EROTICA STORY presents:

The House of Smoke
An original bdsm story by Libido Ergo Sum

She had found herself pushing once again. She had been warned that when she committed to this, there would only be one standard, and that one would be enforced rather cruelly. He was lecturing again about the value of standards, his boots gleaming at her as her arms quivered and wanted to give out. The beads of sweat were making her stray hairs stick to her face; the majority of her thick black hair was secured in a severely tight bun. Her muscles burned; the familiar dull ache of muscle exhaustion had disappeared thirty pushups ago. She was reaching absolute muscle failure. She knew that she had violated the rules, and this is what happens when standards are not met.

“Position of attention, move!”

The sharp tone and volume of his command startled her. She tried to spring to the position of attention, but her arms simply failed to hold up her weight. She fell to the ground with a dusty thud.

“I want you showered, in Class A's, and in my office in thirty minutes. Go.”

“Yes, Sir!” She replied.

She took a sharp step back, spun on her heel and disappeared in a flash. This was all a part of her training. She made the choice to come here and now there was no turning back. She had been humiliated, deprived of sleep and forced to endure physical conditioning that stretched the envelope of her body far beyond anything she could have ever imagined. She was 18 and thought she knew what she wanted. She thought she knew the meaning of the phrase “to serve.” He was now teaching her what it meant to serve, and it was well beyond her wildest fantasy. She came to him and asked if she could be his slave. He warned her; he warned her that she would never be the same.

He had said thirty minutes, but he really meant twenty. She had been on time once before; but she had forgotten that whenever he put out a time, she had to be there five to ten minutes prior. She'd never make that mistake ever again. After that, she had to high crawl everywhere she went, and if she was outside, she had to “Iron Mike” everywhere for a week. That was as cruel as he had been so far, but she figured his cruelty if provoked probably knew no bounds.

The five-minute mark was fast approaching. The skirt of her uniform has definitely hindering her ability to run. She had six minutes to make it, which really meant that she had one minute. She trotted up to the chairs outside his office with about twenty seconds to spare. The sweat was starting to bead on her forehead from rushing around making sure everything was up to spec. This was the fourth month of six months of training that he mandated. It was almost time for Period Two inspections, and she was starting to get nervous.

“Ms. Abbraaj.”

The heels of her shoes tapped loudly on the floor as she walked into his office.

“Ms. Abbraaj reporting, Sir.” Her tone of voice was strong, and the lines of her uniform were clean and form fitting.

“Sit down.”

She sat down and crossed her legs; he liked the way it accentuated her calves. She tried to please him as much as possible. She was not in trouble, if she was, she'd still be standing or doing some sort of callisthenic. She was praying silently that this was not going to be another twenty-four hour smoking marathon; she still hadn't recovered fully from the last one. She sat up straight in her chair, trying to keep from putting wrinkles in her uniform.

“Are you enjoying your training? Is this everything you had hoped it would be?” He inquired without looking up from the papers that he was reading.

“I don't know if I'd say that I was 'enjoying' my training, but it has done wonders for my body, I don't think that I've ever looked this good. I'm certainly most grateful for the opportunity.”

“At least you are honest. You've almost completed the second phase of your training, and after next week, you'll be moving into the third phase. Do you understand what's going to be asked of you in Phase III?”

“A little, Sir. I understand that Phase III is where I learn how to please you and experiment to find what my hot buttons are.”

“Then you understand enough of Phase III. You did well this morning, despite your infraction you are progressing well. As part of Phase III and beyond, you will begin taking ballet lessons along with other forms of training. This will give definition to your legs, solidify your midsection and give you the flexibility that you will need to be my slave. Actually, you've done well enough so far that you deserve a break. Today was the first infraction that you've had in two months and it was only a minor one. We're going out to the toy store and out to dinner. You have ninety minutes to change into the black silk and lace garter and bra set, pinstripes and your spikes. Oh, hair will be worn down, not up. Low ponytail. Move out.”

“Yes, Sir!” You could see the gleam in her eyes, she was grateful, but didn't stick around to express it.

Something was up; she hadn't worn the pinstriped suit since she had been fitted for it. The anticipation of going out sang in her body. As soon as the adrenaline hit her body, she was quickly reminded of the cost of not meeting the standards. Her arms refused to be raised above shoulder height. The pain from her remedial training was a real reminder of her place in his life. The five-inch stilettos mocked her from the top shelf. The patent leather shone in the light from her closet, all of her shoes were dress-right-dress along the edge of the shelf, just as prescribed. She gingerly put her arms behind her back and interlocked her finger and slowly stretched. The pain was exquisite to her. She never liked being in pain before she came here, now the pain was her way of knowing she was getting stronger. She looked in the mirror; she never would have bought herself lingerie like this.

The ensemble that he was referring to was genuine silk; it was delicate and distinctly feminine. It was a far cry from the granny panties and sprotsbras that she wore on a daily basis with her BDU's. After about a minute of stretching she reached up to get her shoes; her arms and shoulders complied begrudgingly. She placed the shoes next to her bunk where she had already laid her suit out. It was a black suit with charcoal pinstripes. She put the shirt on first; it was a man's white shirt with a spread point collar and French Cuffs. All of the garments that she was to wear were tailored for her, with the sole exception of her shoes. After she got her shirt situated, she slipped on the skirt. The skirt came down to just below the bottom of her calves and was slit generously to just below mid-thigh. The tie she wore was deep blue, almost indigo with a silver embroidered pattern that was reminiscent of shamrocks. The cufflinks she wore were platinum with blue abalone shell. It took her a few tries to get the knot of the tie just right, but she got it. The jacket slipped on easily over the shirt and she could almost feel the silk of the suit-lining slide over her arms and shoulders. The lining of the skirt flowed effortlessly over her silk and lace lingerie. She buttoned the suit and it followed her hourglass figure flawlessly. She unbuttoned the jacket so she could put her heels on. They were patent leather with a medium ankle strap and a Mary-Jane strap up the front of her foot. The toes were only slightly rounded and a small brass lock went on the outside of her ankles. Apparently, whatever was going on, he wanted her in heels. She stood up and teetered over to the mirror. The heels accentuated her calves and the suit made her look sexy in the most powerful way.

She walked from her quarters over to the main house, regaining her ability to walk in heels. Her ponytail floated in the breeze from the silver clip in hair to the middle of her back. She sat outside his office and waited for him to return.

------------ Continue with the training -----------

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