training begins

Last night I began gag training – something of a necessity as Ma'am and I are working on increasing my pain tolerance and have been delving into heavier and more sustained pain than I can easily (and quietly!) take. While I've used a ball gag before, I don't tolerate them well and become distressed and panicked after only a short period of time wearing one. Because of this, Ma'am usually chooses to gag me with a bandana between my teeth and it isn't very effective in helping to dampen the noise. This past weekend we bought a beginner's ball gag. Our first use didn't go as well as we'd hoped and so Ma'am has decided that training is the best way to help me get used to it.

Ma'am thought it would be best to start me out under the least intense situation she could think of – sitting on the sofa. I was to wear it loosely for 3 half-hour periods with ample breaks in between and had been given permission to spit it out if it became too much for me. I was determined not to, of course, and Ma'am and I both knew it.

I can't say how many times I fought against the panic, for a while it seemed an almost continual thing, but Ma'am was there with me the entire time – watching over me, comforting my distress - her soothing hands caressing my thigh or smoothing my hair. She kept telling me how well I was doing and how proud she was of me, reminding me that she loves me and maintaining eye contact through the worst moments. Her obvious pleasure and pride gave me courage and strength that helped me to calm myself and the simple kindness of providing me with tissues to wipe away the drool instilled a sense of gratitude and love distinctly out of proportion to the act.

I had thought (hoped?) my evening's training was complete when I made it through my second round – a particularly difficult and drooly time in which I'd started to choke and my panic reached fever pitch. My heart sank when she she told me she wanted me to go one more round and I didn't know how I'd ever be able to do it. My voice was small and pathetic when I told her that I was ready. Improperly – but she forgave the protocol lapse.

The lapse, and particularly Ma'am's silent yet clear acknowledgement of it, helped me to move my focus from my fear and impending suffering to a more appropriate place. It reminded me of my place and my duty to be obedient to her will. And it proved to me that she was paying attention...she was watching me as she had been all night and I knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to me. Ma'am wanted 30 more minutes so I opened my mouth to receive the gag and gave them to her.

The most surprising thing was the variety of powerful emotions I went through during the course of the evening. Behind and between the panic and distress there were feelings of helplessness and humiliation, the undeniable revelation of Ma'am's control and my bending to her will, my struggle for obedience in the face of my fear, the reward of Ma'am's pleasure and pride...and even arousal. I felt my submission stretch and deepen, felt the need to bow to it – the need to bow to the woman before me whom I fought against fear to please, and I sank to the floor by her feet to receive her pleasure and her comfort.

This was not an experience or lesser intensity as intended but rather more intense because I felt every nuance of it - unhindered, undistracted, and undiluted...