Harboring A Fugitive

Chapter Eleven

Training

♡

(Four days after they received their new names)

I curiously glanced around our bedroom, wondering why in the hell Master would force me to stay in here alone.

The sound of the door opening relieved me to no end. I don't know why, but I've always been afraid of being alone.

I probably sound crazy, since that's all I've ever wanted. But then again, I did go psycho and murder my father with a meat cleaver.

And then give him a makeover.

With my dead mother's makeup.

"Are you okay?" Master gently shook my shoulder, which brought me back to reality.

"I'm... Fine." I tucked the few strands of hair that were hovering over my eyes behind my ear.

He gave me a reassuring smile and set the bags in his hands onto the mattress I was sitting on.

"What's in the bags?" I asked. Whatever there was that was in those bags had caused a sadistic smile to creep along my Master's face.

"Hm... I think It's about time we start your training." My eyes widened in fear. What does he mean, 'start my training'? Is he going to make me piss in a litterbox now, or something?

"It's okay, pet, I'm only going to test your pain tolerance and teach you a few positions." His smile only widened.

"S-Stop doing that... You look creepy." I leaned further into the bed frame.

His eyes narrowed.

"Sorry... Stop doing that, please." I corrected.

His facial expression softened and he ordered me to strip.

I hesitantly lifted my shirt and discarded it into a basket of clothes. Before I could take off my pants, Master grabbed my wrist and pulled it away.

"I want to do that part." He seductively whispered into my ear and I shivered from head to toe.

Master opened one of the bags and pulled out a blindfold, a whip, and some rope.

"So, did you remember my rule about underwear?" He asked while adjusting some handcuffs he had gotten out of another bag to the headboard.

I blushed and nodded.

"Yes, I am to only wear lace panties for as long as you are my Master." I could feel his gaze burning holes into the back of my head.

"I fucking love it when you say Master." He dropped what he was doing and hugged me.

He held me for a good 30 seconds before unbuttoning and unzipping my pants.

I blushed as Master exposed the light blue lace panties that covered my manhood, but were thin enough so you could see my hard-on.

"As much as I want to play with you, we are going to practice the positions I'd like you to remember for later on activities. The first one is the Worship pose. Face on the ground, arms spread above your head, and ass in the air." He said in a dominating tone.

I obeyed his commands and fixed myself to his liking. Of course, he couldn't keep his hands from giving my ass a nice, hard slap on each cheek.

Small grunts erupted from my lips when I tried to hold in my moans of pleasure each time his hand landed on me.

After he was finished, he smoothed over the hand marks and caressed every inch of skin that had a slight tinge of pink.

"That pose will be used when you think you do something wrong, and you will kiss my feet or shoes and give me a sincere apology, then beg me for forgiveness."

He taught me tons of other positions, but he said I would only need to remember them on special occasions, like birthdays, holidays, or days I listened extremely well.

Well now I know what I'll get if I behave.

I'm going to behave more often.

I mentally laughed at the thought of me behaving. I couldn't possibly go for five seconds listening to a conversation without putting my two quarters worth of knowledge in along with a cuss word coming from my mouth every two sentences.

"Just remember, if you don't follow my rules, I'll have to punish you," He smirked and pointed and finger at me, "I'll punish you hard and fast."

Even though that sounded tempting, I don't think I could ever willingly disobey my Master. Of course there would be occasional slip-ups, but I wouldn't do it for my own pleasure.

As you can tell, this man has grown on me.

Now that I think of it, I kinda treat him like a hair. I brush him carefully, because if I do it too hard, he could pull out. And if someone yanks him, I punch them in the face ten times harder than they hurt him.

Yeah, totally.

"Time for play, my sweet." Master's deep, accented voice tore me from my thoughts and I instantly cheered up.

It scared me a little bit to be hit by a whip because it reminded me of when my father would beat me with his cane, but when Master did it, it felt like the best thing in the world.

I'm glad this knight in shining armor rescued me with his cop car and drove me away from prison. I'd probably have more of a chance to get raped by a woman than the cell guard.

Master bent me over his knee and dipped his hand into the back of my lace panties. The feeling of his leather gloved fingers swirling around my entrance caused sparks of pleasure to jolt up and down my spine like lightning.

Torturingly slow, he pushed his middle finger into my hole. Then he added another. And another.

After he felt he opened me enough, he shoved a solid cylinder-like object connected to a remote control type of thing and at the flip of a switch I was crying out in painful pleasure and panting heavily each time the shock got stronger.

About ten shocks later, he pulled the device out and jerked me off until I came for the seventh time today.

We went through all of the toys, how he would be using them, and using them on me, we called it a night and snuggled under the covers.

My dreams were no longer dark and dreary, or about death and self-harm. Now they were filled with rainbows and sparkles and different wedding ideas for Master and I.

(Sorry for the late update, my boyfriend has a cold and I've been taking care of him. He is always getting sick because people at his work do not know how to cover their face instead of sneezing everywhere. Let that be a lesson to never work at Walmart.