Converted: Part 1: Trained to WORSHIP
This is a longer story broken into two distinct parts. Converted: Part 1: Trained to WORSHIP, and Converted: Part 2: Trained to SERVE. It was a story which mean a lot to me and which I as able to explore those themes which form a basis of my own beliefs, lifestyle and practice.
Elliot Bonham didn’t know anything.
He was a semi-retired accountant, divorced, and an amateur historian. He was thoroughly middle class, set in his ways, and decidedly unworried about anything. He did, however, watch a lot of pornography.
He was contemptuous of all religion, innately suspicious of spirituality, and couldn’t for the life of him understand what it was that made someone want to kneel and grovel and mindlessly worship anything.
Until, that is, he met HER. Until that point Elliot Bonham hadn’t known anything.
But now he was going to learn.
Dressed in nothing but a red latex corset, with matching elbow length gloves and heels, she lowered herself slowly onto the monster butt plug, gasping slightly as it immediately slid halfway inside her, the flaccid sphincter opening easily before the pressure of the huge, lubed up black cone. She gripped her ass cheeks with the gloves and pulled them apart, sliding lower and lower as her rectum slowly expanded under the pressure. She started to breathe in tight gasps as the pain mounted, but she did not raise herself off the plug. She waited, bouncing slightly, and her weight gradually forced the merciless cone deeper and deeper inside her. It seemed impossible that such a large object could enter anyone’s anus, but suddenly, with a rush, the widest part of the toy slipped past her straining sphincter and her stretched muscle closed over it gripping the much narrower neck behind, trapping it inside her. All that could be seen from now was the gigantic base, the rest firmly embedded. She gasped with pleasure, exploring it with her fingers, wiggling her behind slightly to feel the fulness of it.
She knelt in obvious ecstasy for a while, giggling and moaning, and then began to try and work the plug out again. This seemed to be harder than making it go in. The plug was designed to enter her in a gradual way, but then be held in place by the suddenly much smaller girth behind the extreme circumference of the base of the cone once it had passed inside. Beyond this narrow point, the plug flared suddenly out again to prevent it slipping entirely inside her ass. It could not easily move in either direction.
Her first attempt to remove it failed and she moaned with pleasure as she gave up, surrendering her ass once more to the plug.
All the time she it stayed inside her, her sphincter was getting used to being at the smaller part of the plug, tightening little by little, making it ever more difficult to remove. She gasped and moaned, caressing the shiny, solid black rubber base, knelt right over as if forced down by the massive rectal invasion.
Eventually, she tried again to remove it, gripping the base again with her latex glove and straining as hard as she could, letting out great gasps of effort. Her ass stretched out backwards but the plug remained trapped inside her. She gasped again and continued to pull. Gradually, her sphincter began to open again, more and more of the huge cone end appearing. Eventually, after what seemed like an age of breathless effort, it went impossibly wide and then, with a rush, the plug slipped out.
The ruined, overstretched anus tried to close over the gaping hole that was left behind but she reached round with both hands and pulled her ass cheeks apart keeping her anus impossibly open and wide. An apple wouldn’t have touched the sides. It was an epic gape, and she giggled as she felt the huge hole with her gloved fingers.
With a deep satisfied sigh, she eased her ass cheeks back and allowed her sphincter to contract back to its normal resting position. It was not even circular now, with puffed swollen edges like an untidy loop of rope around the yawning entrance to her flaccid destroyed ass. That was about as tight as it was ever now going to get. She exploring the loose hole with her gloved fingers, gasping with pleasure and giggling again.
Elliot started as there came the sound of approaching feet outside the door, and with a flicker of annoyance, took the wireless earpiece out, which automatically stopped the film on his smartphone. It was one of the advantages of Hensford Park that you could hear tourists and visitors coming a long way off on the old, creaking boards. He slipped his phone into his trouser pocket and worked his hard cock over to the same side to conceal its swollen length. Being a bit small did occasionally have its advantages, he thought, wryly.
It had been a slow morning and he had been able to watch a lot of pornography in between pleasant interludes explaining various features of the library to passersby. The severe Victorian atmosphere almost seemed to collude in his concealed depravity, carrying in the complex, musty odour the secrets of countless forbidden encounters, he liked to think. The books in the library stood tightly together and ordered on heavy oaken shelves, but the weight had bent them slightly out of true over the years, and they hung swollen and pregnant, as if under some intolerable internal pressure.
He made ready the polite, intelligent, welcoming expression that he always maintained for visitors, and felt he represented a fairly good stuffy Victorian appearance himself, with dark blue blazer and slacks, shirt and tie, polished black shoes and hands behind his back. He was balding, semi retired, divorced, unexceptionable, with an interest in local history. The room stewards were not explicitly encouraged to dress in a way that harmonised with the decor of the house, but nevertheless they all seemed to do so. Elliot had not had to make much of an effort. His years as an accountant made him very comfortable with formal clothes of that sort.
As it was, it wasn’t a paying visitor, but Miss Alberts, another volunteer, stepping carefully through the door in a black dress with lace trim, and period hat pinned through greying hair.
“Oh,” he said, with a lopsided smile as she entered. “Coffee break already?”He had the momentary vision of Miss Alberts lowering her ass onto a monster butt plug with every indication of enjoying it and had to stop himself laughing. It really was a ludicrous thought, being elderly and so strait-laced as to almost be a caricature. She still struggled pathetically with make up, though Elliot couldn’t imagine why. Miss Alberts looked every inch the Victorian spinster, and he always imagined that she kept the same severe black dress on even when not on duty at the house.
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I am an author of books with strong and explicit Female Domination themes.
I am a Dominatrix / Mistress. I am a bitch.
I live in the Chester area. Note, I do NOT have an Amazon Wishlist.
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