The Personal Trainer 4

CW: Body image, bbw, D/s, humiliation, bondage, s/m.

***

I'd met James at fetish wear fashion show. I'd come alone and been jostled towards the catwalk among the audience until the partiers in the crowd surged drunkenly forward and pitched me into him. I'd apologized despite spilling my drink on myself instead of on him. He'd laughed at me but I wasn't mad. He was tall, with broad shoulders, dark auburn hair and eyes the color of seaglass.

We chatted about work and I found out he was a personal trainer. I lifted weights four times a week but had long since plateaued. I was self-conscious anyway. Being naturally soft and thick, I was used to health nuts rolling their eyes in disbelief at my workout regimen, but James offered me a discount rate for a one hour session.

"What's the catch?" I asked him as the models did their final walk and the spectators cheered.

James smiled. His eyes held me in theirs until the volume dropped. "Do you want a regular personal training experience or a kinky one?"

I raised my eyebrows. "That's an option?"

"For you it is." James sipped his beer.

I chose the kinky option.

James' private gym was on the edge of the city, a dusty patch of east industrial warehouses that remained mostly unsold except for the end unit with it's non-descript little placard in the window, a black silhouette of a dumbbell with white lettering that read "Jim's Gym" in writing too small to see from the nearest parking space, let alone from the road. A more legible typewritten sign hung below it: "By appointment only".

I got out of the car, gym bag in hand. I had an appointment. I'd always been too intimidated to work with a personal trainer in the past but there was something about James that made me want to let him yell and me while I got sweaty. I was halfway through texting him when he waved from the door, ushering me inside and locking the door behind me.

James hugged me and I returned it awkwardly, stealing the opportunity to smell his skin, an intoxicating vetiver tangle of bergamot and leather mixed with chlorophyll. I stifled a shiver and let James gesture to a seat near the door, across the small desk where he kept his laptop and a fitness resource library. I noticed mixed in among the powerlifting, running, and physio DVDs were a collection of racier titles that recalled porn. James caught me looking and grinned, apparently unabashed.

"Right Kady, you registered for my Kinky Bootcamp package, that entitles you to five one-on-one training sessions with me and 20 solo sessions at this gym. This session is free but to take advantage of the rest of the discount package, you have to complete this session to my satisfaction."

"What does that mean?" I wanted to know.

"That if you leave early or don't give your best effort, I won't take you on as client," James explained.

I nodded. "That won't be a problem. I take this kind of thing very seriously."

"Fitness?" James stared into my eyes as though daring me to look away.

Maybe not fitness, I thought, but performing well with an authority figure. Letting someone dominate me through my workout. "Yes," I nodded.

"Read this and sign," James slid a clipboard across the desk. It was a waiver, a commitment to the regimen he would create for me based on my completion of this assessment class, and a third sheet with a kinkier edge, stating that I understood that I was to fully and completely obey my personal trainer down the letter, that any deviation from his fitness plan was unacceptable and that refusal to comply would mean the end of the gym session and the end of future training sessions with James. Fair enough, I signed up for a kinky private personal training session for a reason. I signed my name to all three pages and filled in my credit card information before sliding the clipboard back to James.

I stood up to get changed and James stood too.

"Can I see your bag?"

I handed it to him and he rummaged through it, taking the turquoise cross-trainers out and handing them and my athletic socks and passing them to me. He tucked the bag under his desk.

I frowned. "I can't work out naked."

A half smile. "You will if you want to stay."

"It's not realistic," I explained. "I'm a soft woman. I jiggle and wobble, it's not going to work."

"If I assign something where you need support or a barrier, we'll see about some wrapping tape," said James, "but the rules of my gym are non-negotiable."

I stood in front of him holding my shoes and socks and nothing else. James was watching me, maybe wondering if I planned to bolt. Instead I saw the washroom behind the desk and excused myself to strip. To his credit, James didn't try to point out the inherent silliness of stripping in privacy to get naked working out in front of him. Maybe he realized I needed a moment to collect myself.

I studied my naked body in the bathroom mirror. Just socks and trainers, hair in a high pony. Round hips and ass, strong arms, thick thighs and heavy breasts. How was I going to make it through this workout naked?

I mounted my courage and left the bathroom, handing my clothes to James without meeting his eye. He said nothing but hitched a black duffel to his shoulder and beckoned me into the workout room proper.

It was a few thousand square feet, with high ceilings, a squat rack, bench, climbing rope, exercise bikes, a treadmill, and an assortment of plates, dumbbells, medicine balls, and other floor work equipment. It looked like a small, private, otherwise normal gym. James closed the door and keyed in a code and I heard a bolt slide into the lock.

"I'll let you out if you ask but that constitutes forfeiture of future training sessions," said James, noticing my distress. Wetness gathered between my legs despite myself.

I followed James to the far wall, near the exercise bikes. He set the duffel bag on a bench and extracted a pair of black cuffs and enclosed each around my wrists. James lift my arms above my head and clipped them to a ring affixed to the wall, slightly too high for me so that I had to stand on my toes.

James reached into the bag and returned with handful of tiny steel balls, like the kind that belong in a ball bearing. He reached for my left nipple, which was already stiff from my arousal and the coolness of the room. He placed one ball on either side of my nipple and they stuck together, magnetized, pinching my nipple uncomfortably. He did the same with my right nipple and I grunted.

From his bag he pulled out a silicone band studded with metal electrodes along one side. James circled it around my neck, adjusting the width and closing the metal clasp over my throat.

"This will measure your fitness levels today so we can set goals for the coming weeks," James told me. "It will also incentivize you. With just one button I can deliver a shock through that collar that will get you moving."

I moaned and struggled against my bonds, in equal parts frightened and turned on. James reached between my legs to feel the gathering wetness there, his fingers teasing my pussy lips, making me buck futily into his hand.

Suddenly his fingers were on my clit and already I was overwhelmed by the heat of his hands and the steady rhythm he used to toy with me. He brought me close and then something body-warmed and hard as a rock closed over my clit and I screamed.

"Shh, shh." James cupped my wet and aching pussy in his calloused hand. "You can take it. The shock from your collar will travel to your nipples and clit. It will be painful, yes-"

I couldn't stifle a whimper.

"-but you will learn to push through the pain," James finished, watching my eyes for signs of panic or resistance but he found none. His probing gaze turned me on even more.

James took my wrists down and lead me over the the exercise bikes, attaching my wrist cuffs to the handlebars. I mounted the seat and began to peddle, slowly at first but more quickly as my muscles began to heat up.

"We're going to do ten minutes and we'll take it in intervals. Thirty seconds at 100% speed, one minute and 30 seconds at 60%. Don't worry about the timing, just listen to me and concentrate on doing as you're told."

"Yes...sir," I said, knowing better than to call him James but "sir" felt intimate to me. James smiled on hearing it though, so I gripped the handlebars and tried to focus on the task he'd given me.

"On three you're going start at 100%, as fast as you can go. One. Two. Three."

I pedaled hard, feeling my legs move faster than I could control them. When James finally called for the lower intensity, I was already breathing hard and flushed. Bikes and cardio weren't my strong suit and soon I was sweating hard and sucking wind.

"Good," said James over my panting. "You will go at least that hard for the following rounds. One. Two Three."

This time I struggled to sprint on the bike. Suddenly my body lit up with a white hot jolt around my neck, concentrating on my clit and nipples and I lost pace completely.

"Pick it up!" James yelled and I redoubled my speed, cursing profusely as I struggled through the remaining twenty seconds.

The slower interval was a godsend and I wished I could wipe the sweat from my brow but I kept pedaling fast, gasping for breath. Something hard pushed between my pussy lips and I squealed. A dildo from the bike seat slid into me and I tried to pull myself off it but the bike was too high and my legs were too short.

"Fitness is a mind game," James told me, watching me relent to the intrusion as I continued pedaling. "It's about focusing your energy and succeeding and blocking out pain, discomfort, embarrassment and even pleasure. Don't think about the cock in your pussy. Think only about impressing me."

There was no way to block out the alien hardness filling me but I focused on James' face, his orders and tried to concentrate on them.

I was sprinting again and the dildo inside me ached and I lost concentration. The shock lanced through me again, this time emanating from the dildo inside me as well and I stopped completely as a hoarse scream tore from my throat.

"You're not going to stop again," said James but the pain was overwhelming. Little spots danced in my vision and I was nearly ready to forfeit the session. James must have seen the horror etched on my face because his expression softened slightly. "You're doing well. You can do this, you need to stop thinking about what you want and concentrate on what I want from you."

I swallowed, nodding as the speed interval ended and the rest period began. The dildo slid back inside me and this time began to vibrate low and slow and I feel buoyed, and quickened my pace despite the tightness in my chest and the hammering of my heart.

My pace slowed gradually but I didn't earn any more shocks, though my pussy clenched in fear every time I struggled to speed up. The dildo inside me purred gently, never giving enough pleasure to get me close but teasing me, building a fire inside me.

"And time! You can stop," James told me, unclipped my wrists from the handlebars. Sweat poured off me and I was too winded to do anything but sit on the bike and try to pull myself together. "You reached your max heart rate pretty quickly there so we'll want to work on your cardio, but I could tell you were working very hard. I'm impressed by your effort."

I wanted to faint from relief. I left James help me off the bike and he retrieved a large towel from his duffel bag and wiped the worst of the sweat from my face and neck. He pressed the rubber straw of a water bottle against my lips and told me to suck. I mostly stifled a horny grin and pulled a few gulps of water from the bottle before it was taken away and James led me to the squat rack.

"Show me your form without the bar," James ordered and I spread my legs, aligning my joints into a deep squat, trying to concentrate on my form rather than the pornographic image of deep, naked squats in from of my trainer.

"What's your working weight?" James asked. I glowed with pride that he found nothing to correct in my form and told him he weight I'd plateaued at last. He attached my cuffs to the empty bar and started wracking plates, just twenty pounds under my working weight. He went to the duffel bag and returned with ankle cuffs and a spreader bar and tightness inside me mounted. He attached the cuffs to each ankle and my thighs were spread wider than I was used to to squat.

"Please sir, they're so wide I'm afraid I'll lose my balance or drop the bar."

"I'll spot you," James told me. "Lift from your core. Stay strong through the middle, back straight and knees bent. Go as low as you can. I'm right behind you. Sets of eight. No shocks, you can't drop this but every time you don't break parallel means another rep. Go."

The first eight were easy enough, even with the mincing required to move backwards out of the rack with the spreader bar. My inner thighs burned. I couldn't see James but I felt his presence behind me as I bent deep for a count of eight. The second set was harder and twice I didn't bend low enough and felt the strain in my knees. James added two more reps and by the next break I was back to sweating profusely. I wanted to stretch my legs from their split position but I couldn't. Instead I focused on how grateful I was that James withheld the shocks as I balanced my own bodyweight on my naked shoulders.

The last set was agony. James smacked my ass twice, ordering me to go lower and tighten my core but my thighs were shaking violently from the strain. When I thought I was done, James ordered four more and I let out a pitiful wail.

"That's right," said James, pushing the bar lower as I pushed up out of a low squat. "Work that fat ass of yours, Kady. Feel your muscles burn and your ass ache. Good girl."

I reracked the bar, legs shaking. James removed the ankle cuffs and spreader bar and detached my wrist cuffs from the barbell. I was already exhausted and only twenty minutes had passed.

James wrapped the towel around me and told me to take five while he unhooked the climbing rope from its place on the wall. I pulled the towel tightly around me even though I was sweating. The squat rack was my strong suit. A climbing rope was the exact opposite.

James either didn't notice my trepidation or more likely, just didn't care. He called me to him and I came, heart sinking. My clit and nipples were numb from the pinching of the magnetic clamps.

"Before we can move on, you're going to scale this rope as high as you can you're going to stay there until I tell you to come down," James ordered.

"Sir, I'm terrible at climbing, it's all upper body strength and I-"

A stronger shock than before ripped through me and I was on my knees screaming, throat and clit and nipples on fire.

James' voice pierced through the fog. "I don't want excuses, I want effort." He pulled me to my feet and held me there as the pain subsided and the numbness took over. I reached for the rope. It was coarse and thick with a knot at the base to push off from. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my biceps and triceps, my delts and pecs, envisioning myself scaling the rope in smooth, powerful motions, pushing aside the voice in my head that knew for a fact I would barely be able to manage climbing a few feet.

"Ready? Go!"

I began climbing in tiny increments, inches at a time, the coarse rope abrading my naked skin. I was forced to use my feet and trembling thighs to make any progress at all. My hands were slick and the rope slid right through them.

"Higher, Kady! Eyes on the ceiling. Tight core. Lean back and straighten your legs."

I tried to do it all at once and slid down the few inches I'd gained. A howl of frustration escaped my lips and my body tightened around the rope and I managed to scale a couple feet up the rope before my arms buckled and I slid to the bottom. My clamped clit brushed again the knot at the bottom of the rope and I swore again, peeling myself off before collapsing onto the thin vinyl mat below, breathless and sweaty and exhausted.

James was leaning over me and I flinched badly, prepared for a volley of angry shocks for the poor showing I'd just given on the rope. Instead I felt a single finger push inside me and my eyes flew open at this teasing touch. James withdrew his finger and tracing slowly over my pinched clit and slid the magnets off me. I screamed as the blood came rushing back to my delicate, swollen clit, opening my eyes to catch James smiling at me as tears ran down my face from the throbbing between my legs.

James fingers stroked and massaged my swollen clit and my sobs became breathy pleas for more, for James not to stop. Already I was so close. A shudder ripped through me as I hovered on the edge.

James brought the magnetic clamps to my lips and I kissed them without being asked, trapped in a moment of desperate need and submission.

"Good girl," James whispered and I flushed with joy at his praise but then the gentle pressure of James' fingers on my clit was replaced with a brutal pinch, more painful than before and I screamed again, in pain and frustration.

"No, no, no, please, please don't, not again," I begged.

James pulled me to my feet and marched me over to the full body mirror on the far wall, pushing my head down roughly so that I fell on my knees, naked and flushed and rope burned.

"What do you see?" James asked me, his hand on my head keeping me on my knees. I could see James was hard; the thick bulge in his shorts made me even wetter as I imagined how he would feel inside me. James caught me looking and pushed me roughly up against the mirror.

"Answer the question, Kady. What do you see?"

"A...helpless slut, sir," I stammered, my breath fogging up the glass.

"That's what I see too," James pressed the shoe of his shoe between my pussy lips so that he split me open and nudged the clit clamp. "Do helpless sluts get to say no to their trainers?"

"N-no sir," I answered quickly. "T-they take what you give them without complaint."

"Good," said James, pulling me back from the mirror by my hair so that I had no choice but to stare at my lewd, naked, clamped body. I had never seen myself so humiliated and desperate. The realization made my clit ache with need even more.

James stood me up and walked me over the bench press. The bench was higher than I was used to and my feet could barely touch the ground to brace myself with the bar. I laid back on the bench and James clipped my cuffs to the bar just as he'd done with the squat bar. He loaded smaller plates onto either side of the bar and stood behind my head in the spotting position.

"The weight is low, sir," I muttered, unsure if I should admit it. "Compared to what I usually do."

"That's all right, little slut. Your arms will be tired and anyway, this isn't about a personal best. We're going to practice your concentration."

James pulled his waistband slightly, freeing his hard cock. Without realizing it I'd opened my mouth, waiting eagerly to be used. James pushed his thick, warm cock past my lips and into my mouth from above. Lying on the bench, feet barely reaching the ground, and wrists chained to the bar, I couldn't do any but relax my throat as James thrust slowly, watching my expression as he did.

"You're going to focus on the bar," James told me. "On your form, on reps. Don't bend your wrists. Brace your back. You're going to do this to exhaustion. Don't worry about the cock in your mouth, just let it happen. All that matters to you now is to do exactly as you're told and focus on your form. I'm right here, I'll take the bar if you need to drop it. Ready? Go!"

The bar was light but the most intense need surged through me as I tried to keep my jaw loose and my mouth soft around James while I pushed the bar off my chest, over my head. My mind kept wandering from the shape of my form to the feeling of James in my mouth, taste of soap and sweat from his body, the helplessness I felt laying there, used and teased and distracted and my arms began to shake. I tried to rerack the barbell but James gave the bar a little push from the rack, burying the thick head of his cock in the recessing of my throat.