M/s – Training

Posted by RaynecloseAuthor: Rayne Name: Rayne Millaray
Email: rayne@edenfantasys.com
Site: http://www.insatiabledesire.com/
About: A loving slave with sadistic tendencies and masochistic desires. Chaos incarnate. The girl your mother warned you about. Reviewer at Eden Fantasys and long time blogger.See Authors Posts (467)

Not too long ago, when people would ask me what it means to be “in training”, what you do when you’re “in training”, I couldn’t really answer them. I’m a military brat, so when I think of training, the image that comes to mind is people in uniform standing in line and drill sergeants yelling in their faces. But M has this weird way of training someone so that they don’t really know they’re being trained. Dominants can be tricksy that way.

You’ll remember that, for a while, I thought training would be all about nights spent on my knees, listening to M speak. Being whipped occasionally just cause he felt like it, and whipped occasionally to bring us both pleasure. Being made to do things I’m not really interested in doing to prove that he can, and will, do what he wants with me and to me. And some of it is like that.

Sometimes he’ll walk by and snatch up a nipple, squeezing and twisting and grinding his fingers together, until I cry out and begin to fight reaching for my abused nub of flesh. And he’ll watch, while he does it, not saying a word, to see what I’ll do. Whether or not I’ll keep my hands, at the very least, away from his, or if I’ll try to wrench my flesh from between his fingers.

The flesh wrenching always hurts worse than just waiting for him to let go. And there’s usually punishment involved. It’s not my place to protect myself from him.

It took a while (and M actually pointing it out, if memory serves) for me to recognize the other facets of my training. His training? His training of me. To realize that training is not always sexual and is sometimes rather painful. I mean, training of the caliber we are interested in sometimes includes restructuring a person’s entire way of thinking. Which means occasionally telling them things they’ve believed in their whole life are wrong. And that’s never easy. Even if you’ve asked for it.

Repetition is a huge part of his training of me. Making me do the same things over and over. Reminding me of things constantly. Making me repeat them back to him.

Interrogation plays a large role. I never used to think it did, because I never saw the things he did as interrogation. I think I was too stuck on the “criminal in an interrogation room, cuffed to the chair and surrounded by officers in and out of uniform asking a bazillion questions” scene.

Mmm… You know… I sort of despise cops, as a general rule (Do a little research on the officers currently in service in Schenectady, New York, and you’ll understand why.), except the good ones I’ve met, and that’s still a hot visual. I’m one sick fuck, I guess.

Anyway… Where was I? Oh, yes. Interrogation.

Master often puts me on my knees and asks me questions. Sometimes the same ones over and over to see if my responses will change. He speaks slowly and concisely so I can understand every word. Because, as I’ve said before, somewhere, it’s easier for him to figure out what he needs to work on if he first figures out what page I’m on.

Punishment, obviously, is a form of training. When it’s used to correct a behavior, not when it’s used in play time. Though I suppose it could be used to train a slave in play time, as well, if the trainer does it right.

One training session consisted of me being tied to the bed. That’s it. He’d wander in and out of the room as he pleased, talking to me or not, laughing every time my eagerness to be released was evident in my voice or on my face. “Patience is a virtue. You will learn it by the end of today.” he said.

Most recently, though, my training comes in conversation more than anything else. Or soft direction mere inches from my ear. Quiet reminders and gentle corrections. A tug here. A nip there. A pull elsewhere.

There’s always something in his voice that says, “You should be listening to me now.” and no matter what I’m doing, I tune all else out and pay attention only to him. It’s become a sort of involuntary reaction.

Of course, it’s best for lovers to always pay attention to each other, but let me tell you… Twelve hours of technical jargon day in and day out eventually starts to wear on you. So I’ve fine-tuned tuning it out. =D