To Train A Wild Rose

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Chapter 20 - Tied up in Knots

I guess it was a couple of weeks later, as I was getting myself ready for bed, when I basically found myself in this… like… total knot. I’d been trying to pull my dress off and I’d managed to get myself stuck with my arms tangled up above my head. I knew there was a reason why I never wore the stupid things.

I just about managed to stick to the whole ‘temperate language’ thing so at least Mr M wasn’t grumpy when he stuck his head into my bathroom to see what was up. But he was doing this laughing thing when he saw the state I had got myself into.

“Aha!” he said, “I can see a young lady who is in desperate need of a tickle!”

“Don’t… please!” I kind of gasped but then, as he made this big show of kind of stalking towards me, I basically forgot how to use words and gave this totally embarrassing squeak sort of a thing instead. I suppose I could have tried running away or something but, by that stage, I was way past any sort of thinking… and it’s not as if I could see well enough to run!

And, anyway, there was this funny sort of surge thing going off inside my tummy - almost as if something down there kind of liked the idea of him tickling me.

I jumped wildly when he put a hand on my bare back but, luckily… I think I mean luckily… I wasn’t quite sure… he was only teasing. All he did was… like… untangle me from my dress. When he was done, he stood back and sort of inspected my body… I suppose the word is appraising.

Yep, you guessed it… it’s another one from my vocabulary book!

I mean… I was totally starkers so I guess I ought to have felt pissed off with him or something about him just staring at my body like that but he basically did that kind of thing so… well… naturally that I hardly noticed any more.

And, anyway, I kind of totally trusted him like that… I mean… I basically never got the feeling he was even thinking about doing any of that nasty stuff with me… I guess it was another one of his ‘he feels like he’s my daddy’ sort of things.

After a couple of seconds, he gave a bit of a thoughtful nod. “We’re getting a little bit of meat on you, at last,” he said. “And you seem to have grown out of that dress!”

“Seeing as how the label says it’s for nine to eleven year olds, I don’t suppose we should be all that surprised, really!” I replied.

“True!” he laughed. He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me round so I could look at myself in the mirror. He was right; the weeks of proper meals and so on were starting to have a bit of an effect on my body. I mean, all that stuff he was making me do in his gym meant I was staying in pretty good shape but I was basically starting to lose the whole concentration camp victim thing I used to have going on before. And, wonder of wonders, these two funny looking bumps had magically appeared on my chest which, in the right light, you might vaguely sort of recognise as breasts!

“It would appear that some new clothes are called for,” he told me. But then he sort of distracted me with this rather nice little kiss between my shoulder blades that kicked off all sorts of funny, delicious, squirmy type feelings in my tummy. Then he helped me on with my lovely princess nightie and lifted me up and snuggled me up in his arms like a tiny baby… I mean… I might have put on a bit of weight but he could still do that with no problem! Then, still snuggling me, he carried me off to my Babygirl bed for our bedtime chat.

He woke me the next morning with his normal sort of lovely ‘good morning’ kiss and I smiled back up at him as I squirmed back into that wonderful bed, cuddling Mr Orange and enjoying the snuggly comfort and his lovely, loving face for a couple more moments before the day got going.

But then he slipped a couple of hands under the duvet and sort of eased me out sideways from underneath it. The two of us had this bit of a game thing going on in the mornings where he tried to slip me out of bed and leave it looking as if it hadn’t been slept in!

Then I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me out of the bedroom and along the corridor. Yes, of course I could have walked but why walk when you can be carried - particularly a lovely, snuggly, cuddly carry like that one! “Go and make yourself even more shiny and beautiful,” he told me, popping me into my bathroom with another kiss. For some reason, it didn’t even sound cheesy when he said it.

A bit later, I made my way into the living room and was sort of pulled up short by the spectacular view out of our television window. There were these dirty great piles of dark and menacing looking clouds kind of rolling in towards us over the high mountains on the horizon and it looked as if there was a really wild storm on its way in. I was definitely glad I was snug indoors and not out there!

And when I managed to sort of drag my eyes away from that dramatic scene, I was mildly surprised to see that Mr M was still busy at his desk… I mean… he would quite often have a quick look at his work stuff whilst I was in the bathroom but he would usually be done by the time I appeared. I went over to him and squirmed my way up onto his lap and he managed to give me a bit of a cuddle type thing without taking his eyes off his screen.

So I enjoyed a bit of extra, early-morning snuggly time whilst he carried on with his work but then, after a couple of minutes, he gave me a bit of a squidge and a kiss on the cheek. “Do you think you can manage to sort out breakfast on your own this morning?” he asked. “There’s an email here that I really ought to answer straight away.”

“Sure thing, Mr M!” I replied with this little buzz of excitement. I mean… I’d done all the bits of breakfast before with him keeping an eye on me but this was the first time that he’d ever trusted me to do the whole lot all on my own.

He gave me one of his tickly squeezes on my thigh things to remind me that I wasn’t actually supposed to call him ‘Mr M’ out loud and then sent me on my way with a pat on the bottom.

I was just giving our porridge a final stir when he crept up on me and wrapped me up in a lovely snuggly hug from behind. I sort of squirmed back into him and enjoyed the attention for a moment. Then he gave me this kiss on the back of my neck that sent a funny zingy thing up and down my spine and then he turned to carry the stuff over to the table for me - including a vase of tulips that had magically appeared on the kitchen counter overnight.

By now, he usually let me eat the other meals on my own but he still wanted to feed me my breakfast. At first I’d sort of put up with it as one of his minor quirks - one of his many minor quirks - but, if I’m totally honest with myself, I was sort of starting to enjoy being his baby babygirl for those few quiet, gentle minutes in the morning.

Then, after tidying up together, it was time for us to get going with our work. I had a maths sheet waiting for me. By now, the maths was basically way harder than anything I’d ever even looked at in school but, in a funny sort of a way, I was… like… totally loving it… and I really loved how pleased my master was for me whenever I ‘got’ the latest thing. Of course I had to learn pretty quickly that he was not prepared to put up with any sort of stupid mistakes - having to totally re-do three of the stupid sheets will do that for you - so I’d got into the habit of checking my work carefully… like… totally carefully!

But, at the end of each of the sheets, there were a couple of what he called ‘stretch questions’. They were way harder but, luckily, Mr M didn’t get anything like as stressy about them. In fact, as long as I could show him that I’d had a proper go and done some serious thinking type stuff, he’d generally stay pretty laid back about them.

And I was doing the whole deep thought thing with one of those questions when I was disturbed by a kiss on the back of the neck and a cup of his lovely café au lait stuff - not the worst way in the world to be disturbed, I guess!

“Give it a rest for now and come back to it later,” Mr M suggested. So we went over to his lovely white leather sofa and enjoyed our coffee together. By now the storm had arrived and rain was… like… totally lashing down against our television window. There wasn’t much of a view but it was still pretty dramatic.

Then, after our break, I finished off the latest essay he had set for me. I’d always hated any sort of writing stuff at school but now I was sort of getting used to it - I guess a fair lump of that had to do with the fact that Mr M had finally managed to persuade me that the stuff I wrote was actually worth reading.

The first couple of essays he had set for me had been about easy subjects: the ever-changing view out of our Sierra Nevada window… or the characters in my latest books.

He’d even got me to write about that totally amazing skateboard run from the evening we’d first met. And I was… like… really pleased with the way it came out… and Mr M had sort of agreed with me. And then he’d… like… produced this sheet of gold stars stickers from his desk and asked me whether I thought it was good enough for one.

And I sort of had to agree it was.

I mean… Ro basically wanted me to think it was… like… totally stupid and pathetic and stuff… and I guess it was, really… but that gold star still made me feel really good.

But, recently, he’d been making me deal with a much trickier subject… like… how I felt about my parents. And, after a couple of those essays, I was basically starting to feel something a bit more like pity towards my mother, rather than this sort of simmering resentment and rage stuff that had been kind of bubbling away inside me since I was about five. I mean… OK… she was… like… a total failure of a person and a totally useless mother but at least she was doing what she could in her own hopeless sort of a way.

But my feelings towards my father never changed… and talking about him was the only time that my master would ever let me get away with using the word ‘hate’. I mean… he’d never said it out loud but I basically knew that he felt exactly the same way as me about that total git!

When, at last, I was happy with my writing stuff, I checked that I was good with the heap of French vocabulary that he’d set for me. There’d be a test later on and, again, I’d better get them all right or he’d come up with some sort of tedious punishment for me - last time he made me write the whole stupid list out five times… with half a dozen sit ups and press ups and things in between each. You can guess how much I enjoyed that.

And, when I was done with that, there was still twenty minutes to go before lunch and I knew better than to disturb my Master - much better. I mean… he could get properly grumpy if I disturbed him when he was busy. So I grabbed my latest book off the shelf and collapsed into my beanbag chair. Mr M made sure I swapped between ‘fun books’ - mostly Terry Pratchett these days - and more serious stuff - and I was on a serious one at the moment - Wuthering Heights.

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