Vaginal training; where my body was invaded by objects of larger and larger size; but my muscles were expected to contract and tighten on command. Anal training, where the pain from being penetrated without lubricant was redrawn to be pleasure. Where I would impale myself on whatever was placed at my backside, training myself to relax my muscles to bear whatever the trainers saw fit to place inside me.
The only class I found relatively easy was the class on pain. Hassan had started to etch a path in my head when he’d flogged me the first time; I welcomed the feel of the flogger on my skin. Even there though, there were challenges; the cane was always difficult to bear, and I found the idea of stillness difficult; I constantly struggled with holding myself still and open as the trainer beat me.
Chapter 3: The Final Examination
After the years of training, It was finally here, my last test.
I’d taken all my written examinations over the course of the last two weeks. Practical exams – dance, music, massage, posture, vaginal control; oral ability; anal ability, pain tolerance and response; those were all thankfully over as well. I knew I’d passed them all; if I’d failed an examination, the testing would have stopped immediately.
It was time for the final exam – the unknown factor. All my trainers over six years would have conferred to create this test. Any unaddressed weakness they saw in me would be tested. This exam was a wild card.
As I waited outside the examination chamber, I tried hard to ease my nervous tension. This was it; if I passed here; everything I’d worked for the last six years would be realized. If I failed…
I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I failed.
“Leila.” The door to the examination chamber opened, my Head Trainer came out. “Come on in…” she said. There was thinly veiled tension in her voice. In a way, this was just as important to my Head Trainer. For six years, she’d guided me through this program. Now, she would find out if she’d been successful in training me.
As it had been for all my practical examinations; the examination chamber was dimly let; torches flickering in their brackets; a subtle menace in the air. The room was warm; perhaps uncomfortably so. I felt sweat sheen on my skin. In honesty though, that might have just been from nerves.
I walked in, bowed low in the direction of the examiners. I didn’t know them; they weren’t any of our usual trainers. For the last two weeks, they’d sat quietly, their faces hidden under their cowls, never speaking, always just watching.
They made me afraid.
“Leila.” My Head Trainer spoke. Within the chamber, in the presence of the examiners, her nervousness seemed to fall away. She had found her inner calm. “This will be your final examination.”
“Hassan will be your trainer today.”
I strove mightily to keep the dismay from my face. I’d had Hassan’s cock in me many times since that first night; it was unavoidable, he was one of our trainers. But that was always in a class setting, never alone, and it was easy then to keep my emotions even and controlled. This would be different. The warmth in the examination chamber echoed the warmth in his quarters that night, so many years ago.
The drumbeats started playing in my head.
“Focus, Leila,” I told myself. There was steel in my voice. I’d prepared for this. This was a final, cruel twist of the trainers, elegant and precise; but I would not be overwhelmed; I would not fail.
“Move to the centre of the room.” This was Hassan’s voice. I could never hear his voice without remembering the story of the virgins in Mah’reb; without remembering the skill of his touch as he brought my body to orgasm repeatedly. I could never hear his voice without remembering the drumbeats; a sound that would always be synonymous with passion.
I mutely obeyed, bowing before him as I’d been trained. Every nerve in my body was on fire; but I was outwardly calm; graceful.
This is what I had been trained for. This is what I was meant to do.
Hassan stretched out a foot. I dropped to my knees with grace; bent at my waist, kissed his boot, keeping my back arched gracefully, my ass in the air. I was an object of pleasure; every move of my body was designed with that end in mind. I was especially careful to keep my posture impeccable. I’d struggled with posture during my training; I would be graded harshly if my posture was not perfect.
“Rise.” His voice was not harsh; it was just implacable. The voice of someone who was used to being obeyed without question.
I obeyed silently. I kept my eyes lowered. Pleasure slaves did not make eye contact in the bedchamber. There, they were the property of their contract holder; trained to care about only the pleasure of their contract holder.
“Keep your arms clasped behind your back, until I tell you otherwise.”
I did as I was told.
Hassan walked around me slowly. I could feel his eyes on me, surveying me, searching for weaknesses to exploit in this examination. I fought to keep my eyes submissively lowered; to keep my breathing even, and to keep my body still.
The tension in the room built. I’d forgotten the presence of the examiners; forgotten about my Head Trainer. The world narrowed. It was just Hassan and me, and I would make him proud.
“Disrobe.”
I was wearing my uniform – brown column of fabric, red sash. I removed these; working to remove them with allure. I was a pleasure slave; in disrobing, my purpose was to increase the longing in my contract holder. I stepped out of my column with grace; still keeping my eyes lowered. I could feel Hassan take my clothes from me; put them aside.
I stood before the man to whom I had given the gift of my virginity; I was naked.
Drumbeats, pounding, pounding in my head. Fever rising in my blood.
“Bend over; wrap your arms around this pillar.” Hassan gestured to the steel pillar at the centre of the room.
I moved into position obediently; again, bending at my waist; keeping my stomach sucked in, my ass perfectly outward. My arms came out, clasped the pillar for support. I had a suspicion I was going to get flogged, and I would need the pillar for balance.
Hassan moved to stand next to me, his crotch at my hips. His hands caressed my ass; kneading the cheeks, pinching them, stroking them. I strove to keep my breathing even. Then, two quick smacks on my right buttock. Not too hard; not yet.
“Such perfect buttocks, sweet Leila…”
I flushed at his compliment, at the caress in his voice, but stayed still.
He moved his left arm; it now clasped me around my waist. I was cupped between his crotch on one side and his arm on the other.
It was an intimate position, I could feel Hassan’s cock react to my body’s touch. For the first time since I entered the chamber, I could feel flickers of arousal run through me.
Focus. You are a pleasure slave. The pleasure of your contract holder is of primary importance. Your pleasure is secondary.
His right hand rose, came down on my ass. The stroke was hard; but well within my capability to manage. I let the pain flow through me; I stayed still.
His hand rose again, came down on my ass again. This stroke was harder; hard enough to jolt me forward. I felt my hip move against his crotch, as I lurched; I felt his cock react to that movement. I bit my lip, as the flames of arousal built.
Again and again, he spanked me; again and again, I moved involuntarily against his crotch; the flames of lust building higher and higher, as my body reacted to the dim room; to the feel of his hand on my waist, steadying me; to the firm spanks of his capable hand.
The ringing sound of the spank; and then, his hand stroking the reddened skin.
If I orgasmed now, I would fail.
I took a deep breath, strove for calm; mentally chanting the chant for peace. The trainers were counting on me reacting this way to Hassan; they were counting on me to fail. I would not fail.
His hand rained blows down on my ass; I held as still as I could. I could feel my skin redden; warmth rushing to the surface, as I let the pai
n flow through me. I sought the place of calm inside me.
Now his hand was on my upper back; his fingernails lightly scratching my skin. Instant heat rushed through me, almost causing me to stagger. I held still, but only just. The gesture had been unbelievably erotic. I bit my lip.
Steady yourself, Leila.
I restarted the chant for peace again in my head.
“Straighten; turn around; face me; hands behind your back.” Hassan’s voice was level. No trace of arousal in his voice. I wished I had his control.
I faced Hassan, my eyes still lowered. I ached to look into his eyes; to see if he was aroused by this as I was. But this examination was the culmination of everything I had worked toward the last six years, and I kept my gaze to the floor.
Hassan touched my breasts, softly. I wanted to bite my lips, but my face was now visible to the examiners, and I kept my gaze as even as I could. He touched my breasts again, this time, an arm snaking around my back to pull me into his body. His hands jiggled my breasts; pulled my nipples. I struggled to keep my posture unchanged and to keep my breathing level; but tendrils of pleasure were curling around my body now.
I realized as I struggled to hold still that there were two main tests here; one was being able to keep my feelings for Hassan from interfering with my performance. The other was something I’d struggled with all along in training; I hated keeping still.
As the realization of what I was being tested on dawned on me, I redoubled my efforts. Yet again, I restarted the chant for peace in my head; strove to find the place of calm in me. The examiners were devious; they had found my two main weaknesses. This test would not be easy.
It was about to get a lot harder.
“Look at me, Leila.” The voice was mild. My breath caught with shock. “No,” I screamed inwardly. I couldn’t do this; couldn’t look into Hassan’s eyes. Too much of what I’d kept under control the last six years would be revealed.
I obeyed; I brought my eyes up; gazed into his eyes. I didn’t bother hiding my arousal; if my arousal was going to cause me to fail my examination, I would fail the instant Hassan touched my dripping pussy. But I thought I was going to be okay; a pleasure slave pleased their contract holder by exhibiting arousal. My arousal should be permissible.
His eyes were expressionless.
He’s just doing his job, Leila.
As that cruel thought struck me, my heart broke on the inside. “Not now,” I told myself fiercely. I struggled to focus on the examination.
He had moved to my front; my hands were still clasped behind my back. His hands were again on my nipples; pinching them, now hard enough so it was slightly painful. I fought to keep my gaze on his; to be unwavering in my focus.
He moved away, still expressionless, and then, he reappeared in front of me. This time, he held, in his hands, a many-tailed red suede flogger.
Red, to match the red sky of Raan. Red for pain.
“Hold on to the chains,” Hassan ordered. He gestured to two chains that hung above the steel pillar. I obeyed, grabbing the chains, my arms in the air, giving him free access to my body.
“I crave silence from you, sweet Leila, as you are flogged…” his voice was gentle, contemplative. The gentleness was unexpected; almost my undoing. I struggled to keep my focus on the examination; on ensuring my posture was perfect, my breasts arched outward; my stomach clenched taut. My eyes were still on Hassan’s, as I’d been ordered.
I couldn’t hide the longing in my eyes as I looked at him.
Drumbeats, pounding, pounding in my head. Fever rising in my blood.
The first stroke of the flogger struck just below my breasts; the second struck at my upper thighs. Then my midriff again; and then my thighs.
The fifth stroke struck my breasts; sweet fire on my skin. Arousal blazed in my gaze as I looked at Hassan. He smiled at me, with warmth and pleasure in his gaze. I flushed; almost lowered my gaze in embarrassment.
Inside, my heart was singing in joy. I had pleased him.
The strokes rained down like fire on my already-fevered skin. Thighs, midriff, breasts; I was ablaze in lust and longing; I craved the feel of Hassan’s body pressed down on mine.
Steady yourself, Leila.
My legs had been parted, and now, Hassan flicked the flogger at my pussy lips, causing me to jump slightly. I quickly stilled.
His wrists flicked again, and again, and the flogger lashed my wet pussy. Waves of pain and pleasure cascaded all over me; the arousal was building dangerously high; if he kept this up, I would not be able to keep from exploding in orgasm.
The gods have mercy; he was not unduly cruel. He moved back to flogging my thighs. I sighed inwardly in thanks.
“Turn around; hold on to the chains.”
I turned my back to him; stuck out my ass in invitation. I could hear him chuckle, and the flogger strokes started again, raining down sweet fire on my ass and back.
As he’d asked me, I kept quiet, letting the pain cascade through me. My pussy was dripping as the tails of the flogger found my body, raising small lines of fire on my ass, lines that served as kindling for the blaze roaring inside of me.
Drumbeats, pounding, pounding in my head. Fever rising dangerously in my blood.
The flogger stopped. I held still. Hassan moved away, giving me a moment to try to calm myself. I restarted the chant for peace once again in my mind.
***
When Hassan returned, he was holding a small stool in his hand. He placed the stool in front of the pillar. “Sit,” he said. I sat as he bade, my back a few inches from the pillar. He pushed me back slightly; I was now leaning back slightly, with my shoulders touching the pillar.
“Good. Hold that position; keep your legs parted.” His voice was still warm; I could not resist that voice. I needed harshness in this test, so that my training would automatically come to the fore; warmth and gentleness from Hassan would be the undoing of me. I struggled for focus, again. My mind swayed back to that time in his chambers, so long ago, when he took my offered virginity, and took so much more.
He’d captured a bit of my heart that day. I thought I’d taken it back in the intervening years, but now, as he moved towards me with a blindfold in his hands, I realized how wrong I’d been.
His hands brushed my cheek as he tied the blindfold on, and my breath caught sharply. Oh, I was all kinds of a fool, for not realizing how much power he had over me. The trainers, with their astute and practiced eyes saw what I’d ignored for so many years; the yearning for Hassan that I tried to bury; my longing for the feel of him. And all of that was here, in front of me now, and I struggled to keep my mind on the examination; to tuck these feelings aside for later reflection.
“Open your mouth.”
I complied instantly. None of the turmoil roiling through me was visible on the outside; my body was poised, my breathing as level as I could make it. Inside though, I was a seething mass of confusion.
Hassan placed something in my mouth. I ran my tongue on it experimentally. A candle. I bit my lip ever so slightly; I knew what was coming.
The candle was lit; the way I was positioned, little drops of wax would drip down on my breasts and midriff, and I would need to keep still through this ordeal. Evil, twisted genius.
Little drops of fire started raining down from the melting candle, falling on my midriff. I stifled my moans; instead, I opened my mind fully, and let the pain flow through me. I’d trained for this; the only way past this ordeal was to fully embrace it.
The pain ran through my body; I opened my legs wider. I would please Hassan with my compliance.
A very gentle finger on my pussy; checking for signs of arousal. I was dripping wet; there was no concealment. The flush rose on my skin, as I heard Hassan’s warm, pleased chuckle.
Drumbeats, pounding, pounding in my head.
Now, Hassan was taking hold of my arms; positioning my palms flat, placing something on them.
He moved again, and something was placed on my thig
hs as well.
“These are candles, Leila,” he said in explanation. “They are in shallow containers, they will not burn you if you keep very still.”
Evil, twisted genius. My body would shudder involuntarily when the wax hit my midriffs and breasts; the lurch in my body would cause the wax on my palms and thighs to spill over. The only way forward was to keep very, very still.
He wasn’t done. I could hear him move towards me once again, feel a clamp grip one of my pussy lips, and then the other. Pain coursed through my body, as I held very, very still.
Hassan tugged gently at the chain connecting the clamps, set it swinging. Then, he attached a weight to the chain.
I winced in pain. My pussy was throbbing, in pain and need and longing. The flames of the candles were warm on my palms and thighs, and the candle in my mouth dribbled a steady stream of wax onto my body.
I could feel Hassan retreat. Now, it was just me, and I could feel the eyes of the examiners on me as I was faced with my final test.
Once again, I found the beginning of the chant for peace, and started chanting it silently in my mind, as I retreated to my centre of being; that inviolable place within me that was mine alone to command.
Minutes passed in utter silence; broken only by the occasional crackle of the torches on the wall. The candle in my mouth burned shorter; now the wax was falling on my tender, whipped breasts. But I felt the pain through a haze; I had found my centre of being, and I was finally in utter control of myself.
Time lost its meaning as the wax rained down on me.
Finally, I could feel Hassan move again in front of me, and this, like nothing else, caused my control to waver. He removed the candle from my mouth; then removed the candles from my thighs and palms. Loosened the clamps from my pussy lips, and removed them too. His fingers caressed my face as the blindfold was undone.
I stilled. What was next?
Hassan turned towards the examiners in silence. An unspoken question, an unvoiced answer.
“Thank you, Leila.” His voice was flat. “You are dismissed. You will await the results of your examination in your quarters.”
Chronicles of Raan (Three BDSM Fantasy Novellas) Page 7
