Cindy's Training
Chapter 2: Punishment

Copyright© 2007 by Ton8ty

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 2: Punishment - A rookie Dom and a newbie sub, who is armed and possibly dangerous, explore D/s.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Lesbian   Heterosexual   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Spanking   Humiliation   Group Sex   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Sex Toys   Squirting   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism  

Dear Reader: This chapter of Ron and Cindy's exploration of D/s still doesn't have a lot of sex in it, but we're getting there. Please bear with me while I get the story rolling; I promise that you won't be disappointed.

Thank you.

Note: This story presents adult situations in graphic detail. It is not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age. The characters and situations in this story are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental.


Ron eased his way out the door of her apartment, making sure that it closed securely. Immediately, he called his older sister, Sarah, who was caring for their mother while he was out, to apologize for being late. Hurrying down the stairs to the parking lot while they talked, he was uncomfortably aware of the erection in his pants. He assured her that he was on his way home and only ten minutes away, so she was free to leave and get home to her husband and kids.

They chatted briefly, Mom was asleep, and Sarah assured her baby brother that she wasn't at all upset about the late hour. She let him know she was delighted that he had enjoyed his dinner date. Ron used the excuse that he couldn't talk on the phone while driving to end their call and pulled his Mini out of Cindy's apartment complex, turning toward home.

Silently praying that Sarah would be gone by the time he got home so he could visit with Rosie Palmer, he briefly considered pulling off to the side of the road to relieve his discomfort. Just as the thought came to mind, the image of him being arrested by one of Cindy's fellow deputies for indecent exposure quickly dispelled any notion that he would get any relief before he got home. He was certain that Cindy wouldn't understand.

Fortunately, it was only a short drive and Sarah's car was just pulling out of the driveway when he arrived. He flashed his headlights at the back of her departing car and caught a glimpse of her wave before he pulled into the garage. He didn't waste any time getting in the house, checking on his mother and hurrying to his room.

Grabbing the towel off the back of his desk chair, Ron spread it across his bed and retrieved the baby oil and a paper towel from where he kept them concealed in his closet. Stripping off his shoes, pants and underwear, he stretched out across the towel, laying his phone within reach. Wrapping a hand around his stiff cock, he drizzled a stream of oil over the swollen crown of his member and let it run down the sides to where his fingers were closed around the shaft. He carefully coated the entire rod by working the oil up and down with gentle strokes of his slick hand.

With the memory of Cindy's incredible strip tease in his mind, he slowly worked himself towards relief. Once he had relaxed into a comfortable rhythm, he hit the speed dial on his phone to call his Domme mentor and inform her how the events of the evening had progressed. Punching it onto speaker, he laid the phone on his chest.

Maria answered on the third ring and seemed honestly delighted to hear from him. She had been following their progress avidly ever since their first day and enjoyed being a part of both of their progress. She seemed to be training him almost as much as he was training Cindy and he really appreciated her assistance.

After letting Maria know of his finding out about the child abuser bust that Cindy had been involved in and her subsequent absence at their planned rendezvous, Ron went on to relate all that had happened between her apartment and the lounge at the club. He was almost finished with the club scene when his balls drew up close to his cock and he teetered on the verge of climax. Maria must have recognized what was happening from his voice and breathing, because she interrupted his narrative, "Go ahead and come, Ron. Come now!"

That was all it took for the pent up pressure to explode. Ron barely got the paper towel over the top of his cock before the geyser of cum shot out. Spurt after spurt jerked up and out of the sensitive mushroom head as he struggled to get his breathing back under control.

"Thank you for understanding," he finally managed to get out.

"I know how it is. Breaking in a new sub isn't easy, especially your first one. But, you're smart to avoid sex at least until you get the results of your blood work back."

After finishing up the details of the rest of the evening, they discussed how he should punish Cindy for her errors. Their hectic schedules made it difficult for Ron and Cindy to find a time to get together for something like that and where it could be done was a major problem. Maria agreed with him that Cindy's apartment should be her personal refuge and no punishments would be administered there. And Ron's Mom's house should only be used if nowhere else could be arranged. That didn't leave many options.

After a few other possibilities were discussed, Ron brought up the idea of using a spot on a mountain biking and hiking trail at the local state park. He had ridden the trail frequently when he was first starting to bike regularly and there were various exercise stations along the path. One of the stations was at the top of a ridge where approaching bikers or hikers would have to work their way up a fairly steep climb before getting within sight and could easily be heard before they were close enough to see or be seen.

The trail was one of the shorter ones in the park and one of the more difficult, with some long steep climbs and precipitous drops. The hammerheads avoided it because of its shortness and the newcomers tended to avoid it because of its difficulty, so it seldom had much traffic on it other than lunchtime riders out for a quick ride.

Maria enthusiastically endorsed the idea and offered a few suggestions of her own. He promised to check out the area and get back to her before he finalized plans. With that, they said their good nights and promised to keep in touch. The last thing that Ron did before collapsing into bed was to send Cindy a text message instructing her to call him when she took her lunch break. He fell asleep almost as soon as he slipped into bed.

Cindy was so exhausted that she was asleep before Ron's car left the parking lot. She slept fitfully until just after daybreak. Then the nightmares began. This time she was inside the filthy living room when the man picked up the small child by the arm. This time she could hear the screams and the sickening thud of the young boy's body slamming into the wall. Only, this time she couldn't do anything to stop it; the scene kept repeating itself again and again.

She awoke sitting bolt upright in bed, shaking uncontrollably. Her body was covered in sweat, her fists clenched tightly and her nails gouging deep marks in the palms of her hands. When she realized that it was only a bad dream, she fell back onto her pillow and the tears began to flow. Gradually, she quelled the shaking and regained control of herself.

Glancing at her alarm clock, she realized that she might as well get up because her alarm would go off in twenty minutes anyway. She stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. For some reason, her body ached almost everywhere. She would need a hot shower and a cup of coffee before she would be able to make any sense of things.

A short while later she was sitting at the dining table, dressed in her underwear and robe, sipping a strong cup of coffee. Gradually, the events of the previous day began to come into focus. It took a while to sort the actual happenings of the unbelievable day from her nightmares.

The successful completion of the stakeout was a fact, along with her forgetting to meet Ron and their showering together. The rest of the evening seemed like a dream, some of it fairly tale princess type dream and some of it horrific nightmare. She shook her head and resigned herself to piecing together what had really happened and what hadn't as the day progressed.

Cindy could hardly believe that she had actually done some of the things that her memory tried to tell her she had done. Had he really gotten her so drunk that she slow danced with a total stranger at the club? Without any panties on? Had she really danced for Ron back here at the apartment, pretending to be a stripper on stage?

If she had been that drunk, why wasn't she hung over this morning? She felt fine. A little tired and stiff here and there, but otherwise fine. No sign of any headache. Could she have done all the things she vaguely remembered doing if she hadn't been drunk? The woman in her memories certainly wasn't the sort of woman her mother had raised her to be.

Overwhelmed by her uncertainties, Cindy gave up trying to figure out what it all meant and concentrated on the basics. For the moment, that included another cup of coffee, a glass of orange juice and a bowl of cereal. Once she had finished breakfast and rinsed out her dishes, she took her cup of coffee into the living room and sat down in her easy chair to return her phone messages.

She'd call her Mom later, but she did remember that she needed to call back her good friend, Natalie. When she flipped open her phone, she noticed that there was a new text message that she didn't remember from the night before.

Natalie didn't have much time to talk; she was getting herself and her husband ready for work, but they did manage to chat briefly. Cindy was about to hang up when she noticed the morning news reporting about the child abuser bust from the previous day.

"Do you have the channel 7 news on, Nat?" Cindy asked, breathlessly.

"Yeah, what of it?" she replied as the TV showed video of the little boy in the hospital.

"How did they get a camera crew in there?" Cindy gasped. She went on to explain to Natalie about the stakeout and the bust. "I saw that little boy get hurt," she admitted. "I was there when it happened." Her voice was flat and strained.

"My God, girl! I could never handle your job!" Natalie gasped, "I don't know how you do it."

"Somebody has to do it," Cindy replied, halfheartedly.

"But, why you? What makes you do it, Cindy?"

"Sometimes, I don't know."

Cindy could hear her friend's frantic activity in the background and said, "I'll let you go. Give me a call tonight when you get a chance. I just have to tell you about what happened to me last night."

"Right." The connection dropped and Cindy stared at the mug shot of the perp on the screen, mesmerized. She could feel a cold hand clutch at her heart. Then the news switched to something else and she realized she needed to hurry to get ready for work.

It wasn't until she was strapping her patrolman's belt over her uniform that she remembered the text message. Flipping open her phone, she quickly worked through to the text message menu. When she saw that it was from her Master, Ron, her heart sank. Without even looking at it, she knew that the message was about her punishment. Her hand was shaking as she got the text displayed and a chill went down her spine. This time she would not forget; she couldn't fail him again.

Cindy was on her way to the hospital even before Dispatch released her for lunch. She headed straight for the ICU nurse's station to check on the little boy. The head nurse assured her that he was recovering nicely, all things considered, and the doctor had shared a guardedly optimistic outlook for his recovery with them. All the boy's vital signs were stable and he was awake and responding to their voices.

"How did the TV cameras get in here?" Cindy demanded, angrily.

The nurse looked at the floor, sheepishly, before replying, "They came in with Social Services. The kid's a ward of the state now and I guess the bureaucrats think its good publicity. Makes me sick to my stomach!"

"Me too," agreed Cindy, although the good prognosis brightened her day considerably. She thanked the nurse for the information and left for the parking lot to call Ron. She was sitting in her cruiser when she got him to answer his phone.

They compared their schedules and concluded that just about the only time they could have a few hours together would be after church on Sunday. Ron's older sister and her family would be visiting his Mom for the day and he would be free for most of the afternoon.

"Would you like to get together for lunch?" he asked. "Afterwards, we can shop Wal-Mart for a few things."

"That would be nice. Around one o'clock?" she suggested.

"That would work for me. Shall I pick you up at your apartment?"

"I'll be ready. Oh, and I'd like to thank you for the delightful dinner and the dancing last night."

"It was my pleasure, darling," he replied.

"And I guess that I have to thank you for the sleep, as well." That was the first time he had called her darling, she realized.

"You're welcome, I guess," he responded, quizzically. "Is next Monday your scheduled day off?"

"I'm usually off Mondays, so I expect it will be. I'll check the duty roster and call you back if its not."

"OK. I have a luncheon meeting with a client next Monday and I can probably get out of the office for an hour or two after that. We'll get your punishment over with then, if that's what you want."

"That sounds about as good a time as any to me," she replied with a bit of a tremor in her voice. "I've got to run. Buh-bye," she whispered and blew a kiss into the phone.

"Bye." The connection ended.

To Cindy, the rest of the week seemed to drag by. Thursday was her court day and, in theory, she would be done by noon and off duty until Friday evening. But, as often happened, one of her cases dragged on until mid-afternoon and it was after three o'clock when she finally got in the door of her apartment.

After she showered and changed, there was barely time to get a week's worth of laundry done before it was time to fix dinner. After eating and cleaning the kitchen, she sat down at her laptop and dialed up her internet connection to do some more research on the D/s lifestyle. She hadn't ventured into any of the chat rooms, yet, but she was aware that they existed.

Ron had suggested a few websites and she had discovered a few on her own. Some were actual sites where you could read the FAQ and explore the myriad of devices that were for sale and some were sites where there were stories or articles to read. Whether it was supposed to be fact or fiction, Cindy usually found herself entranced, confused, frightened and aroused by the time she logged off.

Some of the stories fascinated her, but she was still having difficulty with the idea that submissives were almost invariably portrayed as promiscuous sluts who craved all sorts of kinky sex with different partners, even strangers. She couldn't even imagine herself doing something like that. Still, she wasn't surprised when she realized that her hand was inside the front of her sweatpants, stroking her puffy wet pussy lips. At least they were clean shaven and smooth. She had learned that lesson.

Ron's week was hectic, compared to Cindy's. Between working full time, caring for his mother in the evenings, getting to his regular AA meetings and studying the lifestyle, what little time he had left was spent on the phone with either Cindy or Maria. He tried to get to a lunchtime AA meeting, when his work schedule allowed, and Jack and Laura regularly dropped in for dinner on Mondays and Thursdays. After dinner, Laura would sit and watch TV with his Mom while he and Jack, his AA sponsor, would head off for the eight o'clock meeting in the basement of St. Paul's Episcopal.

After the Thursday meeting, he and Jack stopped at Wal-Mart so Ron could do some grocery shopping. While there, he also checked out a few of the items that Maria had suggested he might use for Cindy's upcoming punishment. After Jack and Laura had left for home and the groceries were put away, Ron helped Mom into bed and headed for the garage.

He mounted his bike rack on the back of the Mini. After pumping the tires up to the correct pressure and checking it over, he strapped his mountain bike onto the rack. Back upstairs, he filled his water bottles and put them in the refrigerator, packed his gear in his gym bag and checked his helmet and sunglasses. Satisfied with his preparations, he collapsed into bed and was sound asleep in minutes.

Friday morning dawned sunny and clear. Ron checked the weather site on the internet and was delighted to see that there was only a slight chance of a late afternoon thunderstorm. That suited his plans perfectly. Leaving the office for lunch around 1:30, Ron changed into his biking outfit and headed for the park, eating a Clif bar on the way. He didn't have any meetings scheduled for the rest of the afternoon, so he could get in a quick ride, spend the rest of the day working on the brief that he was preparing for the Fornier case and then shower when he got home.

Pulling into the parking lot at the trailhead, he was relieved to see that there were only three other cars there and it looked as if the owners of one were already packing up their bikes and gear to leave. After stretching his legs and carefully working the stiffness out of his bad knee, Ron climbed on his bike and headed towards the trail entrance.

As he left the parking lot, he noticed riders coming down the hill on the other end of the trail. Just as he had expected for that time of day: there was only one other car unaccounted for. The trail had to be almost deserted. He powered up the initial hill and along the ridge towards the first drop.

About a mile into the ride, he approached the ridgeline that he was looking for. He stopped at the bottom of the climb and looked over the terrain carefully, noting that the top of the ridge was completely concealed from view by foliage. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Ron started up the long steep climb to the top. The trail was narrow and had been cut deeply into the hillside by the many bikes that had struggled to get up it.

When he had first started mountain biking, this hill had been one of his worst nemeses. There had been many a time when he had wound up carrying the bike up almost half the hill. It still was a granny-gear climb, but now he was able to spin all the way to the top.

The exercise station was at the top of the ridge. Ron stopped and leaned his bike up against one of the 4X4 posts. There were three posts in a row with metal bars at various heights between them. The left bar was over six feet off the ground and the right one was probably just over five feet.

But, it was the center bar that drew Ron's attention. The other bars were for chin-ups, but the center one was about three feet off the ground. On Ron's 6'1" frame, the bar came to just below the top of his thighs. Ideal for what he intended, he thought.

Taking a long drink from one of his water bottles, Ron relaxed against the low bar. He made a mental note to bring water with them. Wiping his brow, he paid close attention to the sounds of the forest. This spot was far enough from the road that only the faintest of highway sounds could be heard and then only occasionally.

He was certain that anyone approaching along the trail would be easily heard, even if they were on foot. When the clock on his cycle computer indicated that he had been there for fifteen minutes without anyone coming up the hill, Ron figured that he had guessed right. This spot would do nicely.

Back on his bike, he finished the rest of the trail without seeing anyone else. His Mini was the only vehicle in the lot when he rode down the last hill. He lashed his bike to the rack and toweled off. Back at the office, he took a quick sponge bath in the restroom sink before changing and heading back to his own office.

Once there, he managed to get Maria on the phone and they discussed what he had decided. He rechecked his schedule on the computer and then sent the receptionist a quick message informing her not to book anything for him for Monday between 1:00 and 3:00. He altered his scheduled to indicate that he would be out of the office at that time. Satisfied with his preparations, he tackled the Fornier brief again.

Cindy stayed up late Thursday night, surfing the internet. She finally got up the courage to sign into one of the chat rooms that specialized in D/s, but merely hid in the background and watched the banter on the screen. A lot of the shorthand baffled her, but she was able to understand most of the subjects that came up for discussion.

Being on a dial-up connection caused the conversations to come across disjointed and jerky, which she found disconcerting. Still, it was comforting to know that there was an entire group of people who seemed to be comfortable with this unusual way of life. She could feel and smell her arousal, but she was determined not to give into the urge to relieve herself. She tried to convince herself that she wasn't that type of woman.

She devoted Fridays to cleaning the apartment and doing her weekly shopping because her shift didn't start until 6:00 PM and stretched until 4:30 AM Saturday morning. She tried to sleep late in the morning, but it seldom worked and especially now that the latest nightmares were beginning to haunt her.

The little boy being hurt nightmares stopped soon after she learned that he was expected to recover, but were promptly replaced by other nightmares involving his father. The mug shot that the TV news had broadcast seemed to be etched into her brain. And so it was that she found herself awake at 7:00 AM Friday, unable to get back to sleep. Wearily dragging herself out of bed, she headed for the shower, promising herself an afternoon nap before work.

Friday night's shift turned out to be typical. Two domestic disturbance calls and as a result of the second, she had to transport a drunken wife to the lock-up. Then there was the teen-age party that got out of hand and she was one of the four units that responded to the loud music complaint only to find an underage consumption situation. Cindy wound up with two intoxicated sisters handcuffed in the back of her cruiser, neither of whom had any ID in their possession. The younger girl couldn't have been more than 14, Cindy was sure.

The Lt. gave her permission to take them home and release them to their parents. When she got them to the front porch of the house they indicated, their mother answered the door, half dressed and obviously intoxicated. The woman took turns screaming incoherently at the girls and then at Cindy until Cindy couldn't get the cuffs off the girls and leave quickly enough. As the girls ducked in the door, Cindy caught a glimpse of a middle-aged man seemingly passed out on the sofa in the living room.

After that, things quieted down until the 2:07 AM call of an accident with injuries on the main highway, just east of town. Even though Cindy responded immediately, she still found herself following a fire truck responding to the same call. Luckily, she was the third unit to arrive and was immediately assigned traffic control so she didn't have to get close enough to the mangled vehicles to actually see the carnage.

She could tell that it was serious when the firefighters scrambled to cut the top off one of the cars and she heard a second call go out over the radio for a life support unit. She helped clear room for the additional equipment coming down the wrong side of the two lane highway, thinking to herself, "Those are the people who really don't get paid enough for what they do!"

Cindy was still on the accident scene at 5:00 AM when the Lt. finally had her relieved. Exhausted, she was glad that he released her directly off duty so she only had to drive the two and a half miles back to her apartment. Stripping off her uniform and throwing it over her rocker, she collapsed into bed and fell asleep immediately.

She awoke abruptly in a cold sweat, tangled in the sheets on her bed. The nightmare had seemed so real; she clearly remembered being on the pistol range. She had been firing at a standard paper silhouette target when the child abuser's mug shot was abruptly superimposed over the top of the target. Instead of stopping, she had continued to fire round after round downrange, putting a tight grouping right in the heart of the target until the pistol slide locked back.

"God, what is wrong with me?" she cried out in silence. Her alarm clock read 12:45; disentangling herself from the bedclothes, she slid to her knees at the side of the bed. She briefly prayed for relief from the demons that were haunting her. After a shower and a cup of coffee, she felt somewhat better, but was still haunted by the reality of the nightmare that had awakened her.

Saturday night's shift was significantly quieter than the previous night's. The Lt. must have taken pity on her because she found herself assigned to one of the quieter parts of the county. She spent most of her 4-12 shift either cruising down quiet country lanes or sitting by the road with her lights out, waiting for something to happen.

She did respond to a half dozen calls, but only as backup, never primary. In between, she made courtesy calls on three elderly county residents who lived alone in secluded homes and tried to make follow-up phone calls on open cases that she was working. The major problem, she found, was that the quiet boredom gave her too much time to think. And her thoughts always seemed to lead back to her impending punishment.

In most of the stories that she had read about the lifestyle involving punishment, the usual method was some form of spanking or whipping. Cindy had never been spanked in her life. Even as a young child, her mother had not allowed corporal punishment. By the time her mother remarried, she was too old to suffer the brutal beatings that her younger step-brother had to endure.

Her step-father had tried to spank her, but as soon as she threatened to tell her mother, he always backed down. So she had no idea what a spanking would feel like. Spanking herself was difficult and she had no way of telling if her attempts were in any way realistic. Other punishments, like being bound helpless for a long period of time, wouldn't fit the timeframe that Ron had intimated that they were going to use. So, she was at a loss as to what to expect and the uncertainty gnawed at her.

When she got off duty at midnight, Cindy went straight home and directly to bed. As exhausted as she was, she quickly fell into a deep sleep and awoke Sunday morning refreshed and feeling better than she had in days. Surprisingly, she didn't even remember dreaming and there had been no sign of the horrible nightmares that had been terrorizing her lately. She ate a leisurely breakfast and prepared for church.

When she was ready, she called her Mom to let her know that she was on the way. Her mother wasn't really comfortable riding in Cindy's cruiser, but it was still better than the beat up wreck that she used to get around town. Since she had finally thrown Cindy's sadistic step-father out, she had been living on a shoestring.

And there really wasn't anything that Cindy could do to help. After she paid her rent, bills and student loan payment, there was hardly anything left of her meager Deputy's salary. She was fortunate that she was assigned her own cruiser, because she couldn't even afford a car.

After services, Cindy dropped her mother back home, telling her only that she had a lunch date with Ron and that she would call her later. Her mom cautioned Cindy to be careful and reluctantly let her go. When Cindy pulled into the apartment complex, she found that Ron had backed his Mini into her neighbor's reserved parking space next to hers. She climbed out of her cruiser and looked down at his upturned face.

"One of these days you're going to get ticketed for parking illegally, counselor."

"Not on private property, I won't. Unless someone complains, that is. Are you going to complain, dear?" he added, squinting upwards at her in the bright sun and puckering his lips.

She leaned down and accepted his offered kiss, answering, "As long as this isn't considered bribery, I guess I won't."

Their tongues met briefly, teasing one another. Cindy thought to herself that the word would surely get around the entire complex by evening. But, what the hell, it was worth it. They broke off the kiss and she walked around the back of the car. He had reached across and opened the passenger side door by the time she got there and she eased herself into the delightfully comfortable seat, thinking how nice it would be to have a seat like this in her cruiser.

"You look absolutely beautiful, my dear," complimented Ron.

"Thank you. You look quite handsome, yourself," she replied, noting his sport shirt and slacks combination. The pale red shirt went well with his dark hair and green eyes and the dark blue pants complimented the shirt. She fastened her seatbelt as he started the car and they pulled out of the parking lot, heading out of town on the main highway. Today he had bluegrass on the stereo.

"Who's this?" she inquired.

"The Seldom Scene. Classic stuff from when John Duffy was still alive. I hope you like it."

Cindy leaned back in her seat and let the musical harmonies play through her mind as the wind ruffled her hair. She recognized the intersection where they turned off the highway from their previous trip and figured that they were heading for his country club. "At least I'm properly dressed this time," she though to herself.

 
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