My virtual master trained me while I worked from home
Anal training with my long-distance master. Second day.
Early in the morning, while I was trying to get my work-from-home day going, the email arrived with the session instructions: the exact schedule, the estimated duration, the list of toys I had to have on hand, and the underwear I was allowed to wear. I read it twice, as if memorizing it would make me feel like I was in control of something. I wasn’t in control of anything.
On the days we agreed on for these sessions —twice a week— I set aside my own dilation routine, the one I already told about in other stories, and surrender myself to the whims of the one who dominates me without ever being in the same room. As soon as my husband leaves for work, I go for a walk, come back, tidy the house, and sit down in front of the computer. Today, on top of that, I had to obey.
The email left me anxious and wet before any concrete order at all. There were almost two hours left before we connected to chat and my head was useless: I read a report and didn’t understand a line. The worst —or the best— was that the session was going to unfold while I kept working, with my body surrendered and the work screen open beside it. That idea turned me on with an extra charge I didn’t know how to name.
Close to ten I started getting everything ready: the vibrating anal thimble, the nipple suckers, the blue plug, the classic vibrator, the red dildo and the skin-colored realistic one, the inflatable anal toy, and the clamps. I arranged them on the side table, next to the desk, like equipment I was going to use on myself.
At ten-thirty sharp, the notification sounded with the first order of the day.
“Show me your clothes on video. I want to see you model, improvise, show off your curves and your ass, you’re going to be my little bitch. Then take off your top and hike your skirt up to your waist: just in a thong, so I can see how soaked your pussy gets.”
I modeled for the camera. I was wearing a tight blue denim skirt, a black top clinging to my body without a bra, and a light gray thong. I walked back and forth, offered him my ass, wiggled it, caressed myself over the fabric. Then I took off the top slowly, let my tits out, and pulled the skirt up to my waist. The thong shot showed a wet stain I could no longer hide.
I sent the video. The reply didn’t take long.
“A short video call, without a single word. Thong to one side. I want to see how wet your pussy is. The bitch goes in with two fingers and makes strings with her wetness in front of the camera. Then three fingers, same thing. Then spread the lips, pull back the hood, and swell my clit with stroking and pinching. Clear? You have two minutes.”
I set the camera on the side table, framing the chair where I was supposedly still working. The call came in, I accepted, turned the chair around, and opened my legs. I moved the thong aside: the pussy was shining. I penetrated myself with two fingers, they went in easily, and when I pulled them out I made strings toward the camera. I repeated it with three, which went in with more resistance. Then I spread the lips and started touching my clit with soft caresses, massages, the occasional pinch. It swelled slowly until it stood out. I was almost about to come. The call cut off just in time and I was able to stop.
The next message arrived right away.
“Masturbate your clit on video until you finish at least three times. Count them out loud, for me. While I’m away, go back to work: you put the vibrator in your vagina on the lowest speed, sit in your chair normally, and leave it in all the time you keep working, until the end of the day.”
I recorded the video with my legs spread as wide as they could go on the chair and my feet on the edge of the desk. The first time I came almost instantly, I was too eager: one. The second took me a little longer: two. The third was almost annoying, my clit so sensitive that even brushing it burned: three. I ended the video showing how I inserted the running vibrator and returned to my office pose, as if nothing had happened, with another hour and a half of work still ahead of me.
During that stretch we talked by message, in an almost normal tone, about how I felt with the vibrator in. Then he wrote to me:
“When your work hours are over, remove the dildo and lick your juices. One photo is enough: the bitch’s tongue running over the vibrator. Then prepare your ass for me. Insert the anal thimble using your own juices as lubricant, put the thong and blouse back on, and wait for communication.”
It was about noon. I took out the vibrator, licked it from end to end for the photo, and filmed a short clip sliding it through my vagina to soak it before pushing it slowly into my tight ass. I put my clothes back in order, took advantage of the break to eat something light, go to the bathroom, and drink water. My body was still half-tense, like a cable plugged into someone who wasn’t there.
***
At around one he ordered me upstairs to the bedroom. The little ass enjoyed being opened so carefully; the thong and the thimble deep inside kept it from slipping out as I climbed the stairs, though it was already starting to ask for something thicker. I took off my blouse as instructed, hiked my skirt up to my waist, and stood beside the bed, waiting.
He sent me a voice message. It was the first time I heard his voice: deep, firm, unhurried.
“We start with the plug and the realistic dildo. You film yourself squatting on the floor, thong to one side. First from behind: remove the thimble, lubricate only the entrance to the anus with coconut oil, and insert the plug slowly, slowly but in one motion. Then, from the front, you insert the dildo in your pussy as far as you can and arrange the thong so neither of them slips out. If it comes out, you repeat until you manage it.”
That slow, measured order got me very hot. As if someone had turned me on with a remote control —because deep down that was exactly what it was—, I did the task filming myself; by then I had already become an expert at positioning the camera. When I pushed the plug in, I met an annoying resistance, the skin stretching; with circular movements from the lubricated tip, I got it to give and go in. What pleasure, opening myself like that. I adjusted the thong and moved on to the big dildo: the pussy swallowed a little more than half, because it’s thick and with the plug filling the anus nothing goes in easily. I secured it with the fabric. It stuck out toward the front, almost as if I had my own cock, and seeing myself that way excited me in a strange way. I stood up holding onto the bed, open on both sides, my pussy so stretched it hurt a little.
I sent the video. The next step came soon.
“Live. You take your left nipple and pull the breast forward hard. You hold it for one minute, nice and tight, until my timer goes off. The bitch stays penetrated in both holes. When the bell rings, with an open hand you give yourself seven slaps on each breast, hard. If the intensity doesn’t convince me, you repeat.”
I had a few minutes to prepare myself and position the camera. The image opened with a countdown on screen and, on the table, a kitchen timer. I stroked the nipple, which was still hiding a little, so I could grab it firmly when the count reached one. His voice said “now” and I pulled the breast forward from the nipple. Time dragged. My tit burned, it strained to keep the nipple from slipping out of my fingers, and the pain from the filled vagina took a back seat, throbbing, almost imperceptible. Standing there, impaled on both ends, pulling on my tit, the image was humiliating and arousing at the same time. When the timer rang I let go and started slapping myself while holding my breast with the other hand and clenching my legs so I wouldn’t lose the dildo.
On the other side, the voice marked the rhythm.
“Good girl. Now the right one. Stretch. One, two, three, four, five. Let go. Hit: one, two, three, four, five. The other breast: hit, two, three, four, five. Good. Put your leg on the bed and let the dildo out.”
I moved the thong aside and the cock slipped out of my pussy and fell to the floor with a dull thud. The call cut off. I pulled myself together as best I could, with my tits sore and red, and kept waiting for more.
***
Half an hour passed before the next message. The plug was already beginning to slide out and I kept pushing it back in, gentle, deep. It was two-thirty when the chat activated.
“Very good, bitch. That pussy is open and I’m going to use it some more. I want a short video, close-up, just of your ass: you take out the plug without using your hands, pushing and contracting the hole at will. Open your cheeks as wide as possible so I can see the exercise in detail. Then turn the air conditioning on cold, to twenty-two degrees, and on all fours on the bed, tits against the mattress, put both holes open and empty facing the air. Three minutes like that, filmed.”
I set up the camera, took off the thong, and brought my ass as close to the lens as possible. I leaned forward, spread my cheeks, and the plug came out with the minimum effort. I clenched and relaxed the sphincter several times; the little hole was barely open. I edited the clip and sent it while catching my breath. Then I got on all fours on the bed, as asked, with both holes pointed at the air conditioner. It’s already starting to get cold here and the cold wind on my vagina and anus made me shiver; my nipples brushed the sheet, and that mix of cold and exposure made me wet again.
The afternoon, along with the session, was nearing its end.
The final order came, the longest one.
“The bitch films a video of the parts she considers important and sends it to me. First you penetrate your vagina again with the realistic dildo, as deep as you can, taking advantage of the fact that it’s stretched to fit in a little more than last time. Once it’s in place, you insert the inflatable in the anus and expand it as much as the dildo in the vagina will allow. On all fours, double-penetrated, facing the cold, four minutes. You can use the thong to keep them from slipping out. Meanwhile, quietly for yourself, go over everything you did today: exposure, clit, fingers, plug. Once the time is up, remove the dildo from the vagina without changing position, pump the inflatable’s bulb twice all the way, and hold on for another four minutes with only the ass full, repeating the list again. At the end, remove the inflatable and take a photo of the open holes. Since I won’t be in the chat anymore, compare that photo with yesterday’s in a before-and-after collage, add a comment about the evolution of the opening, and send it to my email. I’ll read it first thing in the morning and organize the next meeting.”
It was close to four-thirty and my ass was asking for more, so I set myself to obey. I used saliva to lubricate the realistic dildo —it seemed appropriate to me— and I recorded that part. I knelt on the bed and braced myself on the mattress to push it deeper: I felt again how it opened me, how it speared me, stretching my pussy. I leaned forward, held it firmly with my right hand, and with my ass in the air toward the cold air, I penetrated my anus with the inflatable. I started expanding it and felt it widen against the silicone rod that was already filling my vagina. With my face against the bed I went over everything from the afternoon in my mind, and going over it excited me as much as it made me ashamed.
When the time was up, I put the camera under me and captured the exact moment: the vagina expelling the big dildo and my hand squeezing the bulb to open the anus even more. I stayed there for a while, languid, with my ass packed full, a few extra minutes, because I love feeling full and open. Then I let the air out of the inflatable, removed it, and sat up for the photo, leaning forward like the day before. I compared it with the image saved in the gallery: the opening was more noticeable in the second one. I’m sure he’s going to be pleased and that he’s preparing bigger things for me and for this greedy ass.
And this, I know, was only the beginning.