ball gag training, session five

Session 5 of my gag training was last night and things went well....erm, mostly. I surprised Ma'am and I both by how well I took to the gag last night. I managed to stay calm and serene despite the repeat occurrence of the activity that provided such harsh pain in my prior session and until “the incident” panic and fear were nowhere to be found. I was proud of myself and happy with my progress and even allowed myself to drool without immediately wiping it up!

Since I was doing so well, Ma'am decided to up the ante. She'd been playing with me idly for a while and wanting to add more pleasurable stimulation to the pain I was already feeling, she slid her hand under my skirt. She had me moaning and writhing in no time, gag all but forgotten until I realized that I had no clear means of requesting permission to cum. I did, however, find a suitable way to make my plea clear and I think my orgasm began before the words “you may” had fully passed her lips.

I didn't find it difficult to cum this first time in the gag and promptly forgot about it again as Ma'am brought me higher and higher. By the time Ma'am gave her consent to my second orgasm, I was fully lost in pleasure. As I tumbled over the edge of the abyss, I tilted my head back in ecstasy...and began violently choking on my own saliva.

It was a horrible, terrifying end to the session. I'm grateful for Ma'am - she had me ungagged in no time flat and provided endless comfort as I clung to her for some time afterward, trying to shake off the fear of the experience. Needless to say, I'm not exactly looking forward to Session 6 at this point.

Stupid, stupid girl – almost drowned herself by forgetting she was gagged....

psycholgical effects

Last night Ma'am brought me into the bedroom, had me bend over the side of the bed. She seemed to be in a quieter mood than usual – dispatching quick instructions for me take the position she wanted before lifting my skirt and murmuring a compliment about the new panties I was wearing. Few words passed her lips and a couple of appreciative caresses were the only preamble she provided before sliding my panties down and beginning to firmly spank me.

After she'd provided a bit of color, Ma'am had me spread my legs for her. She rested her hand on the small of my back as first one and then two fingers slipped inside me. They danced around for a moment, searching for moisture, and while they did find some it was much less than expected. A disappointing discovery. And, of course, Ma'am commented on it.

I'll pause here for a moment. I know what you're thinking – I'm a girl who loves a good spanking, how is it possible that I disappointed my Ma'am in such a way? The answer is a little complicated but also quite simple...I didn't know it was permissible to take pleasure in this particular spanking.

When Ma'am led me into the bedroom, I didn't know what to expect. There were elements of this session that were a departure from our norm and the location and position Ma'am had me take were those I take when I am being punished. They're rarely used together any other time. And although the other aspects of my punishment ritual were not present, Ma'am's first strikes were more firm than usual. I was confused...it didn't really feel like a pleasure spanking. The overarching feeling was that I was being punished and so that is where my mind went. And my mind took my body with it.

I never find arousal during punishment – punishment is always an intense and heavily emotional thing for me. There is no place for pleasure in it...and so I didn't feel pleasure during this spanking. When Ma'am made her disappointment at not finding me wet from her attention known, in a way it validated that I was being punished. (Yes, I realize that's somewhat twisted...)

What is even more interesting, though, is that as things progressed there came a point when finally I knew without a doubt that I was not being punished. It was like throwing a switch – freed from the mental constraints of punishment, my body suddenly and quickly began to react. Pleasure surged through and I was suddenly a very wet girl begging for permission to cum...

training update

I've had four training sessions with the gag so far and on the whole I believe I'm starting to acclimate to it. While I seem to continue to have some difficulties in my initial acceptance of the gag, I've gotten better at wearing it for an extended period and my panic episodes have diminished in frequency. I've come to terms with the fact that I will drool while wearing it (although I still find it rather distasteful) and made strides in fighting the compulsion to swallow. This, I think, is my most important progress as my inability to swallow properly is one of my main triggers for panicking.

Ma'am has varied each of my training sessions and introduced different positions and different methods of pain and stimulation into each. In my last session, I wore the gag tightly for the first time. A different and harsher pain than previous sessions was incorporated and one of my big fears was realized – crying while gagged. This is something I was very afraid to experience - I didn't think I'd be able to deal with crying in a gag. The very idea of it instilled intense fears of choking and suffocation. Fears I hope I'll be able to put behind me now that I've gone through the first experience.

It hadn't been part of Ma'am's plan to bring me to tears... There came a point when I knew that they were coming and I wouldn't be able to stop them. I began to breathe deeply and rapidly, trying to be calm and trying to push my rising fear aside. Ma'am could see I was struggling and was very encouraging – the sound of her voice helped to anchor me and soothe a bit of the edge. And as my tears loomed ever closer I put the full force of my focus on trying not to fight them, resisting the urge to compulsively swallow as I normally do when trying not to cry.

And then they came.

I sought Ma'am's eyes when they started to fall – saw a flash of surprise and the tenderness they held as she gently wiped them away. I was suddenly, and strangely, calm. These were quiet, gentle tears with no distress. A detached part of my mind wondered idly when my airflow would be cut off, wondered how I was so calm on the cusp of such great fear, but I was untouched by it. I was drooling a lot...but that didn't seem to matter to me either.

Shortly after the tears had run their course, my nose plugged up and I felt my fear creep back in. I could breathe around the gag but I wasn't getting enough air. I signed to Ma'am that I needed the gag removed and bowed my head as she unfastened the strap. Once removed, I blew my nose and took a few deep, deep breaths to prove to myself that I could breathe. I was ready to resume my allotted time. I put the gag back in my mouth and bowed my head for Ma'am to refasten it. When I looked again into Ma'am's eyes, I saw her pride and had to close my eyes for a moment. I still don't have words for how I felt in that moment...

I don't know what caused the tears. It could have been a form of release from the pain and heavy emotion that I'd recently made my way through. It could have been the pain itself or something I haven't begun to understand yet about the depth of my feelings of submission. What I do know is that these tears were important and cathartic. It was the first time that I barely registered the drooling (and was unconcerned about it when I did) and the release they provided allowed me to continue wearing the gag in a more peaceful state, somehow purged of some of those things that get in the way.

the loophole

Last week I discovered that in following my rules it is possible to follow the letter of the law and yet not the spirit of it. The possibility that I could be technically in compliance and but not actually compliant had never occurred to me before. It's gotten me to thinking and, just maybe, understanding a thing or two about my service a little better.

I have inspection on Tuesday evenings and so on Monday, as I do every week, I made a quick check of my manicure. My nails looked fine to me and I decided that there was no need to touch them up or re-do them. But Tuesday morning, in better light, I realized that they looked a little worse for wear. They weren't going to pass inspection and I've had one warning about them before. I wasn't exactly eager to learn Ma'am's reaction to a repeat offense during inspection.

When it came time for lunch, I ran out to the drug store and purchased nail polish remover and a bottle of quick dry polish. An hour really isn't enough time for a proper manicure but I needed to make due. Off went the old polish and on went the new. I used the fan in my car to help dry them but when I looked them over again I discovered in horror that the polish had dried streaky. My nails looked terrible and there was no time to start again.

Enter a quandary.

My nails were polished – which is exactly what my rule states. And yet it didn't make sense that just having them polished was all that there was to the rule. It would seem that the spirit of the rule, the reason behind it, is that Ma'am wants my nails to look pretty for her. And a bad manicure is definitely not pretty. So, yes, I was technically in compliance to the wording of my rule but probably not in compliance to its true meaning.

What to do? If I was right, and I was pretty sure that I was, I was most certainly in error and had something to confess when I got home. But I wasn't quite sure what...was I assuming too much? Is it even possible to be both in and out of compliance at the same time? Have I been missing a key part of understanding what it means to be obedient all of this time or was I being too philosophical?

The difficult and uncomfortable decision: should I leave my nails as they were (which was obedient and technically compliant) or remove the new polish and leave my nails bare (which was prettier and compliant to the spirit of my rule)? Which would be the lesser of two evils – which would Ma'am be more pleased with?

I considered my options for the rest of the afternoon. I would have to commit to a decision and see it through but I didn't like either choice. Any way you added it up the equation included something that Ma'am wouldn't like. Trying to determine the level of her displeasure and repercussion served no purpose. It wouldn't change the fact that my manicure wasn't what it should be, wasn't what Ma'am wanted.

There were a couple of other options... I could exploit the loophole if it came down to it. I could argue that my rule doesn't specify anything about them being nicely polished. I could fein ignorance - pretend I hadn't noticed how bad they looked and wait for her to point it out. If the light was the same as it had been the evening before it was entirely possible that Ma'am might not notice how bad they looked. These options just didn't feel right to me – they're dishonest and designed to try to get me out of trouble.

In the end, I decided to leave my nails as they were and come clean about the state I considered them to be in. There was, after all, a chance that my assumption about the meaning of my rule was incorrect and, even if it wasn't, bare nails seemed dangerously close to willful disobedience. I would discuss with Ma'am what full compliance of this rule meant and be prepared for whatever discipline she saw fit without invoking a loophole defense. It was the only decision I could make and it was the right one.

In the future, to better serve and please my Ma'am, I think I need to be less literal and take a fuller, more dimensional approach in my thinking. I must look past the surface and understand not only what is stated but also what is meant. I don't believe it's enough to simply follow the stated rules – to be fully obedient I must also understand the meaning and spirit of what she asks of me and take direction not only from what is indicated but also by what is meant.