From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Slave Training (FFm, femdom)
Date: 24 Jan 1996 23:30:43 GMT

			    Slave Training

	A most important aspect of slave-training is denigration.
Repeated denigration. However devoted he may be, he must never be
allowed to think he is of any value to you. Never allow him to get
ideas `above his station.' His mental approach should be that he is
honored to be permitted to serve his mistress; that she would deign to
make use of him.

	This attitude takes time to imprint into any slave. Most of
them start out with the idea that, simply because they are carrying
out their orders in an adequate fashion, they are pleasing the
Mistress. This notion must be quickly and completely stamped out.
There must be no question of being pleasing to her. He is simply there
to serve her to the utmost of his abilities. He cannot please her; he
can only displease her.

	Accordingly, it is of paramount importance that you never
commend your slave for a job well done. He should, of course, be
criticised and punished for any faults or failures.

	My personal slave, Pete, seemed to assimilate this philosophy
at a fairly early stage of his servitude to me. Once or twice, in the
early days, I caught him looking at me as if he were hoping for a pat
on the head after completing some assigned task, or satisfying me in
some manner. On those occasions, I quickly disillusioned him by
slapping his face several times, and telling him not to look upon me
in such a bold manner. He soon learned that he would not be hearing
words of praise coming from his Mistress. An excellent way of
denigrating a slave - and at the same time teaching him how low his
station truly is - is to lend him to another woman. A truly devoted
slave will invariably feel hurt by this action on your part, but
still, it will do him good. After Pete had been in training some six
weeks, I lent him out to a friend. This is how it came about:

				* * *

	Dana is an old friend of mine who has several business
interests but is a part-time professional dominatrix. She says she
doesn't mind the extra cash, but her main reason for doing is to
provide recreation for her. She truly enjoys what she does, as do I,
and the topper, of course, is that she receives domestic services free
of charge.

	She called me on the phone one afternoon, wanting to stop by
for a visit. I told her, sure, come on over. I informed Pete of her
impending arrival and he looked a little apprehensive. Up to that
time, he had only had to deal with me, and nobody else knew about his
position. The thought of two women at the same time was plainly
frightening to him.

	"You will, Pete, treat Miss Dana with the same respect you
show me. You will also obey any order she might give you, just as you
would if I had said it."

	"Of course, Mistress," he replied.

	I looked at him sharply. "What do you mean,'of course'?" I
snapped.

	"That sounds rather forward to me. Are you implying that my
instructions are unnecessary?"

	"No... no, Mistress... I didn't mean... "

	"Don't start arguing with me, slave. I've taught you better
than that."

	His head bowed. "I sincerely beg your pardon, Mistress," he
said in his most deferential manner. "I would never do that
purposely."

	"Well," I responded, "that's how it sounded, and I'm not
entirely satisfied. Go and fetch me the strap."

	"Yes, Mistress... "

	He returned shortly thereafter with a light brown, single-
thonged leather strap that I like to use to correct minor faults.
Dropping to his knees, he presented it to me on upturned, open palms.
If anyone of you thinks he mightn't deserve punishment for such a
slight offense, let me say this again. Whenever your slave shows signs
of reaching above his station, it is your duty to slap him back down.
Whether or not my assumption about his offense was valid is
immaterial. The point here is that it's better to punish him for an
uncommitted offense, than to let a genuine offense go unpunished.

	"Take your position," I ordered.

	"Pete, who, as is customary in my house, was dressed in
nothing more than a restrainer. He quickly turned and, still kneeling,
pressed his nose into the carpet and raised his hindquarters as high
as he possibly could. Without getting up from my chair, I gave him
five strokes across the bottom. He didn't so much as utter a peep,
but then again, it was a very mild punishment, what with my being
seated and all. I merely wanted to remind him that he must always
watch his step.

	He remained in that ludicrous position (humiliating for him,
amusing for me, lovely combination, don't you think?) until he heard
me say, "Put the strap away."

	Pete returned the strap to its proper place, in the drawer in
the kitchen. That particular drawer also contained a much heavier
tawse, several canes, and a couple of riding crops. He had felt the
effects of each of them at various times. He returned to where I sat,
and knelt; complaisant; uncomplaining; submissive. Just as he should
be.

	"When Miss Dana arrives," I said, "you will greet her at the
door, on your knees. You will inform her that you are my slave and
that you will be honored to serve her in any fashion she might choose.
You will then ask her if, following her journey here, she would have
you clean her shoes. If the answer is yes, you will clean them
thoroughly with your tongue, soles to not be overlooked."

	"Yes, Mistress."

	"Very well, then. Go and resume your duties. Prepare a light
dinner for the two of us, and put two bottles of white burgundy in the
refrigerator to chill. Dismissed!"

	Pete rose from his knees, bowed deeply, and left the room. I
had that warm, pleasant feeling that comes from knowing that I had him
completely under my control. You know that feeling, I'm sure.

	Dana arrived at the stroke of seven... and Pete was in the
vestibule, prepared to properly greet her. He opened the door, and
immediately dropped to his knees, his face a bright red in color.
Closing the door behind her, Dana regarded him with a contemptuous
little smirk. "What have we here?" she asked of me, as I entered the
hallway to meet her.

	"Haven't I told you... or, more to the point... hasn't he told
you?" I said.

	"He hasn't had much chance," smiled Dana. She is a lovely
girl, just nineteen, with long blonde hair. I am very fond of her,
having known her about four years now.

	"I... I am the slave of Mistress Zelda," Pete was saying with
some urgency, his voice strained. "I shall be honored to serve you in
any w-way, Miss. May I... may I clean your shoes, Miss?"

	"I'll think about it," replied Dana curtly, flouncing her
tight little body right past his face, and on into the living room.
She had on a red blouse, a white jacket, and a pair of baggy white
pants, the legs tucked inside calf-length boots with high heels. She
had a look of amusement on her face. Reaching the living room, she
slumped happily into an armchair.

	"Drink?" I asked.

	"Mmmm... yes, please. Gin and tonic, I think."

	"Sounds good. Pete!"

	Pete needed no further instructions. He bowed and scurried out
and, in a remarkably short space of time was back carrying two drinks
on a silver serving dish. We each took one and sipped. "Passable,"
said Dana, giving Pete a long, cool look. "What's its name?"

	"Pete," I said. "He's been my personal slave for about a
month, now."

	"Satisfactory?"

	"When he isn't, he hears all about it."

	Dana grinned. "Pete, do you realize that if this drink had not
been to my liking, I would have asked your Mistress for permission to
punish you?"

	"And received it!" I piped in.

	"I... I understand, Miss," said Pete, respectfully. "I would
have deserved it."

	Dana looked smugly satisfied with this answer.

	"All right, Pete. Since you asked, I suppose you can clean my
boots."

	"Thank you, Miss," came the reply. Pete fell to his knees
again and was soon busily licking the red leather; thoroughly. At one
point, Dana raised one foot, exposing the sole. Pete thoroughly licked
that, also. All this time, Dana and I chatted about this and that,
just as we would have, had Pete not been there. He was a chattel; of
no concern, just being used.

	"Another drink?" I asked Dana.

	"Lovely... " she smiled. Pete, who had just finished his
cleaning task, got a sharp kick in the ribs, which sent him sprawling.

	"More drinks, slave," I snapped.

	"At once, Mistress." Showing not the least sign of resentment,
he bowed, picked up the empty glasses, and retired.

	"You seem to have him fairly well trained, for no longer than
he's been here," said Dana, in Pete's absence.

	Well, he used to come to me regularly. Now he stays a minimum
of three, sometimes longer. He's certainly useful."

	"Mmmm... I can imagine," mused Dana. "Maybe I should fix
myself up with something like this. A semi-permanent slave could have
its advantages. What about sex?"

	"None for him, of course. Plenty of work for his tongue,
though. Very satisfying."

	"He's good at it?"

	"Very... " Pete came in with our fresh drinks and we quit
talking. It wouldn't do for him to hear how highly his talent was
rated.

	After dinner, which had been well prepared and served by Pete,
Dana told me she had a slight problem. A girl friend would be coming
to visit her the next weekend, but the slave she had intended to use
for domestic duties, had fallen ill.

	"Why don't you borrow Pete," I said at once. It was just the
sort of opportunity I had been needing to help round out his training.
Pete looked suitably apprehensive at hearing my generous offer. The
unknown is always a bit frightening.

	"Really? Won't you need him yourself?"

	"I never use him weekends," I said. "I go to the country,
where I have other arrangements."

	"Oh. Well, how kind of you to offer. All right, I accept! Can
he come around Friday afternoon?"

	"Sure," I agreed.

	"Well, thanks so much. I feel like I should pay you something,
though."

	I laughed. "What did you have in mind?"

	Dana smiled a wicked little smile. "Mmm... how about fifty
cents?"

	"Done! That's just about what he's worth for two or three days
hard labor!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pete looking terribly
dejected by this appraisal of his worth. "Coffee and liqueurs in the
other room?"

	"Fine!"

	"Pete... hop to it! Then clean up this mess. When you're done,
report back to me."

	"Very good, Mistress," he responded. Once more he hurried off
about his chores. Yes... I must say, I was rather pleased by Pete's
manners and the quality of his service. He reflected well on my
abilities as a trainer. Dana was favorably impressed, I could see.
That thought made me smile.

	"Why don't you stay the night?"

	"Sounds good to me," Dana replied. She and I had often slept
together in past years, but recently seemed to have drifted apart. A
little bubble of sexual pleasure welled up in me at the thought of our
getting together again.

	Just then, Pete knocked on the door and was told to enter. He
bowed, the little apron he used for kitchen work no longer about his
waist. "I have finished my domestic duties, Mistress." He stood there,
attentive and deferential, but his eyes showed his concern for the
future.

	"Miss Dana will be staying the night," I announced. "See that
everything we require is laid out in my bedroom."

	"Yes, Mistress... " he bowed and left. That will puzzle him
for a while, I thought. What should he lay out?

	A half hour later, both of us flushed from an excess of Creme
de Menthe, we made our way into the bedroom. The bedside lamps were
on, nighties, towels and the like were laid out neatly. I was pleased.

	"Where is he?" asked Dana, stretching langorously, then
tossing up her long blonde tresses.

	"In his quarters, I imagine," I replied.

	"I want him to undress me," she said. "I'm feeling kind of
lazy."

	"OK. I'll get him up right away." I pressed the intercom key,
and summoned Pete to come.

	He entered, looking slightly disturbed, no doubt sensing that
this summons would mean trouble.

	"Boy?" said Dana. "Let's see if you're worth that fifty cents
I spent on you. Come here and undress me!"

	Pete gulped. "Yes, Miss," he said submissively. I could see
that he was both frightened and excited. Dana sat on the bed, as Pete
knelt before her and pried off her boots. "Do you like the idea of
being my slave," she asked him.

	"I am honored," Paul gave the safest answer he could think of.

	"You will find me strict." Dana stood up. "I like to use the
cane a lot. It excites me."

	"Yes, Miss... " Pete helped her out of her jacket, then began
to unbutton her blouse. I could see him battling to control his
emotions, but his fingers were moving very clumsily. The blouse came
away and a beautiful pair of apple-sized breasts were revealed,
lightly clad in a gossamer red bra. Pete caught his breath.

	"d... Do you w... wish me to undress you completely, Miss?" he
asked.

	"Do it!" Dana gave him a hard slap across the face. "When I
say undress, I mean undress! Is he always this thick-headed?"

	"I guess so," I replied, watching Pete's fingers fumble with
the belt which held up Dana's white pants. The belt loose, he
carefully eased her pants down. A pair of red, net panties was
exposed. Pete was flushing now, his fingers trembling. He kept
nervously swallowing. The bra came off next, and, much as he wanted
to, he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Dana just stood there
easily, smirking, proud and confident in her ripe young beauty.
Carefully... very carefully... Pete removed her wispy little panties,
to uncover a triangle of soft, blonde down. Enchanting... quite
breath-taking, I thought. Pete, no doubt, was thinking the same. The
difference was, though, that Pete was to be denied, whereas I would
soon be having my fill.

	In the meantime, I too had stripped... and for a short while,
Dana and I stood looking at each other, critically but approvingly. My
desire only increased.

	"Do you think this sort of thing turns him on?" asked Dana.

	"I'm sure it does." I nodded.

	"I'd like to see... "

	"If you wish. No problem." I took the key, hanging from a gold
chain around my neck, and unlocked Pete's restrainer. He gave a little
sob as it came away. The pressure must have been great, for he rose
almost immediately to a full erection.

	"My, oh my!! He certainly IS turned on!" gloated Dana. She
moved provocatively closer to Pete and gripped him by the cock. He
gasped and flinched, dreading what might happen. "You're not a very
big boy, are you, Pete?"

	"No... No, Miss I'm not."

	I saw a tear trickle down his cheek.

	Still Dana kept after him. "You KNOW you're not," she smiled,
squeezing. "It's a pity, Pete, but I wouldn't be able to enjoy myself,
as tiny as it is. I'm sorry, Pete." Her grin went from ear to ear.

	"Would you like for him to go down on you, Dana?" I offered.

	"Not a bad idea," she said. "But what about you?"

	"He can alternate between us."

	"Mmmm... yes! That sounds wonderful." She released her grip on
him and flopped back down on the bed. "Come on, now big boy," she
sighed. "Let's put that tongue of yours to work." Her shapely slender
limbs parted, and in seconds, Pete's head was nestled between a pair
of soft, warm thighs. Dana sighed contentedly; I could hear faint
lapping sounds. A happy night was shaping up. After Dana's first
climax, at which time she had violently bucked against Pete's mouth
and wrenched him away, Pete went to work on pleasing me. We could
keep him at this for as long as either of us desired. That was the
joy, the essence of having a slave. You don't have to ask or coddle
him, you merely demand; and an avid, talented tongue goes to work.

	Pleasantly relaxed, I lay on the bed, awaiting my turn. My
rising excitement was boosted even higher by the thought of the
agonizing frustration that Pete had to be feeling. And would continue
to feel for a good long while, yet.

	Dana and I used Pete twice each before turning our attentions
toward each other. When we had finished with him, I tied his wrists
behind his back and had him go kneel at the foot of the bad. As I told
Dana, "We'll keep him there, just in case we want to use him again,
later."

	"Mmmm... good idea," she murmured lazily. Then, already fully
aroused, we were in each others arms. Oh, what joy! Body against
body... lust against lust. Soon sighs, moans, and little cries of
bliss were filling the room. Every time I looked down at Pete, his
eyes glazed over, I rose to another peak... and poor Petey...
helplessly bound, all he could do was watch, and suffer a rampant
frustration.

	"Yeah, a slave's life isn't always roses. (stifle that giggle,
girl!)

	Next morning, Pete's mouth was put to work again. Dana
insisted that he lick each and every inch of her glorious body, from
the neck down, then concentrate his efforts between her tight little
ass-cheeks, and then finally, on the most exciting, most excitable
spot of them all. She was enjoying herself so much, I decided to have
him to the same for me. Let me assure you that there was one very,
very tired tongue in that room by the time we were satiated.

	"Go take a cold shower," I ordered him, "and get rid of that
nasty, horrible thing that's sticking out."

	"Yes, Mistress," still uncomplaining, still deferential. I
felt proud of myself for the excellent job of training him I had done.
Off he went, as I turned back to Dana. Then I started to wonder if
Pete might risk jacking off while in the shower. He HAD been under an
awful lot of pressure for one day. Still, I didn't think he would. The
reason being that, at the outset, I had warned him that, if ever I
caught him playing with himself without permission, I would give him a
thrashing that he would remember for the remainder of his born days.
Fifty strokes, at least! He knew I meant it, too, so I was confident
that he wouldn't dare disobey me.

	In due time, he returned, his hard-on a thing of the past, by
whatever means. There was no way of knowing the truth, so I just let
it slide. Then, suddenly, I had a way!

	"Go run a bath for Miss Dana," I told him, "then come back
here."

	When he returned and Dana had left for her bath, I told him to
get some oil and massage my breasts, a frequent duty of his. No sooner
was he fondling my tits, but sure as anything, his little dick started
climbing! I smiled to myself, satisfied. He had resisted the
temptation. He had obeyed his Mistress.

	Shortly afterwards, his restrainer was locked back into place,
the key back on the chain around my neck.

				* * *

	Thus it was that, on the following Friday, I sent Pete off to
Dana's house for the weekend, with a few final instructions. "You will
serve and obey her just as diligently as you would for me."

	"Yes, Mistress... " Petey didn't look like a very happy boy
that morning. I'd have loved a Polaroid just then! He had the distinct
feeling that the pretty, young blonde would not be easily pleased.
"When you return here, I shall have a *special* duty for you."

	He look at me with big, sad eyes. "Yes, Mistress?"

	"You will write out a full account of your servitude to Miss
Dana and present it to me upon completion. It will, of course, be the
truth. I don't want to have to check up on you with Miss Dana."

	"I... I will do as you say, Mistress... "

	"Of COURSE you will," I rasped, giving him a pair of hard
slaps.

	"I m-meant... I... I'm not very good with words, Mistress... "

	Don't answer back!"

	"I beg pardon, Mistress." How simply exquisite it felt to
flatten him with words, knowing all the time he hadn't earned it. Just
one of the simple pleasures of having a slave.

	I took the chain from my neck, and his eyes went wide as
saucers. Was he going to be permitted relief? Nah, not a prayer of a
chance.

	"The first thing you will do, upon arrival, is deliver this
key to Miss Dana. It will symbolize her ownership of you."

	"I understand, Mistress," he said, looking so crestfallen.

	"Go put on your jogging sweats and shoes; nothing else."

	"Very good, Mistress," he answered, and left the room.

	He was back soon, dressed as I had directed him to. I must
say, he did look rather pathetic, like a lost little puppy. Wonder if
he'll miss me, I thought with an inner chuckle.

	"Off you go, then."

	He hesitated, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say
`Goodbye'. Apparently, the stupidity of that remark broke over him.
Bowing once more, he silently departed.

	It wasn't until after he had left, that I realized that,
having the key, there was little to prevent him from unlocking the
restrainer himself, prior to reaching Dana's house. Foolish me! I sure
handed him a golden opportunity. This time, I felt he would use it.

	Then, I had to reconsider. I had told him to walk there, which
would take thirty minutes. Were he to try something forbidden, he
would not get there in the time allotted. Hmmmm... seemed to me, I
might ought to give Dana a jingle to tell her he was on his merry way.

			       The End