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Training Tom Ch. 03: Humility Pt. 02

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All characters are 18 or older.

It was early Monday morning and Tom Douglas stepped into the elevator at the Four Seasons downtown. Seeing it was key activated, he fumbled for a moment in his pocket to locate the magnetic card. His hands shook with excitement and anxiety, and he had to use both arms to align the card with the slot. The reader lit up green and he scanned the columns of floor numbers until his eyes landed on 24.

Always twenty-four, he thought to himself as he pressed the button. The elevator rose swiftly and the butterflies already in his stomach made an extra swoon.

He had left his suburban home four hours ahead of his usual schedule to make the appointed rendezvous with his daughter’s friend Sophie. It seemed fortuitous that he was staying in the guest cottage on his property, otherwise such an early departure would have drawn the attention of his wife and daughter.

His thoughts shifted to the bizarre memory of his wife, Lisa, striding silently into his guesthouse bedroom the prior evening. She had mounted his face and rode it forcefully to orgasm before summarily exiting without a word. Such an act would have never been part of her character before and came as a complete surprise. He mulled over her motives. Revenge seemed most likely, quid pro quo for what he had done to her weeks before in a moment of lust-filled frenzy. It also smacked of an assertion of dominance, reminiscent of Sophie’s treatment of him. Lisa’s vindictive reaction could have come in many other forms; aggressive sexual exploitation would have seemed unthinkable, until it wasn’t.

Tom felt a wave of guilt. Lisa’s fury was isolated to a specific incident, yet there was so much more she didn’t know. He was living a dual life, concealing an explosive secret. He knew it was wrong and disrespectful to be cheating on his partner of so many years, but he felt entirely helpless to resist the temptations of his daughter’s friend. And he didn’t want to. He was living a dream. In fact, he never wanted it to end.

As the elevator dinged, Tom stepped out and spotted a sign indicating the direction of various room numbers. Sophie had left him a note the previous morning with explicit instructions:

Meet me for “breakfast” tomorrow at 5:00 AM sharp. Four Seasons downtown, suite 2400.

He turned to follow the sign and his stomach grumbled. It felt odd to think of it as breakfast, given all his meals had essentially become the same. The note was also tongue-in-cheek in that they wouldn’t be having breakfast together per se, rather he would be the only one eating – feeding at her breast.

Sophie had imposed her will so completely over Tom that he was now dependent on her for his daily sustenance. He had lost the ability to eat normal food and nearly starved himself before finally latching onto her breast and tasting the sweet nectar of her body.

The 6’5″ eighteen-year-old high school senior had teased and tormented him since the start of the school year, whipping him into a constant frenzy of fantasy and masturbation. She exploited his fetishes, lifting and carrying him around with amazing ease, physically overpowering and humiliating him with her devastating strength and nine-inch height advantage.

Her face and body were perfection incarnate, her intelligence and wit were unmatched. She was bold and exciting, charming and unpredictable. Every moment with her was like discovering a new hidden treasure stashed away in her complex being: a new fetish, a new sensation, a new reason to be awestruck…a new path to subservience.

She had raised the bar for what sexual satisfaction meant to him, then the bar simply kept rising. She seemed so far out of reach, yet there she was, showering him with attention, seducing him, wrapping him around her finger. And he felt supremely lucky for it, subordinating everything in his life — his wife, his daughter, his reputation, his career — to follow the gorgeous siren wherever she may lead.

Over a series of days, she had cunningly taken complete control of his life. She made herself the center of his world, inducing him to declare his love for her, and symbolically rebirthing him as her newborn son to raise and protect. She promised to train him to be a better man, one capable of achieving his long-forgotten career aspirations, of realizing his true potential. A man possibly suitable to earn her love.

Then she had disappeared for three weeks. It was a time of darkness for Tom, when he succumbed to numerous sinful temptations. He effectively stopped eating, and nearly lost his grip on reality.

Then only two days before, she had reappeared, dressed as a ravishing dominatrix. She punished him brutally for his sins, battering his body and scarring his mind. Just when he thought her hell would never end, she bared her nipple and suckled him to her miraculously lactating breast. She explained that the abandonment and punishment had all been part of his training and that he was ready to take the next step. That her bursa escort bayan milk would rebuild his emaciated body and sharpen his brain. And powerfully, that he would henceforth be made of Her.

And now here he was, meeting his domme and nursemaid early in the morning before work, just so he could get through his day without passing out from malnourishment. But he didn’t resent her for it. Every moment of her hiatus had been torture; the vacuum of her absence was like a black hole at his core, pulling him in on himself until it seemed nothing was left. The idea that she was responsible for nurturing him multiple times per day gave him hope that she wouldn’t leave him again, and elation at the prospect of being with her so often.

And he loved the act of nursing at her breast — the closeness he felt to her, the wonder of her taste, the maternal power she held over him. Since the first time her milk expressed, he honestly wasn’t sure which sensual deed he loved more: when he sucked out the divine liquids of her body, or when she teased out the lurid juices of his.

It seemed a lucky coincidence that the hotel was a few blocks from the office tower where he worked. Although, he reminded himself, nothing was ever a coincidence when Sophie was concerned. He had parked in his usual lot and walked ten minutes to the hotel. He wore his work suit, expecting to head to the office after his feeding.

He walked down a long hallway, checking each room number along the way. 2414, 2412, 2410… As the numbers fell, it became obvious the suite was at the end of the hall. Usually that was where the largest rooms were, and at the Four Seasons that didn’t come cheap. He thought briefly of Sophie’s modest family home. Something didn’t add up.

Upon arriving at the door, he looked at his watch to check the time. 4:52 AM. He was early as intended — to avoid being late — and had almost decided to take a walk back down the hall when he saw an envelope taped near the handle of the door. He pulled it off and slid out a note written in Sophie’s impeccable handwriting:

Strip immediately. Head to toe. Put it all in the basket. Everything except your watch and room key. Turn around with your back to the door and stand in the center of the hall with your hands at your sides. Do not move. At 5:00 AM sharp you may enter and place the basket inside.

Tom sighed uncomfortably. She had known he would arrive early. He hated that he was so predictable and scolded himself for falling into her trap. Yet he knew that even if he tried to deviate from his patterns, she would foresee it and head him off. Sophie could always sense his innermost thoughts.

Tom glanced down to see a round plastic laundry basket in the corner of the hall. For some reason he hadn’t noticed it. Then his eyes flicked up to the door and confirmed his suspicion — a peephole. She could see if he didn’t follow through, he thought to himself, and even if she didn’t look, she would still know. Lying to her was an impossibility.

He turned to glance down the hallway, and seeing it empty, began quickly removing his clothes: blazer, tie, shoes, trousers, Oxford shirt, undershirt, and finally socks. He placed her note on top of the clothes, then moved to face the hall, positioning himself exactly in the center as instructed. And he waited.

The cool hallway caused his skin to prickle and his dick to wither inside him. With each moment, he grew more self-conscious. It was still early, yet every one of the dozens of visible room doors seemed poised to open. He considered whether it was the impropriety of the situation itself, or the lack of confidence in his body shape that caused him the greatest anxiety.

He tried to make his mind blank to meditate away the minutes. But just as he reached a state of calm, his stomach churned again with hunger. And he thought of the source of his nourishment.

Almost immediately, his small penis unsheathed from its hideout and grew to its full four inches. His unease returned, redoubled by the lewdness of his erection — and by its unimpressive length.

A click sounded several doors down. Tom flinched and thought about crouching in the corner. But he felt the burn of Sophie’s eyes on his back and knew that the consequences of failing at his task would be far worse than the embarrassment of flashing a stranger. He stood as still as possible.

A man emerged from the room pulling a roller bag. He stopped momentarily before the door shut, as if debating something. Tom held his breath. Then the man continued out and turned toward the elevators. He reached the landing, a ding sounded, and he disappeared into a carriage, never looking back. Tom resumed breathing with a loud sigh of relief.

Just as he finished regathering himself, another ding sounded. A maid cart emerged from a service elevator further down the hall and turned toward him. The shaking of the metal castors sounded like a freight train in the quiet hall. The head of a short, dark-haired woman was just görükle escort visible pushing from behind. Tom stood rigid, almost believing his body would blend into the wall. Strangely his cock remained erect, relishing in the unfamiliar thrill of exhibitionism…

“Ay! Dios mio!”

Her cry echoed throughout the hallway. The cart stopped in its tracks. Tom straightened his back, like a bullfighter challenging his foe. And the bull reversed course. The maid pulled the cart at double-time, the service elevator dinged, and they were gone.

Tom’s heart thumped a mile a minute. His shame was gone. In its stead, he felt a glow of pride. He puzzled on the emotion. It was the last thing he expected to feel. Then he thought of Sophie’s note:

Do not move.

And he realized he was basking in the triumph of succeeding at Sophie’s task. Even without her explicit affirmation, he lived for her approval.

He glanced down at his watch. 4:59:14 AM. As the second hand ticked around its course, his sweaty palm fiddled with the keycard, squeezing against the sharp plastic sides. Waiting.

When the revolution completed, he turned and inserted the card into the door in one swift motion, not needing to steady himself. He was flush with adrenaline, driven toward his goal.

The door opened and the room was nearly dark behind it. He slid the basket in with a foot, slipped inside and dropped the room key on top of his clothes. Then he shut the door slowly to avoid it slamming and waited a moment to let his eyes adjust to his surroundings.

He was in a foyer, with a small lavatory opposite the room door and a hallway leading to his right. The air was colder inside and he reflexively shivered. His nerves were abuzz with anticipation. His muse was somewhere inside.

He wondered which Sophie he would find. His radiant, adoring mother? The playful, teasing teenage dream? The cruel, vengeful mistress of his nightmares? He shivered again at the thought.

Or perhaps a Sophie he hadn’t yet met? He felt his spine tingle. She always kept him guessing, leaning forward on the edge of his seat as he watched their saga unfold, both participant and audience to her femdom masterwork.

Then he recalled his wild goose chase through the hotel the night of Homecoming, and a lump formed in his chest. Was she even in the room? Might some other deviant surprise lay in store?

With only one direction to go, he stepped gingerly down the hallway and entered a large room. It was lit only by the brightness of the city night casting a white glow through a window. A round, formal dining table sat before him, and behind that a lavish, expansive sitting room fit for hosting a dozen guests at high tea.

His eyes scanned the room for a clue as to his next move and he spotted another hallway to his left. It was the only other way out of the room. A shiver engulfed his body as he stepped toward it. He could hear his heart beating loudly in his ears, quickening as his sense of suspense rose.

He stepped into the corridor and immediately noticed a sliver of incandescent light on the floor at the end. Raising his eyes, he could make out a door, slightly ajar. His breaths became short. What would he find beyond the door?

His steps became shaky as his body trembled. The short distance seemed to grow longer with each stride. His feet mired in quicksand; basic motion became intricate maneuvers. Fear gripped him as he recalled her unrelenting discipline.

A highlight reel of their exploits together played out rapidly his head. He reminded himself that she had always known what was best for him, even when he didn’t. She had proven it repeatedly and offered to take control. And he willingly submitted, knowing that he would be better for it. He was duty bound to accept whatever she had in store for him.

With renewed resolve, he took the last step, placed one hand on the jamb to steady himself, and used the other to give the door a slight push. It swung silently on oiled hinges. More light streamed into the hall, and finally it was open.

Sophie appeared like a heavenly vision, backlit by warm recessed lighting, standing in front of an ornate king-size bed. Her satiny light brown hair cascaded from her head in undulating waves, pooling at her shoulders, and flowing down her back. Individual strands shimmered like gold as the light streamed through them. She wore white slippers and a white silk robe that curved over her perfectly rounded breasts, then draped loosely down her body to her knees.

He couldn’t have imagined a starker contrast to the last time he saw her; nine inches taller, hair tightly braided, clothed in black leather, covered in steel spikes.

Her full, red lips parted slightly, glistening with moisture, and her eyes sparkled with unfathomable depth and allure. Yet she wore no make-up. There was a softness about her, as if she were slightly out of focus. She glowed with youthful beauty, looking pure and natural. Immaculate. Almost virginal.

Tom’s bursa escort bayan eyes lowered to her bosom. Her large erect nipples poked out through the thin fabric, forming separate ridges in the silk that traced down the length of the robe, like shadows of their projections. Tom’s eyes widened and his breathing became heavy. He could feel his salivary glands filling and his tongue began to float on a fresh bed of slaver.


Sophie made a sharp, surprised sound and tipped her head down to look at her breasts. Dark spots suddenly appeared on the white silk, expanding around her nipples. Narrow grey rivulets streamed down the shiny cloth.

Tom was momentarily startled, then recalled the let-down reflex that Lisa experienced when she breast-fed their daughter, Lauren. Her boobs sometimes leaked just from hearing her infant’s cry in the next room. The idea that Sophie could react so viscerally to seeing him sent a flood of warmth through his body. His cock pulsed and he felt his semen rise, as if it may suddenly gush in concert with her mammaries.

The urge thankfully subsided, and he turned his thoughts to the nature of their maternal bond. The idea that she had become his new mother was still abstract in Tom’s head. He could certainly sense their close mental connection and feel the deep physical dependence on her when he suckled. Yet to this point, the image of the sultry teen was still hard to associate with the traditional notion of motherhood; the juxtaposition had remained an anomaly even as he accepted the cream of her maternity.

But in that moment of spontaneous lactation, she was suddenly wholesome. The conundrum of her eroticism became irrelevant. She had embodied her role so completely that the mere sight of him made her milk flow. She was his new mother. And he had become the product of Her.

She raised her head and looked upon him, her face glowing with kindness and empathy. He wanted nothing more than to run to her, but he had made that mistake before and paid the price. He would never do so again.

Instead, he waited, letting her eyes probe him. He felt vulnerable in his nakedness. And not just due to his lack of clothing — he could sense that his mind was also exposed before her. He felt her wandering inside his head, searching his thoughts and feelings. Yet he realized he had nothing to fear. He knew for certain that all she would find was his love and dedication, for that’s what consumed the entirety of his brain.

Suddenly, almost as if it never existed, the robe dropped to the floor and Sophie stood nude before him, save for a pair of white cotton panties. She was nuder than he had ever seen her, fully exposed, on display. And she was indescribably perfect.

Her massive plump breasts floated like moons orbiting her celestial being. Barely sagging despite their full load. Not a hint of overhang on her lower chest.

Her large areolae were the color of ripe apples, their smooth surfaces practically reflective, shining with the light of the room. Her nipples sat like long red-velvet cupcakes on the surface, frosted with white droplets, begging to be devoured.

She stood straight and tall, her hourglass figure emphasized by the silhouette of the lighting. He could see the gap between her muscular, yet feminine, thighs and he glanced at her crotch. To his delight, her dampness wasn’t limited to her chest. His semen almost erupted again.

Sultry and wholesome. Opposites in the normal world. One and the same in Sophie’s skewed reality. His cock throbbed while suction built in his mouth. He loved his new mother in every possible way.

Her arms raised, beckoning him, and she broke the wordless silence:

“Come to me, my sweet little boy.”

Her voice was warm, yet commanding; seductive, yet functional. She was an enigma of contrasts. And he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her mystery.

His legs glided forward as if on air and he reached his arms out, ready to wrap around her waist. His body hairs stood on end as he entered her space, as if he could sense the field of her aura. Before he knew it, her arms gathered him into an embrace, pulling his head between her luscious breasts. Into his special place.

At her natural height, his face slipped seamlessly between the orbs. The sides pressed in, covering his ears, enshrouding him in silence. Her skin felt cool and powdery soft, like a freshly made bed. He instinctively breathed in, desperate for her memorable fragrance. His nose quickly registered its distinct tones, similar yet different from the last time they were together: softer and warmer, with an overtone of nurturing. No harshness of aggression. No piquant of exertion. Yet all Sophie.

Her ethereal aroma washed over him and through him. His heartbeat suddenly slowed, and his breathing deepened. His brain submerged into her pheromones, and his thoughts went blank. He drifted into a state of deep meditation.

He imagined himself as one with Her; consumed by Her. There was no independent him, only Her. Yet he sensed he was still there, only as an attribute or quality of Her. Like one of the many sides of her personality. And he was infinitely better as part of Her, versus alone and helpless as himself.

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