The training, T - Z
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1.
The drive back to Edward's house took longer than it should have. Or maybe it
just felt like it took longer. Maybe it was nerves.
I tipped my head in thought.
Maybe not nerves, exactly. Maybe anticipation.
Anticipation that after weeks of talking, weeks of waiting, and weeks of planning,
we were finally here.
Finally back.
I lifted my hand and touched the collar – Edward's collar. My fingertips danced
over the familiar loops and I followed the chain down to the diamond pendant. I
moved my head from side to side, reacquainting myself to the collar's feel.
There were no words to describe how I felt wearing Edward's collar again. The
closest I could come was to compare it to a puzzle. A puzzle with the last piece
finally in place. Yes, for the last few weeks, Edward and I lived as lovers, but we
both felt incomplete. His recollaring of me - his reclaiming me - had been what
was missing. It sounded odd, even to me, but I finally felt like I was his again.
I eventually reached Edward's house and pulled into his long drive. Lights
flickered from the windows. He had set the timer, anticipating my arrival in the
dark. Such a small gesture, but a touching one. One that showed, like much he
did, how he kept me firmly at the forefront of his mind.
I jingled my keys as I walked up the drive to his front door. My keys. To his
house. He gave me a set of keys a week ago. I didn't live with him, but I spent a
fair amount of time at his house. He said it only made sense for me to be able to
let myself in or to lock up when I left.
Jake, Edward's Siberian Huskie, rushed at me when I opened the door. I rubbed
his head and let him outside for a few minutes. I didn't keep him out for too long
– I wasn't sure if Edward would arrive home early, but if he did, I wanted to be in
place. I wanted this weekend to be perfect.
"Stay," I told Jake after stopping in the kitchen to refill his water bowl. Jake
obeyed all of Edward's orders, but thankfully he listened to me this time.
Normally, he would follow me up the stairs and tonight that would be odd.
I quickly left the kitchen and made my way upstairs to my old room. The room
that would be mine on weekends.
I undressed, placing my clothes in a neat pile on the edge of the twin bed. On
this, Edward and I had been in agreement. I would share his bed Sunday through
Thursday nights, any time I spent the night with him, but on Friday and Saturday
nights, I would sleep in the room he reserved for his submissives.
Now that we had a more traditional relationship during the week, we both wanted
to make sure we remained in the proper mindset on weekends. That mindset
would be easier to maintain for both of us if we slept separately. For both of us,
yes, but perhaps more so for Edward. He rarely shared a bed with his
submissives and having a romantic relationship with one was completely new to
him.
I stepped naked into the playroom. Edward led me around the room last weekend
– explaining, discussing, and showing me things I'd never seen and several items
I'd never heard of. He wanted me to be at ease in this room.
At its core, it was an unassuming room – hardwood floors, deep, dark brown
paint, handsome cherry armoires, even a long handsome table carved of rich
wood. However, the chains and shackles, the padded leather bench and table,
and the wooden whipping bench gave away the room's purpose.
A lone pillow waited for me below the hanging chains. I dropped to my knees on
it, situating myself into the position Edward explained I was to be in whenever I
waited for him in this room – butt resting on my heels, back straight, right hand
on top of my left in my lap, fingers not intertwined, and head down.
I got into position and waited.
Time inched forward.
How long had it been since I left Edward's office? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? An
hour already?
I finally heard him enter through the front door.
"Jake," he called, and while I knew he spoke Jake's name so he could take him
outside again, another reason was to alert me who it was that entered the house.
To give me time to prepare myself. Perhaps for him to listen for footsteps from
overhead. Footsteps that would tell him I wasn't prepared for his arrival. I felt
proud he would hear nothing.
I closed my eyes. It wouldn't be long now. I imagined what Edward was doing –
taking Jake outside, feeding him maybe. Would he undress downstairs? In his
bedroom? Or would he enter the playroom wearing his suit and tie?
Doesn't matter, I told myself. Whatever Edward has planned will be perfect.
I strained my ears - he was walking up the stairs now. Alone. No dog followed.
Somehow, the atmosphere of the room changed when he walked in. The air
became charged and the space between us nearly hummed. In that moment, I
understood – I was his, yes. I had been correct with that assumption. But even
more so, even more importantly, perhaps, he was mine.
My heart raced.
"Very nice, Isabella," he said and walked to stand in front of me. His feet were
bare and I noted he had changed out of his suit and into a pair of black jeans.
I closed my eyes again. Cleared my mind. Focused inwardly. Forced myself to
remain still under his scrutiny.
He walked to the table and I heard a drawer open. For a minute, I tried to
remember everything in the drawers, but I stopped myself and once again forced
my mind to quiet itself.
He came back to stand to my side. Something firm and leather trailed down my
spine.
Riding crop.
"Perfect posture," he said as the crop ran up my spine. "I expect you to be in this
position whenever I tell you to enter this room."
I felt so relieved he was satisfied with my posture. I wanted so much to please
him tonight. To show him I was ready for this. That we were ready. He had been
so worried.
Of course, not a bit of worry or doubt could be discerned now. Not in his voice.
Not in his stance. His demeanor in the playroom was utter and complete control
and confidence.
He dragged the riding crop down my stomach and then back up. Teasing.
Damn. I loved the riding crop.
I kept my head down even though I wanted to see his face. To meet his eyes. But
I knew the best gift I could give him was my absolute trust and obedience, so I
kept my head down with my eyes focused on the floor.
"Stand up," he said, and I wondered what he was thinking.
I rose slowly to my feet, knowing I stood directly under the chains. Normally, he
kept them up for storage, but they were lowered tonight.
"Friday night through Sunday afternoon, your body is mine," he said. "As agreed,
the kitchen table and library are still yours. There, and only there, are you to
speak your mind. Respectfully, of course."
Both of his hands traced across my shoulders, down my arms. One hand slipped
between my breasts and dropped to where I was wet and aching.
"This," he said, rubbing my outer lips, "is your responsibility. I want you waxed
bare as often as possible. If I decide you have neglected this responsibility, you
will be punished."
And again, we had agreed to this.
"In addition, it is your responsibility to ensure your waxer does an acceptable job.
I will allow no excuses. Is that understood?"
I didn't say anything.
"You may answer," he said and I heard the smile in his voice.
"Yes, Master."
He slipped a finger between my folds and I felt his breath in my ear. "I like you
bare." His finger swirled around my clit. "Slick and smooth. Nothing between your
pussy and whatever I decide to do to it."
Fuck.
Then he moved behind me and cupped my ass. "Have you been using your plug?"
I waited.
"You may answer."
"Yes, Master."
His finger made its way back to the front of me and I bit the inside of my cheek
to keep from moaning.
"I won't ask you that again," he said. "From now on, it is your responsibility to
prepare your body to accept my cock in any manner I choose to give it to you."
He ran a finger around the rim of my ear. "If I choose to fuck your ear, I expect
your ear to be ready." He hooked his finger in my ear and pulled. I kept my head
down. "Do you understand? Answer me."
"Yes, Master."
He lifted my arms above my head, shackling first one wrist and then the other to
the chains at my side. "Do you remember this?" he asked, his warm breath
tickling my hair. "From our first weekend?"
Again, I said nothing.
"Very nice, Isabella," he said. "Just so there's no misunderstanding, for the rest
of the evening, or until I tell you differently, you may not speak or vocalize in any
way. There are two exceptions - the first being the use of your safewords. You
are to use them at any point you feel the need. No repercussions or
consequences will ever follow the use of your safewords. Secondly, when I ask if
you are okay, I expect an immediate and honest answer."
He didn't wait for a response, of course. I wasn't to give one. Without warning,
his hands slipped down my sides back to where I ached for him. Since my head
was down, I watched one of his fingers slide inside me and I bit the inside of my
cheek again to keep from moaning.
Shit, his hands felt good.
"How wet you are already." He pushed deeper and twisted his wrist. Fuck.
"Usually, I would taste you myself, but tonight, I feel like sharing."
He removed himself and the emptiness was immediate, but before I could think
much about it, I felt his slippery finger at my mouth. "Open, Isabella, and taste
how ready you are for me." He trailed his finger around my open lips before
easing it inside my mouth.
I'd tasted myself before, out of curiosity, but never so much at one time and
never off of Edward's finger. It felt so depraved, so feral.
Damn, it turned me on.
"Taste how sweet you are," he said as I licked myself off his finger.
I treated his finger as if it were his cock – running my tongue along it, sucking
gently at first. I wanted him. Wanted him inside me. I sucked harder, imagining
his cock in my mouth.
"You will not release until I give you permission and I will be very stingy with my
permission." His words from the office floated through my mind and I choked
back a moan before it left my mouth. It would be a long night.
"I changed my mind," he said when I finished cleaning his finger. "I want a taste
after all." He crushed his lips to mine and forced my mouth open. His lips were
brutal - powerful and demanding in their quest to taste me.
Damn, I'd have a stroke if he kept that up.
He pulled back and lifted my chin. "Look at me."
For the first time since he entered the room, I met his eyes – they were steady
and green. His tongue ran over his lips and smiled. "Every time sweeter than the
last."
I forced my eyes to remain on his even though I wanted to see his chest, to
enjoy the sight of his perfect body. But his body was not mine to enjoy, so I kept
my eyes locked with his.
He broke our connection first by turning and walking to the table. He put
something in his pocket and I dropped my head as he turned around.
He walked five steps to me and darkness cloaked my vision.
"Totally at my mercy," he said in a voice as smooth as the silk scarf covering my
eyes.
He stroked my breasts. Long fingers took my nipples and rolled them, pulling and
twisting.
Fuck.
"I thought about bringing out the clamps tonight," he said, flicking the tip of a
nipple.
Double fuck.
We had talked about the clamps, though I'd never felt or used them. A small
bubble of anticipation swelled in my belly. Edward promised I would like the
clamps, that the brief pain would be worth the pleasure they brought.
"Thought about it," he continued, "but decided on something else."
Cold metal made its way across my chest. It felt like a prickly pizza cutter. He ran
it slowly around one breast and then the other. The sensation felt incredible. He
didn't go near either nipple, instead he rolled the wheel closer and closer before
moving away. Then there were two, each one mirroring the other in its
movements. Teasing and taunting, but never hitting exactly where I needed.
Closer and closer they went, then retreated once again. They went even closer on
the next pass and I knew I'd combust if he didn't touch me soon.
And then he did – the wheels ran over my nipples right where I needed relief. It
felt so good, I forgot where I was, what we were doing, and I moaned out in
pleasure.
"Arrrrgghh," I groaned.
He immediately pulled back. "Damn it, Isabella," he said, taking the scarf from
around my eyes. "That's twice in less than two hours." He pulled my hair back so
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