Authors: Emily Tilton
When Anne-Marie finally said, “I must go, my dear,” Abigail said, “Good-bye, miss. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
* * *
The days at the Institute melted into one another. Mark had brought enough work that he was always busy with it when he wasn’t busy observing Abigail’s training, but despite the wonder of this place that Anne-Marie and Jean and he had created, he began to grow restless. Abigail had settled into a pattern of obedience: all the limits that had been designated for growth in her profile had been pushed by the end of the second week, but even before they pushed the final one, with Master J and Master Ian sharing Abigail, one in her mouth and the other in her pussy, she had begun to obey without hesitation, and she knew all the protocols Master Ian had taught her in Deportment, as well as the erogenous zones of the male body and the optimal techniques for stimulating each of them.
At the end of the third week, though, Hans came for his visit. Mark watched Anne-Marie lead Abigail into the living room of the suite where Hans had arrived only an hour before, across the hall from Mark’s own suite in the guest wing. The knowledge that Abigail was only fifty feet away from him did not burn in his mind the way Mark had feared it would, but whether because of her proximity or because of the change in a routine that had now been established for more than two weeks, the sight of Abigail in the lingerie Hans had chosen for his visit rather than in her nightgown, kneeling in a guest suite that mirrored his own, sharpened Mark’s attention to the scene very greatly.
This visit from Hans would bring Mark’s first real duty as Abigail’s safer. During her breaking, he had known that Anne-Marie, Jean, and Brian would put into effect the plan they had shared with him, and that their interests in Hans’ treatment of her were exactly in line with Mark’s, and with Mark’s understanding of Abigail’s. There was nothing that would have set off an alarm bell for Mark that wouldn’t already have been caught by the Institute’s team.
During the training so far, Mark’s duties had been even simpler: the program was followed, as agreed upon beforehand. As in the earliest stages, it was strange and sometimes difficult to watch others enjoying Abigail and teaching her about her submissive nature, but that had become progressively easier. More important, it had unfolded in entirely expected ways, since the training regimen had been laid out precisely with a view toward helping Abigail.
Now, though, things would become much less predictable. Hans and Abigail would begin to negotiate her limits, going forward, and their interactions would be less and less controllable. This visit in the guest suite presented opportunities for Abigail’s service to take a turn that might make Mark consider intervening. Even short of intervention, there would certainly be things that came up that would have to be discussed: Hans had paid for a girl whom he could treat as his captive concubine, and that made for the distinct possibility that he would force Abigail into unforeseen situations where her benefit and the consent she had given before having her memories suppressed could come into serious question.
Even the lovely black basque she wore, with stockings but without panties, had presented Mark with his first new challenge in a long while, as he watched Anne-Marie spank Abigail for her hesitation to don it. Something about the look on Abigail’s face as Anne-Marie said, “You will wear the basque for him, to begin,” made Mark think that the visit from Hans could overwhelm her, and send her into what Jean called detachment.
He mentally went over his conference that morning with Jean, in which they had reviewed the agreement made in New York about safer intervention—which they intended would be the basis of every future agreement made when the Institute accepted a girl for pick-up.
“The only reason for intervention,” Jean said, “is the possibility of harm. There is always a very slight chance of physical harm, and an even slighter chance of physical harm that somehow eludes the eyes of the assessor team. For that reason alone, having a safer to monitor the training and the service makes a great deal of sense, above and beyond the psychological impact of Abigail knowing that you will be watching, before she agrees to have her memory suppressed. The more difficult area is the possibility of psychological harm, and there we must rely on your instincts.”
Mark nodded. “Because I’ve known her for so long.”
“Indeed. We can profile Abigail for months, and yet there could be something you see in her eyes that evades our detection—some indication that she is retreating from herself, becoming detached from her submission rather than experiencing it as a richer kind of living.”
Mark had watched Abigail look at the basque, hanging in the closet. It had hung there from the beginning, but Abigail had never yet to Mark’s knowledge examined the garments in that part of her closet—even just to see what they were.
“Come, my dear. Do as I’ve said,” said Anne-Marie, standing in the center of Abigail’s room, watching her consider the contents of the closet. Abigail shot a look over her shoulder at Anne-Marie.
“I do not like that look, Abigail,” the Frenchwoman said. “Bend over the back of your reading chair for a spanking, please.”
“Oh, miss… no… please… I’ll put it on.”
“Yes, you will, and you will put it on gratefully, thanking your owner for buying you such lovely things to help you please him. Do as I have said, or it will be the cane.”
What had the look been, though? Mark wondered. He had seen it too. It had seemed a look of willfulness, entirely unexpected given the way Abigail had behaved for the past two weeks. Indeed, even while Ian and Hans had broken her in the first 48 hours, no such look had occupied her face. Now, Mark thought as he watched Anne-Marie paddle Abigail’s lovely bottom, upended over the back of the chair, he had to decide whether it indicated some kind of detachment.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hans had worried that the sight of Abigail again after the intervening weeks might not be able to live up to his fevered anticipation of having his lovely young concubine back on her knees before him, ready to serve his lusts—and in particular his rigid cock, which had not seemed to remain flaccid for more than a few minutes since the moment he had left her. When Anne-Marie led Abigail in, though, wearing the basque he had picked out, looking apprehensive and lovely, that worry vanished entirely.
“You should know,” said Anne-Marie as Abigail came to kneel in front of him, her owner, “that Abigail had to be spanked before she would put on this beautiful lingerie. You may wish to punish her yourself for that disobedience, as well.”
“Oh, miss…” Abigail said. “I’ve said I was sorry!”
“Would you like her over the stool so that you can see the effects of the spanking yourself, sir?” Anne-Marie asked as if she had not heard Abigail.
Hans swallowed. His cock, which he had thought was hard before, now seemed like an iron bar.
“You could of course enjoy her over the stool, after the inspection, since you were so perspicacious in ensuring that Abigail would have no panties to impede your use of her.”
Hans wondered if anyone could be as good as Anne-Marie at erotic humiliation. He heard a little whimper from Abigail. He looked at her, and saw an expression of passionate transport on her face. “I think that a very fine idea, Anne-Marie. Abigail, please get the stool from the corner. Put it in the center of the living room and then get over it with your bottom well presented for me.”
“Yes, master.” Abigail rose slowly and moved to obey, the look of submission still on her face. Anne-Marie took the opportunity to finish the formal presentation.
“Sir, Abigail is yours in this suite for as long as you like, subject to the surcharges we discussed. We recommend that this visit not go on longer than 24 hours, so that we may complete Abigail’s training expeditiously and begin to prepare her for her
nuit à derrière
, after which she will begin her full service to you. The sooner you return her to us, that is, the sooner we can deliver her to you fully trained as the concubine you have purchased.”
“Understood,” Hans said distractedly, as he watched his Abigail begin bending over the stool, padded on top and covered with the ubiquitous washable imitation leather, in green. Her pert young bottom-cheeks were very red, in contrast to the lovely black lace of the basque, and the suspenders coming down from it across Abigail’s flanks; the spanking must have happened only a few minutes before.
“Spread those knees, Abigail,” said Anne-Marie. “Your master wants to see all of your charms, I think.” Hans watched his concubine obey, a little sluggishly, showing him her smooth, pretty cunt, positioned perfectly for him to enter whenever he chose.
“You will find all the implements you need in the chest of drawers over there,” Anne-Marie continued, pointing, “or in the closet. In particular at the moment, there is a wooden paddle in the top drawer that you may wish to try out.”
“Oh, please,” said Abigail. “Please, master… I’m wearing it… can’t you just… have me… with your b-beautiful cock?”
“Silence, Abigail!” said Anne-Marie. “Sir, I apologize for your girl’s impertinence in speaking out of turn. Would you like me to spank her for you?”
Hans could not have been more enchanted with the scene. “No, thank you, Anne-Marie. I shall do it myself, with the paddle as you suggested.”
A wordless wail came from Abigail, upended in her lovely lingerie over the stool.
“You should have thought of the consequences when you decided to flash me that look, my dear,” said Anne-Marie. “But never fear. We will spank the defiance out of you before long.” She turned from Abigail’s bottom back to Hans. “There are specially designed cushions in the closets; Abigail knows how to position them for your enjoyment of her, and you should feel free to tell her to do so. The drawers are well-stocked with toys and lubricant, as well as with restraints and spreader bars. Abigail has been plugged frequently, as you requested, so you should feel no compunction about making her take even the largest one in there. I doubt very much that you will find her so resistant as to require assistance to keep her obedient, but as before you may summon the attendants simply by saying ‘Attendants, please.’ Finally, though it should go without saying, our concierge is ready to assist you with anything you need at any hour of the day or night. When you are ready to send Abigail back to the training facility, just let him know, and one of the staff will come to take her away. Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”
Hans’ mouth seemed a little dry. “No, thank you, Anne-Marie.”
“Very well. Please enjoy your stay, and your concubine.” She vanished through the front door of the suite.
“Master?” he heard Abigail say, very tentatively.
“Are you speaking out of turn again, Abigail?” Hans asked severely, walking straight to the chest of drawers Anne-Marie had indicated.
“Yes, master. B-but…”
“What is it, Abigail?” Hans turned halfway around so that he could see her beautiful face where she lifted it as much as she could while positioned submissively, with bottom raised, over the stool.
“Please don’t spank me more. I… I don’t think I can bear it.”
There was a note in her voice that seemed different from the way she had defied him—in the reluctance she had shown from time to time—when he had come to deflower her. Abigail sounded as if the idea of Hans disciplining her no longer felt like the in-breaking of a nightmare. She sounded as if she had accepted that she would be spanked when Hans wanted to spank her: the tone of her plea not to be spanked now acknowledged that she would have to be spanked later.
Though he found himself moved, unfortunately for Abigail’s backside Hans was moved not to pity but to severity by the thought of taking his girl beyond what she thought she could bear. “I will decide how much you are to be spanked, Abigail,” he said, “but I can certainly tie you to the stool if you are concerned that you might try to escape and earn further punishment that way.”
He returned, carrying the heavy wooden paddle, whose face was about the size of a paperback book. He brought it down on her bottom without hesitation, right on her sit-spot, just over the place where her cute little pussy peeped out a bit between her thighs. Abigail gasped in pain. He spanked her again, in the same place, and watched her bright red bottom clench as she wailed, “Master… oh, please…”
Then he couldn’t resist any longer, but opened his robe and brought his rock-hard cock up against her cunt, just parting the little lips with the tip of his manhood. Abigail gave a sobbing moan, and as his cock opened her he saw that she was soaking there. The stool was the perfect height. His concubine’s sweet cunt, framed by the lace, the suspenders, and the stockings, opened for him like a velvet glove and as he entered her he heard her whisper, “Thank you, master.”
Then he gripped the beautiful black lace that imprisoned Abigail’s waist, and began to fuck. Even deflowering her had not felt so perfectly pleasurable: she wasn’t quite as tight now, he supposed, but the pleasure he forced from her over the stool was less ambiguous, and he found that he had such tenderness for this lovely creature he had bought that it made his dominant joy all the more to know that he could make her moan as she did now, upended shamefully for his fucking. Again, as he had thought back at the pick-up facility, he acknowledged that as much money as Abigail had cost him, she would have been cheap at twice the price.
He began to murmur to her then about what he had in store for her, and with each sentence Abigail seemed to move under him more wildly.
“I am going to do things to you, little girl, that I have always wanted to do to a beautiful young woman.”
“Oh, master…” she moaned. “What… wh-what are you…?” Hans moved in and out of her cunt, looking down in rapture at the way her smooth, bare little lips seemed to cling to him.
“I have vowed to myself not to spoil your
nuit à derrière
, little one.”