as
usual I knelt in front of her. Gripping her thighs lightly, I gave her a
long, deep kiss. I caressed her breasts for awhile, telling her how
beautiful she was, and how perfect her body was for me. She blushed and
said she was far from perfect. I told her that I never said she was
perfect, I said she was perfect for me, and that was the truth. She said
she felt so passionate about me that she was sometimes afraid she would
lose herself in me. I told her she must never let that happen, because it
was she that meant everything to me, not my reflection in her eyes.
To get away from such deep conversation, I asked her how she would like
it if someday we filled her with an enema, inserted the butt plug, and then
went for a hike. She turned bright red, and said she would hate it. She
said that it would be so humiliating to do that to her, and as she was
talking I could see that she changed her mind. “How long would the hike
last?” she asked.
“An hour, maybe two. Of course, I would fuck you a couple of times
while we were out. … Not in the ass, naturally.” She laughed. She said
sure, if I really wanted to do that, she was in. I told her I hoped she was
in, I had no intention of doing it alone. She laughed again, and asked when
we would do it. I told her I didn’t know if we would ever do it, I just
wanted to know how she would feel about it. She said she guessed she would
agree to anything her Master wanted her to do, “such is his power over me,”
to again quote her.
I told her she could let go now, and she did. I made her keep trying
gently to expel everything for a few minutes, then let her up and took her
place. When I was finished and we had both used the bidet, I had her get
the shower ready. As usual, we washed one another. I washed her hair, then
we rinsed off and dried one another. I combed out her hair, then took her
to the bedroom and blow dried and brushed it.
I told her that I wanted to put some lipstick on her, not much, very
subtle. She chose the right tube for the job, then spun around on her bench
for me. I knelt in front of her and did the best I could. I told her to
take a look, and she spun back around and looked at her lips for a minute.
“Not bad for your first time,” she said. I told her she could remove it if
she didn’t like the job I had done. She said No, it looked fine, she would
keep it on. I really couldn’t tell if she meant it, or she was just being
nice, but I decided that either way was fine.
I told her it was still 25 minutes until lunch, and asked her what she
would like to do. She leered at me, and said she would like to ravage my
manly cock with her freshly painted lips. I told her I bet she couldn’t
make me last 20 minutes without ever breaking contact. She said did that
mean she had to be in contact with my dick the whole time, and I said Yes.
She laughed and said of course she could, she could make me last all day,
but I would have to let her tie me down for that. She asked me what the bet
was, and I said loser carries the whole load on the hike, coming and going.
“Deal,” she said, “Get on that bed, NOW.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said as I dove for the bed and rolled onto my back.
“Hard and ready for you, Mistress.” Of course she made me last, it was a
dumb bet. But when the 20 minutes were up, she was a bad winner. She
refused to finish me, saying I would have to wait until our first unrest
stop. I pleaded and begged, to no avail. As I was getting up to dress,
looking sullen and whipped, she put her hand on my chest, and kissed me.
She asked if I knew she was kidding, that she would bring me to orgasm
right now if I wished. I told her I knew she would, it was friendly ribbing
between lovers, her lover was happy to wait for his woman’s attentions.
I dressed her in her house blouse and heels, and we went to lunch. It
was a few minutes after 12.
Philip had lunch all ready for us. It looked a little more complex than
I had indicated we needed. I suspected he was doing penance for deceiving
Carrie. I seated her, watching that she pulled up the tail of her blouse
correctly, then sat across the corner of the table from her. Before we dug
in, I put my hand out, and she put her hand in mine. Our eyes met, and I
told her I loved her. She grinned and said, “Me too, lets eat.” We joked
about my bedroom bet and made small talk as we ate.
She wanted to know why I would make such a stupid bet in the first
place, and I said I wanted to see if she would try at all, or just plant a
big 20-minute kiss on the side of my cock. Smiling, she said, “I tried. I
tried hard, you just couldn’t rise to the occasion.” I smiled too, and said
I was sure she was trying as hard as possible to lose the bet, she was just
so incompetent she couldn’t figure out how to do it. That made her laugh,
and she said we were even on bad sex partner jokes now, did we want to move
on to the second round? I laughed too, and told her we should take our
winnings and stop at round 1.
Lunch was so plentiful that we left most of it uneaten. Now I was sure
Philip had been overcompensating, he never put out this much food for us
before. I asked Carrie if she wanted to digest awhile, or set out on our
walk. She said digest, so I got up and pulled out her chair as she rose. I
held out my hand, and said, “May I have a dance?”
“Why, I thought you’d never ask,” she replied. I led her into the
living room and turned on the radio. I asked her if she wanted to keep her
heels on or take them off, and she said either way, what would her Master
prefer? I said first dance on, second dance off. when the news break ended
and the next song began, we danced. We danced through two more songs, then
took a break. I sprinted back into the dining room to find Philip clearing
the table. I snatched away our half full tea glasses, and returned to
“Champagne, Madame?” I asked, holding out the tea glass.
“Why, thank you, Monsieur. I’d love a taste.” She chugged all the tea
in her glass, then handed the glass back to me and said, “Charming
“Shoes off, second dance,” I said. She kicked them off, and we danced
some more. After about 15 minutes I told her we didn’t need to go walking
today, I would be just as happy to dance with her all afternoon. She said
she would make a deal with me. If I would give her 2 hours of dancing and
conversation, she would give me 2 hours of great fucking.
I pulled her over to the couch and had her sit down. I sat beside her,
facing her, and took her hands in mine. I told her she didn’t have to make
deals with me to get to do the things she wanted. We could dance any time
she wanted to, and she didn’t have to pay me back with fucking. I asked her
if she had thought all along that she had to fuck me to get to do other
things besides fucking. And I asked her to tell me what else, beside
dancing, she had wanted to do, but wasn’t getting to do. Her eyes teared
up, and she said that what she had said was stupid, she didn’t mean it to
sound like she was trying to bargain with sex, and she didn’t mean it to
sound like I was forcing her to have sex. I asked her if she could explain
what she was thinking when she said it. She was quiet for a minute, then
she told me she knew why she had said it, and she might as well tell me the
reason and get it over with.
She said that there was really only one thing she was not getting to
do, and it was not because of me. She wanted to leave the house. She wanted
to go out, to the city, to take in the nightlife, to be seen with her
Master and be displayed by him for others to admire. She said she was
always having fantasies of how her Master could display her or humiliate
her in front of others for his own pleasure or amusement. She had talked of
this before, during one of her workouts, and now she started telling me
about more of the fantasies. Some were scary, but others were cute or
In one of her fantasies, she was in a high-class bar in an upscale
hotel, sitting alone at a table. The room was full of obviously well-to-do,
young, stag males. One by one, they all tried to pick her up, or buy her a
drink, or sit at her table, and she told them all to take a hike. Finally,
when they had all been rejected, I walked through the room in a pair of
jeans and a torn t-shirt. I paused at her table just long enough to ask
her, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, if she wanted to blow me
in the parking lot. She immediately got up and followed me out. I
recognized that immediately as her Carnegie Hall fantasy, scaled down
After hearing her out, I wasn’t sure what to tell her. I first asked
her if she knew why leaving her property was a bad idea. She said of course
she did, that was the problem. It wasn’t like she was being held here, she
knew she should stay for her own good. But that didn’t make it any easier.
She said that, before they brought me here, she was always busy
overseeing the remodelling, or the construction and furnishing of the
basement, or a million-and-one other things. Only at night was she idle,
and then she was a victim of her terror.
When I arrived, her focus became the all-consuming desire to be my
perfect Slave. She said that is still her focus, but she sees that there is
a bigger world than this small property and this smaller house, where she
can demonstrate to everyone, not just her Master, the depth and intensity
of her devotion and love for him and her desire to be his perfect Slave.
She said she is driven to demonstrate her love for me. It’s too intense for
her to keep it bottled up inside, she has to show other people how she
I told her that showing her off in public, the way she was fantasizing,
was a perfect way to get me shot, and her beaten up and raped. I didn’t
foresee us doing much of what she was thinking about. As far as taking her
out for a night on the town, as just Bill and Carrie, for dinner and
dancing or a show, that’s something I would love to do. I told her I
wouldn’t have to publicly humiliate her, that having her on my arm, looking
like she did for either of her meetings with Bill, would turn every man we
met green with envy. But I just thought it was too risky to consider doing
it as long as we had the organization to worry about.
I said we should go right now and talk to Philip, and ask him to come
up with some plan or method that would allow us to get away. Hell, with her
money, we could hire bodyguards, charter a plane, and go somewhere far
away, perhaps for long enough for her to get this out of her system. She
said that was worth considering, but she and I should talk about it more
later, and try to come up with a specific scenario to present to Philip,
and see if it was practical to do it.
Ok, I said, we would keep talking about the problem until we solved it.
But for right now, today, short of crashing through the gate in front of
Philip’s house and driving to the city, which I was not up for, what did
she want to do? She looked into my eyes, and said she wanted to dance with
me, and talk to me, and laugh with me, and cry with me, and make long,
passionate love with me, in any order that it happened to turn out. I asked
her if she would like some wine. She said she would love it.
I went to get a bottle of wine and some glasses. Philip was in the
kitchen, and I told him we wouldn’t be taking a walk today. He asked me if
there was a problem, and I said Yes, Carrie was having a case of cabin
fever. She wanted her Master to take her out on the town and show her off.
“You can’t do that, Sir!” he immediately said. I told him I would be happy
to stay here with her forever, and never set foot off the property. But if
she wanted to get out for awhile, and if there was a way to allow it and
ensure her safety, we should let her. I told Philip he should get behind us
on this, and work with us. Because if I couldn’t change her mind, I was
going to find a way for her to do what she wanted, and his advice would be
Returning to Carrie with the wine and glasses, I poured a glass for
each of us, and waited for her to take a sip. I told her again that we
would keep talking about how to get away for awhile, but she had to
understand that it wouldn’t happen today, or this week, or probably for
many weeks. Her Master did not want this unsatisfied longing on her part to
keep darkening his Slave’s mood, so she needed to get her mind right about
this issue, trust that her Master would find a way to solve the problem,
and stop dwelling on it in the meantime. Did she think she could do that?
She said she could, and would.
I said there was one other issue we had to discuss now, and then we
could enjoy the rest of the afternoon. I told her that sex had not been an
issue for me when I was telling her we didn’t have to go walking today. In
fact, I assumed I was foregoing sexual activity when I offered to dance all
afternoon with her. It hurt me deeply then, when she offered to trade me
sex for the dancing I had already said we would do if she wished it. She
had to understand that if sex was my goal, I would simply push her into the
bedroom, or throw her on the floor, or bend her over a chair and fuck her,
as was my right. Maybe she was thinking one thing and said something else,
I didn’t know. But I never wanted to hear her try to bargain sex with me
again. If she wanted something, all she had to do was clearly state what
she wanted, and the odds were very high, if it was within her Master’s
power, she would get it. Did she understand?
She had tears in her eyes. She said she knew she was out of line, she
didn’t say what she really wanted, and she regretted the poorly thought-out
words she used. She knew that sex was the Master’s right whenever he wanted
it, and is not a bargaining tool. She couldn’t explain her choice of words,
but she regretted them, she apologized, and she promised to never say
anything like that again.
I said the offense was forgotten, and it was my wish that we could both
be happy and enjoy being together, whatever we were doing. I said that
dancing and conversation sounded like something I would enjoy doing this
afternoon, and there was no one I would enjoy doing it with more than her.
She said she felt the same way, and that she was going to try harder to
communicate with her Master and avoid future unnecessary misunderstanding
and conflict between us.
I asked her if she had a pullover sweater that was long enough to cover
her ass while she had her arms around her Master’s neck. She looked
puzzled, but said yes, she did. It was in the discard pile. She never wore
it anyway, because it was too long. I told her we should have a look, and
we went to the guest bedroom. She showed me the sweater. I took off her
blouse and had her put it on. I asked her if it was too heavy for her to
wear in the house. She said No, it wouldn’t be too hot unless she was
really exerting herself. I took her to the full length mirror, positioned
her with her back to the mirror, and had her put her arms around my neck.
Her ass was still covered, barely.
I led her to our bathroom. I asked her how she would like to wear her
nipple clips and weights, and her butt plug, while we were dancing and
talking the afternoon away. She smiled at me, and said “Master, you devil.”
I had her hold the sweater up in front while I attached the nipple clips
and tightened both of them. Then I attached the weights. I nodded at her
and she dropped the sweater, then went and leaned over the tub without
being told. I greased up the plug and slipped it into her ass, then wiped
off the excess lubricant. She straightened up and spun around with her arms
out from her sides.
“May I have the next dance?” I asked. She took my hand and led me back
into the living room. A good dance song had just started. I kicked off my
shoes and we began to dance. We talked almost continuously while we danced.
The first thing she told me was that she was trying to make a joke when she
offered to trade sex for dancing, it just didn’t come out right, and she
was very sorry she hurt me. I looked at her and said that I knew she loved
me, and I loved her, and there was no problem we couldn’t solve together if
each of us made the other understand what was needed. I told her we would
be Ok, and if there was any way to get her out of here for some R and R, I
would find a way to do it. But she had to understand that, if there was no
way to safely do it, then our life here would have to go on, and she would
have to find a way to accept that situation. She said she would find a way
to set her mind right about it. She knew her Master would work the problem
until it was solved, or until it was shown that no solution existed, and
she would trust that process. She kissed me and told me she loved me, and
she was my Slave, my lover, and my woman forever.
After perhaps 10 minutes of dancing, I asked her how the weights and
the plug felt. She said, “Delicious, sexy, wonderful. I think constantly of
my Master inside my ass and my Master stimulating my nipples, and my
enslavement to my Master is reinforced with each swing of the weights and
each sensation in my ass. Master, I’m sorry I’m always complaining about
something or other. It’s not fair to you. You are so giving and caring and
concerned for your Slave’s happiness, and in turn I’m constantly bitching
at you about some insignificant, trivial, bullshit. I don’t like the way
I’m acting, how can I change it? I know if you were the harsh Master I
deserve, you would have whipped this out of me by now, or would simply
forbid me to ever speak. I want to change for you, tell me how, tell me how
to be the kind of Slave you deserve.”
I thought of several things I could say in response. Finally I told
her, “Talking is the answer to everything. You are the Slave I want, my
beautiful, smart, sexy, Carrie. I accept you as you are. You don’t need to
be fixed, you just need to be loved. I only want to love you as you
deserve, and together we can solve your problems and my problems, and we
will stay together and grow together and love together.
She reached up and kissed me, then said she thought we should adjourn
to the bedroom for awhile, then perhaps dance some more. I grabbed the wine
bottle and my glass. She picked up her glass, then led me by the hand into
the bedroom. As soon as I had closed the bedroom door, she pulled off her
sweater. She told me she didn’t like it when her body was hidden from me,
it seemed natural to her now to be naked before her Master. I told her that
was what I preferred, also, but I could remember for a few hours at a time
what a luscious, sexy, desirable body she had.
Standing in front of her, I ran my hands over her body, enjoying the
feel of her smooth skin and her response to my touch. She began moaning
softly and swaying to cause her weights to swing. She said she loved her
Master’s touch on her body. She said she had treated me cruelly as a joke
before lunch, when she wouldn’t give me an orgasm. She said that was
something else any Master but me would have whipped her for. She wanted to
make it up to me now, and asked me to please lead her to the bed.
We went to the bed, then she kissed me tenderly and asked me to please
lie down on my back. I asked her if she wanted me to remove her weights,
since they would pull cruelly on her nipples when she was leaning over. She
said no, she was due a little cruelty this afternoon.
I lay down on my back, and she crawled onto the bed and positioned
herself between my legs. With an evil grin, she said, “Just relax, Master,
I promise this won’t hurt a bit.” She gave me a long, slow, amazing blow
job. She held me just short of an orgasm for over half an hour. I told her
several times she was making me crazy. Once she smiled and said, “Welcome
to the club, Master, you’ve been making me crazy all afternoon with your
‘little Masters’ on my tits and up my ass. Try to hold out, Master, I
promise it will be worth your while.” She didn’t lie. When she finally let
me cum, I thought my cock would never stop pumping. It was like I hadn’t
had sex for a month, as opposed to the reality of being drained dry by my
insatiable Slave every day for a week. She caught it all, and licked the
plate clean. After tenderly kissing my cock and balls, she looked up and
asked, “How was it?”
“Who taught you to do all of those things?” I asked. “I know it wasn’t
me, because I’ve never experienced half of what you just did to me.”
She blushed. “Master, I’m self taught. These lips have never touched
any cock but yours. … That’s not counting two cock-shaped water fountains
I’ve had some fun times with, Master.” We both laughed. I said I doubt she
had learned much from them. “Their output is kind of tasteless, too. I
prefer the output from my Master. Very tasty,” she said, licking her lips.
She paused, and looked at me for a few seconds. “Master, I want to ask you
something, but I’m afraid of what your answer might be.” I told her she
must never be afraid to say or ask anything. Taking a deep breath, she
asked, “Master, would you ever pee in your Slave’s mouth?”
I asked her why she would think that might happen. She said it had
occurred to her that a Master who wanted to humiliate and punish his Slave
might think of doing that. I told her that was true, some men did that to
women to humiliate them, and some women actually wanted it done to them;
and to add to the variety, sometimes the woman did it to the man. I asked
her if she had thought what the next logical progression would be after a
man had pissed in his woman’s mouth. She thought for a few seconds, and got
a disgusted look on her face. “Oh, Master, that’s awful. Could anyone
actually do that to another person?” I told her they could, and they do. I
knew she now needed her original question answered.
She was still kneeling between my legs. I sat up and held out my hands
for her. She put her hands in mine, and automatically spread her knees and
assumed the Learning Pose on the bed. I told her that we weren’t about that
level of humiliation. A little humiliation, like having her bare her ass to
sit down, was good. But to progress to the things we had been talking about
was beyond humiliation, it was degradation, reducing the slave to an animal
or worse. I said I didn’t understand why one person would want to use
another as a toilet, unless motivated by hatred. So the answer to her
question was No, I would never pee in her mouth. Smiling, I added that I
already knew she hated the taste of her own urine, I doubted she would like
mine any better.
I reminded her that a lot of her fantasies had a theme of increased
degradation. While there was nothing wrong with fantasies, she should
recognize the pattern, and not let the fantasies lead her to seek more
degrading behavior than her Master expected from her in real life. She said
that, because her master was so tolerant and loving and willing to consider
his Slave’s wishes, there was a danger that she might unconsciously try to
push our relationship in undesirable directions, and she asked her Master
to watch for such things and correct his Slave when necessary. I told her
that I was always doing that, but that she must also do the same for me,
because that was crucial to our partnership. She smiled and said I was
right, as usual.
I told her I would like some more dancing and talking and wine
drinking. She said she was thinking the same thing. I got dressed, then
asked her if she wanted to keep her weights and plug. She nodded that she
did, so I put her sweater back on and straightened her hair with my hands,
gathered up the wine and glasses, and led her to the living room. I asked
her if she would mind wearing her heels while we danced, and she said she
would be pleased to, it raised her mouth closer to her Master’s. We both
put on our shoes, sipped some more wine, and began dancing.
We didn’t speak for a long time, I just held her close and she rested
her head on my shoulder, nuzzling the side of my face. Occasionally I would
lean down and kiss her, and occasionally I would hear a contented sigh from
her. I don’t think she came once all the time she was in my arms. I
wondered whether she was suppressing orgasms on purpose, or she was
thinking more about romance than sex. It didn’t matter, her orgasms were
for her pleasure, whenever she chose it.
We had been dancing continuously like this for a long time, perhaps an
hour, when I noticed Philip was in the room. He was just standing with his
arms folded and smiling at us. I said hello to him. Carrie didn’t lift her
head from my shoulder, but she also greeted him. Philip said he had just
come to tell us he was leaving for the day, but it was such a pleasure
watching us like this, he didn’t want to leave. I asked him if he wanted to
stay and talk, we would be happy to stop dancing and sit down with him. He
said it would be a sin to interrupt what he was seeing, and he was going to
leave. He said he had prepared tonight’s dinner for us. It was in the oven
and all we had to do was heat it up for half an hour before eating. Then he
said goodnight and left.
When I heard the door close, I moved my hands temporarily to her hips.
She took her head off my shoulder and looked at me questioningly. “Sweater.
Off. Now,” I said, smiling. We didn’t miss a step as she peeled the sweater
off and shook out her hair. Grinning at me, she shook her boobs and made
the weights sway. Then she rested her head on my shoulder again and wrapped
her arms around my waist. I held her and told her I loved her. She sighed.