Jane Is Trained To Submit Ch 07

Jane was standing in a room, in a house, she knew not where. The journey had taken some time, though it was difficult to calculate how long, as her mind had switched off. It had been the only way to cope with the demeaning position of being sold as a slave. It was only for the weekend, she told herself, yet again.

'Only for a weekend!' she laughed, and caught hold of it, before she became hysterical.

Margaret had given her to a stranger before, though not for money, and only for an afternoon. This time she wouldn't just have a sex session with a stranger, she would be his sex slave, for a whole weekend. Just have sex with a stranger? Damn! Just to think that showed how low she sunk. Her morals had been whittled away while in that damn house with Margaret and her son, Mark.

She reminded herself that it was to raise money for her daughters tuition fees. The thought helped a little. Besides, whatever Margaret told her to do, she would have to go along with, or face the consequences. It was better to forget that Margaret had given her the option of backing out. Much better to blame the horrendous situation on someone else.

Jane sat down on a hard leather sofa. The room was a man's room. There weren't heads of stuffed animals on the walls, but there was a smell of leather, and a faint odour of pipe tobacco. A hint of wood polish too. She wondered what kind of man would buy a slave. Would he be cruel and vindictive. Would he punish her at every opportunity for the slightest infringement of his rules?

The idea of a harsh master was from a fantasy she had some time ago. It certainly wasn't something she would want to experience for real. Reality! How could being sold into slavery be true? She had been auctioned off to the highest bidder, and was here waiting for her master, so how much more real could it get. She sat there on the edge of the sofa with fears for herself tumbling through her mind.

Margaret's clients had been reasonable with her, even kind and romantic. At least one of them had, that first time she found herself in bed with a stranger. She stupidly thought she was in love with him, just because they had sex. It had all been new and strange, but became easier after that. Now she was waiting to play a sex game with a master, acting as his slave.

How in hell had she fallen this far from grace? Looking back to married life, she had endured sex, not enjoyed it. Now she did! Oh, how she did enjoy sex!

The sound of a vehicle crunching the driveway gravel startled her out a reverie. She jumped up from the sofa and stood at attention. Her heart was thumping and her breathing rate was in gasps. Damn! She was on fire! The humiliation of being reduced to a lowly sex slave, had her heated up. She trembled with passion.

Whoever her master was to be, he was in the house! She could hear heavy footsteps on a hardwood floor. Getting closer, louder, filling her tuned ears with sound. Footsteps stopped outside the door. She watched the door handle turn, with eyes wide open, taking it all in. A hand attached to an arm was glimpsed as she dropped her head.

Looking at the carpet was an evasion, as well as a sign of deference to a new master. She was putting off the moment of contact. He was in the room, but not seen. This man would be far more than a husband, who should be a partner, he would be her lord and master. Fear had mostly dissipated, after thinking about this moment nonstop over the last two weeks. Instead of being afraid, she was sexed up, panting for it!

Bob looked at the woman standing in his study, with head bowed, looking very much the humble maid he had purchased for the weekend. He knew her from committees they were both members of. It was hard to believe this self-important woman was willing to be a weekend slave. Yet his friend had been right. Her whole demeanour showed her to be humble, and compliant. Though, it remained to be seen how long that would last.

'Slave, let your master see what has been purchased,' he gruffly stated.

Bob hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but he was nervous, and just let out a rehearsed speech. He watched with apprehension, not knowing if she would obey him, or simply revert to character, and defy him. She could simply walk out in disgust, and cause him no end of trouble.

Instead of turning around as expected, she began popping the press studs on the overall. Opening his mouth to stop her, he slapped his lips shut again. With head down she slipped out of the mean garment, folded it up, and laid it on the arm of a sofa. She then slowly turned around, until she was again toward him, though still with her head bowed.

Seeing her in underwear for the first time confirmed what he had thought. She had a cute ass, and a well developed pair of breasts. The underwear hid little of her figure. A corset hugged her waist, and held up a pair of black stockings, with thin suspenders pressing into her thighs. Her white breasts bulged over the top of the black corset.

'Yes. . .' is all he could comment. 'Very nice, slave,' he eventually added.

She just stood there, letting him ogle her near naked body. He should be doing something, or saying something, to put her in her place. After all the times she had dismissed his suggestions at committee meetings, this was a grand opportunity. Ideas of settling scores vanished on seeing her curvy body.

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Think! He told himself. Before he went any further he should confirm where they stood. Appearances can be deceiving.

'Why are you here, slave?' he demanded to know.

'Your slave is here to serve her master,' Jane stated.

There was a tremble in her voice from being aroused, though he put it down to nerves.

'What will you do for your master,' he asked.

'Anything master wants. Your slave is a sex slave, Master,' she said, making it sound like a plea.

She was desperate for sex. It was easy to let herself go with a stranger, for they had no relationship to protect, no history, and no future to think of. Sex was just an immediate fulfilment of a need.

With that confirmation he relaxed. He still wondered what had happened to her, to slew her morals so sharply from the straight and narrow. If what she said was true, she had lost them completely.

'Look at me, slave, and tell me again,' he heavily stated.

Jane looked up at her new master. She swayed, and nearly fell at his feet. It was someone she knew, it was Mr McKenzie! Her head swam with fear, desire, and a myriad of emotions consorting to swamp her mind. Why in hell did it have to be him!

'Well?' he demanded.

'Master,' she began, only to falter.

A dry mouth had to be cleared. For a moment she thought to explain away her presence. How could that be possible? He knew why she was here. He had bought her as a slave! She had just confirmed she was his sex slave!

With eyes fixed on his, unable to tear them away, she repeated what Margaret had made her rehearse. 'Your slave is here to serve her master. Slave is your sex slave, Master, ready to obey masters' every desire.' she hoarsely whispered.

It was too late now. There was nothing she could do, or say, to get out of this dreadful mess. Why did it have to be him that bought her? After this weekend they would meet, and both would be painfully aware of what happened between them. It didn't bear thinking about. The thought of such embarrassing situations to come, stoked her up.

'Get dressed slave,' he said, and turned away.

Going to his desk gave him a chance to calm down. Before the auction he thought it would be amusing to humiliate the damn woman. Instead, she accepted the demeaning position, so he would have to get used to it, and quickly. He had half a mind to give her a moral lecture and send her packing.

With difficulty he brought himself under control, and turned to her. 'The kitchen needs a thorough clean, get to it, and return here when it's done, slave,' he ordered.

'Yes, master, thank you master,' Jane shyly spoke.

'Don't forget your clothes,' he said.

She picked up the overall and quickly ran out, clutching it, rather than dress in front of hm.

Well, at least he'd get something out of this, after paying for her. Bob chuckled to himself. As planned, Margaret didn't know who had bought the slave. There was no need to pay the extra commission, so he had her on the cheap. Again he wondered why she was doing this. Was she so very desperate for money, or did Margaret have something on her?

Tomorrow he would do a little digging. In the meantime, he had a slave to keep busy before she had time to think of rebelling. He sat there wondering what would have happened if one of those others had bought her. They didn't know her, and would assume she was a dirty tramp to have agreed to such a deplorable situation. The sight of her in sexy underwear, and the declaration she made, made it very tempting to take advantage.

Sometime ago, during a coffee break at a meeting, he tried to be friendly, and called her Jane. She became all huffy, and insisted he call her, Mrs Marshal. Now he was calling her slave! Such a turnabout couldn't be resisted, with him inevitably using the term, slave, at every opportunity.

In the kitchen she was busy cleaning when he came to check up on her. 'I want a whisky, slave,' he demanded.

'Yes, Master,' she responded.

He led her back to the study, and showed her where the drinks were kept. She poured a single malt, and served him, using an old silver tray he had never bothered with before. She stood beside him, waiting for instructions.

'Slave, you may return to the kitchen. I'll call you if I need another drink,' he casually said.

'Yes, master, thank you master,' she said, in return.

Bob was surprised there were no mutterings, heavy sighs, or even a raised eyebrow, from the way he was treating her. Everyone had noticed she was behaving less strident and determined at the last couple of committee meetings. The gossip had been that it was due to an illness. The way she bent so easily to the role of slave meant it was more than that. It was another mystery to consider.

It was getting late, and since retiring from business, he formed the habit of going to bed early. He strode to the kitchen to interrupt the menial task she was concentrating on. Standing in the doorway he looked around the sparkling kitchen. He could see Jane had lost herself in tidying the cupboards. Knowing what kind of person she was, this was predictable behaviour.

'Slave! It's time for bed,' Bob firmly stated.

'Yes, Master.' she replied.

Again he was surprised how well she took this instruction. It was very tempting to lead her to the master bedroom. It would be interesting to see if she meant what she said earlier. He still couldn't believe she was prepared to be a sex slave. That was going too far. Besides, he didn't think he could bring himself to take advantage.

Instead, he opened the door to a guest room, and said, 'Your room, slave. Tomorrow I'll see about getting you some appropriate clothes.'

Jane was surprised. She looked around the room, wondering what she might have done wrong. Even throwing herself into cleaning the kitchen, which it certainly needed, the sexual arousal hadn't been completely calmed. The very idea of being sold to this man as a sexual plaything kept her hot.

Both Margaret, and Mark, had been dressing her up, and now her master was going to. It seemed like forever her clothing was decided by someone else. She wondered what salubrious outfit he would make her wear. She sighed heavily and undressed.

'Damn! The corset,' she murmured.

She timidly knocked on the door, again wondering why she had been rejected. She heard him clear his throat, before clearly saying, enter.

'Well, slave, what is it?' he demanded.

'Sorry to bother you, master, your slave needs to remove the corset for bed,' she hurriedly explained.

He looked her over, liking what he saw, yet reluctant to make a move. The weekend would be over and he would have to live with whatever they did together. The next time they met, she wouldn't be his slave, and might even return to being the harridan they all knew.

She sat on the edge of the bed, ready for him to undo the fastenings. She trembled a little, in anticipation of his touch. Mark helped her off with the corset every evening, and blatantly groped her. One time he hadn't bothered to release her. He clipped the corset over a set of draws, and took her while bent over them. She had to stay there in the awkward position for ages afterwards, while he snoozed. Thinking about how demeaning it had been, was boosting her sexual charge.

'You'll have to remove the stockings first,' he pointed out.

'Sorry, master, I forgot,' she said.

He watched her hands trembling with nerves, as she unclipped a stocking, and rolled it down a leg. It was certainly more exciting than reading a book, his usual evening entertainment.

'You look nervous, slave, what's the matter?' he asked.

Again he hadn't meant to be so brisk with her. He was about to say, he meant her no harm, and wouldn't take advantage of her, but she interrupted.

'Your slave is so very horny, master. Sorry, master,' Jane explained.

So used to revealing intimate details to Margaret and her son, she had blurted it out without thinking. Damn! How could she face the man after all this was over. Working as his maid would be bad enough, but being his slave was terrible, Then she had made it all worse, by telling him she was sexually aroused.

She almost laughed out loud. What was she thinking! A few words were nothing, compared to what she was doing. She was performing a strip tease before him. He was a member of the planning committee she chaired, and here she was, in his bedroom, putting on a naughty show. Then he would be stripping off the corset, leaving her naked, except for her panties.

Bob looked her over. He wasn't so worldly wise when it came to women. Give him a machine to take apart, and put back together again, and he was in his element. Examining her more closely, it was possible she was telling the truth. Well, well, well. The stern moralist was really a naughty slut!

She sat on the edge of the bed, even more nervous with anticipation. He fumbled with the laces, gradually loosening them and unwinding them from the corset.

'I can see why you need help with this,' he commented.

He wasn't sure if he was making conversation to ease her nerves, or his.

He looked at her bare back. It had been pinched tight, and by the look of the skin, for some time. The clothes she wore to meetings hid her figure, so he had no idea her waist was so thin,

'Why do you wear such a tight thing?' he asked.

'My mistress insists I wear it every day, master,' she said.

She hadn't realised at first, but the corset was being tightened a little more each day, until a smaller corset was needed. She was on the fourth corset, with a much slimmer waist than before wearing one. In the beginning she had been appalled that her body was being modified by Margaret, though like everything else, she became used to it.

'Thank you, master,' she said, and moved to pick up her stockings.

He watched her bend over. The crotch of the little panties cupping her lips, which bulged out between her thighs. She made a mess of picking up the stockings, and managed to drop the corset. He had to remind himself to breath.

She put the corset and stockings onto the chair. She turned around with hands to her sides, with a straight back, thrusting her breasts at him, and head slightly bowed.

'Is there anything master wants of his slave?' she asked.

Her breasts were pushed out at him, looking as though they were too heavy for such a slim waist. Margaret had insisted she did certain training exercises. With no idea what she was doing, she obediently carried out the instructions twice a day. It turned out that one was to enhance her bust, and keep it firm. Another was to strengthen her pelvic floor muscles. The result was that she could grip a man inside her more strongly. Though she hadn't associated this with the training yet. Her breasts were already a fair size, and she was lucky they had hardly moved south at all, with or without the exercises.

'Yes,' he murmured. Meaning, yes, she could go. Though, the rest of him was saying, yes, he wanted more.

Jane was pleased with her performance. Margaret was a good teacher. She glided over to the bed, and pulled the covers aside. Silently she slid in next to him, as though it were Mark, and they had to be careful not to wake his mother.

Bob had been mesmerised and now he was shocked. He tried to say something, but his brain was being contradicted by his body. She was busy under the sheet, then pulled her hand out.

'My panties, master,' she said, and presented them to him. 'All of slave is ready for use, master,' she whispered.

Her whole body was on fire from this new experience of being a sex slave. What would it be like being at a masters mercy? He could do anything to her, without considering her in the slightest. Her limbs trembled, and her tummy quivered. She had never been so worked up.

Bob didn't know what to say, or do. He didn't think she was expecting him to romance her. It was evident she wanted sex, and urgently. Was she a nymphomaniac? What did she mean when she called Margaret her mistress? The more he learnt about her, the more questions he was left with.

She couldn't wait for him to make up his mind. Every night for the past weeks she had marvellous sex with Mark. It had got so that she couldn't do without it. If she didn't do something now, he might send her away. She slithered down the bed, and leaned over his cock. He hadn't stopped her, and didn't resist when she kissed the head of his flaccid cock. She had found the trouble, and knew exactly what to do to cure it.

At Mark's insistence, she had been practising with a toothbrush to overcome the gag reflex. It was degrading to be developing such an obscene skill just because a young man had demanded it. She was corrupting herself, and that turned her on, so she tried all the harder to achieve it. After awhile, she could suck a banana into her mouth, and part way down her throat.

He hadn't asked her how she was getting on, so she didn't tell him. Now the new skill was being put into practice, for a good cause. Her own satisfaction. Her master's cock wasn't fully erect, but it soon would be.

'What are you doing?' Bob asked.

It was an unnecessary question, and she was in no position to answer with her mouth full of his cock. He lifted the sheet to see her kiss the base of his cock. He felt her lower lip touch his balls, and her throat gripping his cock. She was breathing heavily through the nose, with the nostrils snorting loudly. She looked up at him, with a distorted smile on her face, and eyes twinkling mischievously.

Hell! She was enjoying this. The woman was showing off. He had of course heard about it, but never experienced a blow-job before. It was disconcerting to have such an upright decent woman on the end of his dick. He keenly watched her move up his cock, revealing more and more of it. She kissed its head, and swallowed it whole once more. It was fascinating watching her speed up to find a rhythm that suited him. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the wonderful sensations.

'Oh! Yes!' he hissed, through clenched teeth.

The worry over not being able to perform had left him less than ready. Now he was hard as a rock, very close to the point of orgasm.

It was deeply disappointing to feel her let him go. It was almost like the emotional loss of someone close. She clambered up his body, pushing his legs together, and squatted on top of him. A hand grabbed his hard slippery cock, fumbled it, then slid it between her lips. He craned his neck to see what she was doing, and watched his cock yet again disappearing into her body. This time it was her vagina absorbing the length of iron.