Of Anal Concubines: Training Begins
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(Readers, kindly note: The following is a maledom BDSM fantasy that depicts consenting adults engaged in anal sadism and masochism, humiliation, and exhibitionism.)
To my gracious and distinguished colleagues, once more I extend my humble greetings.
With regard to the anecdote most recently related, regarding the acceptance of a certain supplicant to the Temple and her encounter with its Grand Master, I once more offer my gratitude for your enthusiastic correspondence. Indeed, the Temple has kindly welcomed my interest in this particular supplicant, with the condition that I never reveal her identity, save for the fact that, like so many who enter the Temple, she is a scion of one of the capital’s most illustrious families. Therefore, in response to the archivists, indexers, and members of the press who have written to request a designation for reference to this case, I shall henceforth refer to her as C.
Herewith I offer a description of C’s eventful first day in the Temple, which I believe to be broadly similar to the experiences of most Temple trainees–with one rather alarming difference.
As previously described, the atrium of the Temple is a great round room, topped with a stained-glass dome; at the sides, two staircases curve up from its inlaid marble floor to its second storey. C later related to me that she, still naked and dripping after the Grand Master deigned to use her bottom, somehow made her way up to the High Trainer’s office, where she was received with little remark. The High Trainer was an older woman in a high-necked gray robe; on her belt she carried keys, gloves, and a short, stiff whip.
“Yes, child,” said the High Trainer to C, whose wide eyes were inexorably drawn to that nasty little implement. “Note it well. Here we teach with pain as well as pleasure, and your many infractions will be punished swiftly and thoroughly. I trust that a crop or paddle will surely bite your flesh before the day is out. Now, have you any personal effects?”
“As you see,” replied C, flushing pinkly; she wore not a stitch, her simple garment having been trampled and, seemingly, cleared away by those who had watched her ravishment.
“Nothing? Most suitable. No, never cover yourself,” the High Trainer said, administering two swift slaps to the girl’s arms, when she tried to hide her sore pink nipples and the lacy hair of her pussy. “Your charms are for others to enjoy, now. I’ll warn you once only: never, ever dare to touch that,” she pointed, “your disregarded place.”
She turned to a minor functionary. “We’ll put her in the usual dormitory. For now, cleanse her, groom her. Her formal training begins tomorrow.”
“Follow,” the man told C, and moved away so swiftly that the girl must trot to keep up.
Down a hall, through an anteroom: a door opened before C with a suck of air, washing her with steam; the functionary showed her into a great tiled room, candlelit and heavy with warmth, where several young women, as naked as herself, sat or lounged by a great sunken pool. Of C they took little notice.
The functionary pointed to the pool, from which steam curled upward. “Wash,” he ordered, then disappeared through the same door, making the candle flames bend behind him.
Ill at ease, C crept forward to address the nearest girl, a lovely, creamy-skinned creature sitting against a column and trailing one hand in the hot water. “Are–are you an anal concubine?” C asked in an awed whisper.
The girl regarded her with great dark eyes. “Not yet,” she replied. “This is the supplicants’ bathing room.”
“Ah. So you are newly arrived, too?”
A shrug. “No. My training is nearly finished.”
“Ah. Might you tell me…why did you come to the Temple?” C asked, greatly daring.
“Why did you?” the girl countered. “Why did any of us? Because we need this, don’t we. All of it.” Those languid eyes slid behind C, to the door, just as a puff of cold air prickled C’s back. “As you’ll now discover.”
“You’re not in the bath,” said the functionary from behind, and guiltily C turned to him, cringing as she realised her disobedience. “Right, then, girl. Hands and knees.”
Out of nowhere, he produced a narrow paddle, and C gave a little scream. Raw instinct gripped her, made her dodge away, but the man seized her handily and administered three hard swats to her poor behind.
“Now,” said the nameless functionary, tossing her bodily over a bench, “you’ll take this like a good girl.” And before C could cry out, he opened his robe and shoved his hard cock past the little ring of her anus, already slick and sore from the Grand Master’s güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri attentions, and halfway up her rectum.
Eyes and lips wide with shock, C gripped the bench, endeavouring to bear this sudden, unceremonious use of her bottom. Not half an hour ago, her body had been innocent of any man’s touch, and now—
Half panicking as the man speared her to the root, his hips clapping against her flaming arse, C looked wildly about the tiled room. The other girls ignored her plight—except for the girl she’d spoken to. Those lovely dark eyes were indeed watching, half-lidded, and the sensual mouth wore a tiny smile–but C could not speculate the reason, could think of nothing but this savage invasion, the fiery stretch, the spreading sting of her own arousal. To be so brutally used—
“Ah,” the man said, and C felt both relief and a creeping dismay as he released his seed inside her. “Mm. Tight little whore. Now, girl: wash!”
His cock tore out of her bottom, leaving her raw and wet and shaking. The functionary was gone when she looked up, and not daring a moment’s further delay, she pulled herself on trembling limbs and slipped into the bath. She hissed as the piping hot water licked at her hurting bottom and swollen pussy, aching now with need.
“They don’t tell us their names,” commented the dark-eyed girl as C began to soap herself. “They just use us, anytime they like.” Her lazy smile grew wider. “Rather delicious, don’t you find?”
“I…” C dropped her eyes. How could she tell this girl that her heart was still pounding, that she longed more than anything to stroke her fingers into the place that both Grand Master and High Trainer had forbidden her to touch?
But the girl slipped down into the water and was soon bobbing at C’s side, so close that C gave a little gasp of surprise. “I know,” the girl murmured, reaching out under the water to circle C’s narrow waist. “I too enjoy punishment sex. Too much.”
“Punishment sex?” C reeled, a little dizzy, and growing more confused as the girl’s hands slipped over her skin, skimming the soap away.
“Oh, yes.” A sly grin spread on that beautiful face. “It is one of the ways they twist us. I assure you, darling, soon you will crave anal punishment.
“Now, harken. You must never touch your disregarded place. Not even to clean yourself–except quickly, with a ladle of water. If they catch you doing more, you will regret it, I promise,” the girl said, and pressed C’s nipples softly so that she moaned. “But it is most difficult at first to obey, so let me help, darling. I will wash your sweet little arse for you.” And the girl reached down and slipped her slender fingers into C’s bottom.
C whimpered with embarrassment, her face afire as the girl touched her, penetrated her. Gentle tugs on her nipples, nuzzling kisses on her neck, tiny nibbling bites on her earlobe. But nothing, oh, nothing was done for her untouched pussy, so warm and full under the water.
“Do not fear,” the girl whispered, hoisting C’s body upward so she half-lay, half-floated on tiled steps. “You’re doing well. I will kiss your bottom, bring you there.” And the girl parted C’s round buttocks and bent her dark head to lap at C’s sore anus.
C’s back arched off the tiles, her long hair waving in the water, as the girl’s little pink tongue darted and licked into her hole, grown so tender and soft with hard sexual use. But this was something else entirely, pure sensation, wriggling delight, centered on that clever little mouth tucked so firmly between the tight cheeks of her bottom. But oh, her poor cunt, open now to the tiled ceiling, and so hot that the steamy air felt chill on her wet flesh…Her clitoris, seeming to jut obscenely like a tiny cock, needing just one pull, gods, even a sharp slap would do…
The girl’s tongue stabbed at her anus, wrenching her attention from her disregarded place. Gods, how long could a tongue be? It seemed to violate her deeply, to seek and find and caress the soul hidden somewhere in her trembling body. And her nipples, ah, such vicious pinching ought to hurt her terribly, but—
Something large was pressing into her rectum. C gazed down blearily to see that the girl had plucked one of the thick candles from its sconce and was now pushing it up her bottom, still licking avidly at her anus as it stretched over the smooth wax. C let out shuddering gasps as the girl forced the candle deeper, then tugged at it, examining with evident delight the way C’s ring clung to the candle on the way out, tight and pink and supple.
The girl met C’s eyes, her smile knowing, güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri and cranked the candle hard in C’s bottom. And C climaxed with a yelp, helplessly, her untouched pussy throbbing and releasing a delicate jet of fluid onto the girl’s parted lips.
“Very pretty,” the girl murmured, smiling, then touched her tongue to the liquid. “The Masters enjoy it when we can’t help but squirt. Or pee ourselves.” She giggled. “They don’t really care which.”
C only panted, trembling as the girl drew out the candle and gathered her into her arms. “Hush now, darling,” she crooned into C’s ear. “You’re a good girl, I can tell. A very good girl. You will learn quickly.”
At length a different functionary appeared, gesturing, and all the girls in the room rose to follow. C clung to the dark-haired girl’s hand, still unsteady, as they passed into another warm, tiled room—this one with a line of cleverly designed spigots and nozzles arrayed along one wall, the metal shining clean, and a strong scent of herbs and citrus in the air. “Time for our enemas,” the other girl said with a smile as several men in rubber aprons approached, one for each girl.
What followed was a series of harrowing moments, plucked from either fantasy or nightmare. C felt herself near to fainting more than once as a gloved man cleansed her most intimately. He was gentle enough with her body, but C nearly wept to feel the rush of warm water in her bowels, violating her more deeply than anything else had done; his soothing strokes on her back and belly made her feel like a little beast, hitched to the wall by the implement in her rectum. And being made to release the water was the worst of all, even though the strong scent of citrus and herbs covered the worst of her humiliation. Still, she counted herself lucky, for she saw that one of the other girls was being made to take a cock while she retained, his gloved hands still stroking her slightly swollen belly even as he rode her bottom. C had to avert her eyes from the poor girl’s face, flaming red and straining somewhere between embarrassment and ecstasy.
C had no chance to ask the dark-haired girl if she had ever suffered that ordeal, for C was summarily whisked away by the same man who had cleansed her. Soon she found herself in a small room with a low, padded table, upon which she was made to lie as the man painfully stripped the hair from her pussy, leaving her bare and soft in the manner of the other supplicants. C did weep then, but he carefully tended her affronted flesh with cold cloths, which helped. Soon the man was pouring warm oil over her skin; he fell to rubbing her muscles deeply.
“Who are you?” C murmured after a time, half asleep under his ministrations.
“Your Body Servant,” he answered as his strong fingers kneaded her back. “Not your own servant, you understand. Your body’s. It is my task to see that your body remains healthy and lovely, fit to work hard here at the Temple, free of distractions that might hinder you from learning well–and quickly. Your year of training will be over before you know it.”
“Only a year,” C mused. “It seems so short a time.”
“Suffice to say: a single year will do beautifully for a girl who is meant to become an anal concubine, but ten years will never be enough for one who is not.”
C frowned, her cheek against the table’s softness. “So, many girls do not complete the training.”
“Most girls, I would say.” Her Body Servant pressed into her shoulders, releasing the tension there. “If they lack true passion for the act, the rigors of constant anal use will prove too much for them. If they believe themselves too fine to properly submit …if they are inattentive to the philosophical teachings…if they display a tendency to coarseness: all of these and more are reasons my charges have fled the Temple in the end. Or been ejected.” He swept his oiled hands down her spine.
“I see.” C weighed his words carefully. Unbidden, the visage of the Grand Master arose in her mind. Greying, so terribly handsome, his eyes seeming to twinkle down at her on the floor, where she’d lain after he finished using her. He would enjoy her again in one year’s time, he told her, “if you persevere in your training.” He’d said she had great potential.
“Does the Grand Master usually, ah, attend to the supplicants…personally?” C ventured, her face flaming, though she hardly knew why.
“Ah, so you’re that supplicant,” the Body Servant said, then laughed. “Never. He never does that. And usually the supplicants are made to wait for many hours. You were lucky he noticed güvenilir bahis şirketleri you, let alone sodomized you in the atrium for all to see.”
C pressed her lips, remembering the weight of dozens of pairs of eyes as the Grand Master’s cock speared her. “Why me, then?”
“I haven’t an earthly idea. A passing whim, for all I can fathom.”
She shifted. “I came with a scholar. Madame A, if you’ve heard that name. She was to observe me and report her findings.”
He paused a moment. “That could be it. The Grand Master has been known to antagonise the scholarly classes. They’ve not been kind to the Temple in the past, claiming that we prey upon young women, abuse them. Belike he meant to shock her. Drive her out.”
Unseen, C smiled into the smooth sheet. “We shall see.”
“So, my girl. Let us speak now of particulars, not mysteries. How many times has your bottom been used today?”
“Thrice,” C answered, sounding rather pert to her own ears.
“Wrong,” her Body Servant said. His oily fingers dipped into the cleft of her buttocks, swiped firmly against her anus. “Four times. Lift your bottom, girl, and thank me properly for your grooming.”
“Yes, sir,” C said, her heart bounding. To be used yet again!
He mounted the table, straddled her legs, and eased up her arse with a groan. His cock was thick enough to make C bite her lip, and its length, reaching far up into her bowels, left her breathless–with a hint of sweet pain where it speared her most deeply.
“Yes,” laughed her groom, seeing her wince. “I’m notorious for bumping the corner. I don’t mind telling you…I enjoy working this monster of mine into our newest recruits, especially after I’ve oiled up their little bottoms.” He pressed a little deeper still, making C moan aloud. “And it’s good training for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” she answered, savouring the slippery tightness, the hot shame of her humiliation and submission to this man who used her so casually–even the sharp stretch of his cock in her sore bottom. “Gods, thank you. Oh…”
After spilling his hot seed, her Body Servant reverted to tenderness, smoothing a cool cream well into her rectum; he then wrapped her in a thick blanket and carried her, drowsing. They passed into what was essentially a dormitory, for all that it was elegantly appointed, hung with pearl-pink silks and fitted with fine mirrors that reflected the creamy light of many candles. He set her carefully down on one of the five beds; in the others, girls were already sleeping.
“It has gone midnight,” he whispered as he tucked her in. “You need your rest for tomorrow. Ah, I nearly forgot,” he said, and slid open the drawer of her little vanity. “You’re to wear this at night.” And he held up a slender rod of glass. “To soothe your bottom, and to train you.”
The plug was thicker than C would have liked, but she consented to allow her groom to slip it snugly inside; its cool weight was indeed soothing in her thoroughly used anus. “Rest well, lovely one,” he said as her eyes slid closed.
But in the small hours, after the candles had burned low, C awakened to find a figure standing over her bed in the dimness, arms folded, unmoving. It was the Grand Master, and his eyes narrowed severely at her look of surprise.
“Report to me,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice, “tomorrow at sundown. You require special punishment.” Upon which astonishing pronouncement, the Grand Master turned on his heel and stalked out of the dormitory, leaving C alone with her heart thundering in her ears.
All this, respected colleagues, I have faithfully reported exactly as it was told to me by C herself. She has yet to reveal to me the nature of that meeting with the Grand Master, nor indeed whether she fled the Temple in fear of him–though I dare to doubt it. I await further contact from C with bated breath, and pledge expeditiously to report the next segment of her story as soon as it is furnished to me.
All that now remains is to note that, as the Body Servant observed, the hallowed halls of Academia have indeed portrayed the Temple in a largely negative light, until now. My sole comment upon this unfortunate history is as follows: After considering the undeniable fact that these particular scholars–whose sensationalist denunciations of the Temple are, in fact, their only publications of note–were neither what one might term personally appealing, nor possessive of financial means that might furnish access to the Temple’s offerings, any careful scholar may comfortably infer that said animosity stems not from firsthand accounts by primary sources, id est, the anal concubines themselves, but rather from what the celebrated slave’s fables so memorably describe as “sour grapes.” I herewith leave any further consideration upon this matter to you, esteemed colleagues. Until the next despatch, I remain yours, et cetera, Madam A.
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