Safeword: Matte - In Training

by Candace Blevins

  He shook his head. “I’d intended Friday and Saturday night, since you’ll be careful of your food during that time so it’ll only be one extensive cleanout, and then Wednesday night after a single large enema. I’m not comfortable requiring enemas more than twice a week.”

  Neither spoke as they stared at each other in a stalemate. After several minutes Sam said, “Two hours at a time is my limit. With the chair you made I should have no problems sitting, so having me sleep in it isn’t necessary.”

  “What if you have it in six hours, but I take it out every two hours to relube?”

  “If it’s during the day, fine, but I’m not sleeping in it.”

  He nodded. “Understood, but you’ll have it in for a good portion of Saturday and Sunday. I’m not going to put a number on it, but you’ll be relubed every two hours.”

  “And then two hours either Tuesday or Wednesday evening?”

  “No. Two hours the evening of your cleanout, and then at least thirty minutes the following morning before work. Put it in before you shower and leave it in while you do your hair and makeup.”

  “Right, because that’ll make the best use of a single enema. Okay. Agreed, but I want a caveat to renegotiate if I have too much trouble with it.”

  She waited for him to finish typing and said, “How long have you been observing my bathroom habits? I find it a little creepy you know when I usually have bowel movements.”

  “It’s my job to know you inside and out.” He tilted his head and straightened it. “It’s not creepy for me to know anything about you, if it helps me know you better.”

  She rolled her eyes. “After your note the other night, I did a little research on what it takes to become enema dependent, and it doesn’t look like anyone knows for sure.”

  “Correct, but the general consensus is if you’re having at least two healthy bowel movements between enemas, you’re safe.”

  “Which I suppose is why you have me eating so much fiber in between times?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not looking forward to what amounts to a liquid diet from Friday night until lunch on Sunday, but you’ve done a good job of accounting for my nutritional needs so I’ll agree to it.”

  “Every third week we’ll only do depth training Friday night and Saturday morning, so you’ll have protein shakes Friday evening and will be able to eat breakfast Saturday morning and regular food the rest of the weekend.”

  “I assumed you’d do away with that since I protested sleeping in it.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not practical to ask it of you for the next sixteen weeks. We’ll figure out a way to make it work within your restrictions.”

  “Okay, my final objection.” She caught herself gnawing her lip and stopped. She met his gaze and said, “I’m not so sure about not having an orgasm unless something is in my ass.”

  “Read the wording again.”

  She looked back over the passage and her eyes widened. How had she missed such an important modifier?

  “That’s even worse! I can’t have an orgasm unless something is stretching my ass?”

  “Yes, something as big as the largest anal ring you’ve worked up to, or while you’re receiving depth training at the farthest you’ve managed.”

  She sighed. “Because I’ve already signed off on your power over my orgasms, I’m guessing I don’t have much negotiating room with this one.”

  “Correct. You’ll still need to let me know when you have an orgasm, what you were doing, what you were thinking. Same rules with one minor little addition.”

  She rolled her eyes again, but didn’t argue the point of how major this addition was. She understood conditional training, and knew where he was going with it. Pavlov’s dogs didn’t understand why the bell made them salivate, but she’d understand why having something in her ass would make her horny in a few weeks.

  Remembering her orgasm during her enema, she said, “I’d like to make a minor change then, and ask for permission to orgasm while I’m holding an enema.” His look was questioning, so she shrugged her shoulders and said, “It helps.”

  “Okay then. You can only orgasm when something is stretching your ass, or while you’re holding an enema.”

  Chapter Six

  Ethan took her to Golden Corral for lunch Sunday, timing their arrival about an hour before the church crowd invaded. Sam’s ass was a little sore, but not as much as she’d expected. He didn’t take it easy on her the whole weekend, but kept her horny and orgasming throughout, and all in all it was an enjoyable start to her training.

  Sam put the anal ring in Monday morning for fifteen minutes while she fixed her hair and makeup, and had an explosive orgasm while sitting at her vanity, just before she took it out. She made a note in the orgasm spreadsheet, sent a quick text, dressed, and made her way to work.

  She made it through the week without having any issues meeting her daily stretching or depth training requirements. Ethan spent the night Wednesday, and helped her with her cleanout before making her hold the marbles and anal beads as before. Sam found herself growing unusually horny during the cleanout, but she assumed it was because she was anticipating the rest of the night. A few marbles came out early, but she held the majority of them, and all the anal beads, so there were no consequences. He played with her the entire two hours the long dildo was harnessed in, and she was surprised when the timer went off and he unlocked the harness.

  Sam was on edge all day Friday in anticipation of her first tests to see how much progress she’d made. Tonight she’d have to sit on the monster dildo at least a half inch lower than last week, and tomorrow she’d have to take a half inch more during depth training. She didn’t have court, and her schedule worked out so she went home halfway through the day. She went straight upstairs, stripped, and put the anal ring in — and managed to give herself three orgasms before she removed it.

  Ethan called about an hour later. “Are we a little worked up, Samantha?”

  She recognized his tone of voice and said, “Yes, Sir.”

  “I’m pleased, but I think the evening will go better if you don’t have any more orgasms until I’m there and give you permission in person.”

  Sam didn’t answer and Ethan said, “I didn’t hear a response.”

  “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

  “I want to give you the final enema, but if you want to give yourself the first two, you may.”

  Her insides ignited at the idea of Ethan giving her an enema, but she only said, “Yes Sir. Are you still planning to be here around five?”

  * * * *

  Sam lay on a towel on her bathroom vanity’s marble top as Ethan soothed her through the enema. He’d hung it rather high on the towel rack, but didn’t open the control valve all the way, and was good about slowing the flow when she cramped.

  When the entire three quarts were in, he massaged her stomach and played with her clit during her five-minute wait. Sam once again found herself turned on by the idea of him controlling such a personal aspect, and almost came as he played with her. She didn’t want to ask permission though, so her body just stayed on low boil throughout the procedure. When the timer finally chimed he helped her off the vanity and walked her to the toilet.

  She was thankful he’d never wanted to stick around after giving her the enema, and she reached for her Kindle and turned it on, hoping to take her mind off the cramps — and her arousal — by reading while she released. When she finished she settled into the tub and continued reading as the warm water rose around her.

  Sam looked up to see Ethan standing in the doorway stark naked, so she wasn’t surprised when he set her Kindle to the side and joined her. They talked about their day, and a little about their schedules the following week. Sam would be in court more than normal and would need a little extra time over the weekend to be sure she was prepared.

  Ethan had asked her to provide him with any documents available through public record, for any case she thought he might nee
d to be aware of. He’d learned how to talk to her hypothetically, and he opened with, “How do you know for sure claims of abuse aren’t fabricated?”

  “I turned down a case a year or two ago, where a wife brought pictures of what she said was abuse, but it looked like basic BDSM bruising and welting to me. I questioned her about it and she couldn’t convince me it was abuse.” Sam shrugged. “I told her she wasn’t likely to convince a judge, either.”

  “Why turn her down, but not a woman with belt marks and other bruising?”

  Ethan had only seen brief descriptions of the pictures, but not the pictures themselves, so Sam had to be careful how she answered. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were to see a bruise that appeared to have been left by a fist, or belt marks where it isn’t safe to strike, I might be more inclined to believe it wasn’t consensual.”

  “Even if the man claims she consented?”

  “If I consented to your using a belt on my ass without a safeword, and you used it on my calves, stomach, and across my kidneys… how do you think I’d react?”

  He smirked. “I wouldn’t stick around long enough to go to sleep around you.”

  Sam smiled, but then sobered and shook her head. “What can we do, as a society, to teach girls that marrying a rich man instead of getting an education is a bad plan? I see so many women who feel trapped in an abusive marriage because they have no means of supporting themselves or their children. I believe abusive men seek these girls out, looking for the type of woman who’ll just take whatever they dole out in exchange for living in a beautiful house and having nice things for themselves and their children.”

  “It isn’t your job to fix the world, Sam. We all have to live with the choices we make.”

  Ready to change the conversation, she stood and reached for her towel. “Speaking of living with choices, do I want to know what you’ve planned for the evening?”

  “I’m sure you have a good idea of most of it. How do you feel about your first week of training?”

  “I’m not as sore as I thought I’d be. I mean, I feel it, but it doesn’t hurt, and I’d kind of expected it to, with as much action as my ass has been getting.”

  “There’s been no action, has there? Just a single entrance and exit, each time?”

  “Well, yeah, but five times a day!”

  “We’re going slow enough you should only feel it on the weekends when we step up the sizes, and even then it shouldn’t hurt. You aren’t receiving any friction, and the stretching during the week is just making sure you’ve adjusted to the current size before we move up again.”

  Ethan released the stopper and stepped out of the tub as Sam dried herself. When she reached for her yoga pants he said, “Sorry, Darlin'. No clothes this evening.”

  She was walking them to her closet to put away as she heard, “I’ll put this week’s ring in for a while before we move up. Go into the bedroom and put your wrist and ankle cuffs on. Position yourself so I can insert it — whatever’s most comfortable for you is fine.”

  Sam looped the clothes over the hook in the closet and walked into her bedroom. She didn't know how long he'd be, so she climbed on the bed and went to all fours, but changed her mind and laid her chest on the bed, placing her back in a sharp arch.

  Ethan didn't take long, and Sam turned to look at him when he stopped in the doorway. His smile was serious as he said, “You're beautiful, Samantha.”

  He palmed his cock, stroking it a few times as it grew before Sam's eyes. “I hadn't planned to take you so early in the evening, but I may change my mind. Let's get the ring in you, first.”

  He'd lined a variety of toys and implements on the nightstand, and he stretched a glove on and generously applied lube as his gaze alternated between her face and his hand. “As much as I love the feel of your ass stretching around my fingers, I'll be fairly quick this go 'round.”

  He hadn't been kidding. She felt one finger go in, immediately followed by a second, and then less than a count of twelve before they left and the ring was gently pushed in. Sam breathed out as Ethan pressed the ring into her, imagining she was making room for it inside her body. She wiggled her toes in an attempt to stay relaxed, and sighed in relief when she felt the stretching ring finally settle into place.

  “I left the plug out of it, and I have a nice view into your ass. You're so sexy like this, and I'm hard as a rock. Your choice, how do you want to get me off?”

  He was giving her a lot of choices this evening, and it made Sam a little nervous about what he might have planned for later. She didn't comment on it, though. “How about a combination blow-job and hand-job, Sir?”

  He situated himself on the bed beside her, leaning against the headboard with his body and legs straight out before him. He gestured with his hand for her to begin, and she turned sideways to give him a good view of her body as she worked him over.

  He didn't hold back and she managed to get him off in under ten minutes. He allowed himself only a few moments to recover and he pulled the monster plug from his bag and set it up on the stool once again.

  “Okay, Darlin'. You know the drill. Pull the ring and sit down on the plug. When you've gone as far as you can, let me know and we'll see how far you've managed.”

  “You won't tell me when I've gone far enough?”

  He shook his head. “You need to go as far as you comfortably can, without going so far you damage yourself. If you're depending on me to tell you when you've gone far enough you may push farther than you should.”

  Sam lubed the monstrosity well before pulling the anal ring and immediately impaling herself on the tip. She sat slowly, her thigh muscles holding her weight as she squatted lower, and lower. When the stretch threatened to burn she stopped. “I think that's it, Sir.”

  Ethan took his time walking to her, leaning over, and looking at the ruler on the plug. He stood and walked to the nightstand to retrieve his smartphone without commenting, and Sam bit her bottom lip to keep from asking how far she’d managed. She wasn't sure if she could get up or not, but her thighs and ass were both protesting, and she rose slowly in the hopes he'd stop her if he wanted her to stay put.

  No longer able to take not knowing, she asked, “How did I do, Sir?”

  He looked up quickly before returning his attention to his phone. “Go ahead and stand up while I punch it into the spreadsheet.” He only took a few seconds before he looked back up with a smile. “You made it far enough to avoid consequences, and I’m pleased with your progress. I’ll insert a regular plug slightly larger than the ring you used this week, and hopefully by tomorrow you'll be ready for the next size stretching ring.”

  Ethan kept her on the edge of an orgasm as he worked the plug in, never actually hurting her but venturing into extreme discomfort several times before the plug finally seated. Sam tried to concentrate on her breathing to stay relaxed, but the plug was huge inside of her, and she didn’t manage very well.

  He used rope to make a harness to secure it, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief when she could at least not have to worry about holding it in.

  “Let's go to the dining room.”

  The plug shifted uncomfortably with each step, holding her wide open, and she concentrated on relaxing the strained muscles surrounding it as she walked.

  Ethan pulled two of her upholstered armless dining room chairs away from the table and situated them side by side and about ten inches apart. He considered them a few seconds before retrieving two more and lining them up as well.

  “I’d like you to do the splits on the chairs, with your pussy over the open spot in the center, please.”

  Sam only hesitated a moment before moving to do as instructed. She lifted her leg and reached for a chair back for support, but he used his softest voice to say, “Facing me, please.” Sam’s insides ignited at his tone of voice, and a quick glance verified her suspicion — he was rock hard, and she was in for an eventful evening.

  Once she was in position he used rope to bind her legs to
the chair seats, and her arms straight out to the side, secured to the chair backs. She was doubly glad he’d roped the plug in, because she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to hold it in, stretched out like this.

  Ethan placed the bag of metal clothespins on the chair in front of one of her legs, and a bowl of marbles in front of the other leg.

  “We’ll do your strength exercises in two parts this weekend.” His hand moved towards her pussy and he crammed two fingers into her with no soft caresses or warning.

  “Nice and wet.” His deep voice caressed her skin as the basso profundo vibrations drifted towards and around her. He removed his fingers without ceremony, picked up a handful of marbles, and methodically began poking them into her.

  Sam’s pussy spasmed as the glass orbs were quickly pressed into her, and she tried to hold her entrance closed to keep them from falling out as more and more were packed inside.

  Her rectal muscles began to spasm around the giant plug as she tensed her anus along with her pussy muscles, and she soon discovered it was nearly impossible to relax around the plug and still hold the marbles in.

  Ethan started the time on his cellphone, counting up, and turned it away from her line of vision. He set another chair in front of her and sat on it before casually opening the bag and extracting a clothespin.

  “I’m in a mood tonight, Samantha. I want you to hurt for me. No words, but feel free to scream and cry.”

  He took his time placing each clothespin, building tension and anticipation until Sam was sure her adrenaline alone could light a stadium. The strain of holding the marbles in and fighting the large plug in her ass, along with being in the splits and her arms bound completely motionless — all of this in concert with the clothespins placed at random on her breasts and the underside of her upper arm had her frantic with pain, fear, and anticipation.

  She let out a blood curdling scream when a clothespin on her inner arm hit a nerve the wrong way, and he immediately removed it, smiling as he said, “I’ll have to remember that spot for another time.”