What Became of Me

“Standing inspection position!”

Petra had a unique way of giving orders. No shouting like in the barracks. She didn’t even raise her voice. Calm, matter-of-fact. Orders given by someone who was used to having them carried out. Orders given by someone to whom obedience was simply expected, and who therefore had no need to assert their authority.

I’ve always been drawn to submissive positions. I collect posters depicting various positions, and I’m always happy to find a new one to try out. But I haven’t gone through any systematic training. I did remember enough, though, to stand with my feet shoulder-width apart and clasp my hands behind my head.

Petra circled me, sizing me up, and I began to tremble with excitement as she closed in to within arm’s reach. But then she took a few steps back.

“I’m not surprised that a submissive horny whore like you knows the position. Or thinks she does. Taking and holding a position is important for a sub and especially important for a toy doll. And that there …” – Petra shook her head disapprovingly – “… is unsatisfactory. Let’s see.”

Petra picked up a long, thin, flexible rod and stood right in front of me.

“Submissive positions are a visual language, and they require as much deliberation and carefulness as the written and spoken language. You will learn it though. Of course, everyone has their own preferences, so pay close attention.”

Petra pushed the stick against my thighs, urging me to spread my legs wider.

“Obviously, this position is supposed to communicate openness to evaluation. It is equally obvious that this position leaves the doll vulnerable and exposes its private parts. Tits, pussy, and ass are up for grabs.”

To illustrate, Petra slid the rod between my legs, making my cunt start to tingle.

“But I’m into bondage, as you know, and I like to see my dolls in forced positions. That’s why your legs must be wider than shoulder-width apart. And that’s why…” – Petra pushed my right arm backward with the rod – “…I expect your elbows to always stay in a straight line behind your clasped hands and your chest to be wide open. Exactly, something like that.”

Getting into the position as requested wasn’t a problem, but I could already feel a tugging sensation in my upper arms and chest, and it was going to be a challenge to hold it precisely for any length of time. Petra positioned me the way you would place a doll on a shelf.

“One more thing…” – Petra poked my feet with the stick – “… keep your feet parallel, not splayed out. You’re not skiing here.”

Petra took a few steps back again and surveyed her handiwork.

“Not bad for a start. Now show me that you have the stamina – and above all, the will – to keep going when the going gets tough.”

She sat down on the sofa across from me, behind the coffee table, and kept her eyes fixed on me as she continued:

“There’s one thing I want to make clear from the start. I’m demanding. I don’t play with subpar toys. I expect nothing less than perfection. Not perfection in the results, but perfection in dedication, effort, and hard work. I expect nothing less than your full commitment to serving me. If you’re not willing to do that, I’ll get your clothes and that’s it. Let me tell you, if you stay, this will be the hardest time of your life, especially during the training phase. Do you think you have what it takes?”

To my ears, that sounded more like a promise than a threat. In the few minutes I’d been here, my submissive fantasies had been fulfilled more than in any of my previous relationships. As far as my pussy was concerned, it was a done deal anyway: it hadn’t stopped throbbing since the touch by the rod. But I didn’t want to make any rash promises, so I hesitated.

“Well?” Petra asked. “Do you think you have what it takes?”

With a lump in my throat and a wet, throbbing pussy, I nodded in agreement. Petra had been right: talking was pointless and would only have made things more difficult or even ruin everything. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be transformed into the perfect toy for Petra.