Day Two - Morning

Please read Day One for this story to make sense.

Day Two-Morning

A soft, unknown sound penetrated the barriers of my sleeping conscience. I awoke, slowly, limb by limb, and stretched each one to relieve the tightness in my body. Shivery tingles and strange aches in uncertain places served as a reminder of the previous day's ordeal. I woke, strangely comforted, by the sight of the austere room that had been mine for the previous hours. No one had come to see to my welfare, to my knowledge, since the door closed and I had been locked inside. I was totally and completely alone.

I had been given six hours for sleep. Groggily, I sat up and felt my sore and abused bottom still stretched around the plug which had been lodged there overnight. The sound that woke me echoed again, closer this time. Moments later, the door to my room opened and someone stepped inside. It was not someone I had met the night before.

"I hope you rested well. My name is Connor. I had previous commitments last night that kept me from being here. There are more activities planned for you today. I brought your breakfast, and will come back for you in 20 minutes," she said.

True to her word, Connor left a tray containing a carton of yoghurt with a spoon, a muffin, and a bottle of water. I ate, surprisingly hungry, considering the trauma of the previous evenings events and the wonder about future activities.

When I finished eating, I waited on Connor to come for me. My wait was not long. She arrived quickly.

"Close your eyes and hold out your arms."

I did these tasks and a blindfold was placed over my eyes and some sort of restraint was wrapped around my wrists, binding them together. I held my arms down in front of me as I was led from the room.

"Someone has made an offer for you, if your training proves successful. I am taking you for showing later on today."

"I'm not ready for this," I silently screamed inside my head. "I've only been here one evening. What if I've made the wrong choice? Who will take care of the things that must be done if I enter into service?"

I was led into a chilly room, with the sound of several voices nearby. They were the team from last night. Their discussion must have been a heated one, for though they were whispering, their words carried in the still air.

"This is not acceptable protocol. She has only been here one night. He has no right to expect that she is ready for anything other than the remainder of the training," the woman from last night snapped.

Connor spoke gently to the bickering couple, "Excuse me, please, I have the candidate you requested."

When did I become the candidate? I had heard no one speak my name since I arrived last night. Is this part of the training? Do I cease to exist as a person to be reborn only as parts to be used for sexual pleasure? My name is Claire. I repeated this mantra over and over again to myself as I waited.

The order was given for me to kneel and I was assisted to my knees. Connor stayed with me while the others in the room left.

"Your training will begin soon. If everything goes as planned, you'll be tested on your pain threshold today."

I heard Connor move to the edges of the room I was being held in. Other rustlings of sounds like chair legs, a pen on paper, and drawers being slid open and closed kept my mind from wandering. Another sound, a whoosh, and white-hot pain erupted on my buttocks. The shriek that followed came from my own mouth. With no warning, another strike blazed across my skin. Again and again, the whistle of the cane led into agony as strike after strike assaulted my back and buttocks. When there was finally a lull in the whipping, I found myself resting in a puddle. I had humiliated myself by releasing my bladder.

Connor spoke softly to me, "Let me help you stand up."

I didn't think it was possible. My legs were jelly, the stripes from the cane screamed with each motion, and nausea roiled in my gut. Connor gently but firmly hoisted me into a standing position and led me to a table of sorts, where she removed the blindfold and the restraints from my arms.

It was the same table in the same room where I had been evaluated last night.

"Lie down on your stomach, please."

Gently, I lowered myself to the table in front of me. Connor spread cooling salve onto my fevered skin. That one simple act of kindness almost did me in. The tears came, a torrent, signifying the loss of myself, the submission of my body to another's will.

"Roll over onto your back, please," Connor murmured.

Though difficult, I managed to ease myself onto my back. Connor moved my feet into the stirrups at the end of the table and then helped me wiggle gingerly down to the end.

My legs were spread, exposing my sex and my ass. As she was working, cleaning me, Connor bumped the plug still seated deep in my rectum. Funny, I had forgotten it was there. The agony of the beating had faded into a dull, warm ache. I felt myself squeezing my butt so I could feel the plug there. Connor moved away and the man from last night came in and stood between my open legs.

"I need a Foley kit, 18 French, I think," he said. "Oh, and some Surgilube."

"Because you couldn't control your bladder, Dr. Feria has decided that you'll be better off for now with a urinary catheter. The prospective buyer won't like it if you smell like pee when you're displayed. This won't hurt, but it may feel a little weird, especially if you've never been catheterized before."

Connor strode over and opened me up further with her fingers while the man dipped his gloved fingers and a small rubber-like tube into a glob of clear jelly. He pushed the tube into my urethra and left it there a second for me to accustom myself to the feeling of an invasion of this previously virgin orifice. He was right; it didn't hurt, but strangely felt erotic as it snaked its way up my urethra and entered my bladder. He injected the sanitary water necessary to hold the catheter in place and taped the extruding length of rubber to my thigh and attached a small collection bag that I would be able to carry when it was necessary to walk somewhere. Even the smallest move reminded me of its presence as I waited.

His next move was to press firmly into my lower abdomen. "The bowel feels okay, but another enema may be necessary tomorrow for her showing. I think we need to increase the diameter of the butt plug, but I'll have to check with Dr. Feria for approval."

As he exited the room, Connor moved next to me.

"Are you a candidate for service?" I whispered furtively to her.

Her reply was slow in coming, as if she had chosen her words carefully. "I live here at the clinic," she answered. "I was taken into service 2 years ago and my master returned me after 18 months because he became ill and couldn't keep me any longer. I have a room here, and I work with the candidates during their testing, but I don't belong to anyone. Technically, my master is still responsible for me, but until his death, I can't be sold to anyone else. Dr. Feria and Paul will find another master for me when it's time."

"Is your master now terminally ill?" I queried.

"Yes, it was cancer that made him so sick. I don't know if he's still alive or not, but it was inoperable and he wasn't given a lot of time, so he may have already passed on. When it's possible, and a suitable master can be found, I'll leave here." The despair that accompanied Connor's words signified a love for her master that probably even his death wouldn't overcome. Strange to think that someone could feel that way about another person who controlled you.

"Dr. Feria and Paul, are they the ones from last night?" I wondered aloud.

"Yes," Connor replied. "They are in charge of the testing of candidates. Another committee is in charge of placement."

"What do you do here?" I wanted to know.

"You shouldn't ask so many questions. If we're caught, I'll be punished and your next session will be more severe than it has to be," Connor snapped.

Just as I was about to ask Connor something else, Paul, the man from the previous evening returned carrying a tray of sorts laden with anal plugs of all sizes and materials. A hypodermic needle was resting alongside the plugs. Something resembling a mixture of apprehension and desire began to build in my belly.

"Connor, is the candidate ready to begin?" Paul asked Connor.

"Why does Connor keep her name?" I wondered to myself. I had only been addressed as 'the candidate'.

"Yes sir, she is prepared," Connor replied. "She has been caned and the aloe salve has been applied."

"Excellent, we can begin the expansion."

I felt the plug seated in my bottom being twisted and pulled at the same time. Moments later, it popped out leaving my anus gasping and twitching. A quick hiss of air was the only indication that I had felt his ministrations. Immediately, a cold smear of something thick and slippery was slicked across my anus. Pressure followed, then a retreat. More pressure, from a larger object this time, causing me to gasp involuntarily. The pressure soon turned into a burning as the ring of muscle was stretched further to allow entry to my rear passage causing me to whimper.

"She's accepting this one without too much trouble," Paul reported to Connor who was nearby with a pen in hand, taking down notes on my training session. "Because of the unusual circumstances with a possible master, I think I'll start with the largest and work backwards to get to her limit. That will save some time and we can get more accomplished should the prospective master decide to take her."

I don't know which of those statements disturbed me most. I had seen the plugs he brought in and some of the larger ones looked terrifying. Finding out that there was someone who was interested in being my master so early on increased my stress level exponentially.

I watched as Paul retrieved the hypodermic needle from the tray to disappear between my legs. Several quick stings followed by a burning sensation assailed my already aching ring of muscle. "Surely he didn't just inject my anus?" I wondered.

"This is Xylocaine, the same thing the dentist uses to provide anesthesia to fill a cavity. I'll get the maximum stretch from your bottom this way."

Minutes passed and my passage was numb. This was the strangest feeling ever. I couldn't tighten it, couldn't relax it, nothing. I looked to the side and saw Paul picking up the largest of the plugs. Briefly, he maneuvered between my spread legs and returned to the tray for another plug, a tiny bit smaller. Another try gained the goal of full insertion.

"She accepted the #2 plug. Let's leave it in for a while."

I was left lying there with my feet in the air and my rear passage filled. Paul stepped to the side and motioned for me to turn my head to notice the cane he had in his outstretched hands.

"I only numbed the orifice; I didn't numb your buttocks. You'll feel each stroke of the cane."

I could only nod and wait for the whir of the cane and the sting of the stroke. Immediately, lash upon lash fell upon my waiting buttocks. It was a strange sensation, the numbness coinciding with the pain of the cane. I counted ten strokes before he stopped, leaving me teary eyed and whimpering.

"I think her pain level is acceptable for a candidate," Paul reported. "Her master may want to increase her threshold some, but for a new placement, she should be okay."

I was left there, catheter in my bladder, plug in my ass, to wait for further instructions.