The Training
Page 5
He stood with me and touched my shoulder as I turned to leave. “Breakfast in the dining room at eight. We’ll head into the playroom shortly thereafter. I don’t mind if you do it tonight or tomorrow morning, but I want the playroom cleaned before breakfast.”
A fresh wave of desire washed over me at the way he commanded me so unobtrusively. “Yes, Master.”
He gave me a light kiss. “Good night, Abigail.”
I tossed and turned for a long time, the reason why escaping me. I’d slept in the small bed plenty of nights before. Slept in it more times than I’d slept in his bed, truth be told. Why would I have trouble sleeping? He was right down the hall. We’d decided together to sleep separately on weekends. It was the arrangement I wanted. The one he wanted. The one we wanted.
I wondered if sleep shunned him as well.
Right when I decided to give up and walk to the library to pour myself some brandy, I heard it: the soft, haunting sounds of a piano. The melody both delicate and comforting in its simplicity.
I sighed in pleasure and closed my eyes.
I tossed no more.
Chapter Four
—NATHANIEL—
I’d anticipated not being able to sleep. I somehow knew having her back in my house as my submissive, even though it was what we wanted—what we needed—would be difficult. That she wanted to spend Friday and Saturday nights in her old room brought me a certain measure of relief. Her indication in the library that our relationship was easy because I was used to it could not have been further from the truth. Our entire relationship was uncharted territory.
I left the library after playing the piano and walked back upstairs. Her bedroom door was closed, causing me to wonder if she slept yet or if she still tossed restlessly. I didn’t anticipate sleep coming quickly to her, either. Something in my mind whispered I should have made her sleep on the floor in my bedroom.
I stopped outside my own bedroom door.
I’d made her sleep on my floor once before. Would have made any other submissive sleep on my floor the first night after I collared her.
Does that mean I won’t be able to be both dom and lover to her?
I didn’t allow myself to dwell on those thoughts. Instead, my mind drifted to the image of her wearing my collar. My collar and nothing else. I thought back to our conversation in the library—how badly I’d wanted to take her. To slip the gown from her shoulders and run my hands down the curves of her body . . .
My c**k grew uncomfortably hard and I slipped my hand past the waistband of my pants to grasp it. I remembered scenes from earlier in the day:
On her knees in my office.
Waiting for me in the playroom.
Holding back a moan as I informed her of my plans with the clamps.
My eyes fell again on her bedroom door.
She might not be sleeping on my floor, but she was still my submissive. She was to serve me however I decided.
I pushed her door open and saw her sleeping.
“Wake up,” I said.
She mumbled something in her sleep and rolled away from me.
“Now, Abigail.”
Eyes heavy with sleep, she slowly sat up. Her hair fell around her shoulders in disarray—sleep had not come quickly to her. She ran her hand up to her collarbone to straighten the strap of her gown.
“You sleep on Friday and Saturday nights when it is convenient for me.” I slipped my pants down over my h*ps and stepped out of them. “And right now, your sleeping is not convenient.”
Her eyes fell on my erection. Yes. She knew exactly what I was talking about now.
“I’m feeling cordial tonight, though, so I’ll let you decide how you want it,” I said.
She blinked a few times. “However it pleases you, Master.”
“I believe, Abigail”—I ambled over to her bed—“I just told you what would please me.” I leaned over her. “I want you to decide how you’ll take my cock.”
Her eyes dropped again. Was she embarrassed? Was that it? She needed to get over any embarrassment. Embarrassment had no place in our relationship.
I hooked my fingers under the straps of her gown and slipped it over her head. “Whatever you decide,” I told her, “I want this off.”
When the gown was off and she was naked, I raised an eyebrow at her. She still hadn’t said anything.
“Time’s up,” I said. “You didn’t tell me quickly enough, so I’ll choose for you.” I turned her on the bed and pushed on her shoulders so she lay down on her back with her head hanging over the edge. “Since you chose not to talk when I asked you a question, I’ll put that mouth to a better use.”
I had to bend slightly, but I put my hands on either side of her h*ps and pressed forward so my c**k brushed her lips. “Do a good job and I might let you go back to sleep.”
I closed my eyes as she enveloped me. Her warmth felt so good, my erection grew even harder as I worked my way into her mouth. I brought a hand to her belly to check on her breathing and started thrusting, pushing myself deeper.
She took all of me, relaxing her throat and sucking as I slowly f**ked her mouth. Her tongue wrapped around and stroked me when I pulled out, only to run back down my length as I reentered.
I knew that, once more, she had disobeyed. I had asked a question, asked for an answer, and she had not given me one. I needed to address it.
“I’m getting ready to come,” I warned when my release grew imminent. I thrust harder into her mouth. “You are not to swallow. Hold my come in your mouth until I command otherwise.”
I held motionless as my release shot through me, digging my fingers into the soft skin of her waist.
Fuck.
She lay still as I stepped away to retrieve my pants, and she hadn’t moved when I turned to face her once more.
“Sit up.”
She sat up, breathing through her nose, cheeks slightly puffed. I walked over and took her jaw in my hand.
“When I tell you I want an answer, I want an answer,” I said. “Swallowing my come is an honor I do not bestow upon you lightly. Do you understand?” She nodded and I squeezed her cheeks. “Savor the taste of me in your mouth, because you’re the only person in the world able to do so. The only submissive allowed to serve me.” I jerked her chin up. “The one I selected to wear my collar.”
Her eyes teared up, and I felt a slight tinge of discomfort but pushed it away. I needed to make a strong impression this weekend—to remind her I had not been lying when I told her the last time was easy.
I ran my free thumb under her eyelashes and gathered the wetness there. My point had been made and was understood. “I see the disappointment in your eyes. Swallow, Abigail.” I kept my hand on her jaw and watched her throat as she obeyed.
While I had known this weekend would not be easy, it had not struck me just how hard it would be for both of us.
I wanted to reestablish my connection with her somehow, to let her know we were okay, but felt at a complete loss as to how to go about doing it. I had never struggled with anything like this before.
She sat before me with her eyes downcast, disappointment still etched on her features. I searched for the right words to say. Anything that would reassure her we were okay. That this was a tiny blip on our journey and she should not feel overly upset. Yet I felt uneasy whispering accolades of love after the reprimand I gave her.
Then inspiration seized me. I leaned over and whispered:
“‘For I must love because I live.
And life in me is what you give.’”
Surely she would remember those were the last two lines of “Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her” by Christopher Brennan, one of the last poems recited as part of the poetry reading series held by the library where she worked.
She gasped in recognition, and I smiled. Yes. She remembered.
I pulled back, my lips brushing her cheek as I did so. “Good night, my lovely.”
I heard her rustling around the house after I went back to my room and crawled into bed. She was cleaning the playroom, probably unable to get back to sleep after I’d woken her.
I rolled over and glanced at the clock. It was two a.m. Fuck, it was late. I wondered idly how Paul and Christine’s first weekend had gone years ago, when they’d first set up their arrangement. He was probably still awake. The last time we talked, he mentioned their son, Sam, was going through a nasty bout of colic. Still, even if he was, I doubted he’d be pleased to hear from me. I’d call him sometime after breakfast. Or lunch.
I rolled away from the alarm clock and waited until I heard her go back to her room before I allowed sleep to overtake me.
She waited for me in the playroom shortly after breakfast. She sat on her knees, hands folded in her lap, head down. Exactly the way I had instructed her to wait for me in the playroom. The sight of her, in position and wearing only my collar, caused my c**k to jump to life.
“Perfection,” I said. “I expected nothing less.” I felt pride radiate from her body. “Stand up, Abigail,” I said. “Let me see what belongs to me.”
Fucking beautiful, I thought when she stood.
Her eyes were downcast, but I could feel her anticipation and excitement. The room nearly buzzed with it.
I stood behind her and ran a hand down her side, noting the increased rate of her breathing. I bent slightly to whisper in her ear, “I’m going to push you a bit today.” She shivered under me. I continued. “Remember, I can push because I trust you to use your safe words if you need.” I cupped a breast. “I’m going to allow you to vocalize and cl**ax as needed. I still require your complete honesty when I ask how you’re doing.”
I walked to the cabinets and took out two nipple clamps connected with a chain. Her eyes followed me as I returned to stand in front of her. “I’m also leaving your eyes uncovered. I want you to see what I’m doing.”
I bent my head down and sucked a nipple into my mouth. I ran my tongue around its tip, making her moan in the process. I took her deeper and reached out my hand to stroke her other nipple. When she started shivering under my touch, I switched places and paid the same amount of attention to her other breast.
Finally, I straightened up and took her left breast in my hands. I fondled her—rolling and pinching, watching as her skin broke out in gooseflesh. This next part would hurt a bit; I needed to make sure she was ready.
“Take a deep breath, my lovely,” I said, pinching her nipple with one hand as I opened the clamp with the other. Once she inhaled, I gently slipped the clamp onto her.
She let out her breath in a short gasp.
I slipped my hand down her body and stroked between her legs. “Very good.”
I repeated the procedure with her other nipple—going slowly, gauging her reaction. I watched her carefully. She closed her eyes briefly and shivered, but she was fine.
“Are you okay?” I asked when I had finished.
She smiled. “Yes, Master.”
I returned her smile with one of my own. “Look down, Abigail,” I said. “Look and see just what a naughty girl you are.”
My eyes followed hers, and I took in the sight of her perky nipples—decorated with my clamps, the chain hanging slightly.
“We’re going to play a little game,” I said. “I want you to undress me.” She was still looking at her br**sts. “Look at me.” When she looked up, I continued. “The catch is, each time you touch my cock, I earn the right to pull that chain.” I took a step back. “Start now.”
I closed my eyes and waited for her to start. I wore only pants. It would be difficult, but not impossible, for her to undress me without touching my cock. The clamps were new to her. If she hated them, feared them, or was in too much pain, I knew my c**k would go untouched during the next few minutes.
By the time my pants were on the floor, I’d counted four touches of her hand. The last was a brazen upward stroke of my c**k as she moved to her feet.
A fresh wave of desire washed over me at the way he commanded me so unobtrusively. “Yes, Master.”
He gave me a light kiss. “Good night, Abigail.”
I tossed and turned for a long time, the reason why escaping me. I’d slept in the small bed plenty of nights before. Slept in it more times than I’d slept in his bed, truth be told. Why would I have trouble sleeping? He was right down the hall. We’d decided together to sleep separately on weekends. It was the arrangement I wanted. The one he wanted. The one we wanted.
I wondered if sleep shunned him as well.
Right when I decided to give up and walk to the library to pour myself some brandy, I heard it: the soft, haunting sounds of a piano. The melody both delicate and comforting in its simplicity.
I sighed in pleasure and closed my eyes.
I tossed no more.
Chapter Four
—NATHANIEL—
I’d anticipated not being able to sleep. I somehow knew having her back in my house as my submissive, even though it was what we wanted—what we needed—would be difficult. That she wanted to spend Friday and Saturday nights in her old room brought me a certain measure of relief. Her indication in the library that our relationship was easy because I was used to it could not have been further from the truth. Our entire relationship was uncharted territory.
I left the library after playing the piano and walked back upstairs. Her bedroom door was closed, causing me to wonder if she slept yet or if she still tossed restlessly. I didn’t anticipate sleep coming quickly to her, either. Something in my mind whispered I should have made her sleep on the floor in my bedroom.
I stopped outside my own bedroom door.
I’d made her sleep on my floor once before. Would have made any other submissive sleep on my floor the first night after I collared her.
Does that mean I won’t be able to be both dom and lover to her?
I didn’t allow myself to dwell on those thoughts. Instead, my mind drifted to the image of her wearing my collar. My collar and nothing else. I thought back to our conversation in the library—how badly I’d wanted to take her. To slip the gown from her shoulders and run my hands down the curves of her body . . .
My c**k grew uncomfortably hard and I slipped my hand past the waistband of my pants to grasp it. I remembered scenes from earlier in the day:
On her knees in my office.
Waiting for me in the playroom.
Holding back a moan as I informed her of my plans with the clamps.
My eyes fell again on her bedroom door.
She might not be sleeping on my floor, but she was still my submissive. She was to serve me however I decided.
I pushed her door open and saw her sleeping.
“Wake up,” I said.
She mumbled something in her sleep and rolled away from me.
“Now, Abigail.”
Eyes heavy with sleep, she slowly sat up. Her hair fell around her shoulders in disarray—sleep had not come quickly to her. She ran her hand up to her collarbone to straighten the strap of her gown.
“You sleep on Friday and Saturday nights when it is convenient for me.” I slipped my pants down over my h*ps and stepped out of them. “And right now, your sleeping is not convenient.”
Her eyes fell on my erection. Yes. She knew exactly what I was talking about now.
“I’m feeling cordial tonight, though, so I’ll let you decide how you want it,” I said.
She blinked a few times. “However it pleases you, Master.”
“I believe, Abigail”—I ambled over to her bed—“I just told you what would please me.” I leaned over her. “I want you to decide how you’ll take my cock.”
Her eyes dropped again. Was she embarrassed? Was that it? She needed to get over any embarrassment. Embarrassment had no place in our relationship.
I hooked my fingers under the straps of her gown and slipped it over her head. “Whatever you decide,” I told her, “I want this off.”
When the gown was off and she was naked, I raised an eyebrow at her. She still hadn’t said anything.
“Time’s up,” I said. “You didn’t tell me quickly enough, so I’ll choose for you.” I turned her on the bed and pushed on her shoulders so she lay down on her back with her head hanging over the edge. “Since you chose not to talk when I asked you a question, I’ll put that mouth to a better use.”
I had to bend slightly, but I put my hands on either side of her h*ps and pressed forward so my c**k brushed her lips. “Do a good job and I might let you go back to sleep.”
I closed my eyes as she enveloped me. Her warmth felt so good, my erection grew even harder as I worked my way into her mouth. I brought a hand to her belly to check on her breathing and started thrusting, pushing myself deeper.
She took all of me, relaxing her throat and sucking as I slowly f**ked her mouth. Her tongue wrapped around and stroked me when I pulled out, only to run back down my length as I reentered.
I knew that, once more, she had disobeyed. I had asked a question, asked for an answer, and she had not given me one. I needed to address it.
“I’m getting ready to come,” I warned when my release grew imminent. I thrust harder into her mouth. “You are not to swallow. Hold my come in your mouth until I command otherwise.”
I held motionless as my release shot through me, digging my fingers into the soft skin of her waist.
Fuck.
She lay still as I stepped away to retrieve my pants, and she hadn’t moved when I turned to face her once more.
“Sit up.”
She sat up, breathing through her nose, cheeks slightly puffed. I walked over and took her jaw in my hand.
“When I tell you I want an answer, I want an answer,” I said. “Swallowing my come is an honor I do not bestow upon you lightly. Do you understand?” She nodded and I squeezed her cheeks. “Savor the taste of me in your mouth, because you’re the only person in the world able to do so. The only submissive allowed to serve me.” I jerked her chin up. “The one I selected to wear my collar.”
Her eyes teared up, and I felt a slight tinge of discomfort but pushed it away. I needed to make a strong impression this weekend—to remind her I had not been lying when I told her the last time was easy.
I ran my free thumb under her eyelashes and gathered the wetness there. My point had been made and was understood. “I see the disappointment in your eyes. Swallow, Abigail.” I kept my hand on her jaw and watched her throat as she obeyed.
While I had known this weekend would not be easy, it had not struck me just how hard it would be for both of us.
I wanted to reestablish my connection with her somehow, to let her know we were okay, but felt at a complete loss as to how to go about doing it. I had never struggled with anything like this before.
She sat before me with her eyes downcast, disappointment still etched on her features. I searched for the right words to say. Anything that would reassure her we were okay. That this was a tiny blip on our journey and she should not feel overly upset. Yet I felt uneasy whispering accolades of love after the reprimand I gave her.
Then inspiration seized me. I leaned over and whispered:
“‘For I must love because I live.
And life in me is what you give.’”
Surely she would remember those were the last two lines of “Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her” by Christopher Brennan, one of the last poems recited as part of the poetry reading series held by the library where she worked.
She gasped in recognition, and I smiled. Yes. She remembered.
I pulled back, my lips brushing her cheek as I did so. “Good night, my lovely.”
I heard her rustling around the house after I went back to my room and crawled into bed. She was cleaning the playroom, probably unable to get back to sleep after I’d woken her.
I rolled over and glanced at the clock. It was two a.m. Fuck, it was late. I wondered idly how Paul and Christine’s first weekend had gone years ago, when they’d first set up their arrangement. He was probably still awake. The last time we talked, he mentioned their son, Sam, was going through a nasty bout of colic. Still, even if he was, I doubted he’d be pleased to hear from me. I’d call him sometime after breakfast. Or lunch.
I rolled away from the alarm clock and waited until I heard her go back to her room before I allowed sleep to overtake me.
She waited for me in the playroom shortly after breakfast. She sat on her knees, hands folded in her lap, head down. Exactly the way I had instructed her to wait for me in the playroom. The sight of her, in position and wearing only my collar, caused my c**k to jump to life.
“Perfection,” I said. “I expected nothing less.” I felt pride radiate from her body. “Stand up, Abigail,” I said. “Let me see what belongs to me.”
Fucking beautiful, I thought when she stood.
Her eyes were downcast, but I could feel her anticipation and excitement. The room nearly buzzed with it.
I stood behind her and ran a hand down her side, noting the increased rate of her breathing. I bent slightly to whisper in her ear, “I’m going to push you a bit today.” She shivered under me. I continued. “Remember, I can push because I trust you to use your safe words if you need.” I cupped a breast. “I’m going to allow you to vocalize and cl**ax as needed. I still require your complete honesty when I ask how you’re doing.”
I walked to the cabinets and took out two nipple clamps connected with a chain. Her eyes followed me as I returned to stand in front of her. “I’m also leaving your eyes uncovered. I want you to see what I’m doing.”
I bent my head down and sucked a nipple into my mouth. I ran my tongue around its tip, making her moan in the process. I took her deeper and reached out my hand to stroke her other nipple. When she started shivering under my touch, I switched places and paid the same amount of attention to her other breast.
Finally, I straightened up and took her left breast in my hands. I fondled her—rolling and pinching, watching as her skin broke out in gooseflesh. This next part would hurt a bit; I needed to make sure she was ready.
“Take a deep breath, my lovely,” I said, pinching her nipple with one hand as I opened the clamp with the other. Once she inhaled, I gently slipped the clamp onto her.
She let out her breath in a short gasp.
I slipped my hand down her body and stroked between her legs. “Very good.”
I repeated the procedure with her other nipple—going slowly, gauging her reaction. I watched her carefully. She closed her eyes briefly and shivered, but she was fine.
“Are you okay?” I asked when I had finished.
She smiled. “Yes, Master.”
I returned her smile with one of my own. “Look down, Abigail,” I said. “Look and see just what a naughty girl you are.”
My eyes followed hers, and I took in the sight of her perky nipples—decorated with my clamps, the chain hanging slightly.
“We’re going to play a little game,” I said. “I want you to undress me.” She was still looking at her br**sts. “Look at me.” When she looked up, I continued. “The catch is, each time you touch my cock, I earn the right to pull that chain.” I took a step back. “Start now.”
I closed my eyes and waited for her to start. I wore only pants. It would be difficult, but not impossible, for her to undress me without touching my cock. The clamps were new to her. If she hated them, feared them, or was in too much pain, I knew my c**k would go untouched during the next few minutes.
By the time my pants were on the floor, I’d counted four touches of her hand. The last was a brazen upward stroke of my c**k as she moved to her feet.
