Instructions Ch. 7-9 [str8] [MF] [bdsm] [Fsub]

Chapter 7
Her stomach was a tight knot as she walked to the supply closet in the back. Clutching tightly to her bag she smiled at her coworkers and deflected attempts at small talk doing her best not to attract further attention. She knew the supply closet toward the back of the building was really more of a maintenance room. Down a long flight of stairs and near the boiler it was a place you only went if you really needed something so she hoped there would at least be a modicum of privacy for whatever he was about to do to her.

“I’m here,” she texted after clicking the lock shut behind her. There were only a handful of people in the building with keys and she was relatively sure that none of them were here today.

“Strip.”

She could sense the disappointment behind his words and felt her cheeks flush red with shame for letting him down. She knew she should have stopped, knew she shouldn’t have cum. She loved following his directions, even when it hurt, loved the way he’d tilt her chin up to look at him and say, “Good girl.” Well there was none of that coming anytime soon.

Dutifully she removed her clothes, folding them in a neat pile on top of her bag. Should anyone enter the room her plan was to hide in one of the poorly lit back corners and do her best to wait them out. Her ears were straining to pick up even the hint of a sound, her body tense and taut. She sent him a picture, holding the camera above her head to accentuate her curves and display her nudity. Briefly she struggled with whether to look happy to be sending the picture to him or remorseful, opting for something in between.

“Write, ‘Untrained down each thigh.”

It would have felt so much better for him to just hit her. It was true, she knew, that her training had failed her. But marking herself as such stung to a surprising degree. She felt the first tears welling up in the corners of her eyes and shook her head to clear the thoughts away.

Knowing his preference for lipstick over sharpie she retrieved one of the extras from her bag and did her best to write the word legibly down each leg. Pressing them close together she took a picture and sent it.

“’Whore’ across each breast.”

This felt better, more familiar. She was his whore, there was no denying it. The way she felt when she was near him, the way she gave into every animal instinct while fucking him, the places he drove her to that were beyond words…she LOVED being his whore. Again she did her best to be neat, using the camera on her phone as a mirror to guide her words.

She sent the picture and waited. Still nervous, still tingly, but now some of that nervous energy came from the all too familiar needy feeling building in her pussy. A few minutes passed. Then some more. She began to fidget uncomfortably, feeling a measure of shame building within her. What if someone walked in? What if someone found her like this? She could maybe explain the nudity by saying she had ripped or stained her dress and was changing, but there was no denying the words written on her in vivid, red lipstick.

“Choke yourself and edge. Do not cum.”

Instantly she obeyed. Some part of her brain was beginning to see the ways in which he was training her; the way he would let her marinate in her shame and desire before letting her loose. Most of her mind was just focused on how good it felt to be doing something pleasing for him again. She sucked on the fingers of her right hand, swirling her tongue around the tips, then slid it between her legs. Her left hand wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze.

Resting her elbow on the edge of a table she leaned forward so the weight of her body pulled her throat into the crook of her hand. She felt the familiar ministrations of her fingers on her eager pussy and stifled a moan as best she could. Her fingers tightened their grip and she took a ragged breath before increasing the pressure again. Her face was beet red, fighting the sensations building within her brain as all of her body cried out for air. Deep inside her chest she felt the burn, her thoughts began to swim and she took an involuntary gasp for air that came out as a ragged gasp through the grip of her hand.

Right at the edge of climax she let go with both hands. Taking a deep breath that caused her whole body to shudder she reached for her phone and sent him a picture, shocked at how quickly her composed look had turned into a portrait of degradation. Her hair was askew and her mascara was running in twin lines down her cheeks. Still, through the pain of choking and the lustful feelings humming from her cunt she felt proud for serving him.

“Again.”

Switching hands she began to asphyxiate herself with her right and finger herself with her left. Again she felt twin fires burning within her, one for air and the other to serve. It felt oddly liberating to be fighting against her most basic instincts in her service. She smiled through a veil of tears and sent a picture after denying herself orgasm again.

“Again.”

Ten times in all he made her repeat this routine. After the last one there was a surprising amount of silence. She sat in the corner and rubbed at the tender skin of her neck. Looking at the last picture she sent him she was amazed at how little it took to turn her look from professional to porn star. Her makeup and hair were both wild, her face was still flushed even after several minutes of deep breathing, and there was some light bruising along her neckline where she’d been overly enthusiastic with her choking.

Her phone chimed pulling her thoughts from her appearance to his desires. “Forgot to tell you, asked a coworker of yours to check the supply closet for something I’d left there. Said he’d be there at 8:30.”

She looked at the time, 8:27. Fuck. Smoothing her hair out she jumped to her feet and shimmied into her skirt. Pulling her blouse down over her head she frantically dug through her bag for a wipe to remove her smeared makeup and wipe up the tears which had stained her cheeks. Moving as quickly as she could she retouched her makeup. If you paid attention to such things it was undeniable that something had changed but she hoped that most of her coworkers were too preoccupied to notice. Some time during this process her phone chimed but she ignored it in her mad dash to beat the clock.

Finally convinced she could face the world she picked up her phone and looked. “Nobody is coming. How appropriate. Take a half-day and go home. One card every hour before bed at 11. Love.”

The release from her anxieties that someone would see her combined with that word at the end buoyed her emotions to where she could probably float home if so desired. She did one final check then, confident she could slip through undetected, headed back to her desk briefly before heading home.

Chapter 8
“Go into my desk and get the black notebook, two pens, shears, and a zip tie. Then, go out into the world. It doesn’t have to be crowded, a quiet hilltop in the woods will do just fine, but it has to be outside of the comfort zone of these four walls..”
She could still feel the dull ache in her neck from where she’d been perhaps a touch overly enthusiastic with her self-asphyxiation as she changed from work clothes into jeans, a t-shirt, and a loose fitting flannel as it was getting late. She drove out to one of her favorite hiking spots, hefted the backpack with her required supplies, and began to walk along the winding trail. Gravel and twigs crunched beneath her feet with every step, sunlight filtering down through the trees.

As a breeze stirred the underbrush into motion she let her mind wander as to what she would be writing. She thought about how totally obedient she had been to the whim of these cards, even though she’d had that one fairly major slip-up, and how much control he had taken over her through time. She remembered back to their first meeting when he was just another awkward guy from the internet who maybe liked to play around with ropes a little bit.

There had been a few other cars in the parking lot so she checked over her shoulder before ducking off the trail and dashing into the woods. She knew where she was going, and even through the thick, green growth of spring it was easy for her to find. A massive, craggy outcrop of rock on the edge of a ridgeline with views of the valley below loomed forth from the blackberries and cedars. She scampered up the side of it easily enough and nestled herself into a particularly mossy corner before plucking the notebook from the depths of her pack.

She rested it on her knees, pen tucked behind her ear, then pulled her water bottle out to take a sip. Glancing out at the sun setting over the valley below she felt the butterflies rising in her stomach again, as well as the dampness increasing against her already soaked panties.

Quickly flipping the cover open to the first page she noticed there was already some writing there.

“I am a slut because…”

Just seeing the words written down in his unruly scrawl made her gasp, a twinge of pleasure erupting in her mind before settling back to earth. She retrieved the pen, took a deep breath, and began to write (only after silently damning him for not letting her use pencil.)

“I am a slut because…”

Goddamn him. She dropped the pen and tried to organize her thoughts. I’m not a slut, she told herself, though she was splitting hairs by trying to say she was His slut. There was a difference, she knew, she didn’t seek out sexual partners when she was single and had a tendency to go awhile without being properly fucked and tossed aside. She was his slut because he made is safe to awaken that side of herself.

She knew, even after the most violent whipping, blood dripping from her back, that he would be there to soothe her. Each time the sadism came out, each time that voice in her head SCREAMED for her to stop, there would come a wave of calm and reassurance when he spoke. He made it safe for her to call herself a fucktoy, to beg and be denied or rewarded on a whim, to humiliate and degrade herself in his service.

“I am a slut because…” because she needed to be. Because her pussy ached and her mind was addicted to cumming. Each orgasm only made the desire for the next one stronger, and those moments wherein he denied her for weeks on end did nothing but amplify this need. Even now she felt the undeniable urge to let a hand slip beneath her waistband. Technically he hadn’t said she couldn’t edge up here but after her earlier mistake she didn’t trust her hands. Even more than that, she lived for those moments when he ignored her. Driving her face into the pillow with a hand on the back of her head until he filled her ass with cum and rolled over, gasping, to fall asleep leaving her to clean up, turn off the lights, and struggle to ignore her throbbing clit.
Picking up the pen she started to form the first letter then stopped again. “I am a slut,” she thought, “Because that’s what he wants. He’s trained me to keep myself wet and accessible, edging every few minutes so that I’m always ready for his finger, cock, or tongue.” Prior to his ownership she’d never masturbated so frequently. The first time he’d tested her in the kitchen, found her dry, and spanked her with a wooden spatula until it shattered she was almost incredulous. Quickly she learned that when he said always, there was no wiggle room.

Her nipples had been roused by her thoughts and poked through the fabric of her shirt, begging for attention. Her clit was pulsing with need, soaked pussy begging for her fingers to explore it, every inch of her skin was buzzing with electricity. Goddamn him.
Knowing that if she kept letting her mind wander she would be in serious trouble she snatched the pen up and began to write the first things that came to mind. At the bottom of the page there was a note telling her to post this to her private blog and send him a picture of it in a text so she did her best to write legibly.
“I am a slut because…I am yours. Being owned by you makes it safe for me to give in to my baser side, to unleash my instinctual need to serve the fires burning in my cunt. I am a slut because you have trained me that my proper place is giving in to those needs, my pleasure doesn’t matter, I am three holes to use and flesh to punish.”

At this she shivered at the words coming forth from the pen, closed her eyes, and bit down on her lip. Shaking her head to regain focus she returned to the letter, “I am a slut because I am here to use whenever you want. Mouth, pussy, ass, tits. Fuck, torture, cum in, cum on, I am yours.”

She reread her words and felt the desire building within her, an almost orgasmic wave of pleasure reverberating through her mind as she read the description she’d crafted for herself. There was more, the would always be more, she knew. But her brain had lost its ability to focus and be coherent. Her left leg was twitching anxiously as her hands opened and closed tight in an effort to avoid following the path they wanted to follow, under her clothes to the center of her pleasure.

Taking out her phone she held up the camera and snapped a picture. Her words had been fine to stimulate herself but the act of recording them for him left her feeling disappointed. It was … not enough somehow. Briefly she wondered what he was doing when he got this. What he’d been doing each time he’d gotten some version of her punishment. Had he been out having drinks with friends when he’d listened to the voicemail of her cumming? Was he sitting at a table with colleagues, reading her letter now? The blush of shame that started in her cheeks found itself altered quickly into more desire as it ran through her body to her dripping pussy.

Dutifully she sent the message and snapped close the notebook. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the nearby mountains so it was time for her to head back. As she was slipping down the rock face she felt her phone buzz in her pocket but without a free hand she would have to wait until the descent was over to check it.

Climbing down was always trickier for her, particularly in the dark. As she retraced her steps on the way back to the main trail she pulled her phone free and lit the screen up to help find her way.

Once back on the wider, gravelly path back to her car she let herself read his response. “I am so glad you are mine, my little fucktoy.”

Chapter 9
The notes were fantastic. They were amazing. One of the greatest gifts he’d ever given to her. But they were problematic too. Submission had been an escape for her. There was nothing more comforting than the click of her collar signifying that he had assumed control over … everything.

From the beginning their relationship had been a near complete exchange of power. He decided what she wore, ate, and did with her time. They weren’t robots, so there were lapses and moments of ‘normality’ but these could always be ended at his discretion. He was free to rest his head on her shoulder and cry, if needed, but once soothed he was equally free to pick up the reigns and redirect the evening.

The moments where she had to put on a brave face, go forth in public, and take on the world alone were always her least favorite. Even something as simple as going to a bar by herself for a drink could be incredibly daunting and produce swells of anxiety within her chest. He was perfectly capable of transforming from dominant Master to loving boyfriend as the social situation required, but her preference was when he was in absolute control.
Hence the dilemma of the cards. On the one hand, picking a card meant discovering some part of his will and carrying it out. On the other … well which card should be picked? The thought caused a little mountain of anxiety to sprout up in her chest as she looked at the various little tabs of neon fluttering around the room.

Her eyes settled on a tiny, baby blue square of paper on the edge of the desk.”Let me see my property,” it said, in his big, blocky lettering.

This was … too easy. Still, it was a direction, so she did her best to find an appropriately appealing angle, one which showed her in her proper accouterments: collar, panties, and nothing else. She was particularly proud of the way she was able to puff up her chest and emphasize her tits in the pose.

His reply was near-instantaneous. But, also confusing. It was her selfie, sent back to her, with some big circles added to it from some drawing program or other. She puzzled over this briefly before receiving a few rapid fire texts from him.

“What do I demand of you, always?”

Without hesitation she replied, “The pursuit of perfection.”
She knew she wasn’t perfect, but she always needed to be doing better and trying harder. That was a big part of the service side of her time with him. Which is when those circles came into place.

“Cunt, your room is filthy. I haven’t been gone that long but look at what’s piled up, distracting me from your perky tits, which I had hoped to lose myself in. New task: you are to clean for me. Each action is purposeful, think of how doing it accomplishes some part of your service to me. Each time you finish a task you must edge yourself. If you finish cleaning the entire room from that awful picture I may let you cum, though I will warn you that once you ask you may not turn back.”

That nearly caused her to cum right there.

“Yes, sir.”

Before she could get started, her phone buzzed again. “Change of plans pet. You need to accomplish all of your tasks with one hand between your legs at all time. Turn on your webcam so I can do a few random checks.”

Shit! This was … well, the idea of him watching her haphazardly knocking into things, too distracted by the fingers on her clit to properly accomplish anything was hotter than she’d want to admit, but the logistics of folding laundry while constantly edging was just too much. How the fuck was she supposed to do anything?

No point in further infuriating him and having to all of the chores with her mouth while both hands were between her legs. She set a chair in the door and flipped the webcam around so it was facing her room, then slid a hand between her legs. Unsurprisingly she was already soaked at the possibility of engaging both her service and denial sides. Her fingers parted her lips and teased at her clit while her other hand collected dirty clothes and tossed them into the hamper.

She bit her lip and rocked her hip slightly, trying to keep focus on her task but losing herself at the thought of him watching her. She was completely humiliated at being called out for her housekeeping, utterly turned on by the humiliation, but then slightly ashamed at being watched while she acted in such a wanton manner. The first edge came faster than she had expected, her fingers dancing, drawing her closer to orgasm before she finally caught herself. Kneeling in front of the camera she said, “Once. Thank you sir,” then rose again, placing her hand back between her legs.

Steadying herself, and taking a deep breath, she tossed the last sock into the hamper and then set about tidying the bed. She tugged the sheets straight, her hand still expertly drawing forth pleasure from her clit. Her legs were shaking, ever so slightly, her entire body trembling. As she moved to adjust the comforter, she paused, pinning her hand against the bed, applying forceful pressure to her clit by rocking her body against her trapped hand. She closed her eyes, her torso swaying, feeling her breasts rock as she edged. Leaning forward, exposing her ass as she did so, she adjusted her pillows and finished making the bed before completing her second edge, two fingers pumping in and out of her soaked slit before suddenly withdrawing as she gasped, afraid that she’d gone too far.

Luckily, she was able to fight back the orgasm, but only just. Kneeling in front of the webcam, she spoke quietly, “Two. Thank you sir.”

Folding laundry was more difficult. Her clit was solidly in control of her actions now, her free hand moving sluggishly, her whole body trembling. It was too much. He was too much. This was too much. Her mind burned, racing with a thousand emotions, on fire with lust and need. She was his little, empty-headed fucktoy after all.

The buzzing of her phone broke through her reverie. She picked it up and read, “Aww is my little fucktoy having a hard time getting hold of herself? Do you need to cum?”

A shiver ran through her body and she turned to face the camera, one hand still diligently drawing forth pleasure from between her legs. “Please sir, please, I cannot focus. I need to cum. Please let me cum, I need to cum, I can’t think, I can’t stand, pleeeeaaaaaaaaase.” Her eyes were desperate and the last word burned with a passion she didn’t know she could call upon. Her whole body shook as she fight to hold back an orgasm before whimpering, “Three. Thank you sir,” and rising back to her feet.
Her phone rang. It took her a moment to register what the sound meant, then she dove for it, answering breathlessly.

His voice was powerful, “Do you remember my warning fucktoy?”
Her hand twitched between her thighs as she spasmed on her bed, fighting to maintain control. “No, sir. I’m sorry sir. I can’t…” her voice trailed off. She couldn’t think, it was true. It was so hard to remember the conversation they’d had just a few short minutes ago, all she could think about was how good her hand felt massaging her clit, and how desperately she needed release.
“Pity,” he said, an edge to his voice that made her cringe. “Well, you can’t heed my warning, so all you can do is heed my words. Remember, I’m watching you. Cum. Now.”

“Thank you sir.” The words leaped from her throat in a moan, as her free hand moved to her breasts, kneading the tender flesh and twisting her nipples. The pain and pleasure overwhelmed her brain, her back arched and she started to spasm, her legs twitching wildly as she came. She moaned and squealed into the phone, panting, thanking him, her mind awash with sensations but no control.

As the feeling finally started to subside, a sense of calm returning to her frazzled thoughts, his voice cut through again. “I said cum. I did not say to stop.”

She started to object, “But…”

Before she could finish forming the thought he interrupted, “If you want to cum again within the calendar year, you will cum. Now.”

Her pussy was tender, her clit throbbed, but her hands diligently returned to between her legs. She gasped and cried out, rolling onto her back and exposing her pussy to the camera, losing her mind to the thought of him watching this display. She wanted this, needed this, but feeling her mind melt away so completely still felt strange.

Again her body exploded, fireworks erupting in her mind, her entire body flailing about as pleasure washed through her.

“Again.”

There was no protest left. Her hands fell to her clit, fingers sliding deep inside of her, pumping vigorously at his command. She wasn’t even sure she’d finished with the previous orgasm before another was exploding deep within her.

“Again.”

Her fingers were tired, her pussy ached, her body screamed against the pleasure, unable to process it all. Her moans broke into a sob and she began to plead, “Please sir, please let me stop!”

“You are to cum for me, now.”

Sobbing quietly, her body quivering, she fought against the pain and exhaustion, fought against herself and came for him.

“Again.”

Her sobs became a wail, tears slipping down her cheeks, but unwilling to use her safeword, wanting to fight through the feeling. She choked herself, trying to use the pain to catapult herself to orgasm again. Her head was swimming, lost in the cacophony of feelings that was assaulting her senses.
And so it went. Twelve more orgasms were drawn forth by her fingers before he finally relented and let her rest. She collapsed, shaking.

His voice was soothing, calm. “Good girl. Wrap yourself up in the comforter and take three deep breaths for me.”

She did as he bid, feeling her body relax, her mind still detached, but her body at peace. The exhaustion was overwhelming, she tried to speak but found her voice lacking.

“Sleep now, my good girl.”

“Thank you sir.”

The words were scarcely out of her mouth before her eyes closed and she was asleep.

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