What Became of Me

“That was quite a lot to take in all at once. You did well to focus on my words. But,” Petra stood up and reached for the thin, flexible rod, “that’s certainly no reason to neglect your posture.”

I had indeed forgotten to consciously maintain the prescribed position, and I tried to correct my posture as Petra walked around the table toward me.

“Standing inspection position!”, she commanded as she stood in front of me. “As I said,” – she pushed the rod against my inner thigh – “your feet need to be wider than shoulder-width and parallel. Elbows back, chest out!”

Petra tapped the rod against my breasts.

“Your tits are great. Don’t try to hide them. This position is supposed to emphasize them – among other things I already told you. I don’t like to repeat myself.”

Despite the praise, I found it uncomfortable to see my exposed body subjected to such a close examination, evaluation, and correction. I knew that, by today’s widespread social standards, I was perceived as attractive, but standing there naked and vulnerable in front of a virtual stranger and being judged intensified remaining insecurities. As I fought the urge to cover up my “great tits”, Petra sat back down on the sofa and crossed her legs. “My boobs might be okay, but your legs are to die for,” I thought.

“I need to address a few other fundamental issues,” Petra continued. “First of all: I’m not going to interfere with your “goonette lifestyle”. When you’re alone, you can edge and pleasure yourself as much as you want as long as you don’t neglect your training. I’m also not going to interfere with your decision to deny yourself all orgasms. For five years! To be honest, I think that’s pretty crazy and a bit megalomaniacal. But that’s your business.”

Petra shook her head. “Five years without orgasm! How crazy is that!”

Yes, I know that’s crazy. Five years without an orgasm. To be precise: more than five years. Five years, five months, and a few days. More than 2000 days altogether. Until August 8, 2031. When I decided to do this and posted the plan on my blog, it seemed crazy to me, too – but necessary. Sometimes you have to do things that scare you, don’t you? Sometimes I felt I needed to do things just because I didn’t want to do them. Maybe that was an attempt to dominate myself given the absence of a real dom/me. I had experience with long-term self-denial. I knew I could do it, and I loved the feeling of desperation from constant horniness that it provided. But honestly: With the prospect of a relationship, I probably would have decided differently.

Still shaking her head, but now smiling, Petra continued: “Even though I think the plan is ridiculous, reading about it did play a part in my decision to invite you as my second bondage toy. Of course, it’s tempting to tease such a horny whore and deepen her desperation. I would surely enjoy getting off on you not getting off. But that’s not the main point. First, it showed me that you’re interested in true service, true submission, and that I wouldn’t have to worry that you’re doing anything “just” to earn an orgasm. And second, your long-term perspective encouraged me. If you’re to be a useful bondage toy, it will require a lengthy period of training and accoutrement – possibly years. So, in our patience to achieve our goals, we’re compatible.”

The smile faded from Petra’s face. When she became serious, she looked even more like a stereotypical, somewhat haggard high school teacher or librarian. But with every word, her face lit up and came alive again.

“Even though I’m talking in terms of years, don’t get the wrong idea. We’re not friends. Maybe something like friendship will develop over time. Or at least some human interest. But there’s no guarantee of that. And even if it does: our relationship will always be defined by the fact that you’re just a means to an end for me. That sounds harsh, but you shouldn’t have any illusions. I’m only interested in you to the extent that it affects what I can do with you on the weekends.”

Petra’s smile grew even wider as she continued with what seemed to be very important to her: my training.

“As fair compensation for my lack of interest in you, I naturally expect to take center stage in your life. Not necessarily as a person – that doesn’t interest me. But I demand that you devote all the time and energy you have available, within reasonable limits, to your training. I expect your first and last thought every day to be how to become a better toy, a better submissive for me. I will guide you, I will help you, but you need to do the hard work. Consistently. Every single day. Are you ready for that?”

Petra had asked something similar before, just a while ago. She had promised me the hardest time of my life, especially during the training phase. I still didn’t know exactly what my training would entail. But Petra’s description was frightening, almost deliberately discouraging. Yet I knew from experience that my submissive nature would drive me to give it my all, no matter what. That was all Petra could ask for. Only time would tell if my best would ultimately be good enough to meet her high standards. On this matter, not even a sheet of paper could fit between my thoughts and the excited throbbing of my pussy. We would give it our best. The rest was written in the stars. I just nodded again, but with complete sincerity. In fact, being just a means to an end and getting trained to be better as just that felt like all that I could wish for in that moment.