by EdenBradley
THE TRAINING HOUSE, Book Two: BOY
by
Eden Bradley
BOY
Copyright 2016 Eden Bradley
Cover Design by Scott Carpenter
Editing by D.S. Editing
Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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DEDICATION
The jumping off point for this book was the real Christopher from my past—my Christopher—and I have to thank him for what he brought into my life, the tragedy and the beauty, the poetry and the pain. I must also thank my dear friend and play partner, Dawn, for inspiring me to write more pony play—just for you!
A BIG thank you to one of my editors, the amazing Christa Desir, for suggesting I write BOY in his POV, which is exactly what needed to be done for this book. You are brilliant, as always!
I must also send a huge hug out to my wonderful readers, who loved Book One, GIRL, and who continue to enthusiastically support this series. I adore you all!
Table of Contents
Contract and Terms of Agreement for Servitude
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Kinky Excerpts
About Eden
More from Eden Bradley
The Smutketeers!
Contract and Terms of Agreement for Servitude
I, ______________________, being of sound mind and body, do hereby agree and pledge myself in entirety as personal slave and property to The Training House as the Master of the House sees fit to use for a period of one year, to commence on _________ and to end on _________. I do this without reservations or stipulations, and without recourse or right of revocation. I have been informed and understand that I will not be harmed or have any permanent damage done to my body or mental well-being, nor shall any of my personal property be subject to ownership or use by The Training House, its Master, or any associates. I pledge under the terms of this contract my body, my obedience and my deep desire to serve.
I understand and agree to all terms within this contract. Terms are as follows:
1) I will remain naked while within The Training House or other outside facilities the Master of the House may visit or send me to.
2) I may be sent to outside locations and/or lent to other Masters, Mistresses or Trainers at the Master’s discretion. I pledge the same obedience to them as I do to The Training House under the terms of this contract.
3) I will be collared, cuffed, shackled or bound by any variety of means as the Master of the House or his associates see fit. Restraints will always be used in a safe manner.
4) I may be subject to piercings of the nipples and/or genitalia, to be performed only by a licensed piercer, including the Master himself.
5) I will be subject to branding with the house crest only if it is agreed upon by both parties at the term of this contract or any future existing contract that I remain in permanent service to The Training House.
6) I will be subject to sadomasochistic activities at the discretion of the Master and his associates, including various types of impact, impalement and use of any orifice for pain or pleasure, electrical stimulation, canes, whips, and implements which may scratch and/or open the skin. Any bleeding, open wounds or heavy bruising will receive appropriate medical attention by the House nurse or attending EMT.
7) I will be subject to humiliation, degradation, loss of personal identity.
8) I will have no rights as an individual, or freedom to make decisions.
9) I will remain silent unless commanded to speak.
10) I will accept without question or resistance any and all punishments or discipline the Master of the House or his associates deems necessary or desirable.
11) I am charged to learn all the ways in which I may please the Master of the House and his associates.
12) I will have no control over my orgasms, which will be given or denied at the whim of the Master of the House or his associates. I agree to never pleasure myself, saving my pleasure for the Master’s use.
I hereby certify that I am in excellent health, and had my last medical exam on ______. Paperwork to verify the state of my health will be supplied upon signing this contract. I furthermore agree that I may be subject to medical examination and treatment for my safety and for the safety of those I come into contact with, or purely for the Master’s pleasure. I also have supplied information regarding possible personal triggers any of the above activities might prompt. The Master agrees to ensure my body is kept in good health by means of diet, rest and exercise.
If at any time before the end of the contracted period the Master of The Training House is not pleased with my performance, obedience, ability to give pleasure or to endure his preferred treatment of me, he may decide to revoke this agreement, at which time I am released from the terms of this contract.
I affix my signature willingly and without any duress or under any threat of harm.
Slave’s legal name ______________________________
Slave’s signature _________________________________________
Date _____________
Master’s legal name ______________________________
Master’s signature _________________________________________
Date _____________
Witness ______________________________
Witness signature _________________________________________
Date_____________
Chapter One
“Are you fucking kidding me, people?”
I kick hard and connect with a body—Gilby’s chest, I think. I know it’s him from how hard he’s breathing, the rasp more from the excitement of abducting me than from carrying me down the stairs with one of his henchman to help.
They’re taking me away again, to the Pet Ranch in Carmel Valley. I've been there before. It’s not that I don't like it there. I do. I’m just fucking pissed that the Master is sending me away again. I love and hate the way they do it—grabbing me in the middle of the night, sliding a bag over my head, throwing me into the van. And now I know what’s coming even before I feel their hands grab me roughly and close the metal shackles around my ankles. I kick again, chains rattling, but all I hit is air—it whistles as he strikes my thigh with a leather strap. I barely feel it, but I kick again and he hits me again—it’s our same old dance. We both enjoy it.
“Fuck you, Gilby! You and whoever else is with you!”<
br />
“Oh, you'll be fucked all right,” he says with a low chuckle. “Unless you can catch ’em and fuck ’em first, but I hear they have some new stock down there. Wish I was going to be there to see it—you being taken down by some slave Boy and pegged good and hard up the ass.”
“You wish, Gilby,” I mutter.
“Yeah, I do. I’d fuck you myself if the Master would allow it. I’d fuck that mouthiness right out of you. Enjoy the ride, Christopher.”
He hits me one more time across the chest before I hear the door to the van slam shut. And as soon as he does I become aware that someone else is in the back of the van with me. This is new. I inhale, and the minute I do I know it’s her. Her. The beautiful new slave Girl I saw a few weeks ago in the school room. The Girl with the long red hair and the innocent face, and the lush, pink mouth that makes me think of nothing but sex. I think about it a lot—those lips wrapped around my hard cock, green eyes looking up at me. I’ve been a little obsessed with her since the moment I saw her, that mouth making a perfect “o”—perfect to suck my cock with—when the Master was punishing me. And I know her scent because when Gilby and Patrick were dragging me out of the room after my beating, I pulled in a long breath as we passed her seat. She smells like clean, female skin and female desire. Even her skin smells like innocence. My pheromones went fucking crazy. They’re doing it again now.
I wish I’d been the one to slip the black bag over her head and throw her over my shoulder. My dick is doing a mad, twitching dance just thinking about it.
I inhale again and this time I smell fear. My cock stiffens even more.
I wait for the van to start before saying anything, enjoying my little mental scenario and the smell of her flesh and her fear.
“Hey,” I say quietly. No answer. I try again. “You can talk to me, you know. They won’t hear you.”
“I… You’re sure it’s okay?”
“You’re her, aren’t you? The Master’s new favorite?”
There’s a long pause. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“No need to be. Not with me. I’m a favorite, too. Or, I was. Apparently I’m out of favor since he’s sending me off again.”
Sometimes I love the Master. And sometimes I hate him. And sometimes it sucks to be me. But maybe this isn’t one of those moments.
I hear her sniff.
“Hey, you crying?” I ask.
“I just… Does this mean I’m out of favor, too?” I can hear the desperation in her voice.
“Nah. Not necessarily. Sometimes it means you’re too much in his favor and he needs to distance himself.”
She lets out a sob. “That’s just as bad,” she says quietly, her voice small in the echoing metal chamber of the van.
“Look, I’ve been there—out of favor, too much on his mind. But I’m still here, in The Training House.” I grimace, despite myself, despite my attempt at reassuring this Girl. This Girl who makes my blood run hot. Who makes me want to sink my teeth into her flesh, just to taste her. “Or, I was. But he always brings me back again. Always.”
“For how long? I mean, how long have you been at the Training House?”
“Four years, give or take. And off and on, because sometimes I just have to leave. He always takes me back. He always will. We have a sort of understanding. He’ll take me back until he gets fed up with me, and then he won’t.”
I can hear the implied shrug in my own voice. Fucking too much ego, still, no matter how many people have tried to beat it out of me. But despite my casual tone, it matters. It always has. My beautiful Master. He’s mattered since I first met him.
“How did you…” She pauses. “Is it okay if I ask you some questions? Is it okay if I… I’m sorry.”
“I told you, you can talk to me. It’ll make the time go by faster for both of us.”
I hear her exhale, long and slow. I wish I could see her. Wish I could see her pupils wide with nerves, the shock on her face from being treated so harshly. Oh yeah—I get off on that the way any Master or Mistress might. But there are reasons why. Reasons I think about only when I’m on one of my self-imposed breaks from the Training House.
“What do you want to know?” I ask her.
“How did you meet him—Master Damon?”
“It was at a kink club. A very high-level club in Los Angeles at a private home. Hollywood Hills. A few celebrities, but mostly the high-powered people with money. Pretty sure you know about those places.”
“Yes.”
“I was topping, at the time.”
“Topping? I don’t know why, but I can see that. I mean…I’m sorry. Am I offending you?”
“Girl. Let’s get one thing straight. It’s almost fucking impossible to offend me. And I did say you could talk to me. I’m an open book. Why wouldn’t I be?”
There’s a long silence before she says, “Because we all have our secrets.”
Hmm. Yeah. Maybe so. I think about my mother. About the things I did when I was younger. About how I turned out to be exactly like her for a while. How much I fucking hate that fact.
“Well, I’ll tell you this. When I’m not here? When I decide I need to take off for a while and get my head on straight again? I go to the clubs in San Francisco, and L.A. and sometimes Phoenix, San Antonio—wherever—and I am no one’s bottom boy. That’s when I lose myself.”
“But here? The Training House?”
I know exactly what she’s asking. It’s the question they would all ask me, if they could.
“It’s why the Master calls me by name. Because I need to stay in the moment. I need to feel every stroke of the whip, every moment of the worst goddamn humiliation, or I can just surf through it. I can make it so it doesn’t affect me at all. But that’s what we’re all doing here, right? We need it to affect us, or there’s no point. So he makes me be me. It’s the worst mind-fuck of all, and the best, you know? But of course you do. We all understand this shit about each other.”
“I do understand,” she says, her voice soft with recognition and that meeting of minds only the hardest-core slaves can have.
We are the real weirdos of the world. Creatures of a strange mindset. And what most people don’t know is that we’re the some of the most intelligent of the kinky people. There’s something about having a high IQ that makes us dissect the innermost workings of our own minds, and it kind of drives us crazy. It makes us seek out the most extreme forms of stimulation, because it’s nearly impossible to meet that need any other way. I know this sounds egotistical, but it’s really nothing more than a discovery I’ve made over the years that helps me explain it to myself. It makes a lot of fucking sense. And this Girl—she’s as smart as I am, I can feel it. She’s as much a weirdo as I am, if not as much a monster.
While I’ve been caught in the mad spinning of my own brain she’s started to sniff again.
“Hey. Are you crying again?” Why does this hurt me? Something about this Girl… “Tell me your name.”
“Does it even matter? It doesn’t in The Training House.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”
“Why?”
I reach out with my chained foot, and after a moment I come into contact with silky skin, an even row of bare toes. I hear her gasp, but she doesn’t pull away.
“I don’t know. Maybe so that us talking matters, you know?”
Another silence. She’s been trained not to talk. It’s the same with all of them. All of them but me. I can talk easily enough, which gets me into trouble. But then, I like trouble.
“It’s Aimée.”
“Pretty. Like you.”
I feel her toes curl against my foot.
“And you’re Christopher?” she asks.
I laugh. “This all seems so polite, like we’re at some fucking tea dance. Absurd, given the circumstances.”
“I…I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—”
“Hey. It’s all right. It’s just a weird sort of contrast, you know? Us here in our blackout hoods, chained in
the back of a van on our way to the Primal Ranch, and we’re graciously exchanging names and backgrounds, like we’re on a first date. But I guess for people like us, this is a first date.” I laugh at how ludicrous this situation is.
“Primal Ranch?” she asks, her voice trembling.
Ah, I love to hear that, her voice shaking, and to feel the shivering in her smooth, flexing toes. If I could get out of the damn chains, I could really do something about it. Like throw her down on the hard metal floor of the van and choke her and fuck her until she’s too damn dizzy and coming too hard to be afraid of anything but me. But like I said, I’m an animal and I know it. Which is why the Ranch is perfect for me.
“Yeah. It’s where he always sends me, and some of the others. They all use the place—the Masters and Mistresses who run in this circle. It’s pretty fucking spectacular in its own way.”
“But what will happen to me there?”
“Are you sure you really want to know?” I ask her.
There’s a long moment of silence, then she sighs. “Maybe not.”
“Change of subject, then?” I suggest, as if I am capable of some real sympathy. But it’s all a sham, isn’t it? Has to be. Except with her…
There’s something about her, something about that first moment I saw her, that made my insides feel like glass shattering. It wasn’t a bad thing, although in retrospect I realize it hurt a little in some way I’m not used to. Some part of me just kind of came apart. And like glass, I saw myself reflected in the pieces lying on the floor. I put myself back together afterward, but just like broken glass, seams remained. I feel like I’ll never be the same again, from seeing her that once. Her face has haunted me, her inherent innocence maybe even more. And of course I know damn well she’s not innocent. No one who is truly innocent is ever brought to the Training House. They’re very careful. It’s more in the way she carries herself, in the freshness of her skin. Babyskin. In some piece of herself she holds apart from the things we do in this life of taboo secrets and forbidden shadows. Maybe it’s the same piece I hold apart, except that hers is clean, while mine is black with soot and guilt and sins that can never be forgiven. We are the same, yet utterly different. And sometimes I think too goddamn much.
