The Trainer (35 page)

“It’s about time you thought of more than
yourself,” Geoff said, shaking his head. “Michael, Michael—I gave
you my complete trust. And you betrayed it. Went against my
instructions—no wait. I won’t jump to conclusions. Nani, why don’t
you take a break? I’ll see you later.”

“Sure thing, Geoff.” She stood and left, and
Michael slumped into his seat.

“Go ahead and tell me, Mike. But the truth
this time.”

“I thought she would make a great slave,”
Michael said glumly. There was no point in hiding anything now.
“She responded perfectly! She was hot, and willing—and smart! And
she learned real fast—she had the basic positions down in less than
a month!”

“You taught her our methods, Mike?”

“Well, all spotters do! But only the basic
ones, you know? Attention, show, present, at rest—and I made up a
few I liked, too. So she doesn’t know which ones are real.” Mike
grimaced. He was really grasping at straws.

“Okay, Michael. And then what?”

“I didn’t tell her a word about the
Marketplace. Even that last day, I never called it by its name. I
never told her about you, or told her where the house was or how we
do anything. I just told her I could make her dream of being a
slave come true. But she lied to me, Geoff!” He leaned forward
again, suddenly strong in his convictions. “Just like she’s lying
now!

“Like you lied to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. “God, Geoff, I’m
really sorry.”

“And I accept your apology, Mike. But now,
we have to do some damage control.” He stood up and stretched a
little, and Michael nodded eagerly, waiting to find out what had to
be done. “First, there’s the police interview. Nani has agreed to
act as your attorney and make sure you don’t get confused by the
questions. She doesn’t believe the investigation will be very
in-depth. We expect that Karen will be advised that she waited too
long and has instigated nothing but a he-said/she-said complaint.
She will also be reminded that her history and reputation will
become central aspects of the case, since she is not charging rape
and therefore will not be protected by law. It’s a pity, but the
law and the justice system favor us strongly in this case.”

“I don’t think it’s a pity—I didn’t do
anything wrong!”

“Yes you did, Mike. You exposed the
Marketplace to danger, and you showed a young woman something she
shouldn’t have seen. Because of your inexperience, we’ll never know
whether she had true potential. Plus, I’m beginning to question
yours.” He fixed Michael with a stern, fatherly stare, grave and
sad, and Michael squirmed a little under it. “After the interview,
we’ll hear whether the police intend to investigate further. You
will go live somewhere else, and be considered on suspension until
everything is cleared up.”

Michael nodded. “Geoff—I just thought of
something. What if we paid her off? To shut her up, and make her
drop the charges. I bet that would work!”

“Okay,” Geoff said, sitting down again. “How
much can you afford?”

“Me? I can’t afford anything! I meant the
Marketplace! You know, to protect their interests?” Michael was
close to panic. He shifted in his seat and gripped the edge of the
chair. “You said that they do that sometimes!”

“Yes, Mike—to protect their valued members.
Not to cover the asses of junior staff members who act on their
own, breaking the rules.” Geoff shook his head sadly. “If you had
asked for specific spotter training, if you had come back and
mentioned to me that you needed a spotter, and could you reserve
the option to train the client should she come to our
house—something could have been worked out, Mike. Or maybe
not—maybe the time just wasn’t right for this young lady, or for
you. And you would have waited another six months, or a year, or
three years! What would it matter, Mike? You’d have a place to
live, food, and vacations, health benefits and training—and access
to the best trained slaves in the country. But you put that all on
the line when you went outside to get your own, Mike. The
Marketplace will not expend any substantial money or effort to keep
you out of trouble. Their interest is in keeping the name and
details of our organization out of the media.”

Michael’s jaw set, and his eyes narrowed.
His fingertips were white with the pressure of keeping them locked
onto his chair. “Well, what about what I could say about the
Marketplace, Geoff? How come no one cares what I could do?”

“That’s simple, Mike. Because if you say a
word, you’ll be shunned. What’s more, so will your Uncle Niall.
We’ll cancel all current contracts he holds and remove the slaves
from his house until you make restitution for any harm you might
cause. And even if you do, you will never be able to visit him
again, not while he owns slaves. You will be barred from any
contact with us. You’ll never train, and never own a real slave,
Mike. Think very carefully about this—would it be worth it?”
Geoff’s voice had turned very hard, but he softened and leaned
across the desktop. “Mike, listen to me. You made a bad mistake—and
people do make mistakes. Don’t compound it. I’ll pretend I never
heard what you just said, and we’ll keep going on the damage
control. You do as we say, and maybe you can be back here soon, and
life will go on. Trust me, son. We’ll help as much as we can if you
just cooperate.”

What else could he do? He could never really
go to the media and start blabbing about the organization that had
made his life so pleasurable—especially considering the
consequences. He had never thought that they’d punish Niall for
what he did. The thought of his beloved uncle losing his assistant
and his boy-toy lover made Michael’s gut ache. To be forever cast
out of all contact with these people—to never be able to own those
two slaves he was always fantasizing about—no, the price was just
too high.

So, he waited for the police, and did his
interview. He was a little nervous, but the two men who questioned
him didn’t seem to be very adversarial. He was as honest as
possible, admitting to a sort of SM-based relationship with Karen.
He described the various kinds of roleplaying they had done, and
referred to the seminars at Leather Forever as examples of where he
might have learned those things. He agreed to make himself
available for further interviews. When they left, they shook his
hand and apologized for the bother.

In a way, it did seem a little unfair to
Karen. But she had prejudiced her own investigators, the lawyer
explained, by being a bad witness. She had not reported the event
after it happened, but after she had received some small notice for
discussing it. She was not the virgin-pure victim that the media
and the courts loved—she was the exact opposite. There were
witnesses, including the leatherdyke invited to play with them back
at Leather Forever, who could say that Karen had consented to the
relationship with Mike. Michael himself had no criminal record. He
was cooperative, and clean-cut.

The case was never pursued. After a few
months, Karen stopped talking about it at SM gatherings, although
she did publish a written account of her relationship and
distributed it via the growing “Information Superhighway.” She had
changed Mike’s name to Jon. After that, no one paid any attention
to the tale. There were other things to care about, other items of
interest.

But not for Michael. Every day he was kept
away from Geoff’s place, tucked into a small studio apartment and
forbidden to go to LA or San Francisco and take part in the soft
world activities there, was a purgatory of boredom. He watched TV,
mindlessly channel surfing for hours. They didn’t even give him
Marketplace books and reports to read, let alone training tapes to
watch. He was in temporary exile.

By the time he was called back, he was
tearfully grateful for the reprieve. He agreed at once to enter
Geoff’s staff again at the lowest level, doing paperwork and
assisting other junior trainers. Geoff made him write out a full
report on his failed attempt at spotting and pre-training, an
exercise, he said, in reviewing the past mistake so it would never
happen again. It was excruciating, especially the part where Geoff
had Michael read the thing to him, and Michael had to watch Geoff
react to every time Michael reported having used Marketplace
techniques on a soft-world novice.

But even working the scut jobs was better
than being outcast. In short time, he was able to make his way back
up to where he had been when he left—no matter what had happened,
the slaves still responded to him, and he did get good results.

But he was tainted, and everyone knew it.
Geoff was careful to coach the other staff members not to mention
the incident to Michael’s face, but he knew they talked about it
behind his back. He knew that his reputation had suffered a
terrible blow.

It became absolutely necessary to leave
Geoff’s house as soon as possible. It was clear that there could be
no future for him there. Even if Geoff did certify him as a full
trainer, there would be nowhere to go. He had to find a new house
to work his way through, to erase the whole Karen incident from his
past.

He had found out that one didn’t apply
directly to Anderson, that the process of being selected for her
apprentice involved sending a request to the management office
which represented the North American Marketplace interests. He did
include a letter to the legendary trainer in his application. It
wasn’t quite as personally lauding as he would have preferred. But
he included copies of his rating sheets before Karen, and mentioned
that he realized that he needed training in a different style if he
was to ever become a proper trainer.

It took another six months for the answer to
come. Geoff seemed confused but pleased for him, and wished him
luck. His going-away present was a Movado watch, which Michael
reluctantly sold before leaving the city. His entire savings was
less than what it would take to secure and rent a New York
apartment for three months. There would be no stipend while he was
with Anderson—only room and board. This was because Geoff hadn’t
sponsored him for the special training. There would be no way to
know how long he was going to be there; but he wasn’t afraid. He
was a quick learner. The Trainer of Trainers would see that, and
before long, he would get her approval. There would be no mistakes
like the Karen incident.

But it seemed that Karen and Geoff would be
with him forever! He could never just put that behind him and go
on.

It just wasn’t fucking fair.

Finally, someone got tied up at Anderson’s
house.

Lorens looked very good in bondage, too. A
rope harness wrapped around his body, crossing one hard, defined
muscle and gently curving around another. He looked like a poster
for some Italian Hercules movie, bound between the columns of a
temple. That was it—Samson! If Samson had been a Viking.

But this particular temple was only the
doorway to the room where the slaves slept. Michael had seen the
bolts sunk into the corners, but had never asked about them. After
all these weeks, it seemed like whatever purpose they had served
was long over.

Apparently, he was wrong. Chris did the
actual bondage, under Anderson’s direction and Michael’s careful
observation. The short trainer was an expert with the rope—lines
slid through his hands without tangling, and the actual patterns he
made were symmetrical and pleasing to the eye as well as secure and
useful. Lorens was patient, cheerful and even stoic when thinner
strands of rope were used to make his cock and balls look like a
macramé project. Joan was watching as well—earlier that morning,
Chris had mentioned to Michael that despite her probable non-sexual
role in her master’s household, she would be surrounded by the
evidence of slaves used for more sexual and erotic purposes. She
might even have the responsibility to care for them should they not
be able to care for themselves.

Thus—Lorens in bondage. A study in body art
of another kind. It would be Joan’s responsibility to check on him,
to notify Chris of any problems and to be able to report on the
slave’s condition at any time. For Lorens, the exercise was
simpler.

“Look pretty,” Anderson instructed as she
left the hallway.

Chris finished the job and trimmed the last
bit of extra rope off with his pocket knife. He pinched one of
Lorens’ nipples fondly and Lorens grinned even as he closed his
eyes and threw his head back with the sharp pain.

“That’s nice,” Michael said. “Can I—?”

Chris nodded, and said, “You may.” His
emphasis on the correct word almost made Michael sigh in
exasperation, but Michael controlled himself and nodded an
acceptance of the rebuke. Eagerly, he stepped forward. It had been
a long time since he had played with a man, and Lorens was one
strapping example of manhood. His nipples were somewhat large,
probably due to some special attention. Michael asked about them
before he took them between his fingers.

“Yes, sir,” Lorens answered quickly. “My
Lady, she likes for them to be sensitive. Every day, there are cups
put on them to make them larger, suction cups, and sometimes
clamps.”

“That’s nice,” Michael said, giving them a
twist. They felt like they were rooted in steel—they twisted
nicely, but Michael could feel the tension of the muscles beneath
them. Lorens grimaced slightly, but prettily. “I always thought
that slaves should have sensitive nipples. It’s so easy to control
them that way.”

“One would hope that control didn’t depend
on an owner having to create a physical sensation,” Chris said.
“You may play with Lorens as far as his bondage allows whenever you
have free time, Mike.”

“Yeah?” Michael let go of his toy and turned
around. “Please, let’s be clear, okay? Play how?”