Training Day 2
My Queen arrived at about four o’clock. We started with a glass of wine and then she spoke at length about the nature of slavery, and about her plans for the future. I realized that she was teaching me, preparing me for what could become a life of total servitude.
Glasses of wine finished, and the conversation seemingly at an end, she offered me a choice. Be trained as a dog, or be mummified. I don’t know what it means to be trained as a dog, so I chose mummification, a practice which I had read about and seen photos of.
“Very well,” she said. “Strip.” I complied, and she immediately started wrapping plastic wrap around my body. She started at my chest. I noticed that she was careful to cover me completely, except for my nipples. I realized then that this was to be more than just mummification. She had additional plans for her slave. She continued wrapping, silently and quickly, working her way downwards. The plastic compressed my chest, making it harder than usual to breathe. She covered me from chest to ankles, including my arms and hands, except that she left my knees free, and my cock and balls exposed. Having worked her way down to my ankles, she returned to my upper body, beginning to wrap my upper chest, neck, and face. She covered my mouth, then my nose. She didn’t pause, but continued to my eyes. I had very little air, and it was running out fast! She laughed, and continued. When I started sucking hard, my chest heaving against the plastic, she laughed again, and opened a small space under my nose so I could breathe again. My Queen often focuses on my breath, enjoying torturing me in this way.
She completed the wrapping by covering my head. Then she told me to get on the bed. I did so, with some difficulty, though the gap in the plastic at my knees allowed some movement. I lay on my back and waited. My vision was limited by the plastic film, and I knew I shouldn’t move, though I was curious about the next stage.
I heard her tear tape from a roll, and she began to encase me, winding metre after metre over my torso, legs, face and head. Now I could see nothing except a faded light. My hearing was dulled by the tape covering my ears. She left a small gap under my nose so I could breathe freely. She finished by pinning my arms to my sides with the tape, and attaching my whole body to the bed. I could hardly move a muscle.
“Good,” she murmured. I had no choice but to lie still, wondering if I could bear this enclosure for very long. I am not especially claustrophobic, but being totally encased in plastic and layer after layer of tape is certainly challenging
But fear of claustrophobia suddenly disappeared as I felt the searing pain of metal being attached to my nipples. I shook and wriggled, and she laughed and sighed, clearly enjoying the sight of my reaction to the sudden pain. A moment later surges of electricity began pulsing through my nipples, causing real agony. I gasped and groaned through the plastic, and my body involuntarily tried to kick and writhe to escape the pain, but I was totally helpless. The pulses rose and fell and rose again, the pain intensifying, easing and intensifying in cycles. It was unbearable but I had no choice but to bear it. She laughed and sighed and moaned with pleasure, and through the pain my words tried to issue through the plastic, “My Queen, I’m yours!” Repeating and repeating these words like a chant brought a measure of calm, though she couldn’t hear them. My words were not words, except in my mind. They were an indistinct mumble, no more.
The electrical impulses to my nipples fell to a low regular pricking as I felt her attaching something to my cock and balls. Then the pain rose again, as she tortured first my cock and then my balls. If I could have screamed I would have. The pain was intense, causing me to buck and shake on the bed. She turned her attention to my nipples again and the pricking became surges of intense pain. She laughed again and again, in pure pleasure.
Time passed, and eventually the pain ceased. The pain of torture changed to the pleasure of her hands applying lubricant to my cock and balls and arse. Then the vibrations of her various tools began, and the pleasure became intense. She inserted something lightly inside me, moving it in and out. I relaxed, and enjoyed the moment.
More time passed, and she finished. She began releasing me, tearing and cutting away large sheets of tape and plastic. I was surprised at how thick and heavy the wrapping was. I was also surprised to find that I was wet with sweat, from head to toes. This really was mummification. Several minutes later she finished unwrapping me. I said “I’ll take a shower.” She said “No. Clean up the mess.” I obeyed, picking up the piles of plastic and tape. They filled a large rubbish bag. I was also told to collect her electrical toys. There were many.
I was getting cold, so I put a robe on. We talked for a while, then she prepared to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow after lunch.” “Yes, my Queen.” I opened the door for her, and she left. I finished tidying the room, then had a long hot shower, washing away the sweat and pain of the afternoon and evening. I dried myself and got into bed exhausted, and reflected on the session. I knew that my Queen was preparing me, molding my mind and emotions, drawing me deeper and deeper into her world. I asked myself, am I ready for total permanent slavery, for complete submission and a life of pain and service? I didn’t have an answer, but it occurred to me that perhaps it was already too late to be wondering about such a question. This woman is so powerful that if she finally were to decide to take me for her permanent slave, I would not have the power to resist, no matter how much doubt I held in my mind. In fact, she owns me already, and it is just a matter of time before I will either make the decision to enter her life fully as slave, or she will make the decision herself.
Circumstances dictated that we had fewer meetings than we had earlier arranged. She came to my room one more time. We drank champagne, chatted, and I helped her organize her bags. We had less than an hour before she was due to leave for the airport. She repeated that she intended me to become her personal slave, but at the same time, gave me the choice, whether to accept her invitation or not. We arranged a time several weeks hence for phase two of my training, and I knew then that the fate that had led me to her would not be denied. It was my choice, but it was not a real choice. The die was already cast.
She told me to take her to the airport. I obeyed, and carried her bags to the street. I hailed a taxi, then we caught a train. We chatted, happily. At the airport I helped her check in, and we walked to the passenger area. She said “Take care” and gave me her hand to kiss, at a level which required me to bow. She has the presence and demeanor of a true Queen. She walked to the doors and disappeared.
I returned to my hotel room and collapsed into an armchair. Again I contemplated the events of the past few days. Allowing her to reach into my psyche and twist and turn to her satisfaction was an exhausting process. She had moved me further along the path that she had decided on. I felt that the destination was in sight, though indistinct. In several weeks it was certain that my transition from a free and independent agent to her absolute slave would be complete, though my training was certain to be ongoing. It is my Queen’s nature to seek perfection, and that goal is always evolving.
Now I return to my northern city, and continue my normal life. The time will pass slowly but quickly. I will arrange my affairs in preparation for a final move. My fate is already decided.