Lena's Fall: Volumes Eight through Fifteen of Lena’s Journey Read online

  "Why are you thanking me, slave?" I ask and gently cup her chin angling her head up to face me. I stare straight into the depths of her deep blue eyes.

  “Thank you for commending me on my skills, master,” she replies.

  “And what skills are those, little one?” Her blush deepens but her eyes linger on mine unwaveringly. “My cock sucking skills, sir."

  “Good girl. You are welcome. You have come a very long way sweetheart. I think it is time for us to move ahead in your training and set new goals.”

  “What kind of goals, master?” Her eyes suddenly brighten with curiosity and newfound assertiveness. How strange! Surely she's not getting bored with her training? Hmmm…

  “I will tell you about them as we go through the day, but first off, given your little transgression during the night, from now on I want you to ask me for permission before you go relieve yourself in the bathroom. Do you understand?”

  “I’m not quite sure, master. You want me to check in with you before I use the toilet?”

  “Precisely," I reply. Lena's eyes grow big like those of a beautiful little doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

  “But what if you are at work, sir?” She says in her little whiny voice.

  “I will give you your own little personal cell phone. It is preprogrammed with the number of my direct line at work as well as my own cell phone. Those are on speed dial. You are not to use it for anything else but calling me. You're not allowed to give this number to anyone else. Not even your mother. Understood?”

  “Yes, master. So I am to text you when I have to use the bathroom?”

  “Not text me, but call me. Not unless I have you gagged while I’m gone.”

  “What if you are busy and cannot answer?” Is it me or do I detect a hint of rebellion in her voice?

  “Then you will have to wait until I hear your voicemail message, and then call you back to give you permission to relieve yourself.”

  I see her roll her eyes at me.

  “You know, little one, I'm starting to feel a certain reluctance from all your questions. I don’t like your attitude this morning. I think you are edging perilously close to earning yourself yet another marble.” A little exasperated sigh escapes her tight lips but she lets the argument drop as her shoulders slump forward and she bows her head looking down.

  “Also, since we are on the topic of using the bathroom, from now on, I forbid you from using any toilets in my house.”

  She looks back up at me with those big puppy dog eyes of hers, "But master," she whimpers, "Please, sir, I… I just can't, where should I go if not in the bathroom?” Lena appears to be close to tears now and I see the first signs of rebellion are making themselves apparent.

  “Well sweetheart, I do have I a backyard, you know. You can go there. Just make sure you clean up nicely after yourself.”

  “No! It is winter. It's too cold outside! You surely don't mean it.”

  “Oh, but I do. Now you not only earned yourself a second black marble for Friday, but if you continue using that tone on me, young girl, I will strap your little impertinent bottom right now!”

  At first Lena stares at me with a look of utter torment. She opens her mouth to speak once or twice but appears to be unable to make a sound. Finally she looks away in what appears to be shame.

  “Look at me, Lena,” I say in a steely voice.

  Slowly, with utter resignation, she turns to look at me, her pretty little eyes shooting daggers.

  “I want to hear it,” I say. “Will you do what I ask?”

  “Yes, M-master. I will.” She looks at me for a fraction of a second longer and seeing my unwavering determination presses on, "I will pee and poo out in the backyard squatting naked in the snow as you ordered me.”

  “But not before you ask me for permission?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Say it.”

  “Not before I ask you for permission, master.” Lena says in a soft little voice full of utter resignation.

  “You are such a beautiful little girl! Come!” I instantly warm up to her. In the fraction of a second it takes me to fling my arms wide open, she jumps up and runs to me burying herself against my naked chest. My cock jumps at the sensation of her naked skin as it touches me.

  "I know it is not easy but this is precisely the point, sweetheart!” I kiss the top of her head and I feel her nod against my belly. I'm so much taller than she is that where she stands, her head only comes up to my navel.

  “I don't know about you, sweetheart, but I am famished. What would you say about cooking us some breakfast?”

  “I will master but… May I first… you know…”

  “No, I don’t. What are you asking me?” I see her little form snuggle up against me. She tries to make herself vanish as she says in a small voice, "I need to go pee. May I?”

  I feel my cock rear its head up at her question.

  “Absolutely, my dear,” I reply, “but first answer me this — don’t you need to do more than simply pee? Perhaps it is time to release your little plug so you can use the outdoor area for number two as well?” I feel her little racing heart skip a beat as her body feels petrified next to mine.

  A long moment passes and I hear a dainty little whimper and then, "Maybe…"

  “It is perhaps difficult to tell because of all the enemas you have been getting the last three or four weeks. You haven't had to pass any stool all this time, sweetheart. But trust me when I tell you that after last night's medicine, you will definitely need to go relieve yourself today. If you don’t, you might start running a nasty fever when all those leaves I stuffed up your backside start fermenting in your body.” I feel her body grow rigid at my words.

  “Here, turn your back to me and bend forward! Hold on to your ankles,” I say and before Lena has a chance to protest or even realize what I am doing, I move her around and having placed one large hand on the small of her back, I bend her down in two. Obediently she wraps her hands around her ankles as I feel my way down between her cheeks. My fingers locate the crystal handle of the butt plug easily enough lying between her tight little globes and without further ado I grab hold of it and with a couple of slow but relentless tugs I pull it out from within her clenching butt.

  “Aiee, ouch!” she hisses but somehow succeeds in holding her position.

  “You can stand straight now and…”

  “I don't know if I can. I hurt too much.”

  Smack! My hand cuts off her whining. It comes down with vicious swiftness across her exposed pussy from behind. Smack! Smack!

  “Ouiiee!” she yelps and jumps and skedaddles a couple of steps away from me.

  Her hands fly to cover herself from behind but my goal is already accomplished. I simply smile at her, "There, it seems like you can stand again. How do you feel?”

  She shoots me this look of hers that is meant to petrify me but merely makes me chuckle.

  “It hurts! Like hell.” She sounds offended. My poor submissive, still only a child at heart. How precious.

  “I meant inside, where it hurt last night?”

  For a moment her eyes acquire this inward look, “The pain there is gone,” she finally says.

  “Excellent, now go do your business and come back quickly. I am hungry and I still need to give you instructions for the day and then go to work!” I say and turn to go wait for her downstairs in the kitchen.

  When she returns less than ten minutes later, she is both shivering with the cold from outside but also blushing deeply crimson. Sweat covers her athletic little body head to toe in a glistening sheen. She makes a beeline for the bathroom in a little huff where I hear her wash her hands.

  She comes out and is about to tell me something when I cut her off, "From now on, I will stop buying us milk,” I say. “Your little titties will have to grow just a little more and then we will have all the milk we need and then some.” Her mouth drops open and again I get "The Look".

  “Until they do,” I
press on, “we shall have to make do with what you produce. There by the coffee machine I have placed a hospital-grade breast pump. I want you to start using it every four hours even if nothing comes out. Eventually it will. Trust me.”

  I don't give her time to recover from this news as I fling my next order at her, "I have a very good friend of mine coming here tonight. I have made a list of what I'd like you to cook us. You have all day to get it done. And don't forget to also make sure that the downstairs living area and the guest bathroom are immaculately clean. Understood?”

  She looks at me dumbfounded and then merely nods her head.

  “Good! Now go make me some breakfast. I have to go.”

  I know I am harsh with my sweet little submissive-in-training but I swear I felt vibes of boredom emanating from her just this morning. This cannot be tolerated. She needs to be kept on her toes if she is to grow into her part. A part that she is eminently built for and bound to excel in. If she fails, it will be as much my fault as hers.

  Soon my beautiful Lena loses herself in motion as she pirouettes around the kitchen careful to stay on tip toes as she dances between the cooking stove, the fridge and the cupboards, taking time in between to set me a plate, silverware and coffee.

  In less time than it takes me to check a couple of work emails, she has a nice stack of delicate thin crêpes set by me. On their side is a crystal jar of marmalade and another with fig jam.

  She is a veritable little chef, I know. This is one of the few benefits of having grown up while doting on her ailing mother who knows a ton about cooking and has obviously taught her well. With a little practice, I am quite sure Lena could easily become a truly excellent chef.

  But there is time for that. First I want to sound her out for music lessons. Hence the visitor tonight. Mister Henry is a very good friend of mine and as it happens, also an accomplished master of submissives himself. Together with him, we help organize some like-minded affluent men like ourselves into a society of sorts. Every month or so we make it a point to get our little ones to perform for us on musical instruments and we recently have brought them to a certain undeniable level of aptitude where Mister Henry and I have started openly wondering whether we shouldn't contact our friends in Europe for a little tour.

  But I am getting ahead of myself. I see Lena has placed everything in front of me and is now demurely waiting for my next request. She is standing on her tip toes by the oven, hands crossed at the elbows on her back looking straight at me.

  “Lena, child, are you hungry?” I look at her and smile when I see the little shadow cross her eminently expressive face. She knows this is a trick question.

  “Yes, master, but I will eat after you, sir.”

  “Excellent response, sweetheart. Come kneel by my side and I will feed you. These crêpes are delicious.”

  Immediately she follows my request and kneels by my feet obediently placing her hands in her lap as she opens her mouth to be fed. “Did you have a chance to clean up outside?” I ask as I take a piece smothered in marmalade and place it with my fork on her tongue.

  She nods as she hungrily swallows the syrupy morsel."Yes, master. I did"

  “Did you have any difficulty passing stool?” I can clearly see her obvious discomfort at my intrusive questions about her intimate anatomy but she steels her squeamishness and answers me nonetheless, "It stung me a little down there, but everything came out just just fine.”

  “Excellent, sweetheart.”

  I feed her another morsel and then point with my fork at the little straps and harness on the counter. “Have another bite and then I will help you adjust the breast pump harness on your chest. It is a very high-end unit that will leave your hands unoccupied while the pump does its business.” I love how beautiful the little twenty-year-old is when she blushes at my words.

  A couple of moments later I have put my words to action and a gentle whirring sound fills the room as I can see her puffy pink nipples getting sucked into the conical plastic of the pump nozzles. She looks down and I can see that with every cycle of the pump, her entire body reacts by covering itself in delectable little goosebumps. Droplets of her first milk are dripping into the plastic bottles on either side. She came into milk just yesterday and her breasts haven’t yet reached peak output. Lena is so docile and impressionable that I managed to induce her to lactate by merely suggesting this possibility to her as I diligently suckled on her beautiful titties for day after day.

  The pump is located on the bar plot by the fridge, not far from a leather bar stool with armrests and I immediately jump at the possibilities this provides. I take a seat in the stool and before Lena has a chance to protest, I pick her up, light like a feather, and bring her up to sit in my lap.

  “Oh, oh, oh,” she moans realizing what I am about to do. Still holding onto her dainty little waist, almost encircling it with my massive hands as I hold her up in the air, I ask her to reach down and open herself up for me and place my cock against her puckered rosebud.

  “It is too tight,” she tries to protest but does as ordered.

  “During the next couple of days we will do it there at least twice a day, sometimes more. I want you nicely stretched out and trained, sweetheart.”

  She moans desperately casting a plaintive look over her shoulder that I reflect back at her as an implacable stare. I slowly start releasing her weight down onto me.

  The whirring sound of the pump resonates perfectly with her little hoarse voice as she gasps at the intrusion.

  Soon her moans of discomfort morph into soft gasps of ecstasy. She doesn't have to do much besides relish the sensations buffeting her body. I hoist her up and down on my thick shaft using my hands on her pelvis to control her movements.

  "Can you reach down and rub yourself for me?” It takes her a moment to realize what I am asking but then she obeys. Soon I feel her backside start to clench around my cock like a glove as her body starts responding to the ecstasy building up across her soon-to-be overwhelmed nervous system.

  ***

  Lena: My orgasm hits not unexpectedly exactly when my fingers come up against the apex of my pussy. For a moment my entire body constricts into one tight bundle of nerves pulsating with light behind my fluttering eyelids as I bounce lifted and then dropped across my master's shaft.

  Every time I think I have experienced the pinnacle of climaxes, he finds yet another way to elicit more intensity from our lovemaking.

  Only last night I was a complete virgin. The only place he had put his penis was in my mouth. Now here I am, bouncing like a banshee, moaning and whining like a filly in heat as he takes me up my butt while a machine sucks on my puffy nipples eliciting yet more sensations from the raw nerve endings there.

  How far can I go like that? How intense will our lovemaking be when my master finally pushes me to the inevitable extreme of my limits?

  I cannot wait to find out.

  ~

  Lena’s Metamorphosis: The Awakening of a Girl

  How far can I go on like that? How intense will our lovemaking be when my master finally pushes me to the inevitable extreme of my limits?

  I cannot wait to find out.

  ***

  “I can only walk on tiptoe when in my master's presence.

  “I cannot wear shoes, sandals or socks, but can only be barefoot in his presence.”

  “I cannot use the toilets in his house but only his backyard after having explicitly asked for and received his permission.”

  What else? What else? Ah, of course:

  “I have to inform him every time I'm about to have a climax or have recently just had one. My body is his body. My pleasure is his pleasure. My pain as his pain…”

  Or is it?…

  Lena:

  It is eleven o'clock in the morning and I have a long list of chores waiting. So far I have done the laundry, folded it and put it away. I have washed all the hard floors with a mop and vacuumed the Persian rugs downstairs. I still have to start preparing dinne
r for tonight. Master also wants me to prepare a milk cake and it is the idea of making it and then serving it to the guests that fills my heart with real trepidation.

  I used up the last milk we had bought from the groceries just this morning. Master says that from now on we shall not be buying more milk. We will only use the one I produce. I am quite frankly still getting to grips with the idea that my breasts are in milk! I am only twenty years old and still a virgin, for crying out loud!

  A shiver of apprehension makes the little hairs on the nape of my neck stand on edge at the idea that tonight I will have to use some of my own milk to prepare the cake! The very thought makes my knees week. I used the breast pump at ten o'clock this morning which was exactly four hours after the first time I had ever used it.

  Master wants me to pump every four hours. He says it will increase my output. He is a doctor and he should know. But it is as if my tits are constantly in a state of arousal now. I don't know if it is as a result of them being in milk, the hormones inevitably coursing through my body, or just simply the effect of having the machine suck out the tiny white droplets that I see dribble from my small puffy nipples into the plastic bottles right in front of my eyes. I am an emotional mess. Hence I took a break from work to write down master's expectations for me.

  However, now that the list is complete, I feel even more aroused than before. An overwhelming sense of guilt makes me blush deeply as my left hand gently finds its way to between my legs. I sit back and move my butt forward on the simple kitchen chair as my fingertips touch down there.

  I am wet, very, very wet. But why am I also feeling so very guilty? It is not like master ever told me to feel bad about feeling aroused. If anything, I have the distinct impression he encourages it. A tremor makes my abdomen shake and I grab onto the kitchen table with my right hand to hold myself from falling off the chair. When my orgasm hits seconds later, I am lost in thought remembering the way his body felt against mine this morning. The way it smelled, the way his skin, cool and covered in hair, rubbed against my own — naked and blushing crimson.