Bought and Trained (8 page)

She ran for the door, and tried to open the lock, once again screaming, but he was
upon her instantly, with his hand over her mouth. He dragged her over to the middle
of the living room, where his bag still sat. He pushed her to the floor, kneeling
next to her with his hand still over her mouth.

He got the ball gag from his bag, and buckled it on her. Then, the detail of her voice
taken out of the equation, he made her lie flat on the rug.

“Don’t make this worse than it already is, Rose,” he said. “Stay in this position
or you’re going to wish I were putting the whole punisher in your ass.”

He got the cuffs and locked them around her wrists and ankles. He got the belt and
put it around her waist. Then he got the collar.

“This is your first collar, Rose,” he said. “What color is it? No, don’t answer. I
know you can see what color it is, even in the dark. Why do you think it’s red, Rose?
You don’t have to answer that either. It’s red because it’s a bad girl collar. Bad
things happen to girls in red collars at the Institute, Rose, when they get taken
behind the blue door. Let me assure you that you don’t want to arrive wearing a red
collar.”

The look of fear on her face was exactly what he wanted to see.

“You’re a lucky girl, though, Rose. In the morning, I’m going to let you earn your
good girl collar. For now, though, you really do need your sleep.”

He locked the cuffs together in front of her, and then locked the wrist cuffs to her
collar. After taking the ball gag off, with a promise to make her take the whole punisher
dry if she made a sound, he left her there and went and slept in her bed.

* * *

In the morning, he laid a big bath towel on her bed, and carried her from the living
room and put her on it. She was asleep when he picked her up, but she woke as he was
carrying her to the bed. He watched her go through the disorientation attended upon
waking in such strange circumstances. When he saw that she had remembered, he put
the ball gag back on her and said, “It’s time to wax your cunt, Rose.”

He went to the living room to get the waxing kit and the little scissors from his
bag. When he returned to the bedroom, Rose began shaking her head. “If you think I’m
going to untie you, Rose, you’re fooling yourself. Girls in red collars don’t get
what they want; they get what their masters want. And I know what you want to say,
too. You want to say ‘Master Leo, please shave me instead.’ Well, if you had been
a good girl, Rose, perhaps I would have considered it. Your owner specified waxing,
but because you aren’t going to be given to him for about a month, we could have started
you off with a shave. But like so much else, Rose, you lost your chance at that when
you tried to escape.”

Leo sat down on the bed. He put the waxing kit next to him, and seized Rose’s knees
without warning, lifting them and separating them, while her ankles stayed locked
together in their cuffs. He stroked her cunt lightly. Then he took the scissors in
his right hand and showed them to Rose.

“We’re going to start with a little trim.”

Leo bent to his work. Rose squirmed and tried to close her legs, but Leo pushed his
left hand between her thighs and said, “Better not, Rose. These scissors are sharp.”
Rose gave a little mew of frustration and stilled her legs.

He could see, as he began to take bunches of the soft, springy hair in the fingers
of his left hand, and cut them off, how aroused the shameful process was making Rose.
At the fifth or sixth tug on her quickly vanishing pubic hair, she was giving little
sighs despite herself, and by the time her golden curls all lay in a little heap on
the towel between her legs, there was a wet spot there, too.

“You stay just like this, sweetheart,” Leo said, “while I go get the kit ready. I
want you to look at your sweet little cunt, and think about what it means that I’m
taking your pubic hair away.”

He got up and took the kit and went to the kitchen to heat the wax in the microwave.
He returned to find that Rose had managed to obey him, and was actually looking down
at her pussy, with a look of submission in her eyes. The escape attempt, as so often,
had done her good.

“Alright,” Leo said, “this is going to hurt, Rose.”

The thing about waxing a girl under these circumstances, Leo thought, as he listened
to Rose scream into her ball gag, was that a real concubine like Rose always got wet.
The strange truth about waxing, Leo had concluded, was that there were probably a
lot of women who did not undergo the process simply because they were embarrassed
by how aroused it would make them, despite the pain involved—or, perhaps, really,
because of the pain involved.

After the first strip, Rose tried again to close her legs. Leo said, “Naughty,” and
slapped her face. “Open up,” he said, and slapped her again, and she obeyed.

“See, Rose?” Leo asked, teasingly. “You’re a very good concubine.” He stroked her,
up and down, in between her labia, partly bare, now, and partly sporting only the
short, trimmed hair that he would soon pull out with the wax. He gave her a little
flutter at her clitoris, and Rose moaned loudly around the gag. “See how wet it makes
you to be prepared for your owner?”

After that, it didn’t take long. Rose Hutchison lost the hair on her pussy, and she
looked as smooth as an owner could ever wish.

“Lovely, Rose,” said Leo, giving her a little kiss there which made her cry out again
into her gag. “I know I say all the time that this or that is a special moment for
you, but I want you to think about the way you’ve now become part of a group that
I think you’ve probably fantasized about joining since the first time you touched
yourself, when the curls on your pussy were just starting to sprout: girls whose pubic
hair has been taken away because a man wanted it that way. I know how strange it seems,
but that makes you part of a kind of family, and when you have your training, and
even more when your owner takes possession of you, you will understand that your submission
can be a gift that many others in that family—not just your owner—will value greatly.”

Leo looked into Rose’s eyes, and saw that although she did not understand the words,
she would remember them, so that they would make sense to her someday.

Then Leo said, “Now we have to feed and water you.”

He stood her up from the bed, as she winced at the lingering pain from the waxing,
and held her around the shoulders to help her shuffle toward the kitchen, her feet
moving only an inch at a time because of the lock on her ankle cuffs. He looked at
her cane welts, which were beginning the fading process. He still wouldn’t be able
to administer a serious spanking, but the discipline he had planned for today didn’t
require it.

“I’m going to un-gag you now for a little while, so you can eat and drink. Remember
that I can hydrate you with my IV needle, if I have to. As I said before, it wouldn’t
make sense to defy me.”

Leo stood her at the counter, and unbuckled the gag and took it out of her mouth.
“Are you going to try to be a good girl, now?” Leo asked, gently.

“Yes, Master,” she said. The fear of what the red collar meant was clearly weighing
on her mind.

“Now, Rose,” he said. “I think what you’re failing to see about your situation as
a new concubine is that trying to get away is the opposite of what you should be thinking
about. As a new concubine, selected for our program, you should be thinking about
why we have selected you, and what that means about you, and about your sweet little
cunt.” At those last words, Leo put his hand down, and gave her a rough, squeezing
caress that made her jump back from the counter. But Leo seized her backside with
his other hand, and for a full thirty seconds, saying nothing, he showed her the extent
to which her body belonged to him. With his right hand on her clitoris and then thrusting
deep inside her pussy, he told her about her sex, while with the fingers of his left
hand he held her bottom arrogantly and, at the same time, penetrated her anus roughly
and repeatedly. He made her gasp, and moan, and finally cry out, “Master…, oh, Master,
please… Master…”

Leo released her. “Perhaps that helped a little, Rose; perhaps not. But we’re going
to have an extended lesson on exactly that topic now, and then you are going to go,
in my van, to the Institute. Maybe you will be wearing the red collar when you get
there, and maybe you won’t be. It depends on how you do in your lesson.”

Rose whimpered, clearly at the thought of wearing the red collar to the Institute
and what it might mean. The charming, submissive little sound gave a distinct, unambiguous
indication that the idea of the Institute, and its program, had become real for her.
That was when Leo knew that he had broken her. The next two hours, before the ride
over, would merely serve to put a bit of polish on her submission.

“Positions, Rose,” Leo said after he had brought her back into the center of the living
room. He unclipped her ankle cuffs, and clipped her wrist cuffs to her belt. “Positions
are one of the most important parts of your life as a concubine. Your owner isn’t
one of the men who have a list of positions to be memorized, you may be glad to know.
Some of those owners make their girls learn to assume positions according to whistle-signals—it’s
quite charming, though it takes a long time to learn. At any rate,
your
owner likes to experiment, and so it’s necessary that you learn to respond instantly
to his commands and to position your body for his pleasure—his pleasure in looking
at you, his pleasure in punishing you, and above all his pleasure in using you with
his cock.”

Leo began to walk around her. “Eyes downcast, Rose,” he said. “Always downcast, except
when you are told to look at something other than the floor.”

He stood in front of her. “We’ll start with that,” he said. He unfastened his jeans
and dropped them to the floor, then his boxers. “Eyes on Master’s cock, Rose.”

He saw her eyes dart to his face, before they fell to his crotch. He reached out,
casually, and slapped her face. “Did I tell you to look me in the eye, Rose?” He watched
her instinctively try to bring her hand up to her slapped cheek, but then realize
she couldn’t because her wrists were bound to the belt around her waist.

“No, sir,” she said.

He slapped her again, on the other cheek. “Are you going to forget again?” Another
slap.

“No, Master!”

He thrust his right hand between her thighs, and she cried out. Really, the gesture
was for her, because he knew exactly what he would find.

“You’re wet, Rose,” he said. “Because I slapped you. Think about that.”

Without giving her time to respond, or, really, to think (for she would think about
it later), he put his hand to the back of her head, cupping the base of her skull,
and pulling gently there. “Down, Rose,” he said, softly.

Leo knew how to make sure Rose didn’t land painfully on her knees; as he saw her knees
buckle, he put his other hand around her waist to hold her up as she tried to kneel
without benefit of the knowledge that, when she couldn’t use her hands, she needed
to put one knee down first, and then the other. Her deportment master at the Institute
would teach her that; for now, Leo helped her find her place, supporting her until
she was on her knees in front of him. The way that, in the process, she had to feel
his hard, enormous cock all over her body as he let her down to the rug was all to
the good.

In the course of getting her there, he saw her eyes flitting here and there, but every
time he saw them move he murmured, “Eyes on my cock, Rose,” and she obeyed him. The
transition, then, to taking his cock in his right hand and beginning to move its tip
all over Rose’s face was entirely natural.

“Rose,” he said, “you can get a black collar instead of that red one this moment,
if you learn quickly.” He slapped his cock against her right cheek. “It won’t be easy,
sweetheart.” Under her chin, and against the other cheek, wishing he had thought to
set up his phone on the little tripod, because David would love to see the moment
when his new concubine had to endure a big cock all over her face for the first time.
“It’s fair to say you won’t like it very much.” He lifted his cock with his right
hand, and with his left brought her face in so that he could lay her cheek against
his scrotum. “But the lesson will be valuable, even if you fail. Kiss, Rose.”

He watched her purse her mouth to obey, but she hesitated, not knowing what he meant
she was supposed to kiss.

“When your master tells you to kiss, Rose, and his balls are right in front of you,
you kiss his balls,” Leo said, and gave her a little slap on the cheek just to reinforce
the message. Still she hesitated. He gave her another little slap, and said, “Have
you kissed a man’s balls before, Rose?”

“No, Master!”

“Why is that, sweetheart?”

“I… I don’t know?”

“It really is a mystery when you consider it, isn’t it? I mean, don’t the girls in
your stories have to kiss men’s balls?” He saw the thrill of arousal go through her;
she closed her eyes. “How about the girls in the porn videos you download and then
delete and then download again? If I’m not mistaken, one of them is called
LA Face-Fuckers.
” He made a show of furrowing his brow as if thinking hard. “I’m not sure, because
you download so very many, but I think you’ve watched
LA Face-Fuckers
at least a dozen times.” He looked down at her. “Why is it, then—just give me your
wildest guess—that Rose Hutchison, who plays with herself while watching other girls
get their faces fucked, has never kissed a man’s scrotum?”

Desperately, Rose started to kiss, and lick, Leo’s hairy scrotum. The sight was delicious,
but his pleasure wasn’t the point here. He slapped her, put his hand in her hair,
and jerked her face away from his crotch.