Chapter
4: Training (Possession?)
Ayden
obediently complies, quickly dropping the ladle back into the bucket making a
slight plopping sound and splashing droplets of water onto the floor. The old man tilts his head and shakes
it. Ayden is almost sure she sees him
roll his eyes at her, but there is a smile on his face. “Are you in a hurry, Girlie?” he asks,
sounding amused and making her blush.
“Come over here and tell me what you think of this,” he says as he takes
the piece of metal he has been working on and holds it out in her direction.
“It
is very pretty,” she stammers, “but what is it?”
“It
is a collar. Please, put it on,” he tells
her very directly.
Ayden
just stands there perplexed. Slowly, she
extends her hand to take it, but then withdraws from the glittery gold collar. Her hand flutters up to rest at her neck. “You mean like a dog collar,” she hesitates
and then adds, “for humans?” her voice rising to a high squeak, purely out of
surprise.
The
old man smiles and nods his head in approval, “Yes, but this one is special.”
“How?”
she asks inquisitively, twisting her head to get a better look at the delicate
scrolls of gold that twist around beautiful pink jewels. She has never seen anything quite like
it. It is beautiful and she suddenly
longs for it to be hers.
“You
will have to put it on to see,” he teases.
As
she reaches out to touch it he snatches it out of her reach. Ayden looks up at him, shocked, feeling the
disappointment wash over her, but then sees the smile spread across his face as
he begins to chuckle. She cannot help but
smile too and eventually starts to laugh along with him. His laugh is pleasant and infectious. When they have both had a good laugh and the
mood has calmed he looks her in the eye and inquires, “Are you now ready to do
as you are asked and put this on?” Ayden
simply nods at him unable to hold back her smile.
When
he motions for her to move closer she takes a step forward and he reaches behind
her and fastens the collar around her neck securing it in place. Her hand instinctively reaches up to touch it
as the cold metal begins to warm against her skin. The gentle old man leans back in his chair,
his arms folded, appraising his handiwork.
“It suits you,” he says simply.
Ayden blushes and cannot hold his gaze; her eyes drop to his feet, but
she can feel him still looking at her.
She peeks up to see if he is still watching her and sees his eyes slide
over the curves of her body, feeling subconscious she tugs at the bottom of her
tee shirt willing it to cover just a little more; to hide herself from his analytical
eyes that are studying her; looking through her to her very soul; drawing her
to him.
“What?”
she finally blurts out, angry at her cheeks that she can feel turning red and
angry at her nipples that are growing hard, and angry at the desire growing
between her legs that she does not even understand.
“Nothing,”
he stops again just watching her, “It is just that you are one of the most
perfect visions of a vessel submissive that I have seen in many years. I want to possess you and it would please me
if you would call me Master; Master Hunter.
Will you do that?”
A
lump forms in Ayden’s throat making it impossible to speak. Here is a man she has just met asking her to
wear a collar and to call him Master.
She thinks to herself, “Did he just call me a vessel sub too?” Her mind swirls and she feels like she is
tumbling under the waves again. The
yearning in her belly wins the battle raging in her and she manages to choke
out, “Yes,” meekly.
“I
am sorry I did not hear that,” he says putting a hand to his ear and leaning
forward again.
Ayden
clears her throat and swallows hard and tries again a little louder, “Yes,” but
it is a meager attempt.
Again
he is shaking his head at her and Ayden bites her lower lip. “No, no,” he says a little frustration edging
into his voice, “You will address me as Master Hunter every time you speak to
me,” he explains emphasizing, “Master Hunter.”
She
pauses rolling the words around in her mind and smiles sweetly towards him and
in a soft voice says, “Yes Master Hunter,” feeling amazingly fulfilled at that
moment.
“That
is much better. It is late and we will
begin your training in the morning, but for now do you have any questions for
me?” he inquires of her.
“Yes,
a million,” she says. “I just don’t know
what they are yet,” she admits. He just
smiles at her, waiting silently until she remembers and corrects herself, “Yes,
Master Hunter, I have a million questions, but do not know where to start,”
then suddenly a question occurs to her.
She asks, “Master Hunter, why do you want me to call you Master
Hunter? I thought your name was
Laothoe.”
“Why
would you think that?” he asks puzzled.
Turning
and pointing towards the front of the shop she says, “The sign out front. It says Laothoe’s Artisan.” She turns back to him as he arches his
eyebrow and she gulps out, “Master Hunter… Sir.”
“Better,”
he says with a smile. “Laothoe was my mother.
She was a wonderful woman who raised four strong sons, but she always
adored delicate precious things, which were not easy to find in a home full of
brawling boys. When I opened my shop I
could think of no other name than one that would honor her, her strength, and
all that she taught me. It is a little
play on words. I was her youngest and
her Artisan,” he explains.
“Oh
that is sweet, Master Hunter,” Ayden coos.
“Oh
don’t you let my soft heart fool you, Girlie.
As a Master I am tough as nails.”
Ayden swallows hard, her eyes getting large and just nods. “Now, it is late and I still want to stop off
for a little drink on my way home. You
will stay here tonight. Come with me.”
He
gets off his stool and moves towards the back of the workshop, stepping around dusty
crates that are stacked around large pillars that support the sagging roof. In the back of the workshop he stoops and adds
some wood to an antique barrel stove. Next
to the stove is a large mass that looks a bit like an old circus tent. It is covered by an old sooty dust
cloth. Master Hunter disturbs the tarp
and a cloud of black dust billows up over the pile before him. He waves his hand and waits for the dust to
settle before removing the cloth and revealing an ornate gilded cage. Ayden draws in a sharp breath as she takes in
the rectangular shape. It has gold bars
and a top that slowly angles upward to the center where a gold ring hangs limp
in a clasp. Ayden tries but cannot suppress
a grin as she looks at it thinking how much it looks like a giant gold cupcake. On the front is a door with a delicate gold
lock that is etched with intricate scrolls similar to the ones on the collar
that adorns her neck.
Master
Hunter moves to the cage and removes the lock, opening the door, and silently
gestures for her to climb inside. Ayden considers
the cage and then looks up at Master Hunter her wide in fear and shakes her
head slightly, as she feels her stomach double up in knots. He merely points, silently, to the cage again
and as he does his lips pinch into a thin line and the crease between his
eyebrows narrows. Slowly Ayden inches
forward, bending at the waist and pokes her head inside the cage. It is large and there is plenty of room for
her inside. There is a soft floral
colored cushion in the bottom and the heat from the stove warms her skin making
her feel the fatigue of the day more significantly. Sudden there is a sharp sting on the back of
her thighs that she has come to be very familiar with over the course of the
day. This had the effect that Master
Hunter was hoping it would and she quickly scrambles up into the cage and lays
her head on the silky white pillow that is waiting inside.
Once
inside her eyes are already feeling heavy, but she looks up as Master Hunter
smiles down on her. “You will be safe
and warm in here through the night. I
will be back early in the morning,” he explains as he reinserts the lock. On a small hook, on the wall above the cage
hangs a gold key; Master Hunter takes it down, turns it in the lock, and places
it in his pocket, as he turns to leave.
He has not even gotten to the door when her heavy eyes slide shut to the
sounds of the roaring surf.
* *
* * *
The
morning rays have barely begun to filter through the yellowing glass panes of
the workshops windows when Ayden hears Master Hunter milling around his
workbench and whistling a happy tune.
Her eyes are still closed and she relishes the last vestiges of
sleep. Unable to hold back morning any
longer she stretches and yawns, pulling back the curtain of sleep. As she opens her eyes she sees Master Hunter
is busy at work. He has moved the
workbench and most of his equipment to the side of the large room leaving an
open circle in the middle. The opening
has been cleared and swept clean of any debris that may have fallen to the
floor while he worked on his designs. To
one side is a large old wooden chair. It
almost has the appearance of a throne with large finials on either side of the
tall back rest. It is upholstered in a
deep burgundy with shiny gold rivets to hold the shiny material in place. On the floor next to the chair is a dust
cloth similar to the one that covered the gilded cage she slept in last night
and it makes Ayden wonder what else is hidden in the dust of this workshop. In the middle of the circle is a solitary round
cream colored cushion that seems out of place among the boxes and tools. As she is stretching Master Hunter notices her
and comes over with a smile on his face.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” he offers cheerfully; pulling the key out of
his pocket. He quickly unlocks the
padlock and removes it, opening the door in a swift, smooth movement.
“Please
join me out here,” he says gesturing with his hand.
Ayden
spins her legs out in front of her, sliding her feet out of the cage and to the
floor, careful to duck her head as she shimmies past the door and brings herself
into an upright, standing position before Master Hunter. She stands before him while he studies
her. His eyes traveling over her makes
Ayden nervous and she fidgets slightly shifting from one foot to the
other. As her eyes shyly rise up to meet
his, Master Hunter clears his throat and asks, “Have you anything to say to me
this morning?”
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