Several notes:
First, this is a work-in-progress, and will be three parts or so…
Second, in the recalling of my times with Master McKenna, I confess there is a sequence of training sessions I am confused about. That is, my after-notes are messed up, and at least one is missing. Further, the individual sessions have blended in my mind. He often at the beginning of a new session reviews what I’d learned in the previous session, and this makes the distinctions from session to session blurry in my recollection. All to say that I may have in previous posts referred to a training session by a particular number in the sequence, but that may have been wrong.
Third, this is posted with permission of Master McKenna. In fact, I asked him to review this to be sure it would not be an issue in my ongoing servitude to him. He has approved it, and has made no edits or requested changes.
I have been reserved in sharing publicly my sexual experience with Master McKenna — or more rightly put, his sexual uses of me. I haven’t been shy about this for my own sake, but I’ve wanted to capture his character and dominance first without coloring it with things sexual. As he said to me once in that Sensei way of his, “Sex with a slave is not the point but the process.”
Which is not to say he hasn’t had me sexually — he has. But his sexual activity with me indeed has been part of his process of mastering me, shaping and molding me to him, his making me sex gradually becoming my ultimate submission to his mastery of me.
Let me talk about this a little…
Master McKenna kept me fully clothed during my first three or four sessions with him. As I’ve written before, he focused first on my sitting, standing, and walking, then on protocols — speech and forms of address, then on my behaviors with him in various social situations.
Of course, he had me in short-short skirts and tight sheer tops and high heels, his male-dom preference for me. So, yes, he mad me sexual to him like this, but I remained clothed nonetheless.
I was also well aware that this practical training of my everyday presentation was much about conditioning me to move my body as pleased him — which itself had a sexual undercurrent. Being able to stand cleanly from a sitting position (my new skill!) is, on the one hand, his version of simple slave etiquette. Yet, on the other hand, it’s the public proof of his precise control of my body — suggesting to observers other ways he might command my body to bend and behave — and open up.
(A quick aside: I went through two sessions of this training by him and it seemed to me very technical and physical and extraneous to his domination of me. Yet at the end of the day, I realized that by training my body, say, to walk a precise way to his side and a step behind, he had gotten into my head. I had the distinct awareness he was inside me, by means of my training.)
Still, my first number of sessions with Master McKenna were free of overt sexual expressions. In fact, in that time, I don’t believe he ever actually touched me. If so, it was to position me as he wished me to stand or sit, but even in that, I don’t recall he ever did.
I do remember that by session three or so I wanted him to touch me. This isn’t to say I specifically longed for him in some sexual way. Well, not yet. But I was in a process of being “fitted” to him, and in that is a kind of early intimacy that draws you in. I desired to feel his touch, not necessarily a sexual way such as fondling my breasts, but even just his hand on my arm or shoulder.
Session four, as I recall, was about training me to undress on command. Of course, this is the story of my life under Amanda, but the question was if I could transfer to him the same immediate response to his “undress” commands. Again this was a certain degree of rote repetition — my taking my top off over and over in the course of doing other things — and in this there is a Pavlovian kind of learning.
So it became “Shae, top off,” or “Shae, skirt off,” then “Shae, undress” — all with an eye to some private group or board he will entertain in some future moment. This was a role play at times in the Great Room, with Master McKenna uttering “top off” and my making myself bare-breasted as he described the men around the table, who they were and what position they had in companies.
We rehearsed what I did with the top I just had taken off (a quick fold and placement on the table near Master McKenna’s seat) and where I am to place my hands (unfussy, to my sides). We reviewed how I would serve drinks topless, how I was to distribute papers while in some state of undress, and how I was to sit in a chair along the wall topless when I wasn’t used.
I don’t recall so well the very early times with Master McKenna here at our house, before my trainings, when he and Amanda were still negotiating my slavery to him him, but I don’t specifically recall that I was ever undressed for him at any time in the beginning. I think it’s likely he had not actually seen my body until this fourth session or so.
As I stood topless in training, it was important to me to feel he liked what he saw. This wasn’t my own insecurity, but more my awareness that men like certain figures and bodies more than others. You never know who your body reminds a man of.
When he saw me naked the first time, he smiled faintly with a slight nod — always the somewhat inscrutable McKenna with his methodical stoicism and quiet, confident command — but a response of approval nonetheless, enough to reassure me.
Still, I don’t recall him touching me even then.
I will write another time about my little theory that dominants are either consumers, commanders, or creators. I may have to work on my terminology, but you get the idea.
Master McKenna is definitely a “creator.” Perhaps a better term is “presenter” or “producer,” but the idea is that he takes a slave like me and creates her (shapes, produces her) into the image of what he wishes to present.
“Sex with his slave” is not the top priority it would be for the “consumer” dominant or the “commander” dominant. For him, sex has another purpose — namely to wed his slave to him in a kind of intimate dependence.
This, I assume, takes a great deal of self-discipline, not because I am so lust-worthy, but just because a dominant with a slave girl simply can do her whenever he wants. He could have taken me on day one, but instead he waited, intentionally holding himself back and creating in me a longing that became part of his mastery of me.
It was the next session when Master McKenna touched me, finally.
It was a “Shae, top off,” command, and this time he came behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. I remember this specifically because his touch was electric. I startled, uttering “Oh!”
Even this was a training point, something like: “When you undress, keep your shoulders back. Let your tits push out. Not so much that you’re projecting them but enough to make them available.”
I think there is a particular feel to the dominant touch, different from other experiences by normals caressing or fondling me. It isn’t physically different but psychologically different.
With Master M, then, there were other touchings, here and there, each one drawing me into him like a bee to honey.
Another time he had me topless in training once again, and he walked up to face me. He put his hands on my breasts, cupping them. I inhaled from his touch.
“Say I am Granger [one of his board members],” Master McKenna says, “and he fondles you like this, what do you say?”
“Thank you sir.”
“Right. And what if he goes on to say you have beautiful tits?”
“I would reply, ‘I’m glad that you like them, sir.’”
“Good. You never pull back or lean in. You let him enjoy your tits until he is done.”
After that there were more touchings, always for training purposes. I became keen on discerning when he was pleasuring himself — a recurring brush of my skin, a lingering fondle, a gracing of his fingers on my thigh — and, sure, I read too much into this, but in fact he was beginning to take possession of my flesh, one slow touch at a time.
In one of my last few training sessions before the retreat, Master McKenna had me spend more time sitting on the floor. Ostensibly it had to do with how I assumed a sitting position with my legs curled under me, and then how I got out of that position to stand up. It had to be elegant and graceful. He taught me how (I wondered at the time he must have taken to figure this out), and I learned another new skill.
It happened out of the blue: I was sitting on the floor beside him and he presented a scenario. “How would you respond if Granger told you he wanted you to suck his dick?”
I was startled by the bluntness of the statement. Even as a hypothetical, this was unusual. He was drawing me into a role play. He knew he’d surprised me, and gave me some grace as I took a bit of time to collect my thoughts.
“Mr. Granger,” I finally said, “I would love to suck your cock. But you’ll have to first get the permission of Master McKenna.” I said it cleanly, but even though the act itself has become somewhat common in my life now, the thought of saying this to an utter stranger made me blush.
He liked my response — and maybe my blushing. He affirmed my first line, supporting my willingness and desire for “Mr. Granger.” But he instructed me that in such a request the responsibility is on me: “Permission to access you as my property is your duty to procure.”
He talks this way sometimes, with a kind of officious vocabulary. I took a moment to parse it, then replayed my response:. “So, I would better have said, ‘Mr. Granger, I would love to suck your cock. But I’ll first have to get the permission of my master.’”
“Yes. That’s the idea. You should additionally ask when he would want you.”
I replayed myself again: “Mr. Granger, I would love to suck your cock. But I’ll first have to get the permission of my master. When would you like me? I will then ask Master McKenna.’”
“Good. Realize I’m not dictating those exact words. It’s better that they come naturally from yourself in the moment. But those are the main points.”
“I understand.” Later I would think on this and realize that it requires me to address my sucking a man’s cock in front of two men and a total of three times: My first response to Mr. Granger, my request of Master M, and then my return response to Mr. Granger. Three times a lady.
“So… let’s say in that situation, you come to me, and I give you permission to suck Granger’s cock. How will you do it?”
“How? What do you mean?”
“I want you to show me.”
“Oh,” I said, then again more slowly, “Ohhh…”
I cocked my head toward him. This was different, a shift in everything, and I wasn’t sure if we’d switched out of the role play and into actually doing this with him. “You know, sir, you could have just asked me straight up. I think your odds were pretty good that I would have done this for you anyway. I mean, without bringing Mr. Granger into it.”
This is me with my sass showing. He likes it sometimes. “Shut up,” he said to me with a grin, “and slide in between my legs.”
I positioned myself, sitting back on my ankles, a foot from his crotch.
“The correct starting position,” he said, “is with your hands behind your back, looking up at me. Start there, and then you can use your hands.”
I did so.
“You may now begin.”
I nodded slowly. “Just to be clear,” I asked, “am I sucking Mr. Granger’s cock or am I sucking your cock?”
Master McKenna looked down at me with a slight shake of his head and a curled smile. “Does it matter?”
I might have said that it mattered because if it were Mr. Granger it would for me a submissive experience of fulfilling master’s wishes with someone else. If it were Master McKenna for real now in this moment, it was something I had longed for during all these training weeks. But I didn’t say any of that.
Instead I replied, “It matters because if it’s you, sir, I would ask how you like it. If it’s Mr. Granger, I would just go ahead and pleasure him my way.”
Master McKenna laughed.
“So,” I said, “how do you like it?”
slave shae 