Rehabilitating Lena

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

It wouldn't stop. Each beep woke her up more.

"Keith, your alarm," she mumbled. But the obnoxious beeping kept going. She put the blanket over her ear, but it didn't block out the sound. "Keith!" She rolled over to nudge him awake, but he wasn't in bed. She peered over at his nightstand and groped for his phone, but she didn't find it. As the beeping continued and her brain started to wake up, she realized that it was coming from across the room. "Keith! Turn it off!"

"No, you turn it off." Her eyes adjusted to the dawn's light that barely lit the room and saw him leaning on the dresser, arms crossed.

"Why..."

"Your whining is really getting to me." She put her pillow over her head. "C'mon, Lena. Get out of bed, and turn it off."

She whispered, "I fucking hate you," under her pillow. Slowly, she got out of bed. The dizziness affected her balance as she stumbled to the phone on the dresser. She snatched it up, turned it off, and weakly slammed it back down. But the phone didn't suffer any damage.

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"Go to hell."

"I'll pretend to ignore that." She started to head back to bed, but he caught her arm. "Nope, get back here."

She struggled against his embrace. "Let go. I wanna go back to sleep..."

"I told you that your whining is pissing me off."

"I don't fucking care."

"You will later when your collar is on." He broke away to turn the lights on. "Get dressed. We're going for a walk."

"Fuck...really?"

He shook his head, appalled that she forgot everything about the day before. "I know what will wake you up." He grabbed her again and dragged her to the bathroom. "I've had enough of your cussing and whining." Too tired to fight, she let him haul her to the bathroom and force her to sit on the toilet. She jolted when her sore ass made contact with the hard lid. He rummaged through the cabinets under the sink and brought out a small box containing a bar of soap. Through half closed eyes, she watched him free the soap from the box and hold it in front of her face. "Open."

"You're kidding me." Her lips tightened before he had a chance to shove it into her mouth.

"Open!"

Her arms crossed. "But you didn't put the collar on me." The smirk on her face pissed him off more.

He growled. "Fine. Stay here." He let the soap fall to the counter, then returned with her collar. "In position." She groaned as she slid to the floor and looked the other way as he tightened the leather around her neck. "Sit." With another groan, she sat back on the toilet. "Open." She grimaced at the soap. Although its soapy scent smelled good, she doubted that it was going to taste pleasant. He pushed the soap to her lips. "Open your mouth right now, or you're getting a whipping too!" Her lips parted quickly at the thought of him spanking her already bruised bottom.

The soap almost fell out; she bit down harder to keep it in place. "Eweck." She scrunched her face and brought her hand up to keep it steady.

"Hands down." Her hand fell to her lap. She whined and winced and refused to look at his glaring face. She felt stupid, humiliated, and like a child with him towering over her. "You're gonna learn to stop cussing. It's sickening coming from your mouth. You're too pretty to be using that kind of language. No more. Understand, girl?"

She made a small, muffled noise in agreement and let the soap fall into his hand. She rushed to the sink and spat over and over while running her finger around her teeth to get the soap she bit in to.

"Alright, you're done," he said and started to drag her from the sink.

"No...no..." she whimpered and held onto the sides but lost the fight. "Uck," she said, still wincing.

"Get dressed. Be ready in five."

"Yes, Sir..." She groaned and gave his back a dirty look as he left the room. Five minutes later, she was still suffering from the aftertaste, but by then she was concerned more with the collar still around her neck. When she met him in the living room, she made a tugging motion on the collar in case he forgot it was still on her.

"It stays on." Instead of arguing, she zipped the light jacket all the way up to hide what she could. "I wasn't planning on collaring you until later, but your disrespect put you in this position." Stifling a whine, she followed him out the door.

The first ten minutes were torture, and all she heard was "Faster, girl." His strides were longer; he was almost at a jog. She couldn't keep up and was too out of breath to protest. Then, she put her hands to her knees and stopped in the street.

"Keith!" she called to him.

He walked back to her. "Excuse me, but how do you address me?"

"Don't be ridiculous..." she said between breaths. "We're in public."

"No one can hear us in the middle of the street. You still have your collar on."

She shook her head. "I can't do this." "You will not stop until I say you can." She didn't say anything and stayed bent over, breathing hard. "Don't think I won't spank you in the middle of the street. Are you willing to test me?" he growled in her ear.

She didn't have to think about it. "No, Master," she weakly replied.

"You're still being punished for this. If you have such a problem with walking, you won't have to. As soon as we get home, you will lose your privilege to walk." He shook his head as he led the way. "Seriously? Not even an hour into the day, and you've already been punished twice."

For the rest of the hour, she grunted and moaned trying to keep up. He looked back at her every once in a while and thought about buying a leash to tow her along during their morning walk. "Walking my bitch," he muttered under his breath and smiled. She stumbled through the front door, panting. "On the ground, girl." She sank to the floor and caught her breath while on all fours. She cringed when she looked at the dirt on the palms of her hands.

"Guess you gotta clean the floors soon." She nodded as she tried to wipe the dirt off her hands. "I'm gonna make breakfast today. While I do that, you're gonna work on your writing. And you may sit at your computer while you do so."

"Yes, Master," she quietly said. He read her thoughts, the fears and frustrations of pursuing her passion.

"Hey." She looked up at him. "Just thirty minutes of concentration. I know you can do it. I believe in you." He gave her a small smile of encouragement.

But those thirty minutes were hell. She stared at the screen the whole time. She reread the first two scenes of a screenplay she started months ago. The excitement wasn't there anymore. A brilliant idea she had a couple years ago faded to a hundred pages of bland dialogue. She couldn't find the originality of the plot, the characters were dull and too common, and it has been done a million times before. She held her head in her hands.

"Think...what comes next?" She closed her eyes tight. "I need to start over." Before she could delete the entire project, she heard her Master call for her. She closed the document and crawled to the dining room. She hesitated next to her chair, not knowing if she was allowed to sit. He answered her question when he set the plate on the ground next to her. Although she felt like a damn dog, she was grateful that he gave her a fork.

"What did you work on?"

She played with her food, trying to think of a lie. But her depression was coming back, and she needed him to save her. "Nothing, Sir."

"Nothing?"

"I don't like my idea. I want to give up. I don't want to be wasting my time if I'm not good at this, Sir."

"Remember how you used to smile when you talked about it? How you would spend hours at the computer, late into the night, typing away?" She shrugged. "You'll get back into it. You just gotta try every day." She sniffled as she nodded and tried to keep the tears away. "Finish eating. You have chores to do...which you will do this time...while I get some work done. Then, we'll work on your training. But first, what's rule number ten?"

She stared at her plate. "Umm..."

"Remove your clothes, please." Her mind was desperately searching for the answer as she shed her clothes. "Face away from me and put your forehead to the floor. I want to see how much that bruised ass can take today." She squinted in concentration. He ran his fingers over her bruises.

As he moved his hand away, she nearly screamed, "Work on my screenplays every day!" He took his hands off of his belt that he planned to use on her behind.

"Huh, really does work," he said, sounding more impressed with himself. "Should have spanked you a long time ago..." he mumbled and sipped his coffee. "You may finish eating now."

"Thank you," she whispered to whatever divine entity that intercepted and sat back down.

"I think that maybe you should be rewarded. That impressed me. And you actually sat in front of your computer for thirty minutes and tried." He said nothing as he finished eating; she nervously picked at her food hoping that the reward was being able to walk again. "Do the dishes, but stand as little as possible. Then, come to my office with that remote vibrator." She smiled and did what she was told.

Washing the dishes was difficult with the constant standing and crawling to avoid taking any steps. Her knees hurt from the hard tile, and her back ached and cracked. But she ignored the pain and crawled to the bedroom closet. Passing his closed office door, he could hear him laughing and talking to someone on the phone. She loved hearing his sweet voice and missed it already. The rough growl he used was a turn on, but it didn't suit him as well.

She went to the closet and grabbed the parts and batteries of the toy and put them in the pouch that came with it. With her teeth, she carried it to his office. She rapped on the door.

"I gotta go, later." The laughter in his voice faded with a stern, "Come in." She pushed the door open and crawled to his chair. He smirked as he admired his naked fiancée on all fours. "Thank you," he said as he took the bag from her mouth. He fixed the batteries in place and tested the remote. The bullet shook violently in his hand. "I hope you're wet enough."

"Uhh..." She could tell she wasn't wet enough to get the bullet inside.

"Then maybe you should get some lube." It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order. She grimaced as she made another trip to the bedroom. Using her teeth again, she carried the corner of the tube and dropped it into his waiting hand. "On your back."

She rolled onto her back and gave her Master a display of her near-perfect pussy minus the stubble from the poor shaving job of the day before. She watched him as he dropped a dollop of lube at the bullet's tip; his finger swirled around it, coating it to its base. He kneeled in between her legs and ran his fingers over her cunt. The bullet touched her clit. The cold lube made her writhe and try to escape. "No..." he warned her. She stayed still, bit her lip, and closed her eyes as the tip started to enter her. Very slowly, he worked it in and out. The more he teased her pussy, the more she eagerly accepted the rock hard bullet. With one last easy thrust, he pushed it all the way in. She inhaled sharply and felt immediate comfort. He tugged the string. The small vibration made her smile.

"Get to work," he said with a wink and turned away. She frowned, hoping to try her new toy, but he was already busy at his computer. Just as she crossed the threshold, a massive quake erupted from her abdomen. She gasped and collided with the doorframe. It lasted a short few seconds, then ended with him convulsing with laughter. As she crawled out she swore to be on the lookout for him sneaking up on her.

Ten minutes later, the buzzing caught her by surprise. She hung on to the coffee table she was cleaning, gasping and weak from the ferocious rumble. "Ohhh..." Then, it stopped. She peered back at Keith with a big smile on his face and remote in hand.

"Just checking on my girl." He pointed the remote at her like a gun, ready to shoot her at any second. He pressed down on the button and held it. The vibration built up; she gripped at the carpet, feeling dizzy and a little more aroused. "Have you come yet?"

The tremors died slowly. "I don't think I can with this thing, Master. Too strong but too weak at the same time. But it kinda feels good..."

"I want you to practice composure when I push this button unexpectedly. I don't need you causing a scene when we're in public." She grimly nodded although the thought turned her on. He looked around, amazed about what she accomplished already for being on her knees. "Keep it up."

Every half hour was met with a rumble in her cunt. It gradually became easier for her to contain herself. By the early afternoon, she was becoming a pro.

He stopped in front of her in the hallway as she was crawling to the bedroom. She looked up in surprise. He was close to laughing. She carefully carried a bottle of cleaning spray in her mouth with rags and towels draped over her back. "Time for lunch. You're making it. But take the vibrator out and leave it on your nightstand."

"Yeash, hahter," she said and continued down the hall. She put the supplies away and lay next to the bed. She tugged, then tugged harder. It finally came out with a pop that took the breath out of her. She rinsed the lube and cum mixture off the bullet, dried it, and crawled to the kitchen.

He was at the dining table, absorbed in his laptop. "You may stand to make lunch," he said still studying the screen. With a small groan and cracking bones, she stood and rummaged through the cabinets. There wasn't much food on the shelves. By luck she found two cans of the same condensed soup. Silently, she heated it over the stove and listened to him typing away. She brought the bowls to the table and set one down. She lowered herself to the floor and ate her meal. He automatically ate without complaint and pushed the bowl to the side when he finished. "In an hour, I'm going to finish working. I want you in position at the end of the bed, waiting for me."

"Yes, Master."

He smiled down at her. "God, you're gorgeous. But I need you to look your best. One hour."

She hid her smile and rushed to wash the dishes. From there, she crawled to the shower. She only stood once to gather her soaps and grab the handheld showerhead to let it hang to the floor, all without taking a step. On her knees, she washed herself while eying the forceful stream of water coming from the showerhead. It was tempting, and the urge was getting stronger. She felt the control slipping away. All morning, the obsessive sexual thoughts were in hibernation. But now, her pussy throbbed and her need had to be met right away.

"No! I can't. I won't." She turned off the faucet. "Fucking addiction," she muttered and focused on preparing herself.

Still on the floor, she blow dried her hair and did her makeup. She waited patiently on her knees in her submissive pose.

"Ready for your training, girl?" He smiled as he stretched and cracked his knuckles as if preparing for a grueling physical task.

"Yes, Sir," she said with a cute smile.

"So far, you're doing well. You've been listening to me. That makes me happy." Her smile widened at the praise. "So, when was the last time you came?"

"Last night, Sir."

"When will you come next?"

"Whenever you give me permission to, Master."

"Good answer." At that moment, it was hard to see him as her Master as he smiled warmly at her. He was the kind of man that wouldn't hurt anyone unless he had too. Even killing innocent spiders was difficult for him. She couldn't see him as an authority figure, but his face hardened and his hazel eyes pierced through hers. He straightened his spine and put his hands on his hips. "We're going to work on your obedience, delaying your orgasm, and..." He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it up a little. "Your pain tolerance." He let go. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, Master."

"Do you remember the safe word?"

She nodded. He went to the closet and carried a load in his arms. He let the items fall onto the bed. The blindfold was the first object he grabbed. He knelt in front of her. The last thing she saw was his smirk. The soft fabric covered her eyes and the silky ties wrapped around her head. He made a small adjustment to the front. "Tell the truth, can you see anything?"

"No, Sir."

"I want you to focus all of your energy on not coming." He took her hand and helped her up; his other hand caressed her breasts and stroked her abs. "On your back, on the bed." He positioned her on the edge. Her legs bent and opened wide. He kissed her then whispered in her ear, "Don't come yet."

He leaned onto the bed next to her and trailed a finger from her lips, down her abs, very lightly over her cunt, then down to her clit, which he stroked with barely any pressure. She shivered in response. He teased her by tracing her lips, never entering her. She silently begged with thrusts of her hips and moaned when he finally penetrated her using two fingers while his thumb pressed her clit. He played with her slowly, building to a faster rhythm. He studied the quivering in her body and the ecstasy on her face. She was getting close. When her breathing got heavy, he withdrew in time.

She pouted and hit the bed with her fist out of frustration. The training was already miserable.

"From now on, you will not orgasm until I say you can. You will no longer get to play with yourself without my permission, even if that means I lock up your toys."

She shook her head; she was speechless for a moment. "Wh...wait! Time out!"

"Time out?"

"I mean..." The safe word was on her lips, but she didn't want to disappoint him. Instead, tears came. "I can't Keith, I can't..." she whispered.

"Lena..." His voice was soft; her tears were working on him. "I won't let you succumb to your addiction. You will no longer watch porn or read those stories without me or my permission. You will not play with yourself unless I let you. Those are the rules now."

She felt the world turn to chaos as she realized she wasn't in control anymore. "I can't do this! I don't want to!"

He caught her hand as she tried to take the blindfold off. "You consented, and you are continuously breaking rules!" he yelled. She winced and recoiled. "You will not give up! I won't let you!"

She heard his jagged breathing and could feel the heat of his rage as he sat rigid next to her. "Can we start over?" she asked in a small, innocent voice.

"NO!" Her tears flooded her blindfold, and she started shaking. "I have to go..." he muttered. She felt him move away from the bed then heard his office door shut. She ripped the blindfold off and curled up, crying. The overwhelming guilt made her nauseated, then angry. She was angry at herself and at him.

"I won't let him give up either," she said through gritted teeth with a new determination to finally set things right.

She got down on hands and knees with the blindfold in her teeth. She stopped at the doorway and turned back to the closet to bring him one of his belts. She wrapped the blindfold around the leather, so she wouldn't damage it with her teeth. Awkwardly, she carried both in her mouth to the office door.

"What?" he said, annoyed and miserable when she knocked on the door. With the load in her mouth, she couldn't answer. She reached up and turned the knob. Her eyes stayed on the floor as she moved toward his desk. She spat out the items in front of his chair.

"You won't let me give up, Master, and I won't let you give up on me. I love you, Sir, and I'm sorry. I'm scared about confronting my addiction, and I know now that I need your help. Please, don't let me get away with this, Sir. Please punish me for trying to give up." Her head remained bowed, but she spoke with an assertiveness she never knew she had.