Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 10

A Visitor Takes Her

Bob worked hard to make Jane feel safe at home. The slave fantasy held her in a powerful addictive grip, like drugs or alcohol. She wasn't addicted to sex, at least not to that alone. She had become hooked on humiliation, which left her so aroused, all normal inhibitions were discarded. He at least worked that out. What do with her to break the spell was more difficult to grasp.

Instead of putting her through cold turkey, he decided to decrease her dependency, slowly. That he might manage, or so he hoped. It was a fine balance between weaning her off this unhealthy behaviour, and making her feel unwanted. The more unsettled she was the more she clung onto being his slave. He was responsible for her, and there was no way he could send her on her way. Where to? Back to Margaret, or Vegas, no, he just couldn't.

The feeling of being trapped in her bizarre world wore off. They comfortably slumped into their roles of master and slave, like slipping into an old pair of slippers. As the weeks passed Jane learnt to be less demanding.

There were normal moments when she caught up with her daughter on the phone. He wondered what would happen when Louise decided to come home from her sabbatical. She was having fun in Mexico with a fellow student, a girl, or so she said. Louise thought they were an item, unmarried, but living together. She evidently approved, as Jane revealed after a congratulatory conversation. At least the moment of confrontation had been averted while Louise spent the break, and allowance, with new friends.

Bob thought about his own daughter. What was he going to say to her? Would she be as pleased as Louise, that her father had a new woman in the house? He was just a man and had no idea how a young woman would react. Would she think her mother was being replaced. At least she was a couple of years older than Louise, and maybe more able to accept it.

The autumn leaves were falling, and a cold north wind was blowing. Bob took a walk around the lake, getting fresh air into his lungs and working off her fine home style cooking. Or maybe he was just escaping cabin fever, and her.

'Hi, Mrs McKenzie?' the delivery guy asked.

'No, I'm a servant,' Jane blurted out. She was flustered, from opening the door to a stranger, while expecting her master.

'You had better come in out of the cold. My err, he's due home any moment,' she assured him.

'Thanks,' he said, not sure what to call the woman. He thought it a bit old fashioned to call someone a servant. It confirmed his opinion, that out here in the woods people were strange.

'Mr McKenzie needs to sign for these legal papers. He also needs to sign each document. My instructions are to get him to sign them straight away. If he needs time, I can come back,' he reluctantly said.

It was a long haul on a bad road, so he didn't want to make a double trip.

'You're welcome to wait. Would you like something to eat? There's hot pot, or I could fix you a sandwich,' Jane offered.

After cleaning his steamed up glasses he put them back on. He looked around the spotlessly clean kitchen, and welcomed the offer. At the same time he turned to the woman, to ask her name. She was stretching up to reach a bowl on a high shelf. About to offer his help, his jaw dropped open instead. A glimpse of old fashioned stocking tops, and garters, was an even more welcome surprise.

When she turned around he couldn't help giving her a big friendly grin.

'Wait until you taste it,' she smiled back.

'I can't wait to taste it,' he cheekily said. 'Do you always wear stockings?' he asked. 'I was wondering if it would be a suitable present for my aunt,' he quickly added,

'It depends on what she likes to wear, or her husband likes her to wear,' Jane quietly said.

'She isn't married, so I guess it's up to her,' he plunged on, glad she hadn't taken offence at the spontaneous remark.

It was perhaps going too far, but he had always pushed his luck, as you never knew when it would pay off. The woman was around thirty, therefore five years older. Not old enough to think of him as a toy boy, or be grateful for his attention.

'The hot pot is very good. Do you enjoy cooking?' he asked.

'I do, it's both relaxing and creative. About as artistic as I could ever be,' she smiled.

'If I get the stockings as a present, what do I buy to hold them up?' he asked, trying to sound innocent and ignorant.

'That's easy, there's a few ways. There are stay up ones, with elastic around the tops. The ones I wear need a suspender belt, or a corset,' she told him.

He gave her an uncomprehending look, ready to ask what she meant.

'I guess you don't know what I mean,' she said, on seeing his puzzled look.

'You'll have to show me,' he quipped.

The joke came out more forcefully than intended. Knowing he was going too far with someone he hadn't worked out yet, was risky. It sounded too much like a demand, rather than something he could turn into a joke if she took offence.

The phrase caught her by surprise. The delivery guy had ordered her to show him the suspender belt! Bob helped her get back some self-control since the Vegas trip, but she was fighting the idea of an order having to be obeyed. She considered he was just teasing, and didn't expect her to expose herself. That helped.

Tommy stared at her, wondering why she just stood there, looking as though her batteries had expired. Was she going to explode and throw him out? Maybe she was one of those frustrated housewives he occasionally came across. This woman was delicious, not like the frumpy housewives he had to carefully turn down.

Jane new that look. The excitement in his eyes was familiar from when she and Margaret teased clients. A thrill from being naughty, like old times, spurred her on.

Her hands reached down to the hem, and began lifting it before she had a chance to fight the impulse. It was only a small mistake. She wasn't going to do anything stupid.

Tommy watched the slow, hesitant movement. Damn! He took it all in. The black stockings were held up by straps, pulled tight from a belt of red silk wrapped around her hips. It was impossible to pull his eyes away from the little red triangle of silk covering her mound.

'What's it like at the back?' he asked, with a quavering voice.

Watching the slow turn, brought on a feeling he had an accident, and this was heaven. She stopped with the dress up around her waist, showing off a cute peachy bottom. A ribbon of silk disappeared between the cheeks, pulling an immodest triangle taught over her lips.

The well used teasing mode kicked in, for her to say, 'Do you like it, sir? Will it be a suitable present for you,' she innocently asked.

'I don't know about my aunt. I certainly like it. A beautiful present for me,' he said, with a longing sigh.

Tommy had always been careful when delivering legal documents to clients. Especially divorce papers to lonely women. Building up a good business reputation was paramount, and he had to act with professionalism. This was kicking all that out the window, including his better judgement.

Jane couldn't help taunting him a little more, just for the fun of it, nothing more. Very little provocation was needed to have her behaving like a slut, but she told herself she was much better now. It had been four whole days, and nights, without sex. That was a long time for her, so she should have been more careful.

She looked over her shoulder at him, and asked, 'Do you want anything else, Sir?'

The innocent act wasn't fooling him. She might be a dumb blond, but no-one was that stupid. She knew what she was doing to him. Even so, it was irresistible, and he had to try pushing things further.

'The bra, does that match, like a set or something?' he asked.

Jane hesitated, not wanting to remove the dress. She couldn't let a stranger order her to undress, that was going too far. A tremor of sexual tension pulled at her tummy. She wasn't out of control, she could manage the feelings. She didn't have Margaret's instructions to follow, so she could back away when she wanted to. This wasn't a clients office, this was her master's home, so she was safe. The guy was just sitting there not getting close. It wouldn't hurt to flirt and let him see her underwear, for she had done far worse in the past.

Again her hands seemed to move of their own accord. The dress was up around her head before she realised. It caught in an earring. She pulled hard, and hurt the ear.

'Sir, can you help me, I've caught an earring in the dress. I dare not break it,' she appealed to him.

Tommy hardly heard her speak. The thin red silk bra, matched the panties. With the dress stuck over her head, it pulled her breasts up into a deep cleavage. Again she tugged at the dress for them to bounce free. The wobble of large breasts was fascinating. The red silk seemed to be painted on, with the nipples erupting.

'Sir?' she said, still struggling to get her arms and head free.

'Sure,' he eventually answered.

From sitting down to standing close to her, hadn't registered with him. One moment he was sitting, the next he had is arms around her.

'Keep still, I'm trying to find where its caught,' he told her.

She did as she was told, which pleased him. He figured she had engineered this, and that he was being manipulated. What the hell! He figured she wasn't the client so maybe that let him off the hook. He didn't want to think about the consequences if she made an official complaint. Fellow professionals often joked it was all part of the job.

He bunched up the dress above her head in a fist, taking his time looking her over. This close he could see the smoothness of her skin, and hear her heavy breathing.

She ached for his touch, to feel his hands on her wanton body. It was no good fighting it. After all this time she knew what she was. She couldn't help being a slut. She needed sex and was what her master called, beyond the point of return. There was nothing she could do to oppose whatever he wanted, and she desperately hoped he wanted her.

'You all right in there, your breathing heavily,' he quipped.

'Yes, sir. Take your time, I don't want to break the earring,' she said.

'Such perfect breasts can't be real,' he sighed.

She felt his breath on her cleavage and shuddered. 'They are real, not false, sir. See for yourself, sir,' she murmured.

He hadn't realised he spoke out loud. Did she really man he could feel her breasts? He couldn't refuse the offer. He cupped a breast to gently jiggle it. Both nipples grew like thick short pencils. He pinched one between two fingers, while continuing to knead the breast. He tried the other breast, squeezing the nipple harder this time.

Again she moaned quietly, sounding more distinctly aroused this time.

He looked down between her legs to see she was damp, with the panties clinging to a swollen labia. There wasn't much room in the red triangle, and it strained to contain the parcel. There was a crease between her lips, with a clear wet patch forming.

No longer holding back, he commented, 'Your wet.'

It sounded like an accusation, though meant as a comment to see how she reacted. It was rude, but what did that matter when he was fondling a breast.

'Where, sir?' she asked, hoping for more.

'Here,' he said, and cupped her sex.

'Yes, sir,' is all she could say. The drawn out words conveyed she was ready, and wanting him.

He pushed a hand up inside the folds of the dress, to an ear. Deftly he untangled the material and pulled the dress off, to unveil a box of delights. She was quivering. If he didn't know better, he would have said she was cold. All the signs were there, for she shivered and her nipples were swollen. Her body was alive with sexual need.

'Thank you, sir. What may I do for you in return, sir?' she said, while licking her rose bud lips.

She left them pursed, as though she were about to engulf his cock. All the tricks Margaret had taught her, had become an automatic response.

'Fuck!' he exclaimed.

His hands were still over her shoulders, from when the dress fell to the floor. Her breasts were pushed up again his chest. This close he could feel the heat of her sex. His cock was straining at his trousers and his balls ached. So this is what a ball breaker is. The thought passed from his mind, with everything else, apart from wanting her.

'Yes, sir. I am yours to fuck,' she hurriedly said, as though it were about time he got on with it.

She turned around, bent over the back of a kitchen chair, and stretched to grip the seat. Her legs were spread, with feet hooked either side of the legs. She looked over her shoulder, and seductively licked her lips.

He needed encouragement as he was just standing there, amazed. He pulled the crotch of the panties to one side with one hand, and unzipped his cock with the other. It bounced out looking for a target with its one eye. The flirting, seduction, and foreplay had been thoroughly accomplished. He leant forward with an unbending rod of iron, slipped between her lips, and buried his cock deep.

Jane was lifted up on tiptoe. She groaned a sound of grateful satisfaction. So sensitive had she become, an instant orgasm twisted through her tummy from her sex directly into her brain. It lingered there for a moment, until she began to pant with another orgasm ready to follow on its heels. The steady careful rhythm wasn't enough.

She was caught between one orgasm and another. Not since Mark screwed her, had she experienced multiple orgasms. She was desperate to cum, knowing how deep and satisfying a second one would be.

'Make me cum, sir! Fuck me hard, sir!' she loudly moaned.

The telephone rang.

'You better answer that,' Tommy panted.

He needed his breath if he was going to satisfy her demands. He was out of condition, after spending too much time stuck behind a wheel, and consuming too much fast food. The call would help him calm down and last longer. Besides, it might be Mr McKenzie. He would wonder where she was if she didn't answer.

He had it figured out. She was a nympho, kept out here in the woods away from men, by her uncle.

He just about reached the phone and put it to her ear.

'Hello?' she managed to say.

A slight movement of his cock inside her, nudging deep inside, had her moaning.

'You OK?' Bob asked, sounding concerned.

'Yes, master,' she said, trying to keep her breathing under control.

'I've met up with Martin, an old friend of mine. We're going to do some fishing, so I'll be late home,' he said. He sounded like a guilty husband.

'OK, master, I'll be here,' she said.

He couldn't say anything on the phone in front of his friend. He'd stumbled upon Jane playing with a vibrator a couple of weeks back. Her eyes were tightly shut and his moment of foolish jealousy almost ruined her moment. Instead he backed out of the room to leave her to it. He assumed that was what she was up to now.

'I know what you're up to, naughty girl,' he whispered.

'Sorry, Master,' she whispered back,

Aghast at his words, she tried to stand up. The guy's weight held her down. She felt disgusted with herself. She was talking to her master, with a strangers cock inside her, and he knew! The guilt tore right through her, blowing away the arousal.

'Carry on. It might help calm you down,' he chuckled.

'Your naughty slave needs to be punished, master,' she whimpered.

'I'll punish you when I get home,' he chuckled. 'Don't worry, I approve, go ahead and enjoy yourself,' he said.

'Here's your beer, Bob,' someone said.

The muted voice was obviously the friend. They weren't going fishing, just catching up on old times with a beer. With great relief she heard the click of the phone going down.

Bob covered what his friend might have heard. 'She's buying an outfit on the internet. I'm enjoying myself, so why not let her enjoy herself,' he said. He was relieved his friend didn't seem to have heard the conversation.

Tommy heard it all, from being close to her ear, and the telephone. He was concentrating on keeping from banging into her, and trying make sense of the conversation. He heard that she was given permission to carry on, which was curious, but his mind was on a single track. He slammed the phone down, and slammed into her.

Jane was mortified. A stranger was humping her, and her master had given his permission! She had begged him to fuck her hard, and he was starting to do just that. Feeling guilty brought her down to earth with a shattering thump. No longer desperate, she wanted him to stop. He was just using her body without her involvement. She couldn't stop him now, nothing would.

It was very bad to have a stranger fuck her, while she spoke to her master. She was worse than a slut. She was a whore. Her master deserved better. He was trying to help her reform, but it was hopeless. She was just a worthless slut.

The guilt turned to humiliation. The degradation slammed into her, robbing her of the energy to resist. The slut in her became more powerful, removing her inhibitions.

'Fuck me harder, punish my slutty cunt, pound my cunt,' she beseeched him.

Tommy couldn't hold back. He slammed into her, shoving her over the chair. With a final push, he held her pinned to it. He wrapped his arms around her, tightly gripping her breasts. She lifted her head to loudly wail, bashing his nose. A long deep orgasm racked her body. He finally pumped the last of his sperm into her.

He slumped into a chair, exhausted. He figured a good work out in the gym was needed. His mind was in a whirl of wonder over what just happened. She went to pull the chair he had taken her over, to sit down.

'Here,' he said, patting his lap.

She adjusted the crotch of her panties, and realised there was little to absorb his sperm, so grabbed a towel, and sat where she had been told. What was he going to do now, she wondered? By taking her, he had made her his. She belonged to him, at least until her master returned. Her master had escaped for an evening with a friend, whereas she had escaped with a stranger, in a more intimate way. A pang of guilt washed through her, pushing away the afterglow of sex. That was all it was. He would go soon, now he had used her.

'You don't know me, so you can tell me, I mean,' he hesitantly spoke. 'Are you, what are you doing here?' he asked.

He heard her on the phone calling someone master, so he couldn't help wondering what she was up to. This stranger had invaded Bob's home and taken his slave. It was all her fault of course. She couldn't look at him, couldn't bring herself to explain.

'Are you a nymphomaniac?' he finally asked.

This was a surprise. What was she to say? Was that better than being a slave, or a slut. Was she a slave to her sexual wantonness?

'I'm a stranger, you can tell me. I might not ever see you again, so it's safe to talk. I want to know. That's all,' he fumbled along.

'Maybe I am. Maybe I'm just a slut,' she mumbled back.

'It's refreshing to meet a woman who isn't afraid to say and do what she wants. Maybe you've been too long out here, away from civilisation,' he offered, as a way of letting her off the hook.

'No. It's not that. I get worked up, can't hold back,' she said. 'Maybe I am a nymphomaniac. Does that put you off?' she asked.

'If it means you want more, then no,' he joked.

His warm smile filtered through her like a warm bath. It washed away the worry she felt. She smiled back.

'So, do you like stockings and suspenders?' she joked back at him.

'On you they're wonderful. You have the figure to wear them, not many do. You're gorgeous,' he said, with feeling.

'Do you have a wife,' she asked, and immediately regretted the question. 'Sorry, I didn't mean. . .' she said, trying to back track.