4 comments/ 24092 views/ 3 favorites Cindy's Training Ch. 01 By: Ton8ty Chapter 01 – So Close * Dear Reader: This chapter of Ron and Cindy's exploration of D/s does not have any mind-blowing, thundering orgasms or hot rigid cocks spurting ropes of cum all over whatever your favorite target is, however, it is background material that is essential for your understanding and appreciation of the characters and situations that they find themselves in when the hot and heavy sex erupts in the following chapters. So, please take the time to wade through this chapter so I won't be bombarded with e-mail questions about subsequent chapters that I have carefully tried to explain in this introduction. Thank you. Note: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. She slouched in the chair, shoulders hunched forward and chin buried on her chest. Her body looked as if it had been carelessly flung down and then deflated. Bare arms hung loosely over the sides of the comfortable armchair. Her eyes were puffy and streaks ran down her cheeks, continuing down her chest and curling around into the hollow between her breasts before disappearing into the band of her bra. The TV across the room was on, but unnoticed, and the Mountain Dew on the side table hadn't been touched. At that moment, the young woman in the chair looked much older than her twenty-four years. It had been a bad day. Her favorite professor had gone to great lengths to warn all his students that a career in Criminal Justice would not always be easy, but nothing he'd said had prepared her for this day. She couldn't get the visions of the tow-headed little boy out of her mind. In one he was lying on a hospital bed that was so big that it made his little 4 year old body look even tinier. One arm was encased in a cast and his fractured skull was completely wrapped in bandages. However, the earlier image, caught through the telephoto lens pointed into the dirty window of the rundown house, was the horror that she couldn't shake. She was at the monitor when the boy's supposed father picked him up by the arm and slammed his defenseless little body into the wall. Her skin crawled as the images replayed in her mind Then there was the blur of images that followed. She had been out of the van and running toward the house before her surveillance partner had any chance to react. There was a vivid image of the moment that she had the bastard in her sights in the filthy living room – her eyes locked on his – pleading silently for him to do something that would justify her pulling the trigger. The look on her face challenged him – dared him – to make a move, to do something, anything. But the son of a bitch had waited until her partner burst into the house before he reacted. Then it was too late. She had been so close to shooting her first person. She had been so close to killing another human being. Her mind reeled; the shock of what she had almost done still hadn't fully set in. And the fear lurked deep in the recesses of her mind that she would have done it. Then there had been the chaos: wrestling the drunken perp to the floor while trying to keep the flailing bodies away from the little boy crumpled against the wall, the back-up units finally arriving to finish the job, the EMTs working over the child, the blood and the grime and the mess. Now there was one tiny, broken child in intensive care, two older children in state care, a bereaved mother, strung out on pills, alone in a squalid shack and a drunken father in the holding cell looking at ten to fifteen years for something that he probably will have no recollection of ever doing. But, this wasn't his first trip to the drunk tank. And not the first time one of her kids had been hospitalized. This time, however, they had everything the DA would need to put the creep away for a long time. This time they wouldn't have to rely on the kids' flakey mom to testify. The stake-out had taken long hours and intense dedication, but this time the evidence was captured on video and couldn't be blackmailed into not testifying. This time they had nailed him red handed. Signed, sealed and delivered! But, if it was all over, why couldn't she feel any sense of accomplishment? Satisfaction? Relief? Why did she feel so drained and empty? The knock on the door jolted the woman in the chair as if she had been shocked. She rose to her feet and had taken one step toward the door when she realized who it had to be. Her heart sank even further into the depths of despair when she remembered that she had promised to meet Ron for dinner. They had gone out on vanilla dates twice in the almost three weeks since he had shown her and everyone else at Jack and Laura's her submissive side. She glanced through the peephole in her front door and saw his tall handsome figure in the lens. Her heart stopped. Desperately, she tried to think over what options she had. She couldn't claim that she wasn't home; her cruiser was parked out front in her reserved space. Her head spun, her entire body shook, and the tears started to flow anew. She had no choice but to open the door and beg him for mercy. She had failed him! She waited until he raised his arm to knock a second time and slowly opened the door, peeking around the edge, hiding her nakedness behind it. He just stood there examining the tears pouring down her cheeks until she realized that she had to invite him in. Slowly, she opened the door wider, staying behind it, until he could step into her small apartment. She let the door close itself behind him, wrapped her arms around her chest and sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Ron, I…" "Silence!" His voice had that familiar command presence to it that she hadn't heard since that Saturday when he had awakened her hidden nature. She looked up to meet his glare and he transfixed her with his deep green eyes. With nothing more than a look, he pinned her soul just as an entomologist would pin an insect to his collection board. Without further thought, she slowly sank to her knees in front of him, her head bowed, knees apart and her hands at her sides. She shook violently and the tears ran off her chin onto the carpet below. She desperately tried to control her sobbing, but failed again. "I told you to be silent." He said the words firmly, but not harshly, leaving no doubt that it was a command. She struggled, holding her breath until she almost blacked out. But she finally managed. The sobbing had ended, but she still shook violently. Her sinuses drained through her nose and the mucus ran down over her lips to merge with her tears. Standing behind her, silent and motionless, he watched her battle for control, patiently allowing her time to compose herself. What am I going to do? How can I let him do this to me? How can this possibly feel right? He had never been inside her apartment before. Looking around the neat, tidy home, he smiled inwardly. Leaving her where she knelt, he stepped across the living room and switched off the TV. A deathly quiet hung in the air, broken only by her gasping as she struggled for air. He noticed her uniform shirt and body armor on the dining table. Her belt and pistol had been carefully wrapped and placed on the side table near the door to the bedroom. A box of tissues on the table beside her chair caught his eye and he took a small handful back to where she knelt. Bending over, he took a few tissues and gently wiped her face. Then he held the remaining tissues under her nose. "Blow." She blew her nose long and hard. Glancing up towards him, she started to voice her thanks until he gently pressed his finger to her parted lips. Instead of saying anything, she kissed the finger that robbed her of her voice… and her will. Lowering her head again, she continued the struggle to compose herself. Gradually, she was winning. How can he be so kind and yet so demanding? What is it that requires me to completely surrender my will to his? He found the trash can where he expected - under the sink in the kitchen - and disposed of the soaked tissues. Stepping back into the living room, he gazed down at her, kneeling by the door, her earlier tremors now reduced to shivers. "Come here, Pet," he demanded calmly. She struggled to her feet, abruptly aware of how exhausted she really was and stumbled toward him, regaining her balance as she came. He watched her cross the room, admiring her inner beauty. Even with her face red and puffy from crying, and her sturdy young body dressed in a plain white bra, uniform pants and black shoes, he found her very attractive. As she approached him, he handed her the rest of her outfit from the table. "Put these away." She took the shirt and armor and headed into her bedroom. He followed, taking in the neat, feminine décor for the first time. After she draped her vest over its stand in the corner and hung up her shirt, she stood in front of her closet, unsure of what to do. "Strip." Her eyes pleaded with him desperately, but he merely stood before her impassively. When she slowly brought her hands to the front of her pants, her fingers shook so badly that she couldn't unfasten the button. Oh, please, Sir. Don't make me. I don't have anything left to give! Without a word, he stepped close to her and reached between her useless fists. The tears were again flowing across her cheeks. Gently undoing the button and carefully lowering the zipper, he stepped back and left her to the rest of the task. She dropped to one knee and untied one shoe and then the other. Slipping them and her anklets off one at a time, she rose back up and dropped her pants to the floor, stepping out of them. Hesitating as if she was uncertain what to do next, she stood before him, dressed only in her bra and plain white cotton panties. Her head hung down and her shoulders sagged forward in resignation. She gasped when she saw him kick off his loafers and reach for his belt. How can he? I can't do it. Not now. Not after the day that I've had. "Hang your clothes up, Pet," he said as he walked into her bathroom, leaving her to her chore. She scrambled to put away her shoes and hang up her pants. She was standing before the closet when he returned from the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt. "All of it," he said and there was no doubt as to what he meant. Resigned to her fate, she unfastened her bra, letting the straps slide off her shoulders and catching the cups as they fell away from her firm breasts. She had done this for him once before, she considered, so, why was it so difficult this time? She held the bra in one hand while she slipped her panties down her legs and off her feet. Finally, she stood naked before him with her dirty underwear hanging from her hand. Her eyes were dull and almost lifeless, her face now emotionless. She barely reacted when he slid his pants and underwear off and added them to the shirt on her bed. "Lead the way," he ordered, gesturing her toward the bathroom. She stumbled through the door, in a confused daze, and dropped her underwear in the hamper. His hand guided her to a spot by the wall near the shower. Opening the door and reaching in, he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature as it warmed up. Once to his liking, he held the door for her to enter. She stepped in and was startled when he followed her. Oh, my God! What is he doing? I've never shared a shower with a man! The shower stall was big enough for one person, but a little confined for two. He readjusted the stream of hot water cascading from the shower head and, with his hand resting gently on the base of her neck, guided her head under the flow. He held her there, letting the hot water soak her short brunette hair and pour down her aching body. When she tried to reach toward her head, he gently pressed her arms back down to her sides. With her head tilted forward, he guided it around until the stream of water had beaten evenly on her entire scalp. Then he gently turned her around, rinsed a washcloth and wrung it out. Turning the shower spray toward the wall, he tilted her chin up, brushed her hair back from her forehead with his fingers and gently wiped her face with the damp cloth. She opened her eyes and looked deeply into his. Completely confused, she let him know with her look that she would no longer resist anything he demanded of her. She was now totally lost. He dispassionately noted the change in her and reached for the shampoo. Squirting a generous portion directly onto her hair, he returned the bottle to its shelf and began to work the lotion into her hair, taking care that none escaped down her forehead. As his strong fingers worked the lather deep into her scalp, she felt a mountain of cares fall from her shoulders. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. That does feel good. He turned the spray of hot refreshing water back onto her head and thoroughly rinsed her hair. Deflecting the stream further down and to the side, he turned her around, facing away from him and squeezed a dollop of conditioner onto her head. As he methodically worked the lotion into her hair, she eased herself back until her body nestled against his solid frame. She delighted in being this close to him. So close. Satisfied with her hair, he reached around her and squirted a generous amount of her fragrant body wash onto the pouf. He washed her arms, one at a time, and let them drop back to her sides when he was done. Then he gently bent her forward and ran the pouf across her shoulders a number of times, letting the cleanser cascade down her back. Turning her so that her left shoulder was almost touching the corner of the shower at the door, he used the pouf in his right hand to methodically wash the front of her while his bare left hand used the foam spilling down her back to simultaneously clean her other side. She was trapped between two strong, sensuous hands gliding across her exhausted, aching body on slick soapy films. When the pouf reached her breasts, her head tilted back involuntarily and her back arched to press her sensitive flesh further into the delightful feelings that were washing over her. As much as she silently pleaded, he didn't linger on her firm mounds that now suffered a different ache, instead moving downward toward her waist, across her belly and her back. This is heavenly! I could let him do this to me for the rest of eternity. She was momentarily startled when the delightful hands continued below her waist. Her body stiffened until she recalled her pledge: she would not resist. She fought to relax when one hand roamed across a firm cheek and the other over her mons. They both kept up their steady downward progress, washing her hips and her ass cheeks. When a hand ventured into her cleft and the pouf curled under her pussy to meet it, she closed her eyes, her knees opened of their own accord and her body responded by thrusting her hips forward and back. Any shreds of modesty that she thought she might have left were gone. And, after his hands had moved on, she tried to cling to the sensations that had shot through her core under their touch. He cleaned down one leg, lifting her foot and then repeated the motions for the other leg. All too soon, she was guided back under the refreshing spray and thoroughly rinsed, his wonderful hands again sweeping purposefully over her flesh. When he turned off the water, she gracefully pivoted around and tried to wrap her arms around his neck, only to suffer more confusion and disappointment when he again pushed her arms back to her sides and eased her body away from his. Her eyes flew open and her look of outrage was met by his steady glare. Quickly realizing her mistake, she melted back into the wall of the shower and dropped her head, trying to express her apology through her demeanor. Satisfied for the moment, he opened the shower door and reached out to grab one of the bath towels that he had laid on the edge of the sink. As she started to reach for the towel, he lifted it just out of her reach. Again, she recognized her error and quickly dropped her hands back to her sides. Why is this so hard for me to learn? Why do I constantly let him down? The tears started again, but this time he was there to gently dry them away and she had herself back under control promptly. He gently guided her toward him until she was standing painfully close. Her body ached to press into his and allow her to lose herself in his strength. But it wasn't to be and she resigned herself to the thrilling sensations of his ministrations. He briskly fluffed her hair dry with the towel before letting the terry fabric wrap around her nakedness. Again he used one hand on her front and one on her back to efficiently run the towel across her skin. He worked steadily, pausing at her breasts and her pussy much too briefly for her liking. The rough cloth slid across her partially erect nipples, sending delicious sensations flooding her nervous system. She allowed a frustrated moan to escape her lips and quickly turned her eyes to meet his expected glare, but he didn't respond. He must have ignored the sound and she mischievously flirted with the idea of carefully exploring her non-spoken vocal limits. This man is so good to me! Wrapping the towel around her head, turban style, he gently guided her out of the shower. He told her to finish drying her hair. Stepping out of the stall behind her, he dried himself with the other towel he had laid out. Pulling her hairbrush and hair dryer out of the vanity, she blew the remaining moisture out of her hair. Her hair was thick and rich, but, since she kept it cut short, it was dry in just a few minutes. Ron had taken her towel from where she had draped it across the toilet and, after she sprayed on her deodorant, she tentatively peeked out of the bathroom door to find that he had spread the towel across her bed. "Come here, Pet." Surprisingly, she felt almost ready to give him anything that he wanted of her. So close. She stepped confidently into the bedroom only to be surprised yet again when he slipped his dark grey boxer-briefs up over his half-erect cock and wrapped his towel around his waist. The look of consternation on her face must have amused him, because he smiled broadly. "You look so beautiful, Pet. Lie down on the towel. On your belly," he instructed, "and close your eyes." She did as she was told and waited. She heard him in the bathroom briefly and then the bed shifted under his weight. He said that I looked beautiful. What a sweet man. SMACK! The sharp sound occurred at the same instant that a searing jolt of pain shot from her ass to her brain. She flinched and let an involuntary, "Ow!" escape her lips. Then she cringed, expecting the next slap. But, it never came. What did I do to deserve that? Oh! I know! Maybe he's trying to teach me that silence doesn't mean no noise at all. Hmmm. She heard the click of a plastic bottle cap opening and something cool was squirted across her shoulders and down her spine. The sound of another squirt that didn't result in any more coolness on her skin made her wonder until she realized that the other sound she heard was his hands rubbing together. When he laid his hands on her shoulders and began to slide them easily across her skin, leaving a cool sensation where they had passed, she realized that he was moisturizing her skin. He began to massage the lotion into the muscles of her neck and she let her body go completely limp, giving in to his strong hands as they absorbed all the tension that had accumulated over the recent days. Then they continued their therapy on her back, dragging the stiffness out of the long suffering muscles there. Cindy's Training Ch. 01 But, sobbing is not allowed. This could be trickier than I thought. She smiled at her clever deductions, but decided that she had better not push her luck. Working his way down her torso, he applied more moisturizer as he went. His hands kneaded the fleshy globes of her ass, soothing the sting that his palm had left on the one, and sending flashes of energy shooting through her jangled nervous system. Working down the backs of her thighs, he ran his thumbs down their tender insides. Her legs spread themselves apart giving him better access; it wasn't something that she consciously willed. His fingers worked deep into the stiffness in her thighs and calves. The aching muscles complained at first, but she fought to ignore the shooting pains, knowing that he would make them go away. What did I do to deserve this? Would he still do this for me if he knew what sort of person I really am? Then he arrived at her feet and she felt her first taste of euphoric bliss. He skillfully massaged, poked, rubbed, kneaded and moisturized her tired, sore feet until they tingled. She could feel the blood rushing to parts of her dogs that only hours ago had been howling. The long days that she had spent on the stakeout had punished them sorely and his magic hands set them free. Quiet mewling sounds escaped from her lips; she wasn't testing her silence limits, she hardly even realized that she was making them. At that moment in time, her mind was far away. But, as in all good things, it came to an end. His voice dragged her back to the present. "Roll over, Pet." She languidly complied with his order, forcing her body to roll over on the towel. As she arranged herself comfortably, she suddenly realized that she hadn't made the effort to shave her pussy in the time that she had been stalking the abuser. She gasped, her body froze and her hands flew to cover the coarse, dark stubble that she knew would displease him. Her eyes flew open to find his steadily boring into her soul. Nothing was said; they maintained eye contact for what seemed to be an eternity, his stern gaze fixed on her panic stricken brown orbs. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as she slowly dropped her arms back to her sides. I failed him again. And there's nowhere I can hide. Oh, please forgive me, Sir! "I told you to close your eyes." Damn! Damn! Damn! Why can't I remember the simplest thing? His hands gently worked at spreading the moisturizer up her legs towards the source of her embarrassment. Her body involuntarily tensed as his touch reached her womanhood and then melted when he stroked his long fingers over the offending stubble, evenly coating her pussy with the lotion. The severely conflicting emotions that whirled around her brain almost made her dizzy: pleasure, anguish, shame, delight, fear, desire. She vaguely took notice of the heat within her that battled with the cooling lotion. She didn't realize just how close she was at that instant. So close. All too soon, his hands moved on, sliding easily over her hips and belly, across her ribs and gently over her firm round breasts. Her nipples were harder than they had been in ages, standing proudly erect and oh so sensitive. But, the hands, that made her willing to do anything to please him, again moved on, sweeping across her collar bones and departing off her shoulders. She lay there for moments after his weight had left the bed, savoring the delightful feelings that enveloped her. So close. Anything he wants. No doubts, no reservations. "Let's get moving, Pet. You need to get dressed for dinner." Her eyes flew open to see him buttoning up his shirt. Total confusion flooded her brain. This was about the last thing that she had expected. He already had his pants and shoes on. What is he doing to me? Why is he doing this to me? The look in his eyes subtly began to change and she abruptly realized that she was in danger of again displeasing him. She leapt from the bed and hurried to her dresser only to draw up short in a quandary. She turned to him and started to ask him what she should wear, only to snap her mouth shut a scant instant before she made yet another blunder. The look she flashed him could not have been mistaken for anything but panic. "Dress for casual dining. You would look lovely in a blouse and skirt," he casually instructed. Cindy collected herself and opened her lingerie drawer. There they were - on top of all her plain white utilitarian underwear - the tiny red lace bra and thong set that she had recently bought just for him. She reached for them and froze. She couldn't allow herself to splurge on expensive frills, her budget was tight enough as it was, so they had been a special treat. And her romantic fantasies had all revolved around how good they would look on her as he peeled off her clothes, not how they would look while he watched her put them on. She almost made up her mind and reached for them only to hesitate again. "Maybe I'll just take you as you are," his voice said casually, but a chill ran down her spine. You wouldn't! Just then, her mind flashed back to that fateful Saturday at Jack and Laura's when he had ordered her to strip. And how she had. And how he had led her into their house and introduced her to everyone, stark naked. It didn't matter that everyone else had been nude, he had commanded her to take off all her clothes and she had acquiesced. Her mind reeled; suddenly she realized that she was powerless to prevent him from doing the same thing again. Her mind made up, she pulled the package from the drawer, fastened the bra around her chest and slid her arms through the straps. She smoothed the flimsy cups over her breasts, running her fingers lightly over the stiff nipples, and noticed in her mirror that he was sitting in her rocking chair across the room, admiring her. Returning to the task at hand, she pulled out the scrap of fabric that matched the bra. Her first thong. Never before had she considered wearing anything so wanton. Even the bottoms of her bikinis covered most of her crack. Carefully putting her feet through the straps, she slid the tiny item up her legs to her waist. Stepping back to get a better view in the dresser mirror, she was shocked at how little it covered. Turning around to see the back, she felt the blush rise in her cheeks. Why am I more embarrassed to wear this than to be naked? "Are those new, Pet?" She looked back at him, a sheepish grin across her face, and nodded. "Very pretty, Pet. You look delicious." She felt the heat rise in her core. Reaching into another drawer, she pulled out a pair of nude pantyhose. "No." Frozen in place, she glanced at him in her mirror. His frown of disapproval reinforced what she thought he had meant. The pantyhose went back into the drawer. Next, she reached into another drawer and selected a nice, light half slip, turning toward him and holding it in front of her. He simply shook his head. Then she modeled her favorite camisole for him and again he shook his head. She felt her anger flare up inside her. She was close to losing it. So close. Well, you might as well take me naked, if you won't let me wear anything I own! He pulled out his cell phone and snapped it open. "I'm going to make our reservations for 7:30. It will take us at least a half hour to get there. That leaves you less than twenty minutes to get ready." He selected a number from the menu and put the phone up to his ear. Cindy felt a sense of panic override her anger. Quickly running through her wardrobe selections in her mind, she eliminated most of it before her dark green pleated skirt came to mind. It was lined and yet light enough for summer wear, but she hadn't worn it in months! Please, Lord, let me still be able to fit into it. She dove into her closet as she heard what she thought was him addressing someone by their first name. Digging through her meager selection of personal clothes, she found what she was searching for. Holding it up, she checked it closely for cleanliness and was relieved to find it wearable. Now, her quandary was what would go with it. The only thing she could think of was her new white blouse, but it was much too sheer to wear without something underneath it. Still, she couldn't think of anything else. Not that wasn't in the cleaners. Finding the blouse on its hanger, she stepped out of her closet and held the blouse and skirt in front of her for his approval. "OK, Henri. That will do nicely," he said into the phone. Snapping it shut, he looked to her and pronounced, "Very nice selection, Pet." She felt a warm glow at his approval and gave him a sincere smile. Henri? He pronounced it like the French would. We're not going to McDonalds. Holding her breath, she slipped her legs into the skirt and slid it up over her hips. First objective accomplished. Sucking her tummy in desperately, she slid the zipper up to the top. Gradually letting out her breath, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the skirt still fit her nicely. Snug, but not too tight. Glancing up to see his reflection in the mirror, she caught what she thought was a smirk on his face. Men! They'll never understand! Hurrying into the bathroom, she quickly applied her usual minimal makeup. Looking at herself in the mirror in the flimsy red bra, she decided to put on just a touch of eye shadow as well. And then some eyeliner. Just a very thin line, nothing excessive. If she was going to have to speak with her eyes tonight, they needed to be properly dressed. Then she brushed out her hair and let it fall naturally around her face. A pair of unobtrusive clips would keep any from straying into her face. Finally satisfied, she hurried out into the bedroom, looking to see his reaction. He looked at her impassively, so she went to her dresser and again pulled out her favorite camisole and held it up in front of the white blouse. Again, he shook his head. She dropped the camisole back in the open drawer and turned to him with the blouse on the hanger. Running her hand up and down the inside of the blouse to emphasize how transparent it was, she pleaded with her eyes for him to reconsider. "That's a very nice blouse, Pet. You'll look delightful in it." When he looked at the time on his cell phone, Cindy finally resigned herself to her fate. She slipped into the blouse and buttoned it up to the neck, horrified at what she could see in the mirror. Her wicked red bra was easily visible through the fine material. As she carefully tucked her blouse in and adjusted her skirt, she decided that she might be able to distract some of the attention from her breasts by unbuttoning just the top two buttons and wearing a necklace. Her jewelry selection was even more limited than her wardrobe, but she did have a nice gold cross and chain that would look good around her neck. The cross would hang right in the V of the blouse. And it might just make her look a little more God-fearing and respectable. She also had a nice gold bangle bracelet that she used to add a bit of color to her outfit. Her comfortable brown flats finished the ensemble. Turning around, she begged for his approval. "Very pretty, Pet. But, don't you have some dressier shoes?" Her initial annoyance rapidly vanished when it dawned on her that, indeed, she did. Diving back into her closet, she hunted in the back until she found the strappy black sandals with the two inch heels that she had almost completely forgotten she owned. She hadn't worn them in ages. It wasn't often that she had the opportunity to dress up. She held them up and showed them to him with a big smile on her face. He smiled back and she knew that she had pleased him. Slipping the shoes on her feet, she skipped over and closed the bedroom door to examine herself in the full length mirror. Twirling around slowly, she carefully examined her attire. I wish I could be wearing more, but what there is does look pretty good. I just hope I don't run into anyone that I know. Mom would have kittens if ever she saw me in this outfit. "That's my girl. I'd take you anywhere in that outfit." Not to church, you wouldn't! "You've even got two minutes to spare." Cindy reached in the drawer of her bedside table and grabbed the holster that held her 9mm PF-9 and put it into her little black purse. She pulled her wallet, cell phone and key ring from her everyday purse and added the little emergency makeup kit as well. On the way out, she removed her badge from her uniform belt and stuffed it in. She caught up with Ron at the front door and he followed her out. His Mini was illegally parked directly behind her cruiser with the top down. Suddenly realizing that she didn't have a hairbrush with her, she stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs. Turning around, she made hair brushing motions to let him know what she had to go back for. "I have one in the car, Pet," he said, turning her back around with his hands on her waist and gently urging her on. She skipped down the stairs, her sandals almost tripping her twice, until she got the feel of skipping on her toes. He was right behind her coming down the stairs and managed to reach the Mini's passenger door at the same time that she did. Graciously opening the door for her, he helped her in. She nestled back into the cool leather of the seat and fastened her seatbelt. Once he had settled into the driver's seat, clipped his cell phone into its holster on the dash, strapped in and started the engine, he pulled out of the parking lot. Turning right, they headed away from town. The hot summer evening sun was still well above the horizon. I wonder where he's taking me. She knew exactly where they were until they crossed the county line, heading east. She still had a fairly good idea of their location until he turned off the main highway and started driving down picturesque, back country roads. Two more turns and she was in unfamiliar terrain. She still could tell from the sun that they were heading in a generally easterly direction, but, other than that, she was lost. She gave up hopes of figuring out where they were going and let herself enjoy the fine weather and the pretty rural landscape. The wind blew through her hair and when she decided to take a risk and lay her hand on his hip, he didn't push it away. His slacks were smooth beneath her fingers and she didn't press her luck by trying to do anything more than let her hand rest gently on his muscular thigh. She realized that she felt a special thrill whenever she was this close to him. So close. I wonder why I feel so safe and secure when I'm with him? The music he had on the stereo was a mix of seductively suggestive jazz songs by the same woman that he had played for her on their second date. That is, their second date since she had accepted her submissive nature. She struggled to remember the singer's name. Diana something. Seems like her name had something to do with swimming. Or… Yes – Krall, that was it, Diana Krall. Cindy had let herself get so involved with remembering the singer's name that she almost missed the sign on the huge stone pillars that he turned between. She sat up straight when she read the metal plaque set in the stone: Idle Creek Country Club. Definitely not McDonalds. He drove down a winding drive lined by mature trees. To the right was the golf course and on the left she could see tennis courts and a swimming pool. The pool wasn't crowded; there were a few adults on the deck and a number of children splashing in the water. Ahead was an imposing stone building fronted by a large white columned portico. Ron pulled the Mini into the parking lot to the right of the building and parked in the first empty spot. Reaching into the center console, he pulled out a hairbrush and handed it to her. She flipped down the visor and opened the lighted mirror. Putting up the top, he rolled the windows part way up as she ran the brush through her hair and checked her makeup. Taking the hairbrush from her, he brushed his thick black hair back from his forehead. He pocketed his cell phone and climbed out of the car, ignoring the chime that warned that the keys were still in the ignition. When he opened her door and offered her his hand, she looked up at him quizzically, pointing to the keys. "It's safe here, Pet. Shall we eat?" They walked across the parking lot at a leisurely pace, arm in arm. She felt a flush of pride steal up across her chest and over her neck. Just being with him made her tingle all over. He guided her up the front steps, through the imposing double doors, the huge ornate foyer and down the hallway to the left. It wasn't until the short, rotund man behind the counter at the doorway of the dining room looked down at her chest that she remembered that she was barely covered. She tightened her grip on Ron's arm and drew strength from him. I can do this. If this is what he wants me to do, I can do it. Her eyes steadily challenged the Maitre d's when he glanced back up from her red bra. She held her chin high and refused to let him intimidate her. He looked away from her to greet Ron by name and then led them through the large room, almost empty of diners, to a booth directly in front of a large picture window that overlooked a part of the golf course. The sun setting behind the tall trees threw long intricate shadows across the neatly manicured grass. It was quietly peaceful and comforting. She opened the fancy menu that the Maitre d' had placed before her on the table and was glancing through the selections when a smartly dressed waitress appeared at the table. "Good evening, Frankie," Ron greeted her, familiarly. "How are the kids?" "Good evening, Mr. Wexler. The kids are growing like weeds and eating me out of house and home," "Are you suggesting that I need to leave a bigger tip?" "Oh, no, Mr. Wexler, you're always more than generous. Can I get you something from the bar?" "I'll have my usual and the lady will have a Shirley Temple," Ron ordered with a wink that only the waitress could see. "Do I need to check her ID?" Frankie asked. "No, she's legal." Oh, Ron. You know I don't drink alcohol. Her eyes begged him to not get her drunk. She couldn't stand the smell of beer and had tried mixed drinks a few times in college only to find that she really dreaded feeling like she was losing control. Once when she had gone out with a few of her girlfriends, they had talked her into one drink too many. She had gotten violently ill and made an ugly mess. The following morning she felt so miserable that she hadn't had a drink since. When he wouldn't catch her eye, she reached across the table and squeezed his hand. He merely squeezed her hand back and continued to peruse the menu. Frustrated, she gave up and began studying her dinner choices. It took a moment for her to realize that there were no prices on the menu. Frankie returned with their drink order and carefully served them both tall glasses on cocktail napkins. Ron's was a clear carbonated drink over ice with a slice of lime in it. Hers was a fizzy orange colored iced drink with a thin layer of some reddish liquid on top and a bright red cherry. A little paper umbrella stuck out of the top. Ron lifted his glass and offered her a salute. She raised her own glass to return the salute, lifting it to her lips when he took a sip from his drink. The decorative umbrella almost poked her in the eye. With a straight face, Ron reached across the table and pulled the hazard out of her glass and placed it on the table. She thought she noticed a twinkle in his eye. Why does he play with me? Am I nothing more than a toy to him? Cindy's Training Ch. 01 When she did take a tentative sip of her drink, she found it a tasty mix of fruit and spice. She could easily identify the orange and cherry flavors, but the other taste teased her palate momentarily until she realized that it was ginger. The soda must be ginger ale, she reasoned. She wondered what the liquor in it was. She didn't taste anything familiar, but, she realized, there were probably lots of liquors that she wouldn't recognize. The drink slipped down her throat easily, but her head told her to be very careful. The last thing she wanted was to get ill in a posh place like this. Frankie was reciting the dinner specials for the evening. When she got to the broiled flounder stuffed with crabmeat, Cindy's eyes lit up. She didn't need to do more, because Ron held up his hand to stop Frankie's patter. "The lady will have the fish with the rice pilaf and brocc…" He paused when Cindy wrinkled her nose. "Can she have the vegetable medley instead of the broccoli?" Cindy beamed her approval. "Certainly, Sir." "OK. I'll have the prime rib with the baked potato and broccoli. You know how I like it, don't you?" "Yes, sir." "And, we'll have the raspberry vinaigrette on the salads, please." "Right away, Sir." She cleared the menus and disappeared. Cindy mimed her awe of the surroundings and then tilted her head quizzically. Ron understood her question and replied, "One of the benefits of working at Parker, Hunter and James. All the full time attorneys get a club membership as part of the employment package. The partners are all avid golfers and go to great lengths to support the club." She then raised her arm, made a motion as if she were swinging a tennis racket and tilted her head again. "I'd love to, Pet, but the doctor that reconstructed my knee in college told me that if I ever came back for another repair as a result of any athletic competition, the next operation would be done without anesthetic. I'm now pretty much limited to biking, swimming and golf. I might be able to get you into some of the club competitions, but it won't be against me." Cindy made an exaggerated pouting face and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. She was beginning to enjoy the silent communication game. Just as she was preparing to act out another question, the salads and fresh bread arrived. Ron waited for her as she bowed her head and said a silent blessing over the meal. When she had finished, they proceeded to eat with gusto. The salad servings were overly generous and she pushed hers aside when it was only half eaten, saving room for the main course. Before he had finished his salad, Frankie was again unloading her serving tray. Cindy was appalled to see that the thick slab of beef on his plate was almost raw. When she was growing up, meat served at her family's dining table had always been well done. His wasn't just a little pink, the center of the cut was red! Ron glanced up to catch her staring at his dinner with her mouth agape. "How's the fish, Pet?" he asked as he cut himself a bite of the prime rib. Snatched back to her senses, Cindy almost blundered by mumbling a standard response, barely catching herself at the last moment. She snapped her mouth shut, abruptly glancing up at him with a look of fear in her eye. Revolted, she watched as he put the piece of raw meat into his mouth and let his face relax into a look of delight. Ordering her stomach to calm down, she turned her attention to the properly cooked flounder. It was delicious. Delicately seasoned and absolutely scrumptious. Both the fish and the stuffing meats were moist and flavorful. After enjoying a few forkfuls, she looked back up at him and let the broad grin on her beaming face answer his question. "I'm glad you like it. The food here has always been excellent." Both of them ate heartily. Cindy was surprised at how hungry she was. Her dining opportunities during the recent stakeout had been limited to sandwiches and an occasional burger, so she wasn't in danger of rupturing a uniform seam with her indulgence. The crispy crusted bread and real butter that Frankie had served them disappeared along with every morsel on her plate. As she leaned back into the comfortably padded booth seat and relaxed after the lovely meal, she realized that she had even finished most of her drink. Oh, no! I'll never be able to waddle in a straight line after this. She watched him dip his last bit of bread into the juices on his plate and pop it into his mouth with a satisfied smile. He looked up at her and grinned. "Mmmmmm, good." She energetically nodded her head in agreement. They sat there for a few moments, staring deeply into each other's eyes before Frankie appeared at the table again. "Was everything to your liking? Care for anything for dessert? We have…" Ron held up his hand and answered, "I don't think we could possibly find room for another bite right now. Could we possibly come back a bit later?" "I sorry sir, but we'll be closing the dining room in just a few minutes. But, if you're in the lounge later and you would like something, the bartender has access to the kitchen refrigerators." "That sounds like a plan," Ron said as he wrote the amount of the tip and signed the chit that she had presented him. "Do you have any idea what is happening in the lounge tonight?" "Oh, yes. I heard the managers talking about a new trio that they are auditioning. They asked them to come in and play a gig tonight as a trial run. I hear that they are quite good." "We'll have to see. I hope that they can play something that normal people can dance to." "Wow. Dinner and dancing? I must really be doing something right. I hope the alcohol doesn't make me feel too giddy." Cindy's eyes were gleaming when he turned his attention back to her. He slipped out of the booth and offered her his hand. She took it with a coquettish smile and slid across the seat to her feet. Firmly grasping his proffered arm, she let her hip brush against his as they walked across the room. This time she carefully ignored the leering Maitre d'. She realized that she always seemed to feel comfortable when she was this close to him. So close. Ron guided her down the fancy hallway for a short way and turned her to the left through the next door. I wonder if it's all the alcohol that is making me feel lightheaded. She casually looked around the dimly lit lounge, paneled in dark wood and dominated by a bar that ran almost the length of the room. A few booths lined the opposite wall and an assortment of small high tables near the bar and larger regular height tables were arranged on the floor. Her eyes lit up when she saw the dance floor in front of the picture windows along the far wall and the stage area in the far corner. The trio on the stage was made up of saxophone, keyboard and drums. The three or four couples on the floor were swinging around briskly to a light jazzy tune. Cindy hugged his arm even closer as he guided her to one of the regular tables just inside the door near the corner of the room opposite the band. He held her chair for her like a gentleman and, after she seated herself, she gave his hand a brief kiss before she released it. He gently squeezed her shoulder and then took the chair across from her. I wonder if I could ever feel truly comfortable in these surroundings. Cindy was stunned when she caught a glimpse of the waitress heading toward them. The tall black girl was dressed…, no, she was wearing a strapless black satin bustier that pushed her sizable breasts up and together on her chest, impossibly tall high heel shoes, black fishnet stockings and a tiny black satin skirt over what must have been panties covered with white ruffles. Her hair was corn rowed with dozens of silver beads woven into the braids that fell around her shoulders. In the dim light, the only thing visible was the whites of her eyes, her gleaming white teeth and her ridiculous panties. And the swaying beads in her hair. As the bar maid gracefully strolled across the room toward them on her stilts, Cindy stared at her openly until she sensed that she was being watched. She turned to catch his eyes on her, his lips turned up in just a hint of a smirk. He's laughing at me again! "Good evening, Mr. Wexler, what can I get for y'all?" she asked in a bit too much of a southern drawl. She pronounced it 'Mistah". Her voice was just a bit too honey smooth. "Looks like you're busy tonight." "For a weeknight, yeah," she replied and waited for an answer to her original question. "I'm driving, Lilah, so I'll have a plain Collins mix and the lady will have a 69er, but, would you ask whoever is working the bar tonight to please serve it in a snifter, if they could." No, Ron. Please, I beg of you, no! No more liquor! I'm already past my limit. "Why, certainly, sir. I think that can be done. I'll be right back." Cindy's pleading eyes did nothing to sway him. She held her almost pitiful gaze on him for the longest time, but he refused to budge. Frustrated and angry, she looked away to the dancers by the windows. Just because he buys it for me doesn't mean that I have to drink the damn stuff. I'll show him! But, the more she watched the dancers moving gracefully around the floor and the more the music worked its magic, the more she wanted to be out there in his arms, moving to the primal urges of the rhythm. She gradually felt her anger melt away. After all, how could she stay angry at a man who had been so wonderful to her? When she turned her head back to look into his eyes, her gaze tried to convey her desire to have his body swaying gently against hers on the dance floor. She didn't have to look down to know that her nipples were already poking out in the flimsy cups of her bra and she was grateful that the dim lighting wouldn't make her arousal obvious to everyone. She reached her hands across the table and he took hers lightly in his. Her fingers glided over his palms, letting the gentleness of the caresses express her affection. They relaxed like that, gazing into each other's eyes until Lilah reappeared with their order. The bar maid smoothly placed the drinks on napkins on the table and Cindy was immediately fascinated by what was placed in front of her. She had never seen a snifter before and the squat stemmed glass with the bulbous globe that narrowed to a small rim at the top instantly piqued her curiosity. And the drink inside it was almost as interesting. All that big glass and there was only a little liquid all the way in the bottom. She picked the glass up by its stem and looked through it. There was at most a quarter inch of clear liquid in the very bottom and another eighth of an inch or so of emerald green liquid floating on top of the clear stuff. She looked quizzically over the top of the drink at Ron, letting her eyes plead for some explanation. "This is a drink that you want to be very careful with, Pet. Just take a little sip at a time and let it ease off the back of your tongue and down your throat. The snifter is designed the way it is so that you can slide your hand underneath it and hold the bowl of the glass in your palm." He took the snifter from her and guided her hand so that her palm was facing up and her middle and ring finger separated. Then, he slid the stem between her open fingers and set the glass onto her palm. She let her hand cup around it and waited for him to continue. "When you swirl the drink around the bottom of the glass, your hand warms it and releases the aromas of the liqueurs. Then you put the glass up to your nose and inhale before you take a sip. That's why it's called a snifter. Give it a try." She had already caught a whiff of mint from the direction of the drink and her curiosity easily overruled any caution that she might have been able to muster. She moved her hand in a gentle circular motion and the liquid flowed thickly around in the bottom of the glass. When she brought the glass to her nose, the incredibly powerful aroma of mint mingled with the rich smell of chocolate. Steeling her nerve, she turned the glass up and let a little of the liquid dribble onto the top of her tongue. She closed her mouth and savored a liquid peppermint patty. The invisible vapors coming from the top of the glass filled her sinuses with the delicious smells as she let the sip ease its way down the back of her throat. It had the consistency of a good cough syrup and warmed her throat all the way down without burning. She felt like her entire head was engulfed in chocolate mint. "Whew!" she said and immediately froze when she realized that she had spoken. She looked into his eyes with a feeling of dread only to see him smile. Slowly willing her suddenly tense muscles to relax, she made up her mind to try something a little more daring. She could always blame it on all the alcohol that he had forced on her. She twirled her drink around the bottom of the glass again and took a larger sip this time. Again the enveloping aroma of chocolate mint teased her brain. This time she sensually ran her tongue over her lips before swallowing the heady mixture. Easing up out of her chair, she smoothly slid around the table and leaned down before him, presenting her moist puckered lips to be kissed. He fell for the bait and set his lips to devouring hers. Her arms slipped around his neck as she really became lightheaded. This man sure knows how to kiss! My God, I think I'm floating." When their lips eased apart, he whispered, "You certainly taste good, Pet. Would you care to dance?" She practically dragged him out of his chair by the neck. He made quite a production of fighting her off until they both dissolved into fits of laughter. Hand in hand, they weaved their way between the tables until they reached the dance floor. There, he took her in his arms and led her onto the floor and into the dance. Cindy was surprised to find that he was a strong dancer with a sure lead. After a moment's hesitation, she gave herself up to him and fell under the spell of the music. The first few tunes that they danced to were a comfortable tempo for stretching their legs and moving gracefully around the floor. He put her through her paces, twirling her around occasionally and allowing her the freedom to let her feet express her joy while he kept them clear of the other dancers. He skillfully showed her off, always in control, but making sure that she was the one in the spotlight. As the other couples either left or moved away from the center of the floor, Ron noticed that they had all the room they needed and he gradually lengthened his step and sped up his turns, swinging her wider and faster as they went. He got the impression that the musicians started playing more to their lead, because the beat seemed to become a bit more insistent and the music a little louder. Her face was aglow, slightly flushed and showing a trace of glistening across her brow and upper lip. The next song was lighter and more sedately paced. He drew her into his arms and they moved effortlessly together. They gazed into each other's eyes for the entire number. Finally, the trio relaxed into a slow, erotic tune that Cindy recognized. They had been listening to it on the ride to the club. Resting her head on his shoulder, she melted into his arms. Her taut nipples bored into his chest and her belly found his. Her thighs moved sensually against his as they swayed to the music. The heat in her body seemed to focus itself in her loins. She hummed along with the music. How appropriate. "All or Nothing at All." What a fitting song for our first dance. I'll remember this moment for the rest of my days. The song came to an end and the musicians announced that they would be back after a short break. Ron and Cindy walked slowly back across the room and they heard a smattering of applause as they passed. When they got back to their table, Lilah was waiting for them. "The boss said y'all earned yourselves a round on the house. What can I get y'all?" "Thank you, Lilah. We'll have two glasses of ice water." "That all, sir?" "That's all." Ron watched the scantily clad bar maid saunter away from the table and commented, "I'll bet that you would look fantastic in an outfit like that, Pet." Cindy had also been watching the girl leave the table with completely different thoughts in her mind. Her head snapped around meet his gaze with a horrified look on her face. Shaking her head vehemently, she held her hands out to her sides, indicating the size of her hips. It wasn't that she had a poor self-image; Cindy was well aware of her shape and it would not look good with silly white ruffles drawing attention to one of the less attractive parts of her body. She often joked with her college classmates that, if she had been a horse, she certainly would not have been a Clydesdale, but then again, she would have been much closer to a quarter horse than an Arabian. On her high school tennis team, she had been third seed in singles, but played first team doubles, where her reflexes and quickness made up for her lack of range. Her broad hips and muscular thighs were ideal for quick bursts of speed, but her legs weren't long enough to cover the entire court by herself. They did, however, hold her in good stead in the FOP gym; few of the male officers on the force could do a full set of squats with their own body weight on their shoulders. And she always enjoyed a personal thrill when a new officer or a visitor would offer to help her load the weights on the leg press machine only to gape when she knocked out three or four sets with 200 lbs. on it. No, from the waist down, Cindy knew that she was more functional than decorative. Ron watched her go through whatever she was thinking and laughed aloud when she crossed her arms in front of herself, crossed her eyes and bent forward in her chair. "You may excuse yourself to go to the ladies room whenever you wish. You don't need permission." She wiped her forehead in mock relief, picked up her purse and headed for the restrooms. The ladies room was large, well appointed, and, best of all, spotless. She sat down in a stall and relieved herself, gradually cooling down to normal temperature. He sure had given her a nice workout on the dance floor. She silently wished for more. This had already been more fun than she had enjoyed in quite some time. Taking the opportunity, she checked her cell phone for messages. There were three new messages and all of them could wait 'til the next day. While she was washing and rinsing her hands and face at the sink, she looked at herself in the mirror. After drying off, she stood in front of the mirror and imagined herself in Lilah's bustier. Pressing her breasts upward and together with her hands, she admired the modest cleavage that she was able to develop. Now, that might look nice, but those ruffles are a non-starter. No way, Jose. She did note ruefully that there was no disguising the proudly erect nipples that were determined to poke through the flimsy material restraining them. She let out a sigh, put on a fresh coat of lip gloss and turned to leave, but, before even reaching the door, she returned to the mirror to add a little more eye shadow to her eyes. Not too much, just a little more to make her eyes look bigger. She almost made it out the door the next time, but again found herself back at the mirror. Looking at herself closely, she finally reached up and unbuttoned the third button of her blouse and then, after a short pause, the fourth. The neck of her blouse now spread open all the way to the tops of her breasts. I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I wonder if he'll even notice. It's all his fault for getting me drunk, anyway. Cindy's Training Ch. 02 Chapter 02 – Punishment Dear Reader: This chapter of Ron and Cindy's exploration of D/s still doesn't have a lot of sex in it, but we're getting there. Please bear with me while I get the story rolling; I promise that you won't be disappointed. Thank you. Note: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental. Ron eased his way out the door of her apartment, making sure that it closed securely. Immediately, he called his older sister, Sarah, who was caring for their mother while he was out, to apologize for being late. Hurrying down the stairs to the parking lot while they talked, he was uncomfortably aware of the erection in his pants. He assured her that he was on his way home and only ten minutes away, so she was free to leave and get home to her husband and kids. They chatted briefly, Mom was asleep, and Sarah assured her baby brother that she wasn't at all upset about the late hour. She let him know she was delighted that he had enjoyed his dinner date. Ron used the excuse that he couldn't talk on the phone while driving to end their call and pulled his Mini out of Cindy's apartment complex, turning toward home. Silently praying that Sarah would be gone by the time he got home so he could visit with Rosie Palmer, he briefly considered pulling off to the side of the road to relieve his discomfort. Just as the thought came to mind, the image of him being arrested by one of Cindy's fellow deputies for indecent exposure quickly dispelled any notion that he would get any relief before he got home. He was certain that Cindy wouldn't understand. Fortunately, it was only a short drive and Sarah's car was just pulling out of the driveway when he arrived. He flashed his headlights at the back of her departing car and caught a glimpse of her wave before he pulled into the garage. He didn't waste any time getting in the house, checking on his mother and hurrying to his room. Grabbing the towel off the back of his desk chair, Ron spread it across his bed and retrieved the baby oil and a paper towel from where he kept them concealed in his closet. Stripping off his shoes, pants and underwear, he stretched out across the towel, laying his phone within reach. Wrapping a hand around his stiff cock, he drizzled a stream of oil over the swollen crown of his member and let it run down the sides to where his fingers were closed around the shaft. He carefully coated the entire rod by working the oil up and down with gentle strokes of his slick hand. With the memory of Cindy's incredible strip tease in his mind, he slowly worked himself towards relief. Once he had relaxed into a comfortable rhythm, he hit the speed dial on his phone to call his Domme mentor and inform her how the events of the evening had progressed. Punching it onto speaker, he laid the phone on his chest. Maria answered on the third ring and seemed honestly delighted to hear from him. She had been following their progress avidly ever since their first day and enjoyed being a part of both of their progress. She seemed to be training him almost as much as he was training Cindy and he really appreciated her assistance. After letting Maria know of his finding out about the child abuser bust that Cindy had been involved in and her subsequent absence at their planned rendezvous, Ron went on to relate all that had happened between her apartment and the lounge at the club. He was almost finished with the club scene when his balls drew up close to his cock and he teetered on the verge of climax. Maria must have recognized what was happening from his voice and breathing, because she interrupted his narrative, "Go ahead and come, Ron. Come now!" That was all it took for the pent up pressure to explode. Ron barely got the paper towel over the top of his cock before the geyser of cum shot out. Spurt after spurt jerked up and out of the sensitive mushroom head as he struggled to get his breathing back under control. "Thank you for understanding," he finally managed to get out. "I know how it is. Breaking in a new sub isn't easy, especially your first one. But, you're smart to avoid sex at least until you get the results of your blood work back." After finishing up the details of the rest of the evening, they discussed how he should punish Cindy for her errors. Their hectic schedules made it difficult for Ron and Cindy to find a time to get together for something like that and where it could be done was a major problem. Maria agreed with him that Cindy's apartment should be her personal refuge and no punishments would be administered there. And Ron's Mom's house should only be used if nowhere else could be arranged. That didn't leave many options. After a few other possibilities were discussed, Ron brought up the idea of using a spot on a mountain biking and hiking trail at the local state park. He had ridden the trail frequently when he was first starting to bike regularly and there were various exercise stations along the path. One of the stations was at the top of a ridge where approaching bikers or hikers would have to work their way up a fairly steep climb before getting within sight and could easily be heard before they were close enough to see or be seen. The trail was one of the shorter ones in the park and one of the more difficult, with some long steep climbs and precipitous drops. The hammerheads avoided it because of its shortness and the newcomers tended to avoid it because of its difficulty, so it seldom had much traffic on it other than lunchtime riders out for a quick ride. Maria enthusiastically endorsed the idea and offered a few suggestions of her own. He promised to check out the area and get back to her before he finalized plans. With that, they said their good nights and promised to keep in touch. The last thing that Ron did before collapsing into bed was to send Cindy a text message instructing her to call him when she took her lunch break. He fell asleep almost as soon as he slipped into bed. Cindy was so exhausted that she was asleep before Ron's car left the parking lot. She slept fitfully until just after daybreak. Then the nightmares began. This time she was inside the filthy living room when the man picked up the small child by the arm. This time she could hear the screams and the sickening thud of the young boy's body slamming into the wall. Only, this time she couldn't do anything to stop it; the scene kept repeating itself again and again. She awoke sitting bolt upright in bed, shaking uncontrollably. Her body was covered in sweat, her fists clenched tightly and her nails gouging deep marks in the palms of her hands. When she realized that it was only a bad dream, she fell back onto her pillow and the tears began to flow. Gradually, she quelled the shaking and regained control of herself. Glancing at her alarm clock, she realized that she might as well get up because her alarm would go off in twenty minutes anyway. She stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. For some reason, her body ached almost everywhere. She would need a hot shower and a cup of coffee before she would be able to make any sense of things. A short while later she was sitting at the dining table, dressed in her underwear and robe, sipping a strong cup of coffee. Gradually, the events of the previous day began to come into focus. It took a while to sort the actual happenings of the unbelievable day from her nightmares. The successful completion of the stakeout was a fact, along with her forgetting to meet Ron and their showering together. The rest of the evening seemed like a dream, some of it fairly tale princess type dream and some of it horrific nightmare. She shook her head and resigned herself to piecing together what had really happened and what hadn't as the day progressed. Cindy could hardly believe that she had actually done some of the things that her memory tried to tell her she had done. Had he really gotten her so drunk that she slow danced with a total stranger at the club? Without any panties on? Had she really danced for Ron back here at the apartment, pretending to be a stripper on stage? If she had been that drunk, why wasn't she hung over this morning? She felt fine. A little tired and stiff here and there, but otherwise fine. No sign of any headache. Could she have done all the things she vaguely remembered doing if she hadn't been drunk? The woman in her memories certainly wasn't the sort of woman her mother had raised her to be. Overwhelmed by her uncertainties, Cindy gave up trying to figure out what it all meant and concentrated on the basics. For the moment, that included another cup of coffee, a glass of orange juice and a bowl of cereal. Once she had finished breakfast and rinsed out her dishes, she took her cup of coffee into the living room and sat down in her easy chair to return her phone messages. She'd call her Mom later, but she did remember that she needed to call back her good friend, Natalie. When she flipped open her phone, she noticed that there was a new text message that she didn't remember from the night before. Natalie didn't have much time to talk; she was getting herself and her husband ready for work, but they did manage to chat briefly. Cindy was about to hang up when she noticed the morning news reporting about the child abuser bust from the previous day. "Do you have the channel 7 news on, Nat?" Cindy asked, breathlessly. "Yeah, what of it?" she replied as the TV showed video of the little boy in the hospital. "How did they get a camera crew in there?" Cindy gasped. She went on to explain to Natalie about the stakeout and the bust. "I saw that little boy get hurt," she admitted. "I was there when it happened." Her voice was flat and strained. "My God, girl! I could never handle your job!" Natalie gasped, "I don't know how you do it." "Somebody has to do it," Cindy replied, halfheartedly. "But, why you? What makes you do it, Cindy?" "Sometimes, I don't know." Cindy could hear her friend's frantic activity in the background and said, "I'll let you go. Give me a call tonight when you get a chance. I just have to tell you about what happened to me last night." "Right." The connection dropped and Cindy stared at the mug shot of the perp on the screen, mesmerized. She could feel a cold hand clutch at her heart. Then the news switched to something else and she realized she needed to hurry to get ready for work. It wasn't until she was strapping her patrolman's belt over her uniform that she remembered the text message. Flipping open her phone, she quickly worked through to the text message menu. When she saw that it was from her Master, Ron, her heart sank. Without even looking at it, she knew that the message was about her punishment. Her hand was shaking as she got the text displayed and a chill went down her spine. This time she would not forget; she couldn't fail him again. Cindy was on her way to the hospital even before Dispatch released her for lunch. She headed straight for the ICU nurse's station to check on the little boy. The head nurse assured her that he was recovering nicely, all things considered, and the doctor had shared a guardedly optimistic outlook for his recovery with them. All the boy's vital signs were stable and he was awake and responding to their voices. "How did the TV cameras get in here?" Cindy demanded, angrily. The nurse looked at the floor, sheepishly, before replying, "They came in with Social Services. The kid's a ward of the state now and I guess the bureaucrats think its good publicity. Makes me sick to my stomach!" "Me too," agreed Cindy, although the good prognosis brightened her day considerably. She thanked the nurse for the information and left for the parking lot to call Ron. She was sitting in her cruiser when she got him to answer his phone. They compared their schedules and concluded that just about the only time they could have a few hours together would be after church on Sunday. Ron's older sister and her family would be visiting his Mom for the day and he would be free for most of the afternoon. "Would you like to get together for lunch?" he asked. "Afterwards, we can shop Wal-Mart for a few things." "That would be nice. Around one o'clock?" she suggested. "That would work for me. Shall I pick you up at your apartment?" "I'll be ready. Oh, and I'd like to thank you for the delightful dinner and the dancing last night." "It was my pleasure, darling," he replied. "And I guess that I have to thank you for the sleep, as well." That was the first time he had called her darling, she realized. "You're welcome, I guess," he responded, quizzically. "Is next Monday your scheduled day off?" "I'm usually off Mondays, so I expect it will be. I'll check the duty roster and call you back if its not." "OK. I have a luncheon meeting with a client next Monday and I can probably get out of the office for an hour or two after that. We'll get your punishment over with then, if that's what you want." "That sounds about as good a time as any to me," she replied with a bit of a tremor in her voice. "I've got to run. Buh-bye," she whispered and blew a kiss into the phone. "Bye." The connection ended. To Cindy, the rest of the week seemed to drag by. Thursday was her court day and, in theory, she would be done by noon and off duty until Friday evening. But, as often happened, one of her cases dragged on until mid-afternoon and it was after three o'clock when she finally got in the door of her apartment. After she showered and changed, there was barely time to get a week's worth of laundry done before it was time to fix dinner. After eating and cleaning the kitchen, she sat down at her laptop and dialed up her internet connection to do some more research on the D/s lifestyle. She hadn't ventured into any of the chat rooms, yet, but she was aware that they existed. Ron had suggested a few websites and she had discovered a few on her own. Some were actual sites where you could read the FAQ and explore the myriad of devices that were for sale and some were sites where there were stories or articles to read. Whether it was supposed to be fact or fiction, Cindy usually found herself entranced, confused, frightened and aroused by the time she logged off. Some of the stories fascinated her, but she was still having difficulty with the idea that submissives were almost invariably portrayed as promiscuous sluts who craved all sorts of kinky sex with different partners, even strangers. She couldn't even imagine herself doing something like that. Still, she wasn't surprised when she realized that her hand was inside the front of her sweatpants, stroking her puffy wet pussy lips. At least they were clean shaven and smooth. She had learned that lesson. Ron's week was hectic, compared to Cindy's. Between working full time, caring for his mother in the evenings, getting to his regular AA meetings and studying the lifestyle, what little time he had left was spent on the phone with either Cindy or Maria. He tried to get to a lunchtime AA meeting, when his work schedule allowed, and Jack and Laura regularly dropped in for dinner on Mondays and Thursdays. After dinner, Laura would sit and watch TV with his Mom while he and Jack, his AA sponsor, would head off for the eight o'clock meeting in the basement of St. Paul's Episcopal. After the Thursday meeting, he and Jack stopped at Wal-Mart so Ron could do some grocery shopping. While there, he also checked out a few of the items that Maria had suggested he might use for Cindy's upcoming punishment. After Jack and Laura had left for home and the groceries were put away, Ron helped Mom into bed and headed for the garage. He mounted his bike rack on the back of the Mini. After pumping the tires up to the correct pressure and checking it over, he strapped his mountain bike onto the rack. Back upstairs, he filled his water bottles and put them in the refrigerator, packed his gear in his gym bag and checked his helmet and sunglasses. Satisfied with his preparations, he collapsed into bed and was sound asleep in minutes. Friday morning dawned sunny and clear. Ron checked the weather site on the internet and was delighted to see that there was only a slight chance of a late afternoon thunderstorm. That suited his plans perfectly. Leaving the office for lunch around 1:30, Ron changed into his biking outfit and headed for the park, eating a Clif bar on the way. He didn't have any meetings scheduled for the rest of the afternoon, so he could get in a quick ride, spend the rest of the day working on the brief that he was preparing for the Fornier case and then shower when he got home. Pulling into the parking lot at the trailhead, he was relieved to see that there were only three other cars there and it looked as if the owners of one were already packing up their bikes and gear to leave. After stretching his legs and carefully working the stiffness out of his bad knee, Ron climbed on his bike and headed towards the trail entrance. As he left the parking lot, he noticed riders coming down the hill on the other end of the trail. Just as he had expected for that time of day: there was only one other car unaccounted for. The trail had to be almost deserted. He powered up the initial hill and along the ridge towards the first drop. About a mile into the ride, he approached the ridgeline that he was looking for. He stopped at the bottom of the climb and looked over the terrain carefully, noting that the top of the ridge was completely concealed from view by foliage. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Ron started up the long steep climb to the top. The trail was narrow and had been cut deeply into the hillside by the many bikes that had struggled to get up it. When he had first started mountain biking, this hill had been one of his worst nemeses. There had been many a time when he had wound up carrying the bike up almost half the hill. It still was a granny-gear climb, but now he was able to spin all the way to the top. The exercise station was at the top of the ridge. Ron stopped and leaned his bike up against one of the 4X4 posts. There were three posts in a row with metal bars at various heights between them. The left bar was over six feet off the ground and the right one was probably just over five feet. But, it was the center bar that drew Ron's attention. The other bars were for chin-ups, but the center one was about three feet off the ground. On Ron's 6'1" frame, the bar came to just below the top of his thighs. Ideal for what he intended, he thought. Taking a long drink from one of his water bottles, Ron relaxed against the low bar. He made a mental note to bring water with them. Wiping his brow, he paid close attention to the sounds of the forest. This spot was far enough from the road that only the faintest of highway sounds could be heard and then only occasionally. He was certain that anyone approaching along the trail would be easily heard, even if they were on foot. When the clock on his cycle computer indicated that he had been there for fifteen minutes without anyone coming up the hill, Ron figured that he had guessed right. This spot would do nicely. Back on his bike, he finished the rest of the trail without seeing anyone else. His Mini was the only vehicle in the lot when he rode down the last hill. He lashed his bike to the rack and toweled off. Back at the office, he took a quick sponge bath in the restroom sink before changing and heading back to his own office. Once there, he managed to get Maria on the phone and they discussed what he had decided. He rechecked his schedule on the computer and then sent the receptionist a quick message informing her not to book anything for him for Monday between 1:00 and 3:00. He altered his scheduled to indicate that he would be out of the office at that time. Satisfied with his preparations, he tackled the Fornier brief again. Cindy's Training Ch. 02 Cindy stayed up late Thursday night, surfing the internet. She finally got up the courage to sign into one of the chat rooms that specialized in D/s, but merely hid in the background and watched the banter on the screen. A lot of the shorthand baffled her, but she was able to understand most of the subjects that came up for discussion. Being on a dial-up connection caused the conversations to come across disjointed and jerky, which she found disconcerting. Still, it was comforting to know that there was an entire group of people who seemed to be comfortable with this unusual way of life. She could feel and smell her arousal, but she was determined not to give into the urge to relieve herself. She tried to convince herself that she wasn't that type of woman. She devoted Fridays to cleaning the apartment and doing her weekly shopping because her shift didn't start until 6:00 PM and stretched until 4:30 AM Saturday morning. She tried to sleep late in the morning, but it seldom worked and especially now that the latest nightmares were beginning to haunt her. The little boy being hurt nightmares stopped soon after she learned that he was expected to recover, but were promptly replaced by other nightmares involving his father. The mug shot that the TV news had broadcast seemed to be etched into her brain. And so it was that she found herself awake at 7:00 AM Friday, unable to get back to sleep. Wearily dragging herself out of bed, she headed for the shower, promising herself an afternoon nap before work. Friday night's shift turned out to be typical. Two domestic disturbance calls and as a result of the second, she had to transport a drunken wife to the lock-up. Then there was the teen-age party that got out of hand and she was one of the four units that responded to the loud music complaint only to find an underage consumption situation. Cindy wound up with two intoxicated sisters handcuffed in the back of her cruiser, neither of whom had any ID in their possession. The younger girl couldn't have been more than 14, Cindy was sure. The Lt. gave her permission to take them home and release them to their parents. When she got them to the front porch of the house they indicated, their mother answered the door, half dressed and obviously intoxicated. The woman took turns screaming incoherently at the girls and then at Cindy until Cindy couldn't get the cuffs off the girls and leave quickly enough. As the girls ducked in the door, Cindy caught a glimpse of a middle-aged man seemingly passed out on the sofa in the living room. After that, things quieted down until the 2:07 AM call of an accident with injuries on the main highway, just east of town. Even though Cindy responded immediately, she still found herself following a fire truck responding to the same call. Luckily, she was the third unit to arrive and was immediately assigned traffic control so she didn't have to get close enough to the mangled vehicles to actually see the carnage. She could tell that it was serious when the firefighters scrambled to cut the top off one of the cars and she heard a second call go out over the radio for a life support unit. She helped clear room for the additional equipment coming down the wrong side of the two lane highway, thinking to herself, "Those are the people who really don't get paid enough for what they do!" Cindy was still on the accident scene at 5:00 AM when the Lt. finally had her relieved. Exhausted, she was glad that he released her directly off duty so she only had to drive the two and a half miles back to her apartment. Stripping off her uniform and throwing it over her rocker, she collapsed into bed and fell asleep immediately. She awoke abruptly in a cold sweat, tangled in the sheets on her bed. The nightmare had seemed so real; she clearly remembered being on the pistol range. She had been firing at a standard paper silhouette target when the child abuser's mug shot was abruptly superimposed over the top of the target. Instead of stopping, she had continued to fire round after round downrange, putting a tight grouping right in the heart of the target until the pistol slide locked back. "God, what is wrong with me?" she cried out in silence. Her alarm clock read 12:45; disentangling herself from the bedclothes, she slid to her knees at the side of the bed. She briefly prayed for relief from the demons that were haunting her. After a shower and a cup of coffee, she felt somewhat better, but was still haunted by the reality of the nightmare that had awakened her. Saturday night's shift was significantly quieter than the previous night's. The Lt. must have taken pity on her because she found herself assigned to one of the quieter parts of the county. She spent most of her 4-12 shift either cruising down quiet country lanes or sitting by the road with her lights out, waiting for something to happen. She did respond to a half dozen calls, but only as backup, never primary. In between, she made courtesy calls on three elderly county residents who lived alone in secluded homes and tried to make follow-up phone calls on open cases that she was working. The major problem, she found, was that the quiet boredom gave her too much time to think. And her thoughts always seemed to lead back to her impending punishment. In most of the stories that she had read about the lifestyle involving punishment, the usual method was some form of spanking or whipping. Cindy had never been spanked in her life. Even as a young child, her mother had not allowed corporal punishment. By the time her mother remarried, she was too old to suffer the brutal beatings that her younger step-brother had to endure. Her step-father had tried to spank her, but as soon as she threatened to tell her mother, he always backed down. So she had no idea what a spanking would feel like. Spanking herself was difficult and she had no way of telling if her attempts were in any way realistic. Other punishments, like being bound helpless for a long period of time, wouldn't fit the timeframe that Ron had intimated that they were going to use. So, she was at a loss as to what to expect and the uncertainty gnawed at her. When she got off duty at midnight, Cindy went straight home and directly to bed. As exhausted as she was, she quickly fell into a deep sleep and awoke Sunday morning refreshed and feeling better than she had in days. Surprisingly, she didn't even remember dreaming and there had been no sign of the horrible nightmares that had been terrorizing her lately. She ate a leisurely breakfast and prepared for church. When she was ready, she called her Mom to let her know that she was on the way. Her mother wasn't really comfortable riding in Cindy's cruiser, but it was still better than the beat up wreck that she used to get around town. Since she had finally thrown Cindy's sadistic step-father out, she had been living on a shoestring. And there really wasn't anything that Cindy could do to help. After she paid her rent, bills and student loan payment, there was hardly anything left of her meager Deputy's salary. She was fortunate that she was assigned her own cruiser, because she couldn't even afford a car. After services, Cindy dropped her mother back home, telling her only that she had a lunch date with Ron and that she would call her later. Her mom cautioned Cindy to be careful and reluctantly let her go. When Cindy pulled into the apartment complex, she found that Ron had backed his Mini into her neighbor's reserved parking space next to hers. She climbed out of her cruiser and looked down at his upturned face. "One of these days you're going to get ticketed for parking illegally, counselor." "Not on private property, I won't. Unless someone complains, that is. Are you going to complain, dear?" he added, squinting upwards at her in the bright sun and puckering his lips. She leaned down and accepted his offered kiss, answering, "As long as this isn't considered bribery, I guess I won't." Their tongues met briefly, teasing one another. Cindy thought to herself that the word would surely get around the entire complex by evening. But, what the hell, it was worth it. They broke off the kiss and she walked around the back of the car. He had reached across and opened the passenger side door by the time she got there and she eased herself into the delightfully comfortable seat, thinking how nice it would be to have a seat like this in her cruiser. "You look absolutely beautiful, my dear," complimented Ron. "Thank you. You look quite handsome, yourself," she replied, noting his sport shirt and slacks combination. The pale red shirt went well with his dark hair and green eyes and the dark blue pants complimented the shirt. She fastened her seatbelt as he started the car and they pulled out of the parking lot, heading out of town on the main highway. Today he had bluegrass on the stereo. "Who's this?" she inquired. "The Seldom Scene. Classic stuff from when John Duffy was still alive. I hope you like it." Cindy leaned back in her seat and let the musical harmonies play through her mind as the wind ruffled her hair. She recognized the intersection where they turned off the highway from their previous trip and figured that they were heading for his country club. "At least I'm properly dressed this time," she though to herself. "The club serves a nice Sunday buffet; I hope you don't mind, darling." "Not at all," she replied. There, he said it again. She felt a warm tingling sensation deep in her belly. "Darling," she thought; she could easily get accustomed to hearing him say that. She was ready for the imposing stone entryway this trip yet still marveled at the beauty of the tree lined drive. She noticed that the swimming pool was quite busy with children splashing about and groups of adults chatting while they kept an eye on the kids. The tennis courts were busy as well, with a small group of white clad players obviously awaiting their turn. When they arrived at the main parking lot, it was almost full of expensive cars, SUVs and vans. Ron had to dodge more than one golf cart speeding between the larger vehicles. He finally found an empty space in the back of the lot and slipped in, putting up the top on the Mini. Cindy found the hairbrush in the center console and quickly neatened her hair and checked her makeup. Ron ran the hairbrush through his thick hair and stowed it before coming around to help her out of her seat. They walked, arm in arm, into the stately stone building and down the hall to the dining room. One of the servers greeted them at the door and told them to sit wherever they pleased. All of the booths by the windows were taken, so Ron led her to a table near the center of the room. Cindy glanced around at the crowd to see if there were any faces that she recognized from their previous visit to the lounge, but didn't see anyone that looked familiar. She was relieved that her fears of being rejected for her past lewd behavior proved unfounded. At least thus far. After agreeing to their server's suggestion of orange juice to drink, Ron escorted her to the buffet and she was surprised at the vast selection of appealing foods. A short while later, they returned to their table with plates loaded with mouth-watering delights to find that tall glasses of juice and ice water had already been served. "I read through the by-laws and had a short talk with the chairman of the membership committee Friday. I can get you a guest membership, if you would like," Ron said, between bites. "The only restriction is that you'd only be allowed to use the facilities while I was here with you." "I think I'd like that," she replied. "And, I would have to come with you anyway. I need special permission to take my cruiser out of the county for personal business. I can just imagine asking the Lt. for his approval to drive to an expensive country club to play tennis. Somehow, I don't think he would understand." They both shared a hearty laugh. Ron continued, "But the restriction doesn't mean that we have to spend all our time together while we're here. I could be out on the golf course while you're playing tennis or using the pool. As long as I'm on the grounds, you would have almost unlimited use of the facilities." "Gosh, I haven't played tennis in years. I used to really enjoy it in high school, but I haven't kept up since then. I'd probably be so rusty that I would embarrass myself." "I think we have a club pro. Maybe I could get him to spend a little time working you back into shape." "You're being way too kind and generous, Ron," she demurred. "Not at all. We'd just have to figure out when we can cram it into our schedules. After we finish eating, let's stop in the Pro Shop and see what is available." When they had finished their brunch, Ron signed the chit and they made their way downstairs. Cindy was amazed to see the bustle of activity going on in the large and well stocked shop. Only a quarter of the area was devoted to tennis equipment, but they had everything from rackets to complete outfits to shoes and socks. Ron waited for a chance to chat with one of the busy men behind the counter on the golf side while Cindy marveled at everything that was available. She turned to him when she felt him at her side. "The tennis pro is a woman," he announced. "Her name is Tanja and she's available for lessons Wednesdays through Sundays or by appointment. She's out on the courts now, if you'd like to meet her." "I don't think we need to do that today." "OK. See anything you like?" She replied, "I see lots of things that I like but could never afford." They both laughed. Ron walked her out of the door of the shop, around the side of the building and back to the parking lot. As he opened her door for her, he looked her deeply in the eye and asked, "Are you ready to go shopping, Pet?" The tone of his voice and the use of her submissive name let Cindy know that the situation had changed. She glanced down and replied, "Yes, Master." "Good. Let's go." He closed her door and got in the driver's side. The top eased down as they buckled in and got ready to leave. Glancing over at the tennis courts on their way out, Cindy tried to guess which one of the well dressed ladies was the pro. Nothing immediately jumped out to identify any particular woman over the rest, so she decided not to concern herself about it. That could wait for another day. The drive to Wal-Mart was quiet and uneventful. The parking lot was crowded and Ron didn't bother cruising around to find a spot close to the door. He locked up the car, this time, and took her hand as they walked across the lot. "Do you have a sundress that buttons all the way up the front, Pet?" She quickly reviewed her wardrobe in her mind and decided that she didn't. "No, Sir, I don't believe so." "OK, we'll get you one while you're here." They walked in the doors and he indicated that she should pick up a hand basket rather than take a cart. They turned left once they were in the store toward the pharmacy area. He guided her down the aisle through the flow of shoppers to where he wanted. "On this aisle you want to get a can of Solarcaine Medicated First Aid Spray," he instructed and let go of her elbow. "It's on the top shelf near the end." Cindy hunted down the variety of first aid supplies until she found what he had described. She took the little can off the shelf and glanced at it before putting it in her basket. The label indicated that it was good for treating burns, cuts and scrapes and itchy insect bites. Her curiosity was aroused, but she didn't have time to think more about it because Ron's steady gaze let her know that his patience was limited. "Good girl. Now we need to stop here in Sporting Goods," he directed as they went down an aisle devoted to fishing equipment. He stopped before a display of lures and accessories and Cindy gasped when her eye caught the sight of a package of large barbed hooks. "OK, Pet. You need a package of #1 size snap swivels. It looks like the smallest package they have is a dozen, so get that." When he noticed the totally confused look on her face, he pointed to a small plastic bag. She quickly reached out and added the item to her basket. "And, over here, you want a package of #1 size swivel sinkers. This three-pack will do nicely," he said, pointing again to another small plastic bag that she hastily added as well. He then headed back to the main aisle and turned toward the rear of the store. Cindy hurried to keep up with his long strides. They stopped at the automotive department and he pointed down an aisle. "On the back wall you'll find a small plastic jar that contains an assortment of eight bungee cords. Get one." She found what he had described and held it up for his approval. He nodded his head and she added it to the other items that she was carrying. While she was confused as to the purpose of the other purchases, she could see the bungees being used as restraints. For some reason, that didn't disturb her. She hustled to catch up with her Master who was walking purposefully through the store. When they turned into the housewares section, Cindy followed curiously. Ron pointed down an aisle that included a sign over a shelf that read "Laundry and Ironing Boards". "On the right hand side, you'll find clothes pins. You might as well get the smallest package they've got." Cindy ducked down the aisle and found what Ron had directed her to get. She reached for the 50 wooden clothespins and froze just before her hand reached the package. She had no doubts what they were intended for and her heart skipped a beat. She had read enough stories to know what clothespins were usually for and she could feel her nipples hardening inside her bra. She looked back at him and he just nodded his head. Finally, she forced her shaking hand to reach the package down from the display and drop it into her basket. Head down, she returned to where her Master was waiting. "Do you have a pair of comfortable walking shoes that you could wear in the woods?" "Yes, sir," she replied after a little thought. "They're not very pretty, but they're comfortable." "That's OK. Comfort is more important." While Cindy puzzled over his latest hint, he turned and led her silently into the Ladies Clothing Department to look at sundresses. The selection that opened completely in the front was limited, but she did find a couple in her size that she liked the looks of. "Go try them on, Pet," he instructed and she took the two dresses into a changing room. The light flowery print dress was the only one of the two that fit comfortably, so she stepped out of the tiny cubicle to see if he approved. He was leaning against the clerk's counter when she came out into the hall, so she simply spun around there to show off the dress. His smile was all the encouragement that she needed. "The other one doesn't fit," she explained. "You look wonderful in that one," he said with a grin. "Absolutely wonderful." After she changed back into her church clothes, she handed the ill fitting dress to the clerk and went to put her new dress in the basket. She hesitated when her eye caught the sight of the tiny pink thong with "Love" embroidered across the front. She reached in and picked it up, uncovering the other two different colored pairs below it. "These are very nice, Sir. But, can we get them rung up here?" she pleaded in a shaky voice. "That won't be necessary. We have other items to purchase, so we can have it all rung up together at the front." She gasped at the thought of the intimate items being rung up in front of everyone in line. Her eyes begged him to reconsider, but he merely turned on his heel and walked away. She grabbed the basket and followed, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. Cindy's Training Ch. 02 Ron led her to an aisle that was lined with dog food. At first she blanched until he stopped in front of a display of dog accessories. He pointed to the racks and said, "Pick out two of the smallest collars." Cindy hesitated while he watched her carefully. "Do they need to match, Sir?" she asked, shakily. "Not necessarily, but I think that the plain ones that close with the plastic clasps would be best, Pet." "Yes, sir," she replied and puzzled over this latest purchase. Finally she chose two patterned collars for Toy dogs, one primarily red and the other blue and placed them in the basket on top of her dress. "Only one more item and then we can go," he announced and headed for the registers at the front of the store, Cindy following closely behind. He strolled to the center of the store and got in one of the longer lines. She knew better than to question his selection and stood quietly behind him with her head down. The line moved fairly quickly and she was almost to the register when she noticed that they were in the tobacco products department. "Pick out a disposable lighter, Pet," he directed, pointing to the display atop the counter. Cindy was stunned. Neither of them smoked. "What use did he have for a cigarette lighter?" she wondered. Suddenly the spray can in the bottom of the basket jumped back into the forefront of her mind. Lighter? Burn spray? What is he planning? Her hand shook visibly as she reached to do his bidding. "Good girl," he said, taking the red plastic lighter from her hand and putting it on the counter. "Here's the rest of our stuff," he instructed the clerk as Cindy stood motionless, holding the basket in front of her. She finally realized that they were waiting for her and abruptly put the basket on the counter. Then she watched in horror as the little man behind the register took each item out of the basket and ran it across the scanner. When the first of the thongs came out of the basket, Cindy was convinced that everyone in the store was looking at her. She could feel the blush spreading across her cheeks and all she wanted to do was dig a small hole in the floor, crawl in it and hide. Ron watched carefully as their purchases were rung up and bagged. Without him having to say anything, the clothing purchases were bagged separately from the other items. He swiped his credit card through the reader and signed the electronic pad. Pocketing the receipt, he headed for the door, leaving Cindy to grab the bags and follow. When they got to the car, Ron took the bag of miscellaneous items from her and stowed it in the trunk, leaving her holding the bag of clothing. He unlocked and opened her door. Cindy eased herself down in the seat, clutching her bag in her lap. Ron seated himself in the driver's seat, started the engine and put down the top. After they both buckled up, he turned out of the parking lot towards her apartment. Cindy was lost in thought for the short journey to her apartment. She hardly noticed that he had pulled in behind her cruiser until she felt his hand on the back of her neck. He gently turned her face to his and kissed her deeply. She felt her built-up tension melt as the kiss lingered on. The tightly balled fists in her lap slowly relaxed to where she could stretch out her fingers. Ron broke the kiss and whispered, "I have to run on home, Pet. Amy and her family have a three hour drive to get back to the city and I need to be there to care for Mom." "Yes, Master." "I'll call you when I leave the office tomorrow to pick you up. I want you to be wearing your new dress and your comfortable shoes." "Yes, Sir. Should I wear my new underwear?" she asked quietly. "That would please me very much." "Thank you for everything, Master." "You're welcome, Pet. Now run along," he said, reaching across and opening her door. Cindy fled up the stairs toward her apartment. She stopped on the landing and watched him turn out of the parking lot and drive off down the street. Her heart was racing and her confused mind was desperately trying to make sense of everything that had happened. "What does it all mean?" she asked herself. Inside the safety of her home, she quickly changed out of her good clothes into an old pair of sweats. She then emptied out the Wal-Mart bag onto her bed and looked at what he had bought her. Removing the price tag, she dug an empty hanger out of the back of her closet and hung up the new sundress. Cindy was admiring the tiny thongs on her bed, thinking how only a month ago she would never have even considered wearing something that outrageous. Abruptly, her thoughts shifted to the other Wal-Mart bag that was now in the trunk of Ron's car. She felt another chill go up her spine and hurried to her computer to dial up the internet. Settling into her chair, Cindy started the laborious hunt for information on the lifestyle. Two and half hours later, she still hadn't found anything that would explain the cigarette lighter and the burn spray. She did find a couple stories and a few sites that concerned hot wax and how it could be used, but he hadn't bought any candles. The thought of hot wax on her bare pussy lips sent shivers up her spine. She couldn't imagine how anyone would find that enjoyable, yet her fingers discovered that her labia were swollen and damp when they ventured over the crotch of her panties. She was glancing through another story when the mention of nipple clamps brought the clothespins back to the forefront of her mind. Her hand left the warm confines of her sweatpants and ventured up under her top. Her nipples were noticeably erect and stiff inside the cups of her bra. She didn't have any clothespins in the apartment so she eased a breast out of the cup of her bra and tried pinching the tender swollen nub with her fingertips. The pain wasn't too bad at first, but, as she increased the pressure, it quickly became more than she could stand. "How am I going to be able to do this?" she asked aloud in desperation. Then she remembered the safe word conversation they had at Jack and Laura's that first day. Her safe word was "Montana" and, if she used it, the scene would end immediately. And "Texas" meant they had to pause whatever was happening. A sense of relief washed over her as she glanced up from the computer and noticed that the sun had already set. "I've got to get some dinner," she thought and headed for the kitchen. After zapping a frozen entrée in the microwave, she carefully set it aside while she nuked a coffee mug half full of frozen corn to compliment the entrée. When all was done, she went back to the computer and ate slowly while she dug further. Ron drove home slowly, deep in thought. He realized just how important tomorrow could prove to be. Carefully reviewing all the plans that they had made, he marveled at how well they had come off thus far. He knew that Cindy was apprehensive about her upcoming punishment and Maria had assured him that, for a true sub, the anticipation was often worse than the actual event. Arriving home, he found that Amy and her husband, Gerhardt, had managed to get Mom out onto the back deck in her scooter. His niece and nephew were playing in the back yard. When the kids noticed that he had gotten home, they ran up to give him a hug. Jamie was tall for a twelve year old and his sister wasn't much shorter, even though she was two years younger. "What are you feeding these kids, Sis? They're going to grow through the roof!" Everyone had a good laugh and the kids quickly abandoned his lap to head back to their play. Gerhardt glanced at his watch and mentioned to Amy that they really needed to get started. Between the three of them, they got Mom's scooter back over the track of the sliding patio door without damaging either. While the parents organized everything they had brought with them, Ron got his mom into the living room so she could watch the local news. The hearty aroma coming from the kitchen let everyone know that the pot roast that Ron had started in the crock pot that morning was almost done. He removed the package of potatoes from the refrigerator and stirred them into the pot. Kris, the Siamese cat, was rubbing up against Ron's legs and yowling piteously, begging to be fed. A can of cat food soon found its way into his bowl on the floor. "Are you sure that you won't stay for dinner, Sis? There's plenty to go around." "I'm afraid not, though it does smell delicious," she replied. "Just about the only time the kids get to eat at Greasy Mac's is when we travel and I'd hate to deprive them of a fast food fix." They all chuckled at that. Gerhardt had the car loaded in short order and Amy rounded up the kids. After a final goodbye kiss for their Uncle Ron, the youngsters headed for the car at full speed and voice. Ron kissed his sister and thanked her for visiting. "We'll try to get by as often as we can, but you know how it is, living as far away as we do. You're a real sweetheart to take care of Mom like you do, Bro." She gave Ron a long, heartfelt hug and a kiss on the cheek. "We all appreciate what you're doing for the family." "Thanks, Sis." After his sister and her family left, Ron served his Mom and himself their dinners on small folding tables in front of the TV. Mom was steadily getting better at feeding herself; the physical therapy that she received three days a week was starting to show progress. Although she was naturally right handed, she was getting more and more comfortable using her left, now that her right side was paralyzed. After they finished, Ron cleaned up and put away the leftovers. There would be enough for at least two more dinners and he might even take some to work for a hearty lunch. He made sure that Mom was comfortable in front of the TV, let Kris out for his nightly prowl and headed for the basement rec room to call his Domme mentor. Maria answered on the second ring, "Hi, Ron. I'm in the middle of something. I hope you don't mind." In the background Ron heard the swoosh of something cutting through the air followed by the distinctive slap of it hitting bare skin. "I could call back," he offered. "Don't bother; I think I'm about done here. Punishing a pain slut is such a bitch. They get off on it so easily that you have to take them just to the very edge but not let them orgasm from it." There was another swoosh and slap. "It's really a delicate job to do it right. Takes a lot of practice." "I can imagine," Ron commented. Another swoosh – slap. "I swear, this slut is going to wear me the fuck out. I've never had one quite like her before." Swoosh – slap. "Oh shit! I think I've lost her. Hold on." In the background Ron heard her demanding, "Slut! Slut! Oh, crap!" followed by three heavy blows in quick succession. "Can you hold on for a minute, Ron. The bitch slipped off into subspace on me and the only thing I can do now is take her down off the cross and lock her in her cage. I'll just be a minute." "Sure, Maria, I'll hold." After a couple minutes, Maria was back, breathing heavily, "OK. I'm back. I sure hope that your girl doesn't turn out to be a pain slut as well. They're hell to keep in line. I thought I had Slut trained well enough to collar her and now she just keeps reverting to her old behavior patterns." "How can I tell if Cindy is a pain slut?" "Well, at this stage, it's almost impossible to guess how she'll turn out. Somebody who is so deeply in…what do you alcoholics call it?" she stumbled for the right word. "You mean denial?" he helped. "Right! Denial. That's exactly how I'd describe it. When you have somebody like her who puts so much effort into trying to be vanilla when they really aren't, it's impossible to predict how they'll turn out. Or even if they will turn out. I hope you realize that you might never know." "Yeah. I sure hope not," he answered glumly. "All you can do is to try your best to lead her on, but, if she can't follow, it won't work. She has to make up her own mind that this is the life she wants to lead. Where are you with the preparations for her punishment?" Ron filled her in on what he had accomplished at Wal-Mart and Maria agreed that he had done well. They went on to discuss more of the specifics of what he planned to do the next day. They talked for almost an hour and a half before Maria said, "…and don't you dare call her until tomorrow." "OK. I can handle that. But, what if she calls me? Than what?" he replied. "She won't. Trust me on that. She's determined to figure this out on her own. Right now she is stewing in her own juices, confused as hell, but she won't call you." Ron realized that Maria had been right on just about every prediction that she had made up to now, so he conceded she was probably right on this one. Still, Ron wanted so badly to call Cindy and reassure her that his hand shook. "OK. Well, thanks for everything; I've got to go check on Mom." "Call me tomorrow afternoon and let me know how it went. I'll be working the Horton's houses all day. You should be able to get me on my cell." "Right, Maria. I'll let you know how it comes out. Bye." "Bye. And good luck," she said as she disconnected. Ron went back upstairs to find that his mother had fallen asleep in front of the TV. Visiting with Amy and the family must have worn her out. He woke her gently for her evening medications and helped her to bed. Afterwards, he spent another hour on his computer, digging into what he could find on the D/s sites that he frequented. Finally, he took a long walk around the neighborhood to clear his head and stretch out his bad knee before collapsing into bed. Maria's assessment of Cindy's situation was surprisingly accurate. She was still in front of her laptop, pouring over whatever she could find on the internet and determined to figure out the answers on her own. She found herself repeating her mantra from the other night, "No doubts, no reservations," but the words rang hollow. She wasn't doing a very good job of convincing herself. It seemed that every answer that she found raised even more questions in her mind. Finally noticing that it was almost midnight, she reluctantly shut the computer down and went into her bedroom to get ready for bed. After she had said her prayers, she climbed into bed and fell into a restless sleep, only to be shocked awake sometime in the middle of the night. One of her worst childhood nightmares had come back to haunt her – she was trapped inside a burning building with no way out. Refusing to look at her clock, she forced herself to lie back down and calmed her nerves. That nightmare hadn't bothered her since she had been a small child. After tossing and turning for what seemed to be ages, she finally slipped back off to sleep. She continued to be disturbed by odd, senseless dreams that weren't enough to awaken her, but enough to deny her a good night's rest. The general tone of all the dreams was one of darkness and foreboding. Cindy awoke feeling stiff and achy. Her first thought was that she needed a good workout in the gym. She felt a little better after her shower, but was shocked when she looked in the mirror and noticed that her eyes were red and slightly bloodshot. She fled to the kitchen in just her robe and slippers to brew a pot of coffee. After breakfast, she collapsed into her comfortable easy chair in front of the TV and tried to pay attention to the morning news to no avail. She just couldn't focus on what was happening to others elsewhere. Her mind turned back to the internet, but she quickly decided that it would probably be futile to spend any more time there. The answers that she needed either weren't there or, if they were, she probably wouldn't recognize them. She wasn't even certain whether she knew the right questions to ask. There was so much going on that she didn't understand. She finally willed herself to get up, turn off the TV and clean the kitchen. The familiar routine settled her spirits a bit and she decided to get dressed. By the time that Cindy was finishing up in the kitchen, Ron was in his first meeting of the day. He had left the house with his mom still in bed, asleep, and the day nurse sipping coffee in the kitchen. It had taken every bit of will power that he could muster to concentrate on his driving on the way to the office. His mind tried to wander to the day's plans, but he couldn't afford to let them distract him. He found himself struggling to pay attention to the client's petty problem throughout the meeting and forced himself to take careful notes. After the meeting, he carefully transcribed his notes into the computer and added a synopsis of the client's complaint. Then he forced himself to put together a quick list of items that he felt needed to be done before the next meeting and added a link to his calendar for the next open time that he had available. He then tried to get back to the Fornier brief, but his mind refused to concentrate. More than once, he found himself staring off into space, seeing her face. Cindy wandered back into her bedroom to get dressed. Opening her underwear drawer, she was startled when she saw the new thongs that Ron had bought her. She had forgotten about them. Pulling out the pink pair, she looked long and hard at the word "Love" embroidered across the front. Was what she was feeling really love? Or was it some other deep seated need that she didn't understand? The last time she had fallen in love, her heart had been shattered. She had trusted the jerk completely and he had made an absolute fool out of her. Looking closely at herself in the mirror, she sighed. She realized that she wasn't the most beautiful woman in town, but she was pretty and physically fit. She took good care of herself and had a sharp mind and nice personality. Didn't she deserve to be loved? Couldn't she at least hope? She slipped on the tiny thong and put on one of her bras. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she had to chuckle at the difference between the plain white bra that covered her completely and the little pink wisp that snuggled in the very bottom of her crotch and hardly covered anything. Turning around to look at the back was even more of a contrast. "I really do need a wider assortment of underwear," she thought to herself. Cindy went back into her tiny bathroom, put on a minimum of makeup and brushed her hair. Then she reached her new sundress out of the closet and slipped it over her shoulders. Carefully buttoning it all the way up the front, she checked the fit in the full length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. Stepping over to her dresser, she decided to again wear her fine gold necklace and cross and also decided against wearing anything on her wrists. After she fastened the necklace around her neck, she unbuttoned the top button of the dress and let it fall open. It didn't reveal too much so she tried unbuttoning the second button. The top of the dress lay open on her chest nicely and only the slightest hint of her bra was visible if you looked really closely. She decided that she could be a little daring for him today. Grabbing a pair of anklets out of a drawer, she pulled her walking shoes out of the closet and headed towards the kitchen with them in her hand. Helping herself to another cup of coffee, she picked up the library book that she had checked out what seemed like ages ago and curled up in her easy chair. She tried to lose herself in the murder mystery and somewhat succeeded. If she kept her mind concentrating on the plot of the book, it couldn't wander to her other concerns. She had finished chapter six when she noticed that it was time to fix something for lunch. The morning didn't pass by any where nearly as quickly for Ron. By the time he grabbed his water bottles out of the office refrigerator and left for his luncheon appointment with a client, he was pummeling himself for the lack of progress he had made. The Fornier brief was still languishing on his desk and he would probably have to take it home with him and work on it tonight. Damn! Fortunately, the lunch meeting went well and he left feeling somewhat better about himself.