The best thing about Janie is that you can see her every emotion in her face.  She has about as much chance of hiding her feelings, let alone prevaricating, as a toddler.  This makes it easy to punish her with precision.

      As delightfully frustrated and sorrowful as Janie can appear, her enslavement to me was voluntary.  We didnÕt do everything conventionally; I didnÕt make her sign a contract, for instance.  She thinks the evolution of our relationship was her idea, but once I thought she was ready to be my slave, I implemented the necessary changes so efficiently and with such authority that she became apprehensive.  Therefore, when I made her kneel and say her vows of submission, her face reflected a perfect blend of eagerness and trepidation.  Most often, now, she looks fearful and plaintive, but still, whenever I tell her I love her, she shows me nothing but pure joy.

      I was familliar with all the traditional training methods--the Gorean, the Edwardian, the basics of pain/pleasure training--and I wonÕt say these were not instrumental as I formed my own approach to educating Janie.  But the truth was, even though she was my first slave, I didnÕt feel like a novice.  IÕd been prepared for this step for years.  The only reason I hadnÕt owned a slave yet was that I hadnÕt found the right woman--a woman who wanted and needed to submit, but who was seriously reluctant enough, for whatever reasons, to struggle against the impulse.  Someone willing enough to call me ŌMaster,Ķ but whose mind (and pride, perhaps) would still rebel such that intensive training would be truly necessary.  In short, I wanted a challenge.  How enjoyable would it be, after all, to go through the motions of daily ownership with a girl who was already slavishly submissive enough to not even blink at the most heinous orders?  No, my interest was in breaking down a strong woman, forcing her to traverse her own perceived limitations one at a time.  And I was ready.

      So, once Janie had made her bed, I gradually introduced a number of innovations.  Most importantly, I never wanted her to forget, even for a moment, that her new lifestyle had been her choice.  Whenever possible I wanted her to obey me of her own volition, and would make her take an active role in her own debasement.  This is the concept that influenced the type of restraints I used on her.  Mainly, since I owned a girl with the most lovely, speaking face, I didnÕt see why I couldnÕt expect to have a silent slave.  But I didnÕt want to simply buckle a gag into place.  Instead, I had a glass-blower create a beautiful ball, a bit smaller than a golf ball, made of crystal-clear glass on the outside with a swirl of shining color inside, similar to a marble.  Janie had to keep it in her mouth at all times, unless she had express permission to remove it, which I let her do usually only at meals or when she was sucking my cock.  If she really needed to speak, she had to ask permission with the ball in her mouth, and as it was too big for her to slip it into her cheek, the garbled, slobbering sounds she made when making her request never failed to bring a charming blush to her cheeks.  Before long, she had also developed an adorable habit of sucking the ball dry as best she could when I asked her to give it to me, in order to spare me, I assume, from her drool.  She would suck all her saliva to the back of her mouth, then purse out her lips and pop the ball out from between them so that it would emerge as dry as possible.  I never got tired of that, or of watching her rub her tongue experimentally along the roof of her mouth after sheÕd gotten rid of the ball for the first time in many hours.

      In the same vein, I kept Janie cuffed and collared, and often naked, but I didnÕt usually leash her and chain her, except when it simply pleased me to see her that way.  Thus, she wasnÕt normally actually restrained, but her shiny silver collar and stylish leather wrist and ankle cuffs were a constant reminder that she was as good as hog-tied at the execution of my merest whim.  WeÕd had her tongue  pierced together a few months before she became my slave, but after she pledged her submission I fitted her with a larger piece of jewelry that I could clip a special leash to.  I made sure Janie knew exactly what it was for, and that IÕd lead her by her tongue if I ever deemed it necessary--or if I ever just felt like it.  Plus, this device made it even more difficult for her to talk.

      I became particularly adept at devising ingenious punishments perfectly suited to whatever transgression Janie committed.  (To her credit, she rarely failed me, but that she would do so now and then was inevitable.  I was a very exacting master.  Anything less would not have satisfied her, after all, whether she knew that or not.)  One of my most creative moments occurred soon after JanieÕs enslavement.  I told her sheÕd gain more freedoms as she grew more inured to her new life, but for now, she was mostly confined to the house and to the strict schedule I kept her on.  The most wonderful thing about it was that she obeyed me implicitly, even when I was away at work during the day.  I knew this because she was never able to lie to me if I quizzed her about her day.  On this particular occasion, Janie made a mistake in the evening, while she was sucking me off as I sat at my computer.

      I made her crawl naked under my desk and worship my cock while I sent e-mails and visited several websites.  Now, in general, Janie was a skilled and enthusiastic cock-sucker, and I had little to complain about.  She genuinely loved lavishing attention on my crotch, and would often initiate a session by rubbing her face agianst my groin in mute appeal.  This night, as usual, she began by reverently cradling my balls in her hands and breathing gently on them as she dropped little kisses on my stomach and thighs.  Next she sucked on them, one at a time, stroking her tiny hands over my body--all the parts she could reach, at least--as she did it.  Then came long minutes of exquisite teasing--she would slide her tongue all up and down and around my shaft before finally taking just the head in her mouth.  She tongued my piss-hole and swirled her talented, studded tongue all around the head, then began to suck as she paid special attention to the sensitive spot on the underside where my foreskin attached.  I always had to anticipate the moment Janie took me all the way into her mouth, because the first time sheÕd done it IÕd nearly embarrassed myself.  I did it successfully that night; she gave a little moan, as if she could wait no longer, and my cock was plunged deep, all the way into her throat.  Janie had a remarkably insensitive gag reflex.  SheÕd told me once, before IÕd enslaved her and forbidden her to speak, that she could combat the reflex as long as she took regular, deep breaths through her nose.

      But I was beyond noticing her breathing as she slid her mouth up and down several times, sucking hard, getting me moist so she could slip her thumb and two fingers around the base of my shaft and really begin the blow job.  For the next 20 minutes she bobbed and sucked, licking continuously, her fingers squeezing in perfect rhythm to the movement of her head, while her free hand fondled my balls, stroked my perineum, and roamed over my thighs and belly and chest.  The first time weÕd done this together Janie had automatically swallowed my cum, and whether or not she did it to impress me at the time she seemed to assume I would be less than pleased with anything else, and continued to do it unprotestingly.  But I must have eaten something particularly salty, or something, on this night, because as I began shooting into the back of her mouth Janie gagged and choked, and the rest of the flow dribbled out of her mouth and onto my balls and, offensively enough, onto my chair!

      As I, recovering, stared down at the mess in growing anger, JanieÕs eyes opened wide with horror.  She popped her mouth off of my cock and hastily started to lick up what sheÕd spilled, but she seemed to be grimacing, and I actually saw her throat convulse as she started to gag again.  My eyes narrowed as I thought about it and realized that while, yes, Janie had always willingly swallowed for me, she had never made a show of savoring this experience.  When I shot onto her face or her tits she didnÕt open her lips so I could scoop some of my deposit into her mouth, and she usually positioned my cock head at the very back of her mouth when she sensed I was about to cum--presumably, I saw now, so she wouldnÕt have to taste much.

      I stood up so abruptly that Janie was knocked backwards in surprise.  As I stalked to the bathroom to rinse the mess off of my balls, she crawled out to the middle of the floor and knelt miserably on the carpet, on her hands and knees, her forehead to the ground and her ass in the air.  When I finally came back into the room I saw she was trembling; she knew sheÕd fucked up big time.  I was silent, and I ignored her for a while, letting her anxiety mount, and was glad to see that at least she didnÕt dare to move before she knew what I wanted her to do.

      The thing was, I really was seeing red.  Here was my devoted, loving slave, who was supposed to be desperately adoring of my cock at all times, and she disdained my cum.  She should consider my giving her my cum a great gift, and instead, she had the temerity to show me her disgust at it.  I can admit now that I was a little hurt by the incident as well as angry, but at the time I let rage take over, knowing it would serve me well when I decided on a punishment for her.

      When I finally approached my disgraced slave girl, and saw her tense in the knowledge that I was stanidng over her, all I said was, ŌGet ready for bed,Ķ in a deceptively quiet voice.  If she was wondering why I didnÕt give her gag ball back, she gave no sign of it, and instead crawled meekly to the bathroom to bathe and shave as I always required her to do.  That night Janie was refused the privilege of sharing my bed, and slept instead on the floor at its foot.  In the past, this in itself had proved to be sufficient punishment, as nothing hurt Janie so much as sleeping alone.  But she had more in store for her this time.  After I sent her to "bed," I spent 30 minutes covering her gag ball with Rodrepel, a safe but extremely foul-tasting solution originally designed to prevent rodents and birds from chewing on cables or other equipment.  I gave it three coats, letting each one dry before applying the next one, and reflected grimly that my cum would probably taste like the manna of heaven by the time Janie had been sucking on this thing all day tomorrow.

      She looked truly pitiful when I came back to the bedroom, curled up on the floor with tear tracks drying on her face.  I refused to let the proof that she'd cried herself to sleep soften my resolve.  The sneaky little bitch had been pretending this whole time that she'd been happy to swallow my cum, while all along she'd been simply getting it over with.

      Janie woke up when my alarm went off and hesitantly crawled under the sheets to give me my customary morning blow job (which often turned into an energetic fuck, depending on my mood).  But I pushed her away roughly and headed for the shower.  She followed me, meekly waiting to be told whether this part of our routine was to be different, too.  "You may wash me," I ordered, "but don't you dare try to get me hard.  I've had about enough of your manipulative, lying tactics."

      From the corner of my eye I watched her cringe as she realized for the first time that I wasn't just mad about the mess she'd made.  She kept her head down as she gracefully knelt in the shower and began her chore of washing me from the feet up.  When she got to my groin she hesitated just slightly and I could tell she was thinking about how to touch me so that I wouldn't get aroused.  She set about lathering me up without including any of the special little caresses she usually sneaked in, and since she was doing so well I snapped, "Look at me," just to make it harder for her.  The water ran over my shoulders into her face, so she had to blink furiously to keep her eyes on mine, but as she rose up slightly to soap my stomach and chest, I could see the fear in them.  Good.  I knew the day she stopped being afraid of me was the day she'd stop respecting me as her master.

      Still using only her hands, Janie gently cleansed my face, and what was usually the most intimate moment of our day took on a strained quality as her trembling fingers seemed to be pleading with me for mercy.  I knew she wanted to give free rein to an emotional impulse to embrace me, or rain kisses over me, as she always did when she was profoundly sorry.  But she was smart enough to refrain, and went off to make my breakfast with a pathetic slump to her shoulders.

      I no longer gave Janie instructions per the breakfast menu, challenging her instead to intuit what I might like, and again, keeping her just a little bit more on her toes.  Sometimes I even deliberately let the cupboard get somewhat bare, to see what she might come up with.  She performed well on this occasion, producing French toast and fruit while I shaved and dressed, and my coffee was perfect.  But I found I didn't have much appetite; the pitfall, I suppose, of being a master who really does love his slave and is forced to punish her after his temper has waned.  It didn't help that she kept glancing at me with her big eloquent eyes, which seemed to have assumed a desperately hopeful expression, or that she was looking charming as she always did in the morning, fresh-faced, with her tangled wet hair falling over her shoulders.

      Janie only eats exactly the amount that I serve her, and perhaps she noticed that I gave her an extra-large glass of juice and slightly larger helpings than normal.  But she finished everything, cleared my plate of half-eaten food, and while I finished my coffee went to get my neatly-packed bag and my keys.  She stood by the door with these--thinking she was about to get off without further discipline?--but as soon as I'd had my last sip I destroyed all her hopes.  "Go wait for me in the living room," I said, adding, "in the corner."  I looked at her just in time to see her face fall, predictably.  She hesitated awkwardly and I could tell she was wondering what to do with my stuff.  I barked, "Just drop them!" so suddenly that she jumped and practically ran to the other room.  It would have been comical if I'd been in a better mood.  

      I didn't have to tell her to kneel, and she waited on her knees, facing the room, and shaking, while I went to get the specially-prepared glass ball she'd been so unusually long without since yesterday evening.  Her eyes widened when I came back holding it in one gloved hand.  "Look at me."  I stared firmly right into her eyes.  "You've disappointed me, Janie.  Not only did you turn in a sloppy performance last night, and fail utterly to rectify it, but you showed me that underneath your outward devotion you're a lying little bitch."  Her chin trembled and two big tears rolled down her cheeks.  "My slave," I continued, undeterred, "should be thrilled to receive the gift of my cum.  She should feel complimented and honored that her master deigns to let her take it into her body.  A master who does not love his slave will cum on her tits and her face, but not in her mouth or in her cunt.  And yet you are so insensitive to this that you swallow my cum as quickly as possible, or worse, choke on it!  And then you smile at me afterwards as if you really do enjoy it.  You know what's more insulting to me than outright defiance?"  She was really crying now, her shoulders shaking, and it was all she could do to keep her head up.  I didn't really expect her to answer.  "It's fucking deception!" I thundered.  "You don't even have the guts to admit your own fault.  Instead, you put on this little show, for months and months, deliberately trying to keep me in the dark, and that, slave, is disrespect, pure and simple."

      I studied her for a moment.  At this point in her training she probably hadn't had trouble overcoming the impulse to defend herself.  She was just itching to apologize, I assumed--but she impressed me by going one step further.  "You may speak," I said.

      "Oh, Master, please, I'm so sorry!" she stammered out.  "I never--never meant to hurt you, please believe--" she broke off on a sob, took a breath, and started again, struggling to maintain eye contact.  "Please, Master, punish me for my failure.  Help me do better!"  And then, with every ounce of courage she had, "T-teach me to love the taste of your cum."

      Her eyes fell from mine then, but it didn't matter; I was nearly floored.  This was the first time Janie had asked to be punished without being prompted.  Furthermore, she had anticipated exactly my plans for her.  I tipped her chin up and the gentle touch encouraged her to raise her tear-drenched eyes to my face again.  "I am going to help you, Janie," I murmured, and her eyes closed briefly in relief that I didn't seem furious any longer.  "Open your mouth."

      She did this immediately, despite the suddenly-wary look in her eyes that  told me she knew I'd done something to her unique gag.  "You're going to want to spit this out, Janie," I warned her, "but you may not.  Do I need to help you?"  She shook her head bravely, mouth still held open, and I pushed the ball inside.

      Her reaction was picture perfect.  Her eyes widened, then screwed shut as her whole face dissolved into a terrible grimace.  I saw the muscles at the sides of her mouth quivering as she forced her lips to stay closed.  I watched her struggle for a moment, watched her shudder when she finally swallowed experimentally, and when she seemed to be coping better I started talking again.  "What you're tasting is a product meant as a rodent repellent," I informed her, knowing this veiled insult would not go unnoticed.  "It's harmless, but there's three coats of the stuff on there, and I'll be surprised if your spit manages to clean it off by the end of the day.  Especially since I'm sure you're holding your tongue away from the ball as best you can.  Nevertheless," I went on, allowing my voice to get louder and sterner, "you are not to spit it out, even for a second, until I've come home and given you permission.  Furthermore, you are not to eat or drink any liquids today while I'm gone.  You are to follow your normal schedule, but you may take your workout a little lighter so you don't get dehydrated.  I don't think I need to tell you that I want you to be thinking about your mistakes.  When I get home, we'll continue with the next part of this lesson.  Now, go meet me at the door."

      Janie's face of suffering, and her forlorn posture, prompted me to say quietly, as I walked out, "You can make it better, Janie, by performing well today."  When she nodded I closed the door behind me.

      Call me a fool, but it was all I could not to go home on my lunch break.  Although, to my credit, this desire arose only partly out of the urge to put Janie out of her misery; I also was looking forward to the more pleasurable part of her punishment.  At least, it would be pleasurable on my end.

      When I did get home, a little after six in the evening, it was clear Janie had outdone herself.  She was wearing her sexy pink lingerie set, with the sheer, light pink, thigh-high stockings that looked enchanting on her pale skin, and had done her hair and makeup.  The house was fairly sparkling.  I made a mental note to notice, later, some particular detail of what she had cleaned, so I could praise her.  In her current mood of contrition, a small compliment would go a long way, I knew, and would probably make her double her resolve to be a perfect companion.  But now, it was time for what I'd been waiting for all day.

      After Janie took my bag and keys and put them away, she came and knelt in front of me where I sat on the sofa.  I stroked her hair for a moment, then asked, "Does it still taste bad?"  She nodded.  "Are you thirsty?"  More vigorous nodding.  I held out my hand and Janie gratefully spat out the ball--but not without sucking it dry first, and I was proud of her.

      "Go into the kitchen and get a glass of water from the faucet.  Swish with half of it and spit it out, then drink the other half.  Come back here when you're done."

      While my slave hastened to do my bidding, I watched her progress with my eyes trained on her shapely ass where it peeked out from under her teddy, framed beautifully by the delicate garter belts, and let my arousal take over.  When she came back and knelt dutifully again between my thighs, I sat back and murmured, "Take my cock out."

      Janie was adept at disrobing me using only her mouth, and she set about this task with alacrity.  As soon as she pulled my boxers down with her teeth, my erection sprang free.  She looked at me expectantly.  "Start with my balls," I said, and after a minute or two of that, I said, "Now, stop, and look at me."

      She did, with appropriate seriousness of expression.  "Do you want to suck my cock?"  I nearly always asked her this--once again, the self-participation thing that kept her from indulging, even for a minute, the comforting thought that she'd merely been forced--but this time I continued, "And do you want to take my cum in your mouth?"  When she again assented, I said, "Do you deserve to take my cum in your mouth?"

      A tricky question.  She looked at me with so much consternation in her face that I said, "You may speak."

      "Master," she said in a voice slightly hoarse with disuse, "I want to deserve it.  I--I will come to deserve it."

      Brilliant, wasn't she?  But I didn't show how pleased I was.  "Janie, in a moment I'm going to let you suck my cock.  Now, I'll warn you when I'm about to cum, and listen--when you hear that, you had better make sure my cock head is in the front of your mouth, on your tongue.  You are not going to swallow, and you are not going to spit."  In response to her look of dawning comprehension, I said, "Yes, you are going to hold my cum in your mouth until I say otherwise.  And if you spill even one drop I guarantee you'll regret it for the rest of the week.  Am I understood?"

      She nodded seriously and I let her get to work with her usual finesse.  I had to resist the urge to touch her glorious, full breasts, showing clearly through the near-transparent fabric of the clinging teddy that matched her stockings.  I managed only because I wanted her to do this completely on her own, to be thinking only of (and perhaps dreading) the moment I filled her mouth with my cum, with no welcome distractions.

      I gave her at least four seconds of warning, and she performed very well, frowning in concentration as she figured out how to close her throat off and hold my whole deposit in her mouth while still sucking me dry.  When she pulled her mouth free, with an audible pop since she was trying to keep her lips sealed, I could tell she was trying to school her features into a neutral cast, and was holding her tongue out of the way like she had with the Rodrepel-coated ball.  "Did you swallow any?" I demanded.  She shook her head earnestly.  "Show me."

      Janie tilted her head back and opened her mouth gingerly so I could lean over her and see the milky fluid pooling on her tongue.  Her mouth was quite full, I saw to my satisfaction--it must be thanks to my abstinence that morning.  "Good," I said, and she closed her mouth.  "Now, still without swallowing or spilling, I want you to swish that cum around in your mouth, like it's mouthwash."  She started to look distressed, but my slave girl complied, carefully moving the liquid from side to side.  "A little more enthusiasm, Janie," I admonished.  "Let me see it moving against your cheeks and lips.  Squish it between your teeth and under your tongue."  I saw her hands clench at her sides, but she managed well, though she wouldn't look at me, and her face was turning red.

      "Get up and come with me," I ordered, shedding my pants as I stood.  Janie walked carefully, as if she were afraid relaxing too much would cause her to involuntarily swallow.  She looked so stiff that I nearly laughed.  I led her into the bedroom and over to the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, shed my shirt, and stood naked behind her.  I gripped her smoothly rounded hips to position her directly in front of the mirror and used her hair to pull her head back slightly.  "Open your mouth and look at yourself," I commanded, and Janie did, still blushing, and still stiff and nervous.  "Do you see?" I murmured in her ear.   She closed her mouth and turned her head to look at my face.  "You look so sexy to me right now," I said, and kissed her gently on her closed lips.

      Her eyes moistened and she smiled as best she could with her mouth carefully full of my cum.  I held her in a loose embrace, facing me, and said, "Okay, Janie, in a minute, I'm going to tell you to swallow.  But I don't want you to gulp it down.  Take your time--little sips, okay?"

  

      Needless to say, whenever Janie sucked me off over the next several weeks, she had to do her "swish," as we came to call it.  But this technique seemed to work, as Janie overcame her aversion to tasting me and it ceased to be an issue.  Moreover, her contrition and consequent extremely good behavior lasted long enough that I was forced to practically manufacture reasons to punish her for the rest of that month.