Bought and Trained

Bought and Trained

By

Emily Tilton

Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Emily Tilton

Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Emily Tilton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Tilton, Emily

Bought and Trained

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by Bigstock/Ababaka and Bigstock/Goinyk

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only,
intended for adults.

What price would we not pay to feel, at last, that we could live our true selves?
Rose certainly didn’t know the answer to that question as she signed the contract.

A million dollars from the man who chose her, with the requirement that he pay a million
more if she stayed with him for a year.

But the money wasn’t the reason. The reason was the fantasies.

“Alright, Rose,” said Leo Hastert, her case-agent (as he called himself) for the Institute’s
concubine program, which was the only name this strange—what? company? system?—thing
she was doing had. “I’m going to go over this one more time, as I’m required to by
the Institute, OK?”

Rose nodded, swallowing hard.

“After you leave here today, you will deposit a copy of this contract, along with
any documentation you choose to add, in a safe-deposit box monitored by our program-agents,
but kept at a public bank. Then you will return here, and you will be hypnotized by
a skilled professional. Your memory of the program, and of signing this contract,
will be deeply hidden. At some point, over the next few weeks, you will be abducted,
and trained as a concubine in a secret location. During your abduction and training,
your progress will be monitored by us and by your friend Joanne Goshen, who referred
you to us, though you will not, of course, remember that she is monitoring you. If
at any time we think, or Joanne thinks, you are being harmed in any way, or that your
training is not resulting in the psychological well-being you were seeking when you
came to us at her suggestion, we will intervene, and you will be returned, with your
memories restored, to your existing life-situation, one million dollars richer.

“If, on the other hand, Joanne does not intervene, you will in due course be delivered
to our client, who will have chosen you as his concubine. As Joanne continues to monitor,
you will serve him as he sees fit, and he will treat you exactly as he pleases, according
to the list of requirements we supplied.”

Rose felt her hands tremble slightly, as she remembered all the terrible things on
the list of requirements, the punishments and the humiliations, but she nodded anyway.

“Again, if intervention is necessary, you will be returned, restored, and enriched.
But if you remain with your master for a year, you will gain an additional million
dollars, and another for each year of service.”

Leo looked at Rose for a long moment; then he said, “Are you prepared to sign?”

“Yes,” Rose said.

“I want to make sure, Joanne,” said Abigail Podret, the academic dean of the Institute,
“that you understand why we have accepted Rose into the program.”

“That would be very helpful,” Joanne said. They were speaking via secure video chat—the
same technology that Joanne would use to monitor Rose. Joanne felt a little faint
as she thought about what she would witness, on her computer screen, over the next
year and more. She told herself again, as she had told herself at least five times
a day for the last few weeks as she had planned Rose’s induction into the concubine
program, that her referral of Rose to Abigail had nothing to do with the free, high-quality
BDSM porn it was going to provide. As often as she told herself that, though, she
imagined, with an accompanying dampness between her thighs, watching Rose broken,
and trained, and used, all by Rose’s own consent and with Rose’s own approval.

Joanne had never thought, when she had met Abigail Podret at a BDSM munch meet-up,
and then had met her again a few days later for a long coffee and a torrid, lengthy
discipline session in Abigail’s hotel room afterward, that one day Joanne would have
a candidate for the program. But Joanne had also never forgotten Abigail saying, those
years ago, “Mrs. Goshen, it seems to me you understand the purpose of my program.
I would be happy to consider any candidate you might decide to recommend as a volunteer,
or for pick-up.”

Now, on Joanne’s screen, Abigail continued, somehow looking lovely even over video
chat, her black hair pulled back in a chignon and her porcelain skin luminous, “We
accepted Rose because of the family issues.”

“Oh,” said Joanne, “you mean the way her parents were about the marriage?”

“Yes—they didn’t try to stop her from marrying her college boyfriend when it was clear
she was only doing it because she didn’t know what else she should do. There’s no
doubt at all that she’s a yearning sub—not that her parents could have known that,
of course!” Abigail held up her left hand in a sort of ‘whoa’ gesture whose charming
innocence made Joanne want to spank her silly, the way she had five years before in
that hotel room.

“But you think that she’d be able to acknowledge those desires…”

“If her family background had given her more assertiveness about her inner life. Yes.”

“So what are you thinking the program will do for her?” Joanne asked, sure now that
she had done the right thing in referring Rose.

“We think Rose needs to find a new kind of family—a decidedly non-traditional family
that will nurture and support her submissive desires. Frankly, her new owner and his
wife may not be the right match—not because there’s any reason to think it won’t work
but simply because we won’t know until Rose serves him for a while—but having the
experience of that family structure will, we think, give Rose the self-knowledge she
desperately needs, in order to find in that family, or in some other family, a way
to feel like she is living the way she’s supposed to live.”

Leo Hastert smiled as he put on his cable-guy outfit. Rose Hutchison, blond and blue-eyed,
had called him back, as he had known she would, to do the hack he had told her he
could do for twenty bucks. She had also made it clear that she was hoping he would
service more than her cable box. He had called Abigail at the Institute, and Abigail
had given final approval for the pick-up. After Rose had been accepted, Abigail had
circulated her picture to the clients with whom the Institute was currently working
to find concubines. David Handelson had called back within a few minutes of seeing
Rose’s picture. He would take Rose—and did Abigail have a nineteen-year-old to go
with her? David and his wife were hoping to bring a pair to Saint Martin—and to their
other houses, on Long Island and in Paris, of course. One for him and one for her?
Leo wasn’t sure, but the program was adept at filling this sort of request, and Abigail
had told David she would see what they could do.

Leo loved his job.

* * *

Rose Hutchison, twenty-five and already divorced, petite and lovely, let Leo into
her apartment with a sly smile. She wore a cute pink T-shirt and tight, classic jeans.
He was sure she had on some sort of special panties in his honor. That would be fun.

Leo didn’t even glance at the place where he had installed the camera in the kitchen
the day before, when Rose had been out shopping. He would know from a buzz in his
implanted earpiece if that camera stopped feeding video—or any of the five others
he had installed throughout her apartment, so that the Institute’s monitors and Rose’s
safer (as they were called) Joanne could see everything that would happen.

Rose closed and locked the door behind Leo, 6′2″ and, from outward appearances, all
alpha—just what girls who are coming to terms with their submissive sides are looking
for. The reality had more complexity, but Leo didn’t wear his love for opera and French
cooking on his sleeve.

Leo looked down at her and said, “Take off your clothes.”

The look on Rose’s face changed to confusion, and then to fear. She reached for the
lock on the door, but Leo easily grabbed and held her wrist. She started to yell,
but he covered her mouth with his other hand and said, “I can gag you if I have to,
Rose. Wouldn’t you rather I didn’t?” A long moment passed, and then she nodded. He
took his hand carefully from her mouth; sometimes they bit, but Rose didn’t seem to
be that kind of girl. Still, he had learned to be careful.

“You’re going to take off all your clothes, or I’m going to take them off for you,
after I cane your disobedient backside,” Leo said calmly.

“What?”

“You thought you were going to get a little action with the hunky cable guy. I’m afraid,
Rose, that you’re going to get a lot more action than you thought. You’ve been purchased
by a wealthy man: in a month I’m going to deliver you to him, ready to pleasure him
when and however he chooses.”

“This is a joke, right?” Rose said weakly.

“No, Rose, it’s not. If you are an obedient girl for your master, you will have a
wonderful life with him, but I am afraid that if you are disobedient, the way you
seem to have decided to be now, your life will be very hard and painful.”

“But—”

“It looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” Leo said, grimly. He
turned Rose around, and held both her wrists in his left hand, at the small of her
back. Then he bent her over the kitchen counter. With a practiced hand he got a length
of rope from his pocket and swiftly bound her hands behind her.

That was when Rose started screaming, but at that point it was almost too easy to
take a dishtowel, stuff it in her mouth, and secure it with the leather strap that
was in his other pocket for exactly that purpose. He lifted her and threw her across
his shoulder. He could tell from her breathing that her arousal was beginning to emerge,
and she was fighting hard against it.
Right on schedule
, he thought to himself.

Leo thought often about the nature of the post-hypnotic suggestions the program used,
which were the Institute’s most closely kept secret. Did they leave behind, he always
wondered, a sort of trace memory that made it easier for girls like Rose to come to
terms with their fantasies of non-consent? If he had done to Rose what he had just
done
before
she had joined the program and received the post-hypnotic suggestion that she forget
that she had signed a contract with the Institute, would she still be panting as he
manhandled her onto a high-backed armless wooden chair in her living room, and began
to tie her to it, as she struggled uselessly against him?

“Rose,” Leo said, when he was sure he had tied her securely, “we’re going to have
a lot of fun, you and I, over the next forty-eight hours—but only if you make up your
mind to be a good girl. If you decide that you can’t be a good girl for me, well,
I’ll still have fun… but I’m afraid you won’t. Do you think you can be a good girl
for me?”

Leo could see fear in her wide eyes as she nodded.

It was time to heighten things for her emotionally. Without another word to her, Leo
began to go through the things on her shelves, knowing that she was watching his every
move. He walked to the bedroom door—he had studied the simple floor-plan carefully
that morning—and opened it.

He looked back at Rose. “I’m just going to have a little look in your bedroom, Rose.
Do you think I’ll find anything naughty?”

Her only response was to widen her eyes. She knew what he would find, as did he. He
went into the bedroom, and straight to the top dresser drawer. Under her lovely panties
and bras, he found a copy of
Penthouse Forum
dated two years before
and a worn copy of a spanking book called
Schoolgirl Tales
. He also found a cute little pink vibrator. He brought all these out, and laid them
on the couch in front of her.

“Naughty,” he said. She mewed through her gag at that, but he was sure even she didn’t
know what she wanted to say in response to the revelation.

He reached down, casually, with both hands, to her waist. He worked his fingers inside
the waistband of her jeans, treasuring the first feeling of her soft skin there. Her
sounds through the gag grew even more frantic, as did the shaking of her head, but
she could not prevent his unfastening the button at the waistband of her jeans and
tugging them down to the middle of her spread thighs, to expose her lacy red panties.
He could see the fair hair on her cunt through the lace—this revelation was always
one of his favorite parts—and he felt himself growing hard.