Petal Ch 02

For my first Patron - Bach

Chapter Two - Beginning the Training

A few minutes or so passed. I just sat there with my hands in my lap. The door closed and I heard the car start and drive away. James was gone. He'd really left. He'd really left me here. Alone. With this man. This so-called Master.

"Well then," he said, the voice behind me, "shall we get started?"

I jerked, my hands flailing a bit to the sides. I hadn't even heard him come in.

"Stand up, please, my dear. Let me look at you."

I stood and turned around, keeping my head down. I could see his boots and the bottom of his pants. He sighed and wrapped his hand around my wrist. I pulled back impulsively but he didn't let go.

"Look at me. Now."

I lifted my head and met his gaze. His eyes were still pleasant and even kind, but they also had a harder edge to them. "There we go, that's a good girl."

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Let's get a tour of the house first."

"Okay."

He turned and walked to the other end of the kitchen, his hand still on my wrist and me following along. "This is the back door. The back yard isn't big, but it's where I spend some time in the warm weather practicing my golf swing. It also has the bulkhead for the cellar. Not much for you to worry about there."

He pointed to another door. "That goes to the cellar. That's where the washer and dryer are, as well as the chest freezer and some storage. The stairs are up to code and have a good bannister."

He looked at me and squeezed my wrist. "I assume you know how to do laundry."

"Of course I do."

He cupped my chin with his other hand. My heart sped up again. "When I ask you a question, you answer with my name. Do you understand?"

"Your name? What do you mean?"

"Right now you can call me Bach. So your answer would be, 'Yes, Bach.' Do you understand?"

His fingers squeezed my chin a little harder. I could see my pulse in my eyes. "Yes, Bach."

"Good girl," he said, smiling and dropping his hand.

He walked back through the kitchen and the living room. "You've seen this room. Let's go down the hall."

He led me down a short hallway with some basic landscape pictures on the walls. He stopped at the end and pointed to a door. "That's the linen closet. It also has the cleaning supplies."

I nodded and he cupped my chin again. "What was that?"

"Yes, Bach."

"Good girl."

He let go and turned around. There were three other doors, one on the left and two on the right. "That one," he said, pointing to the one on the right closest to the living room, "is the main bathroom. Nothing very exciting in there. Toilet, sink, shower stall.

"That one," he went on, pointing to the second door, "is the extra bedroom. In name, it will be yours."

"In name? What do you mean?"

"I do want you to ask questions. Always. But remember your manners. Understand?"

"Yes, Bach."

"Good girl. I mean that room has a bed, dresser, and some other furniture. There's a rocking chair and a bookcase. It will be your room, but you won't be sleeping there."

"Where will I be sleeping? Bach?"

He smiled. "In here, of course."

He opened the other door, the one on the left. It had a large bed on a metal frame, a dresser, and a door on the other end. "This is my bedroom. I have a bathroom as well, this one with a tub. And you'll be sleeping here."

"I will?"

I started to breathe faster. The room started to spin. This was too much. I pulled back on my arm but he didn't let go. "Sit down," he said, tugging me to the bed. "Take deep breaths."

I sat on the edge, Bach still beside me. He didn't let go of my wrist but used his other hand to push some hair back away from my face. "Deep breaths. Nice and slow."

"I can't..." I said, gasping. "I can't breathe."

He let go of my wrist and draped his arm around my shoulders. He pulled me in close, his other hand on my back. "Sh," he said, rocking me back and forth. "It's all right. Just breathe. You can do it."

"I don't want to do this," I said, tears finally spilling over. "I want to go home. Please, can I just go home? Please?"

His chin rested on the top of my head. "You are home. You're mine, and you are home."

He held me tightly, the pressure giving me comfort in spite of myself. He kept rocking me as I cried. His shirt had to be getting wet from my tears, but he never reacted. He just held me.

I don't know how long we stayed like that. Eventually the tears dried up and I realized I was gripping the front of his shirt. I took deep breaths and he let go, straightening up. "Feel better now?"

I nodded, sniffling. I wiped my eyes and made myself look at his face. "Yes, Bach. A little."

"Good. Always be honest with me about how you feel."

"Yes, Bach. I will."

"And never be embarrassed."

"Yes, Bach."

He stood up and held out his hand. I took it and he held it firmly. He walked around the bed and I followed. He sat and I started to join him but he held up his other hand.

"No, not now. You stand up."

"Yes, Bach."

He let go of my hand and looked at me, a strange expression on his face. "Strip. I want to see your body."

"What?"

"Strip, girl. Now."

"I... I can't... I mean, what..."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "We've been over this. You signed an agreement saying you would do what I wanted. And I want you to strip. Strip. Show me your body."

The tears welled back up. I covered my mouth with my hands. He leaned over a bit and pulled something out from behind the pillows. He sat up and hooked my arm with the handle of an old fashioned walking stick. He tugged it down gently but firmly. "Strip, girl. Now."

I dropped my hands and he removed the cane. He stood it on the edge of the bed, resting against the mattress, handle easily within reach. I looked around the room, taking in the dark bedspread and pillow shams, and the matching shade of wood of the dresser. I touched the bottom of my shirt and gulped back a sob.

"I'm waiting," he said, his voice calm and even conversational, but still with that harder edge.

I crossed my arms and grabbed the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. I held it in the air and closed my eyes. Tears were back on my face, surprising me. I would have thought I'd cried them all out. I pulled it over my head and stood there in front of him in my bra. He nodded appreciatively.

I reached for my jeans, about to open the button, but he held up a hand. "Let me see your breasts."

"Oh please..."

"Now."

I looked at the floor and reached behind my back to unhook my bra. I let it fall off of my arms, watching it slide down to land on top of my shirt.

"Good girl. Now the pants."

I opened the pants and shoved them down, hooking my panties with my thumbs at the same time. I dropped them and kicked off my shoes, I practically yanked the pants off of my ankles and stripped off the socks with them. I tossed the pile aside and kicked the shoes away.

I stood there, naked, breathing heavily and staring at the ground. Tears were dripping off of my face and I didn't care. I was shaking again.

He laughed a little. He picked up the cane and lined the handle up to press up on my chin. "Look at me, my dear."

I tried to shake my head, my face burning, but he just pushed with more insistence. "Look at me."

I looked up and met his eyes. I immediately began crying again in earnest. I wasn't a shy person, but I'd never been told to strip like that, for a stranger. And that stranger just kept smiling at me.

"You are lovely, my dear. Now, put your hands behind your head and spread your legs."

"Please, don't... Please, Bach?"

"Now."

"But I don't think I can stop crying. Please?"

"It's fine if you cry. Now, do what I said. Legs spread and hands behind your head."

I did what he told me to do. I felt like a prisoner in a cop show. I shivered and I knew my nipples were erect. I closed my eyes and tried to just stay still.

Something tapped my inner thighs. My eyes flew open. He was using the cane. "Wider, please."

I opened them as wide as I dared without making myself tip over. "Much better."

He used the cane to lift each breast then used the handle to pull me closer to him. I breathed through my mouth. My nose was too plugged.

I stood right in front of him and he put the cane aside. He reached up and touched my right side. I almost pulled away and he said, "Stay still now. That's a good girl."

He touched both sides, using both hands to slide his hands up and down my skin. Once they reached my hips, he continued their movement to stroke my thighs. I shivered with his touch. He grinned and picked up the cane again.

"Turn around. Let me see your ass."

I turned slowly and stood there, facing the wall, hands still up on my head. He tapped the inside of my thighs again, harder this time. "Wider."

I opened them wider as he said. The cane made my skin sting just a bit. I started counting up and down while taking deep breaths. His hands touched my skin again, this time on my back then down to my waist. He dragged his nails lightly across my thighs and I shivered again.

"Good girl," he said. "Turn back around for me and kneel down."

"What?"

A smack on my ass. I jumped and let out a little yelp. It didn't hurt, not really, but it was definitely enough to catch me off guard and get my attention.

"Turn back around and kneel down."

I turned around, my face burning in shame. The tears had stopped. "Can I put my arms down then, please, Bach? So I can keep my balance?"

"Of course. Good girl for asking."

I put my arms down, one hand reaching for the mattress and the other held out toward the floor. I knelt and waited. I took my hands back and let them hang by my sides.

"You look lovely, my dear, truly you do."

"Thank you, Bach."

He reached over to his night stand and opened a drawer. He pulled out a piece of leather with silver and I shivered. He looked at me and tilted his head to the side. "What's wrong?"

"Are you going to hit me with that?"

He chuckled. "No, my dear, I'm not. I have no interest in hurting you."

He held it up, stretching it between his hands. I saw buckles and a circle of metal in the center. He shook it lightly and the metal tinkled. "Put your head down."

"What is it?"

"Put your head down."

I did and he leaned forward. Before I could really wrap my head around it, he had it buckled in place around my neck. The metal was cold against my skin and the smell of leather filled my nose. He put one hand in my hair and tugged my head back.

I looked up at him and he looped a finger from his other hand through the metal circle. "This is your collar, my dear."

"My what?"

"Your collar. A symbol of my ownership."

I didn't speak. I didn't dare. I just looked up at him while he looked at me. He let go of my hair and stroked it. "You are lovely. This will be fun."

He stood up and tugged on the collar, pulling me to my feet with him. He moved us back a bit and used his foot to pull something out from under the bed. "Those are for you."

He let go and stepped away. "For now, you can wear the caftan. And sleep on the mattress."

There was a maroon colored piece of light fabric on top of an un-inflated plastic mattress. I looked at him and he smiled at me again. "Take a little time to yourself, my dear. Then come out to the living room. We have a lot to do."

He walked out and I sat on the edge of the bed. I reached down and pulled the caftan over my head. I picked up the mattress and tugged it apart until I found the nozzle. It was just like the ones I'd used as a kid when I wanted to float in my uncle's pool. I sighed and blew it up. It wasn't much bigger than they had been and didn't look overly comfortable.

I grabbed my pants and pulled my phone out of the back pocket. I turned it on and realized it had no connection. James must have had it deactivated and I didn't have any of the wifi information.

I was truly alone with this man. This man, Bach. My would-be Master.

*

I adjusted the caftan, trying to make it cover as much as I could. No matter what I did, though, it seemed to show my cleavage. Finally I gave up and just went to the door. I took a deep breath and pulled it open. I walked back to the living room.

Bach was sitting in a recliner, feet up and watching TV. He looked at me and muted the show with the remote. "Hello there."

He crooked his finger, calling me over. I crossed the room and he held up his hand, stopping me a few steps from the chair. He pointed at the floor. "Kneel down here. Right next to me."

I stared at him. He narrowed his eyes and snapped his fingers. "Now."

I did what he said, pulling the caftan out of the way with one hand. I knelt next to the chair, thankful that there was a carpet for some cushion. I dropped the caftan back down and let my arms hang at my sides again, like I had in the bedroom.

"Good girl. But come closer. And you can relax a little, put your ass on your feet if you like. Hold your hands in front of you, one on top of the other."

I did it and just stayed still, feeling more than a little silly. He put his hand on my head and started stroking my hair. I made myself not pull away, feeling all of my muscles tense.

"We need to talk about a few things."

"Yes, Bach." At least my voice sounded normal.

"First, do you have any questions at this point? About how you got here?"

"Did you have James deactivate my phone?"

He laughed. "Right to it. I like that. Yes, I did. It can still contact 911 and emergency services. But you have no other use for it anymore."

"What about my job?"

"I think we both know the answer to that. But be honest, it wasn't as if you loved that position. You weren't happy at that store."

"How do you know that? You don't even know me."

He tensed his hand a little, tugging the hair just a bit. "Careful, girl. Yes, right now I'm giving you some leniency, but don't take that to mean you can be disrespectful or forget your place. Understand?"

"Yes, Bach."

"I talked to your husband about it. I know you have no children, that was the first thing I asked. No close friends. No local family. And a job at a clothing store that you don't enjoy."

I didn't answer. He wasn't wrong. And I hated James even more for telling him all of those things. He loosened his hand and went back to stroking my hair.

"I saw a few pictures of you as well. He sent them to me. So I knew you fit my desires."

"Did he know what you wanted when you asked for them?"

"We had talked about a weekend. Months ago, back before the situation got so dire. Then he just kept making bets. Then I pulled the plug on the whole thing and here we are."

"He was going to give me to you for a weekend? Months ago?"

"He thought about it. But didn't want to do it until he realized he had no choice but to call me back. By then, he owed so much money, he didn't have much choice."

"But he did," I said, hearing the quiver in my own voice. "He could have figured something else out. He could have gotten a loan or asked his friends or something. He didn't have to..."

"Have to what? Give you to me?"

"Yes."

He shrugged. "Maybe not. But he saw that as his only option."

"Yes, Bach."

"Good girl."

A few moments of silence passed before he spoke again. "In the future, when I tell you that you are a good girl, you will say thank you. Understand?"

"Yes, Bach, I will."

"Good girl."

"Thank you, Bach."

He smiled again. "Excellent. You are a fast learner. I like that."

"What else did James tell you?"

"He gave me a list of all of your favorite foods, seasonal allergies, general interests. He also included food that you don't like and your taste in clothing. And that you are terrified of spiders."

"Okay."

He looked at me, eyebrows a little furrowed. "Why do you look scared, my dear?"

"Because I am scared. He told you all of those things and I don't know what you're going to do with it."

"The contract said I would take care of you. I need to know these things."

I didn't answer. There wasn't much I could say to that. But it put James in a different light. He'd thought about using me as currency for a long time. And he clearly knew this was going to happen, wanted this to happen, because he told this man all about me.

"Are you hungry?"

I looked at him, a little startled. "What?"

"Are you hungry? It's getting to be dinner time."

"I... I don't think so."

"That's normal enough. I always order pizza on Saturday nights. Do you want anything? Even just a soda?"

"I guess maybe breadsticks? And ginger ale?"

"Absolutely. Here."

He handed me a phone, the pizza app already pulled up. "My order is saved in the favorites. Just add on what you want and send it along."

I took it and stared down at it. I wanted to close the app and call someone to come and get me. I even wanted to call James for help. The tug was back in my hair.

"Order it. Now."

I tapped in the rest of the order and went to the checkout. I hit the "order" button and looked at my knuckles, white with tension from holding the phone so tightly. I handed it back and the tug went away.

"Good girl," he said, putting it back on the side table next to him.

"Thank you, Bach."

"When they get here, you will answer the door and bring the food to the kitchen. You will put it all on the plates and set the table. Then we will eat. And when we're done, you will clean up the kitchen."

"Yes, Bach."

"Do you have any other questions right now?"

"No, Bach, I don't think so."

"Very well. You can sit if that's more comfortable."

"Thank you, Bach."

He smiled down at me as I shifted, moving to a criss-cross position much like children do in school. He continued to stroke and fondle my hair with one hand and turned the sound back on the television with the other. We sat like that, watching sports in silence.

*

The doorbell rang and I jumped. He chuckled at me and pulled his hand back. "Go ahead. Answer the door."

I got up and walked across the room, rolling my head a little on my neck to stretch it out. I was a little sore from sitting for so long on the floor, but it wasn't bad. I opened the door to the smiling delivery man holding two pizza boxes and a small plastic bag.

"Here you go," he said.

"Thank you." I took the boxes and bag and backed up a step. He was staring at my cleavage and I had to stop myself from throwing the food aside and grabbing his arm, demanding that he help me. To drive me away from this house.

"Have a good night," he said, nodding at me and walking away. I watched him go until he was almost at his car then closed the door. I let out a long breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Bring it into the kitchen."

I turned around and followed him. I put the boxes on the table and went to the cabinets to find the plates. He watched me as I walked around the kitchen, a small smile on his face. Finally I found the plates and put two on the table. "Do you want silverware?" I asked.

"For pizza?"

"I don't know. I've seen people use them."

"No utensils. But make sure to get extra napkins. The cheese can be a little greasy. To say nothing of the pepperoni and sausage."

I rustled around again until I found the napkins in a cabinet next to the sink. He watched me carry them over then set them on the table next to the plates.

"Good girl. Sit down."

"Thank you, Bach."

I sat in the chair next to him and he opened the pizza box. He put two slices on his plate and opened the other box. He picked up my plate and put two breadsticks on it before handing it back.

"Your husband didn't mention if you were a religious person. If you want to say grace, please feel free."

"I'm not."

"Then let's eat."

We ate in silence. I ate the breadsticks and realized just how hungry I'd become. "Can I have more?"