The Training School - chapter 5

Nicholas closed the door and rearranged the chairs so that he was sitting directly opposite Lucille. He crossed one leg over the other and made himself comfortable. When he was settled, he stared at her for what seemed to her like minutes. If he was trying to make her feel unsettled he was doing very well. She called on her ability to appear cool and unflustered on the outside, even though she was a jumble of nerves inside.

“Lucille, tell me, what word do you use to describe your vagina?”

“What word?”

“Yes.”

“Well...I say “vagina” if I am at the doctor.”

“And if you are not at the doctor...?”

“Then, I say ‘pussy’.”

Lucille did everything she could to hide the fact from him that she was rattled. She purposely kept her body still, consciously trying to project an image to him that this was not at all difficult for her. The last thing she wished to do was to have him know of how uncomfortable he was making her and how much she longed to walk out that door and away from his disturbing questions.

“And, what word do you use to describe your anus?”

“Gosh! Well, I think I use that word.”

“What word?”

“Anus”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Well, I might say ‘ass’.”

“Mmmm-hmmmm”

Nicholas got up and walked over to a set of filing cabinets. Lucille was agitated now beyond the point where she could fully control it. She felt an internal upset that presented as a deep desire to express her distaste for him and his questions. Yet, she maintained an awareness that she didn’t want him to win by reacting in an out of control way. She felt like a fast cooker at risk of losing its lid.

He seemed in no hurry and his sudden distractibility only heightened her annoyance with him. In spite of her best efforts, she moved about in the seat and crossed her arms over her body until she was holding her shoulders. Finally, he found whatever it was he was looking for and he glanced through a file and then put it on his desk. He returned to his seat and crossed his long legs again.

“How many cunts do you have?”

“How many cunts?”

“Yes.”

“One.”

“Is that so?”

“Isn’t it so?”

“How many holes do you have?”

“Holes?”


"Mmmm-hmmmm”

“Counting my ears?”

“Answer the question.”

“Three”

“Name them.”

“Pussy, mouth and ass.”

“What is the true purpose of these three holes?”

“Well, if you mean what other purpose do they have other than the obvious they can be used for fucking me.”

“They are your three cunts.”

She could barely believe him; his audacity, the smug way he had of making such a statement and not blinking an eye.

“Are they?”

There was a hint of attitude in the response. She didn’t even try to hide it.

“Certainly.”

“Name these three holes again.”

Lucille simply couldn’t respond. This was ridiculous.

He waited.

“Nicholas...Sir...honestly, what do you want me to say?”

“Again Lucille, my command is perfectly straightforward. I will not repeat it.”

The hairs on Lucille’s arms were standing up in response to her upset.

“Pussy cunt.”

“Go on.”

“Mouth cunt.

“Good”

“ Ass cunt.”

“Repeat that. Name your three cunts.”

“Pussy cunt. Mouth cunt. Ass cunt.”

Repeat . Keep saying them until I tell you to stop.”

“Pussy cunt, mouth cunt, ass cunt.
Pussy cunt, mouth cunt, ass cunt.
Pussy cunt, mouth cunt, ass cunt.
Pussy cunt, mouth cunt, ass cunt.”

She looked at him suggestively, seeking some confirmation that she could stop.

“Keep going, Lucille. Don’t stop.”

She must have said that line twenty times before he told her that she could stop.

“Good girl. Now, why should these holes be referred to as ‘cunts’?”

“Well...I can be entered in any of those places, I guess...”

“What is your status, Lucille?”

“My status?”

“Mmmm-hmmmm”

“I am submissive. Is that what you mean?”

“What status are you in the relationship? Top or bottom?”

“Ohhhhhhh, the bottom, of course.”

“Mmmmm-hmmmm”

“And, what is your role in the relationship?”

“My role is to obey.”

“and to be used.”

“Used?”

“Certainly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that your role is to be available for your owner’s use in whichever cunt he wishes to use.”

She willed herself not to respond to this talk in an uncontrolled way. He was pushing at her and she wanted to close down to protect herself.

“From now on, you will use only these words to describe these holes. Now, what word would you use to describe William?”

“He is my husband.”

“Anything else?”

“My dominant.”

“He is your owner.”

“My owner?”

“Of course.”

“You own dogs and cats, Sir, not women.”

“There is nothing at all different between the relationships of a dog to its owner and yours to William, Lucille. You are an owned girl and you have an owner that you must obey.”

She was holding herself in as best she could but she had an urgent desire to tell him what she thought of his “tutorial”.

“Ohhhhh, do I? Comparing a grown woman with a dog, Nicholas is just not on. You really have a nerve! Just who do you think you are?”

She was up on her feet now and ready to walk out that door.

“Sit down immediately or I will tether you.”

“So, now you are going to tether me like a dog, are you? Just because I won’t take this bullshit?”

“Now, now. Surely William has a cage or a pole for tethering you when you display this temper...”

“A cage???”

“Certainly”

“Nooooo, as a matter of fact, he doesn’t have a cage at all.”

“Then, we shall have to correct that anomaly.”

“Nicholas...”

“Excuse me?”

“Sir, if you speak to me like that, naturally I am going to get angry.”

“Naturally?”

“Yes, naturally. Surely it is reasonable for a girl to be angry when she is provoked. It isn’t healthy for her not to express herself.”

“She is welcome to express herself so long as she is safely secured. I do not allow my dogs to run about the farm when they are worked up and barking. They are secured. This makes them feels safe and they are free to bark at their will. You too are free to express yourself, Lucille...to have your little tantrum...in the safety of a cage, if you wish.”

Lucille was breathing hard now. If she thought she could get away with it, she’d get up right now and punch him. She took a long, deep breath and tried to settle herself down.

“Sir, I am not having a tantrum.”

“What would you call it?”

“I am simply disagreeing with you.”

“Lucille, the sooner you understand that you are your husband’s property and that he may do with you as he pleases the better. For now I will do with you as I wish.”

Nicholas got up and gathered an exercise book and a pen and ordered Lucille to come to a single, school style desk and chair that was to the side of his desk.

“Sit down, Lucille.”

She sat.

“This is your discipline book and you will use it to write your lessons down. You will sit here and write down in this book 300 times,

‘This girl is the property of her owner.’

“Make sure it is in your best hand-writing, girl. I expect you to take pride in your work here. You have just enough time to get the work done before it is time for you to prepare for the evening.”

Lucille picked up the pen and wrote the line down. She tried to calculate how many lines there were to a page and how long this was going to take her. It was a tedious and boring task and yet she could feel bubbles of excitement emanating from somewhere in her throat. She had never written lines in her life, not even as a school girl and this had a sense of novelty and arousal about it. Even when her hand began to hurt, she carried on writing the lines in a dreamy sort of state, as if some deep longing was being satiated. She remained incensed at his words but it did not prevent her from feeling a level of enjoyment in the task.

Meanwhile Nicholas sat at his desk; worked on the computer, paid bills and made calls. All the while he kept a close eye on Lucille. If she slowed at the task or looked up he was right on it and chided her to get on with it. It made no sense to her but she felt a sense of care as she sat there under his tutelage and it comforted her.