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Authors: Emily Tilton

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Bdsm, #Romantic Erotica

BOOK: Bought and Trained
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“Then what, my love?” Nancy asked.

“I said I wouldn’t say sorry.”

Nancy hugged her tight, and said, “Oh, my love… Hannah, you mustn’t do that.”

“I know,” Hannah sniffed. “But Master R was so strict! He took me over his knee in
front of
everyone,
and pulled up my nightgown, and Lisa got to see me get smacked!”

“Hush, Hannah,” Kerry said. “It’s not that bad. Come back with us and put on your
pink nightgown like a good girl, and go back to class.”

“OK,” Hannah said, rubbing her eyes charmingly.

 

* * *

 

“Kerry, look,” said Sue, in a quiet, almost awestruck voice, as they returned to Master
N’s hall and passed Kerry’s door.

On her whiteboard, Kerry saw in Miss Abigail’s feminine cursive, “Ass-Night, 11/19.”

Kerry felt herself reach out for Sue’s hand. Sue took it in hers, and said, “You liked
him, right?”

Kerry nodded.

“A lot, right?” Jill said.

Kerry nodded even more firmly, and whispered, “A lot. But… but he told me he’s going
to be hard on me… on… when…” Her voice trailed off. Her owner had whispered in her
ear, as he lay behind her on her bed and gently rubbed her tiny, cringing bottom-hole,
“I want to make sure you’re sore here for a week, Kerry, when I have your ass for
the first time.”

Hannah said, behind them, “What is it? I want to see!” She pushed through, and then
she gasped, when she saw. “Oh, Kerry,” she cried, “I’m going to miss you so much.”
She stood there, chewing on her lip, for a moment, then said, “Kerry? Do you think
it’s going to hurt?”

“Hush, my love,” Nancy said. “Think of Kerry’s feelings.”

“But Nia is in Master A’s wing, and she said yesterday that it hurts a lot when your
master makes you do it that way.”

Kerry laughed a little at that. “I think it will probably hurt a bit, Hannah, but
I want to please my new owner.” She looked over at Rose, who was, it appeared, just
trying to absorb what she was perceiving about her new fellow concubines, and about
the Institute itself.

“How are you doing, Rose?” she asked.

“I… don’t know,” Rose confessed.

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

For the next four days Kerry wore the special red sash, with the big bow in back,
that meant that hers was the next bottom to be deflowered. The girl who wore the sash
got special privileges, like an extra dessert, if she wanted it, and the right to
choose the movies in the viewing room, but she was also subject to special attentions
from the masters, who, conscious both of the need to make the experience of first
anal as significant as it should be for a new concubine and of the sad necessity of
losing Kerry’s favors to her owner, would stop her in the halls and have a little
face-fuck, or come into the viewing room while the girls were watching the movie Kerry
had chosen and tell her to get over the training bench at the back of the room and,
while the movie continued, would ride her vigorously for a quarter of an hour.

Also, it appeared that Kerry’s room was open to the masters at any time until the
night before her ass was to be deflowered, and Rose saw that Kerry got little sleep:
her final examinations, as the masters called them, though there was really no assessment
involved any longer, made Kerry rub her jaw in discomfort at meals, and wince at times
when she walked. She wore her blue nightgown constantly, but, Rose noted with a little
relief for Kerry, never her pink one.

At the same time, Rose was learning the everyday protocols and customs that governed
life at the Institute, with the help especially of Sue, who was Kerry’s closest friend
and had taken a liking to Rose when she saw that Kerry approved of her. Because Kerry
was being prepared for her ass-night, it was Sue who accompanied Rose to her first
classes. The first week those were deportment, aerobics (which all the thirty-or-so
girls did every day at 9:00 am, naked unless they needed a sports bra), and FP (female
pleasure, where Sue was now Rose’s partner; girls took the class once when they arrived,
and again before they left).

The ‘academic’ side of the Institute was less formal than a real school; although
girls arrived once a week, they left at irregular intervals, Sue told Rose. There
were always about twenty-five girls there, but the classes, except for aerobics, had
many fewer girls in them because of all the various things going on, like visits from
owners and individual training sessions. Some of the classes (like deportment) lasted
for a girl’s first two weeks, and some (like MP—male pleasure) lasted for the two
weeks after that, and some, like FP, were spaced out in various ways so that a girl
would come back later to help the newer girls, and also to review.

“I trained to be a teacher,” Sue confided, “and the Institute’s learning philosophy
is really very progressive. It all depends on what you’re ready to learn, when, and
you get to help decide that in consultation with your teachers, and Master N, and
Miss A.”

“Am I going to see Miss Abigail often?” asked Rose with some trepidation, for Miss
Abigail had frightened her with the way she presided over her initiation in the foyer,
and her little notes on other girls’ whiteboards all seemed to be about coming to
see her for punishment.

“You’ll see her for FP, and you’ll meet with her at the end of each week,” Sue said,
with a wry laugh, “but you should hope you don’t see her more than that.”

In deportment class, Rose learned the protocols and the basic positions in a more
formal way than she had the day before. The first protocol was indeed about kneeling:
a girl must always kneel instantly to a senior master in that master’s hallway, and
to a regular master in his classroom. Rose learned how to kneel quickly; every deportment
class began with a solid ten minutes of practice, while Master Q walked about the
room with a stiff punishment strap, applying encouragement to speed up the process
as necessary.

There were three other protocols to learn, and two of them Master Leo had already
taught Rose: downcast eyes in the presence of a master, and silence. The fourth protocol
applied to visits of a master to a girl’s room: the girl must greet the master’s cock
by kissing his balls, first, and then kissing his cockhead. Then she awaited his command.

Master Q taught the fourth protocol practically, using his own cock and balls. Rose
was made to practice the protocol five times, and then Master Q said “Mouth,” and
used her that way for a while, pronouncing her skills already to be developing well.
“More commands tomorrow,” Master Q said, as he dismissed them.

Aerobics was after that, with Master G. Sue showed Rose her locker in the locker room
next to the aerobics studio, with Rose’s name on it; there was a sports bra inside,
and also something at the bottom that she didn’t get a chance to look at, because
she had to get quickly out of her white nightgown and hang it up, and join the other
naked girls, most of them putting on their bras as they laid out their mats and knelt
on them, waiting for Master G to arrive.

The exercises at the start of the class were standard dodging and punching motions,
but then Master G said, “Alright girls, go get your dildos,” as if he were saying
“Go get your steps” or “Go get your weights.” The thing at the bottom of her locker
was really rather like an aerobics step, but it had a fixture for a dildo, and there
was a dildo there, too, to be set into it: not a very big one, but rather long. Rose
watched the other girls and, like them, placed her dildo on her mat, and then crouched
over it.

Master G changed the music, which had been relentlessly poppy, to a classical adagio,
and said, “Four count, hands and knees.” Rose watched and imitated, though it was
of course terribly shameful even when there were twenty other girls around you doing
it. First they rode the dildos on hands and knees; then they knelt up, and posted
up and down that way four times; then they put their hands on the little stands that
supported the dildos and represented, in a sense, the man whose cock they were riding.
Then it was back to hands and knees.

Rose heard some of the girls whimper, and others cry out; she heard herself whine
a little as she had to go up and down on the dildo just like every other girl there,
for the fifteen or so minutes that the exercise lasted.

Then they put away the dildos, and practiced positions, as if they were yoga poses.
And, Rose realized, most of them were very close to yoga poses. Master G was patient,
but he also did not hesitate to bestow discipline when he thought it would help. Rose
felt his strap more than once, to encourage her to hold herself more open and to present
her backside more prominently.

It was hard not to picture the room as Master G saw it, and the thought made Rose
blush: twenty-five lovely young concubines in the ‘Happy Baby’ yoga pose, their sweet,
hairless pussies presented for his visual enjoyment. And, in fact, for more than that,
Rose realized, as she held herself in that pose, looking at the acoustic tiles on
the ceiling, and heard the unmistakable sounds of Master G fucking the girl to her
left. Then it was Rose’s turn, and the sandy-haired deportment master was kneeling
at the edge of Rose’s mat, and entering Rose’s pussy with his huge cock, to test her
skill at holding the position and to sample her charms, as he gripped her widespread
thighs lightly just to keep her steady for his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he said, after a while, as he withdrew and stood up. Then he simply announced
the next pose.

The last class on that first day was FP—female pleasure, with Miss Abigail. FP, it
seemed, always began with every girl, upon the lovely firm cushions with which Miss
Abigail’s classroom was well-stocked, bringing herself to an orgasm using the toy
that Miss Abigail had decided upon for that morning. On Rose’s first day, the toy
was a rabbit vibrator; next to Rose, Sue came within thirty seconds, as did most of
the other girls. Only Rose, Annie, and Bridget were left still trying, while Miss
Abigail said, “Yes, I know it’s still new, girls. Relax, and let it happen. Think
about all the fucking you’ve had over the last twenty-four hours!”

Annie and Bridget came, but Rose couldn’t seem to give herself to the pleasure of
the vibrator that claimed her so thoroughly. Miss Abigail came and stood over her,
holding her strap. “Sue, can you help her?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss,” said Sue, and moved to kneel next to where Rose, flushed and sweating,
her white nightgown around her hips, made little panting cries as she worked herself
with the toy. “Shh, Rose,” Sue said, gently, and laid her hand atop Rose’s on the
vibrator, slowing Rose’s frantic rhythm.

Rose looked up at Miss Abigail, and, entranced, watch her slap the strap across her
palm, to tell Rose that if Sue couldn’t bring her over the edge, Miss Abigail would
be forced to punish Rose, and it was that sight that did it: the idea that she would
be punished for not coming made her come, screaming.

“Very good, Rose,” said Miss Abigail. “Despite it being the fundamental building block
of everything we teach here—which is why we begin with it every day—the act of bringing
yourself to orgasm is not a simple one, especially for a new concubine. Even for you
more experienced girls, it can become difficult when you are distracted, and the things
that work to get you where you need to go change over time. Really, this course in
female pleasure is our attempt to get you to pay attention to your body’s erotic needs.”

Miss Abigail walked around the room as she gave this little lecture. “Rose, and Bridget,
and Annie, I can see in your eyes that you’re not quite ready to make this connection,
but let me spell it out for you… and as you gain experience here, I think you’ll understand
more and more. And I think your more experienced partners will also be able to help
you figure it out. As a concubine, you may be thinking, isn’t it my owner’s erotic
needs that matter? Isn’t the idea that my owner will use me precisely without regard
for my pleasure?”

Miss Abigail reached the front of the room, and turned, rather dramatically, to face
them. “Yes,” she said. “But every owner whom the Institute allows to purchase one
of you girls is a man who cannot be pleased unless he knows he has
your
pleasure at his command. He will not always give it to you, but to have it within
his power is the essence of what he seeks. Leah,” she said, turning to Master A’s
hall-girl, who was Annie’s partner, “what does that mean your most important duty
is?”

“Our own pleasure, Miss.”

“Exactly,” Miss Abigail, said. Rose felt her brow furrow in confusion, and, though
she didn’t know whether it was allowed, she couldn’t help raising her hand.

“Yes, Rose?” Miss Abigail asked. She seemed pleased, thank goodness, to have a girl
engaged enough in the lesson to raise her hand.

“But… he is the one who… will…”

“Don’t worry,” said Miss Abigail. “I know how new it all is. I think what you’re asking
is probably whether your owner will feel the need to please you—whether he will for
example consult you in the way he touches you, or even in the way he fucks you.” She
looked at Rose with raised eyebrows, to ask if she had guessed right, and Rose nodded.
“The answer is No. But that is all the more reason that you must know how it is you
find pleasure, because the more a study you make of it, the more responsive you will
be to him, whatever he does to you and however he enjoys you. That is the paradox,
and it is why in the end you have a very important kind of control over your life
with your owner: you have the power to enjoy it. His pleasure comes first, but can
it come first if you have none that it can precede?”

“No, Miss Abigail,” the more experienced girls chorused.

“Your master’s pleasure can only come first if your pleasure comes second.”

“Yes, Miss Abigail,” Rose said, with the other girls of her new family.

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