The Training

thought maybe a few hours tomorrow?”

I ran a finger over his lips, and he captured them in a kiss. I’d missed him so much, I realized. All of him: the sweet, considerate lover of my weekdays and the stern, unyielding master of my weekends. I loved them both, needed them both.

“I’d like to wear it a few hours tomorrow,” I said.

Little did I know I’d be wearing my collar as he flipped through my journal, checking to make sure I’d completed all his assignments. My head was down, of course, so I couldn’t see what he was reading. I felt certain the “Interesting. Very interesting” comment came when he read the toy I picked and the scenario I detailed.

He sat in a plush chair and I was at his feet. My knees rested on the matted floor of the playroom, not on a pillow.

“Look at me, Abigail,” he finally said.

I looked up and met his eyes. Would he be pleased with what I wrote? I couldn’t tell by looking at him.

“You have a talent for writing,” he said.

Really? I thought most of it was just random stream-of-consciousness musings.

“It seems it is an easier way for you to communicate,” he continued. “And the scene you detailed is very creative.”

“Thank you, Master,” I said. “You inspire me.”

I hoped he knew I wasn’t giving gratuitous flattery, but speaking the truth. Being his submissive had released and set free a side of me I’d never known existed. The Abby of the year before would never have dreamed of thinking such things as I’d detailed in the journal, much less written them down and let someone read them.

Hell, before him, I’d had such an unfulfilled sex life, I’d almost given up on sex altogether. But now . . .

Well, I was kneeling, naked, at his feet.

And we’d had the most amazing sex all day the day before.

“I’m very pleased with what you have discovered, my lovely,” he said. “And I want to discuss much of it with you, but for now—” He stood and walked to his cabinets. His bare feet padded as he went. “Your scene has inspired me, and I think you deserve a reward for that.”

He turned to face me, and I noticed he had the ball gag and a bell in his hands.

“Go to the table,” he said. “Just sit on it for now.”

I rose to my feet—he hadn’t told me to crawl—and walked to the table. Would he use all of my ideas or just some? I’d picked the gag over another toy, because I thought he’d use something else in addition. Though I’d also written about a new-to-me flogger, I knew he’d use it only if he wanted.

His footsteps sounded again as he walked toward me, but I kept my focus on his face. From the corner of my eye, I noted his shirtless chest and the items he still had in his hands.

“Open,” he said. Then he placed the gag in my mouth. He buckled it around my head, and I felt my heart pounding. The hard thump, thump, thump shook my body.

“Relax,” he said, stroking my hair. “You’re fine. Breathe through your nose.”

He let me sit for a few seconds, to acclimate myself to the feel of something in my mouth and getting used to breathing.

“Look at me,” he finally said, and then continued when I met his eyes. “You can’t speak your safe word now, so you need this.” He placed the bell in my hand. “If you need to yellow or red, drop this. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Now I want you to try it. Drop the bell.”

The bell fell from my hand and dropped to the floor with a ring and a thump. He bent down, picked it up, and placed it in my hand.

“Again,” he said, and again I dropped the bell.

The next time, he grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back. “Again,” he said. He was so close, I felt his chest against mine and his body between my legs. I dropped the bell again. He immediately let my wrists go.

Once the bell was in my hand again, he lifted my chin. “Do you feel comfortable with the bell? Nod for yes, shake your head for no.”

I nodded.

He leaned in close. “It turns me on so much to see you gagged for my pleasure,” he whispered, my chin still in his hand. “Excellent idea you had, Abigail.” His teeth grazed my earlobe. “Let’s try your next idea, why don’t we?”

Yes, I thought as he pulled me from the table and bent me over it. This is more like what I had in mind.

I looked down at my watch. Almost time to meet Nathaniel in the foyer.

It was the next Saturday and we were heading to a meeting of Nathaniel’s BDSM community friends. He said any new members had to attend a meeting prior to being allowed to the party. Since the party was later that night, we were attending the preparty meeting that afternoon.

My brain was running in all sorts of crazy circles, and my fingers itched to write in my journal, just to make sense of the thoughts floating around my head.

It wouldn’t do for me to be late meeting Nathaniel. All I needed was to give him a reason to punish me before we left. Although I’m sure everyone would know immediately what happened if I was unable to sit down.

I took one last look in the mirror. Nathaniel had picked out jeans and a T-shirt for me to wear. The tee had a V-neck, which showed off my collar, and my hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. I didn’t think I looked particularly like a submissive. Was that the point?

How did a submissive look anyway?

Would I be able to pick them out at the meeting? I was fairly certain they’d be more obvious at the party.

My party outfit remained in the closet in a zipped garment bag, and more than once I’d had to resist the urge to look at it. Nathaniel had told me there was to be no peeking until I was getting ready.

On the upside, I decided that at least meant I was wearing an outfit. My crazier imagined scenarios had me going to the party naked.

I heard Nathaniel return from taking Apollo out, and I ran downstairs to meet him.

I looked at him with a more critical eye. Would everyone know he was a dominant?

Crazy, I told myself. He knows all these people. They’ll all know who and what he is.

Which means—

“Abigail,” he said, a slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Is there a reason you look like the cat who ate the canary?

I was certain his question only made my smile grow bigger. “Yes, Master. I just realized that everyone will know.”

He walked toward me. How was it possible he could look so damn good just walking? “Everyone will know what, my lovely?”

“What you do to me,” I said. “Sometimes it feels like we’re hiding from everyone. Even though Elaina, Todd, and Felicia know, it’s not the same. They’re different because they don’t participate.”

“And by being around those who do?” he questioned, coming to a stop in front of me.

“I can serve you freely,” I said. “I can show everyone how much I enjoy being yours.” I grinned. “I can’t wait.”

“You can’t wait,” he repeated. His hands came up to rest on my shoulders. “Not exactly the same mind frame of the submissive who had pages of fears last week.”

“Yes, Master,” I said, pressing my cheek against his hand as his fingers stroked my face. “Writing has helped. Thank you.”

“I just gave you the tools,” he said. “You had to discover everything else on your own.” He moved his other hand so that he cupped my face entirely. “I’m so proud of you.”