slave training in the foothills

Mistress Amanda takes me on a hike yesterday afternoon. It is a slave excursion, a measure of slave training and me on a leash in public. I know she wants to domme me publicly. This is a start.

She has me wear a short thin denim skirt and a thin white sweater top with long sleeves. It’s been getting up to sixty this week and is warm in the sun, but in shadow and up in the hills, it can be chilly. I’m also wearing hiking boots. I don’t know when in my life I’ve worn hiking boots.

She drives us to the trail head of the foothills, an open space with trails. There are a few other cars, but no people. We get out of the car, and she attaches my leash. She leads me down a particular trail, perhaps the road less traveled, which she seems to know well.

“Keep pace,” she says. “You can’t make me wait for you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply.

It is a smooth path with a gradual incline. This isn’t mountain climbing or even a hard hike. But it’s still a rough-and-ready dirt incline with turns. I remember my training under Master Michael. That was on sidewalks and brick paths and a smooth bed of forest needles, not anything like this, but I remember how he wanted me to follow a stride behind, and no farther. It’s harder than it seems. It requires the slave to keep constantly focused on her dominant. Which is the point. Master Michael would also say, “Don’t bump into the back of me when I stop.”

Almost on cue, Mistress Amanda says, “You must stop when I stop. If you run into me, you could send us both toppling over some edge.” She is all domme business today — directing, controlling, ordering.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You tend to think too much. Your mind will wander, you’ll look away, and then you’ll bump into me. Pay attention.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

We come to a promontory with a lovely view. She stops us there, and tells me to pull a water out of her backpack. I do and hand it to her. She takes a long swig, then another. She then hands it to me and I drink too. “I like this spot,” she says, pointing west. “There, you can see over to Rifle and Parachute.”

I nod. It’s beautiful and grand.

We take in the beauty for a while, both silent. It’s really a gorgeous day.

Later, she says, “Take off your sweater.”

“I’m really not that warm,” I say, without thinking.

“I’ll let that go this time,” Mistress says sternly. “It was an order. And it wasn’t about your comfort. It was about my pleasure.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, cringing at my mistake, nd I quickly pull my sweater over my head. My breasts swing freely, naked in the warm sun.

“Fold it,” she orders, “and lay it on the flat rock there. We’ll pick it up on the way back.”

I do, wondering how far and where the rest of our walk will require me to go topless. Of course, I’ve been exposed in public before — Master Michael was a pro at undressing me in public places — but there is a kind of conditioning for a slave with the particular dom or domme she is subject to. I have to learn to trust Mistress, that she will own my public nudity and take responsibility for me in it. Frankly, I don’t yet. This is new.

“Come here,” she says.

I stand before her.

Mistress Amanda takes her hand and slaps my right breast hard with a quick flick. I scream and tears come to my eyes. “That’s for not immediately obeying me.”

I nod. I think maybe this is not the moment to remind her that she just said she was going to let it go this time. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” I say, my voice trembling.

She takes her hand up high again, and brings it down in a hard stinging slap on my left breast. Again I scream, and a tear rolls down my cheek. “I want you to feel my sting in both your tits equally.”

Well, I do. Her hand prints linger a moment on the top slopes of my breasts.

We continue our hike, which gets more steep and winding as we go. When there is a flat stretch, Mistress turns, facing me, and walks backwards. I know she wants to see my breasts jiggling as my hiking boots thud on the dirt path. I feel like an REI pinup model — some endowed girl who has never before been in outdoor clothing and gear.

We hike for a half hour, entering a forested area, thick with aspen. It is beautiful, quiet, a poetry of thin white bark, vertically praying to heaven. She stops us. There is nowhere to sit, so we stand in silence. I love this about Amanda, that she has a joy of the beauty of nature and the poetry of life. In the midst of my domination, she can stop and enjoy what’s around us.

In time, we move on. We emerge from the woods and reconnect with the trail on the other side. She has walked this before.

Our trail then crosses another trail. It is there we encounter two hikers. They seem to be college-age, both guys. They see me on a leash, topless and stop in their tracks.

Mistress could walk by them and continue beyond, but she doesn’t. She stops and says hi.

The two of them say hi back, taking a lot of time to ogle me. This, of course, is what she wants.

She starts up a conversation — where are they from? how often do they come here? where do they go to school? — and I barely hear and do not remember their answers. I am blushing, looking down to the ground.

She tells them about me: “This is Shae. She is submissive, as you can see, and she is my slave. Say hi to the guys, Shae.”

“Hello,” I say.

“How do you address them?” Mistress asks me sternly.

“Hello, sirs.” I say.

One is grinning when he says hello in return. The other speaks to Amanda: “She’s obeys everything you tell her?”

“Yes she does,”

The guy says nothing in return. I imagine he’s thinking through the possibilities.

Amanda says. “Do you like her tits?”

“Of course. What’s not to like?” one says. The other is grinning and nodding.

There is an awkward silence. I think Amanda is weighing options. “Well,” she finally says, “it’s good for her to be seen by you. Thanks, guys.”

“Our pleasure,” one says.

Amanda tugs my leash and we walk ahead.

The boys remain standing there, watching us go. I remember hearing one saying to the other, “Denny, you wouldn’t know what to do with her if you had the chance.”

We get out of sight and earshot, and Amanda stops. She takes my jaw between her thumb and forefinger and lifts my face to hers. “You will look people in the eyes. You will submit to their gazes. You will absorb their lust for you. You will see in their eyes their desire to fuck you. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“This is about submitting to others. If you avert your eyes, you are hiding from them your experience of them. They need to see your eyes so they can see how they affect you.”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Next time I will let them —whoever we encounter — fondle you.”

I nod. “Mistress? You were thinking of letting them just now, weren’t you.”

“Yes. I chose not to.”

Now I feel I really disappointed her. “I’m sorry if by my behavior I caused you to back off from that.”

She pauses, looks at me. “It doesn’t matter. There will be other times. You don’t trust me yet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. This is the process. Your training.”

I nod. “I want to please you.”

“I know. So let’s take the next step.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Take off your skirt.”

I do. Again I am instructed to fold it and leave it. I now stand before her dressed in a collar, leash, and hiking boots.

She looks at me with a smile on her face.

“Are you laughing at me?” I ask.

“A little.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Your body is not made for hiking boots. It’s meant for high heels or ballet boots, footwear that is elegant and painful.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“It’s true.”

“I know,” I say.

“So,” she says, “if we encountered those two boys again, now with you completely naked, your pussy open to them like this, what would you be afraid of? Them touching you, fondling you? Fucking you?”

I don’t answer immediately. “I don’t know. I’d be afraid of being hurt by them.”

“Come here,” Mistress says.

I walk to her, my leash looping to the ground. She steps close to me, and we are face to face.

“Shae,” she says. “Two things.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“First, as my slave I want you to be so fully submissive that you accept the possibility that anyone you meet might fuck you. Everyone has a right to your body and sex.”

I nod.

“Second. Shae, know that you are mine. My slave, my love. Know that I will never, never allow anyone to hurt you. Trust me.”

She places her lips on mine and kisses me.

“Now,” she says, “let’s hike another five minutes, and then we’ll go back.” It’s not close to dusk, but the sun is lower in the sky and the air is cooler.

We come to another promontory, this one overlooking the town. There are paths down, seemingly that feed close to main street, and I can well imagine scenarios Mistress has planned for me. We will be back here.

We turn around, retrace our steps. I recover my skirt and then my sweater top, though Mistress doesn’t allow me to put my sweater top back on. I climb into the car topless.

This is just for her pleasure, and I am happy for her looks and gazes, even if my breasts are goosebumpy from the cold.

3 thoughts on “slave training in the foothills

  1. Great training. Looking deep into someone’s eyes one’s soul and taking a piece for my own. Lots of people try to hide their desire. Desiring something or someone shouldn’t be concealed. Your hunger should be feed. Fulfilling the lust of others should be your desire. Nevertheless, your Mistress detects that in you. Be well.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you, Sir. As you know, I deeply value your wisdom and instruction. I know I have to overcome a level of shame when I’m in front of strangers in public. I am quite comfortable among groups of people who are friendly to the lifestyle. In public in front of strangers becomes another thing. I know I need to submit myself in those situations to others’ desire. And I know I need to allow them to see my exposure, and my arousal, and my shame — all of it. Mistress Amanda is training me, and I am learning. There will be more excursions and public experiences. Again, I thank you for very much for your attentions.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s