The Secret Journey (13 page)

I have learned to be careful with whom I
share this secret. Friends have looked at me strangely, awkwardly
changed the topic when I stray too near to the workings of my
private life. Before I met
him
I had suggested to lovers
that perhaps we experiment with rope, with blindfolds and perhaps,
just maybe, with more. Too many times I was repulsed, told I was
sick, that I needed psychiatric help. For too long I believed there
was something deeply wrong with me. I was locked in society’s cage,
while I yearned for my own.

I have always driven myself harder, held
myself to a higher standard than anyone else. I have always fought
to be on top, in school, in business, in relationships, and I
always, always win. And yet, deep down, I have always had the
desire to give that up, yearned to meet someone strong enough to
put me in my place and to keep me there, to take me off my pedestal
- no, to knock me off my pedestal, and put me at their feet. It
could have been a man, it could have been a woman, it didn’t
matter. In the event it was a man, and he changed my life.

I spend at least an hour a day in the cage,
sometimes more. Sometimes when I’m hooded and trussed and gagged in
there he slides a dildo into my pussy, to remind me of exactly what
my role is. It’s a simple role. I service his cock. In this cage I
am not called by my name, not by the honorific title I earned in
years of hard work in school. In this cage I am just
cunt
.
That’s a simple anatomical underlining of the reality that
underpins our relationship. The dildo will stretch me wide, probe
humiliatingly deep and I am powerless to stop it. More importantly,
I am powerless to stop my body’s response to his casual
control.

The dildo never finds resistance, it always
finds me slick and wet and swollen, eager for any form of touch
from him. I’m
his
cunt, his ready, willing, eager cunt, and
yes it’s humiliating to say that about myself. He’s trained me to
be his cunt, to be always open and wet for him. I struggle with
that sometimes, just as I struggle against the bonds in the cage. I
struggle because it is my instinct to struggle, though I neither
expect nor even want to win. Like the bonds, I know I can’t break
away from the fundamental reality. I. Am. His. Cunt. I couldn’t
imagine being that way for anyone else. I couldn’t imagine being
any other way with him.

Sometimes he takes me out, still trussed, and
fucks me until he’s done with me, and then puts me back in, now
sweaty and dripping with his sperm. Sometimes he’ll have a ring gag
in my mouth and use my mouth through it, spraying his juices on my
face and tongue. Sometimes he ass-fucks me, driving his shaft up
between my offered buttocks while I hang suspended between pleasure
and pain. When he takes me his cock becomes something more than
simple flesh and blood. It becomes the living embodiment of his
authority, and my various sexual openings become the portals
through which his authority is injected into me. Every time he
fucks me my submission is reinforced. Every time he fucks me I
become more and more his cunt.

Cunt.

At this point in our relationship he doesn’t
need the cage, doesn’t need the hood, doesn’t need the whip or any
other device. All it takes is a glance, a gesture for him to put me
into the appropriate position of receptiveness, kneeling with my
mouth open, down on all fours with my ass in the air, flat on my
back in the horizontal splits. All those accessories are for me
now, to allow me to feel properly confined, to feel safely
restrained, to feel my inner demons channeled into constructive
directions.

Accordingly I have to beg for them. I have to
crawl to him with the cuffs and the hood in my teeth. I have to
wait for him on all fours with the riding crop held in the cleft of
my ass and a note explaining in detail why I need to be punished.
Sometimes the reason is real, a moment of lost temper, or neglect
of some detail at work or at home. More often now the reason is
simply because I need it, need deep down to have my demons scourged
out, need to offer up my pain to him, need to show him how much I
am
his
. The simple truth is I need to be humiliated in order
to escape from myself. I need to be stripped and bared and
transformed into
cunt
.

Part of that transformation has been his
mastery of my orgasms. Before him I came easily on my own through
masturbation and almost never with a partner. He has trained me now
to orgasm at his command, and only at his command. No matter what I
do, however much I rub my clit with my time honoured technique, I
can’t come by myself, though he can make me do it with a word, over
and over again if he wants to, until my pussy is sore and aching
from clenching, until the experience is no longer pleasurable but
painful, until I am limp and exhausted and begging for him to stop
as eagerly as I begged for him to start. It’s something I wouldn’t
have thought possible before I met him, and now it’s an everyday
part of my reality.

When I had control of my own orgasms, sex was
something I rarely thought about. Now sex, specifically the image
of his cock imposing its will on me, never leaves my mind. As a
result I spend my days in a state of barely contained sexual
frustration. Everything I see, everything I touch seems to remind
me of his cock. I have to pack extra underwear with my lunch to
work, in the certain knowledge I will have soaked through several
pairs of it before the day is done, as my obsession with him seizes
my thoughts. Sexual release has become one more thing I have to
grovel for, and so I am highly motivated to be a very good cunt for
him.

He has trained me so I need it often. The one
time I am always allowed to come is when he has shot his sperm into
me, and that makes me eager to present my sex openings for his use.
He has conditioned me to crave his cock, to be a slave, quite
literally, to his cock. I’m lucky that he knows how to do that with
consummate skill, lucky enough that he chooses to invest that skill
in me. You may wonder why any sane woman would choose to submit
herself to such treatment, let alone consider herself lucky to be
subjected to it. This simple fact is that I do not choose to do
this, any more than you can choose to breathe. I need it, and I
have long since passed the point of wondering if my need is right
or wrong. It simply is.

And so I lie in here, encased in leather,
joints aching from the tight restraints he has put me in, hooded,
ears plugged, mouth held open by the ring gag. My wrists are cuffed
behind my back, my ankles cuffed to my wrists. My feet are encased
in high heeled leather boots, my hands in monogloves that deny me
the use of my fingers. A tight corset cinches my waist,
accentuating my tits and ass beneath the smooth leather, and the
only part of my body exposed to the outside air is my spread,
swollen, dripping cunt.

I strain to hear any noise that might
indicate he has come to touch me. Time contracts and expands and I
lose all orientation, all sense of the outside world. I become lost
in my own thoughts and I regress, the cares of the world washed
away. My awareness focuses on my cunt and its desire to be put to
its rightful use. My arousal grows, my stiff clit aching for
stimulation, and I try to hump it against the cage floor, although
I know my restraints won’t allow me to. Time passes and eventually
I
become
my cunt, my entire body sensitized to the point
where it is merely an extension of my vagina.

And then I feel it, the slight vibration that
means the cage door has been opened. Hands pull me backwards, and
then his cock enters me, fully, deeply, with no preparation,
stretching me to the point of pain. I gasp and moan, the discomfort
of my position transformed in an instant to arousal, and then he is
fucking me the way I need so much to be fucked, and I want to beg
him to come in me, to use me, to make
cunt
into
his
cunt. His cock is steel hard, its thick, heavy head pounding
remorselessly against my cervix, and I want to beg him to come
inside me, so deep inside me, but I can’t, because the cruel ring
gag renders my aching mouth incapable of speech, incapable of
anything but accepting his cock, should he choose to use me that
way too.

But right now he’s using my cunt, using me as
his cunt, and it is exactly what I need and it goes on and on until
I can’t think, can’t even remember my own name and all I can feel
is my stretched, fucked pussy as he slams into me over and over and
over again. I can do nothing but take it, and I want nothing more
than to be made to take it. And then his hands tighten on my ass,
his cock stiffens, swells even more as his final thrust impales me
to the very centre of my being. I hear him grunting, moaning,
roaring. I feel his balls, rammed hard against my ass as they are,
pulsing powerfully as he pumps his rich, thick seed into my open,
receptive hole.

I come. The world goes black. Later he will
let me out. Tomorrow I will go to work and again be called by name,
be called by my honorific title. I will have the respect of my
colleagues, their admiration, even their envy. Tomorrow I will be
brilliant and in control. That’s tomorrow. Right now I am cunt, and
he has completed me.

Part Six

Welcome back, honey.
Did you like
cunt’s story? Did it make you wet, did you envy her the clear
simplicity of her relationship? It doesn’t matter, because the more
important question is, is your homework done?

Visualize the classroom door, feel yourself
come through it, feel it close behind you. Visualize the classroom,
the empty desks, the clean-slate chalkboard. See the teacher’s
desk, my desk, the desk over which you’ll be bent for your
corrections. The door is closed behind you and it’s just you and me
for our after-school lessons. Feel me there with you, watching you,
and be on your attentive, classroom best behaviour. Remember that
little assignment, from part five? Did you take it seriously, or
did you just skip ahead because you thought you could get away with
it. Is it done? Is it done well? Am I going to be pleased with it?
Your heart thumps at that, knowing that you’re going to be tested
soon. Is it because you haven’t done it? It’s possible you’re just
reading ahead because you haven’t yet learned that this is more
than just a book.

You’ve got one last chance now, the final
reprieve before the bell rings. I want your homework paper in hand
when you turn the page, honey. Your paper, and a red pen, and the
instrument of your correction. That last one is key. It doesn’t
matter what it is, a wooden spoon or a riding crop or a hairbrush,
just so long its application will leave a lasting impression, on
your ass and on your mind. That made your heart skip a beat, didn’t
it honey? You see where this is going now, don’t you? And you are
going to be staring at this page wondering if you’re going to go
through with it. Only you
are
going to go through with it
honey, because you don’t want to break the spell. You’re well into
the journey now, the door is closed behind you, and you don’t want
it to stop, you want to feel the way I make you feel. You want it
more than anything, you want it so bad you’re going to be dreaming
about it every night for weeks after I finally give it to you.
You’re going to be dreaming naughty, bad girl dreams that wet the
sheets and wake you up hot and needy.

So no, honey, you don’t want to break the
spell, and that means you’re going to go ahead, go get it, that
hard tool that’s going to soften you up, that’s going to correct
your ass and attitude, as we correct your homework. Get it, and
your paper, and your red pen. Go and get what you need. Stop
reading and get it. Right now.

And now you’re back, and you’re holding your
own fate in your hands, paper in one hand, punishment in the other.
Put the paper down, because before we begin we’re going to test out
your punishment. Heft it, swish it, feel it, try it out, honey.
Imagine how it’s going to feel on your ass if your homework isn’t
up to standard. Feel the tight little knot of anticipation in your
belly. You’re longing to try it out, just to feel it, just to have
some understanding of the experience you’re about to have. So go
ahead, honey, smack your ass with it. Do it hard, don’t be shy,
it’s just you and me here. Smack it hard enough to feel it, listen
to the impact, listen to the crack, feel the heat. Do it again
honey, turn the other cheek for me, do it hard, make it sting. And
if it didn't sting enough, if you don't think I'd be satisfied with
the intensity of that
smack
, do it again, both cheeks. Do it
until you do it right, until it's hard enough to make you want to
be a good girl for me.

Oh yes, honey, we want you to be a good girl,
don’t we? And now we know how to motivate you towards good
behaviour. So now it’s time to mark your paper, a little academic
exercise that you’re going to do naked. That’s right, honey, strip
for me, if you’re not stripped already, but leave the panties on, I
like a girl in panties. Remember Julie’s thong? Remember the way it
split her welted ass when she was put on display? Remember how her
crotch was soaked? Yeah, you can feel your own crotch getting
slippery, I know you can. Put a finger down and check, and put it
back up to your lips and taste yourself. Bad, bad, girl. We’ll deal
with that wetness later, but right now we’re going to see how your
grades measure up.

So let’s turn to your paper now honey, get
your homework and get your red pen and we’re going to evaluate it.
Every point lost is a red mark, and every red mark on the page is
going to wind up as a red mark on your ass. Are you ready honey?
Check for your name in the upper right, check for the title at the
top, in the centre. It should be a title that makes sense, like
“Assignment One - The Teacher”.