Bought and Trained(3)

By: Emily Tilton

Leo thought often about the nature of the post-hypnotic suggestions the program used, which were the Institute’s most closely kept secret. Did they leave behind, he always wondered, a sort of trace memory that made it easier for girls like Rose to come to terms with their fantasies of non-consent? If he had done to Rose what he had just done before she had joined the program and received the post-hypnotic suggestion that she forget that she had signed a contract with the Institute, would she still be panting as he manhandled her onto a high-backed armless wooden chair in her living room, and began to tie her to it, as she struggled uselessly against him?

“Rose,” Leo said, when he was sure he had tied her securely, “we’re going to have a lot of fun, you and I, over the next forty-eight hours—but only if you make up your mind to be a good girl. If you decide that you can’t be a good girl for me, well, I’ll still have fun… but I’m afraid you won’t. Do you think you can be a good girl for me?”

Leo could see fear in her wide eyes as she nodded.

It was time to heighten things for her emotionally. Without another word to her, Leo began to go through the things on her shelves, knowing that she was watching his every move. He walked to the bedroom door—he had studied the simple floor-plan carefully that morning—and opened it.

He looked back at Rose. “I’m just going to have a little look in your bedroom, Rose. Do you think I’ll find anything naughty?”

Her only response was to widen her eyes. She knew what he would find, as did he. He went into the bedroom, and straight to the top dresser drawer. Under her lovely panties and bras, he found a copy of Penthouse Forum dated two years before and a worn copy of a spanking book called Schoolgirl Tales. He also found a cute little pink vibrator. He brought all these out, and laid them on the couch in front of her.

“Naughty,” he said. She mewed through her gag at that, but he was sure even she didn’t know what she wanted to say in response to the revelation.

He reached down, casually, with both hands, to her waist. He worked his fingers inside the waistband of her jeans, treasuring the first feeling of her soft skin there. Her sounds through the gag grew even more frantic, as did the shaking of her head, but she could not prevent his unfastening the button at the waistband of her jeans and tugging them down to the middle of her spread thighs, to expose her lacy red panties. He could see the fair hair on her cunt through the lace—this revelation was always one of his favorite parts—and he felt himself growing hard.

“You have been a bad girl, Rose,” Leo said, “and your bottom will have to pay the price.” Slowly, so that she could see exactly what he was going to do, he moved his right hand between her thighs. He laid his middle finger just where he knew her little clit lay hidden. Her mewing became a little whimper, as, ever so slightly he urged the finger further down, between the wood of the chair and her pert little bottom cheeks.

The mewing through the gag turned into little sobs of shame and frustration. Leo knew from long experience that she was trying desperately to figure out what she had done, and who it was who had put her in this horrifying situation. The continual litany of “You’ve been wicked, naughty, bad” was a key element of the psychological part of the training: Rose would be able to find the essential rightness of living her submissive nature if it began from the realization that being called a ‘bad girl’ was something she craved and needed. The next step would come when she realized that she was not, in fact, a bad girl at all; she was not being punished for wickedness, but rather because she wanted to be punished. That stage sometimes took years, though.

“A very, very bad girl,” Leo murmured, into her ear, and gave her a light caress, up and down her cunt lips. Then, abruptly, he withdrew his hand and stood up.

“Alright,” he continued, “I’m going to take your gag off. Then I’ll untie you from the chair. You’re going to get up and show me that you’re a good girl by taking off all your clothes for me.”

Along with the fear now, Leo could see that her desire was beginning to take firmer hold. The idea of taking off her clothes for him had, as he had known it would, ignited a little spark in her pussy.

“Does that make you wet, Rose?” he asked, as he reached behind her head to unfasten the strap he had buckled around the dishtowel.

She shook her head violently.

“Lying to me isn’t the kind of thing a good girl does,” Leo said. “Once those clothes are off we’re going to have a little check, and we’re going to see whether you’re telling me a fib right now. I bet you know what happens to girls who lie to me, don’t you?”