To Train A Wild Rose

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Chapter 27 - The Flowery Dress

When I’d finished my shower, I was still feeling this lovely sort of warmth type thing towards my master so I decided to give that pretty summery dress a go, as a special sort of treat for him. I’d kind of promised to show him what I looked like in it but, with the whole stupid running away thing, we’d basically managed to forget all about it.

So I scurried down the corridor - totally starkers, of course - to the wardrobe in the bedroom where he kept all my clothes. I mean… it was sort of against the rules but I knew that, even if he caught me, he wasn’t going to get overly stressy about it

I grabbed the dress and then scurried back to my bathroom to pop it on…

And then I had this long look at myself in the mirror.

I’d been a bit worried about wearing that sort of dress because it basically didn’t have any sleeves and I thought my skinny arms would stick out like the twigs on a snowman but, these days, with all the lovely food and all the time I’d been spending in the gym, I now had this tiny bit of something going on in the muscle department so I suppose it didn’t look all that bad on me.

And it was certainly a lovely dress… all long and flowery and flowing and… well… I guess… totally girly. It had a bit of a hippy thing going on too, I guess, and my bare feet and bare arms sort of helped along with that whole idea. I mean… it wasn’t the sort of thing Ro would have dreamt of wearing in… like… a million years…

But I guess I sort of thought that my master would like to see me wearing it… so I decided to give it a go for him.

But, for some reason, I still felt… like… stupidly nervous as I made my way along the corridor into the living room.

Mr M was busy cleaning vegetables in the kitchen when I appeared so I crept up behind him and managed to make him jump a bit when I wrapped my arms round his huge, muscly tummy and cuddled him from behind.

He let me snuggle him like that for a bit and then he twiddled around in my grip. He couldn’t touch me because he had mucky hands so he just leaned down to give me a kiss… but then he saw the dress.

“Stand back and let me have a look, then!” he told me and I sort of hesitantly did as I was told. He sort of studied me for a couple of seconds and I kind of made myself do this silly little twirly round thing for him… and I found I was sort of… like… totally holding my breath as I waited to see what he thought.

And at last his face broke into this huge smile thing. “Exquisite!” he said. “Very attractive indeed! Both you and the dress!”

With his mucky hands he couldn’t defend himself so I took advantage of the situation by jumping at him and squidging myself against him for a bit whilst bopping a couple of kisses onto his chest… including a couple on his nipples, of course!

It was only fair!

“Enough now, Babygirl!” he said after a bit. “Behave!” But I could tell he was really laughing so I kept on going. Of course he leaned down again and started doing one of his raspberry things into my neck which had me scurrying back, away from him.

“So,” he asked with a big smile, “how does that lovely dress make you feel?”

I had to… like… have a bit of a think about that but I knew Mr M never minded that… as long as I kept my mouth shut whilst my brain was chugging! He gave me a little smile then turned back to his veggies as I did my thinking.

“All sort of lovely and floaty and ladylike,” I answered at last, “but a bit of that might just be those delicious things you were doing to me in the gym just now!” I added with this kind of embarrassed grin sort of a thing. I stretched my arms out and twirled around again because I kind of liked the way the dress swished out around my legs when I did it.

“Much too floaty to be handling sharp knives,” he said. He was trying to sound strict but not doing a terribly good job of it! “Sit down there,” he nodded to one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter, “and you can entertain me whilst I cook.”

I sat and sort of watched him for a bit as he set about chopping up the veggies. I was always kind of fascinated by how quick he was… and with the way his razor sharp knife seemed to flash through the air as he chopped. I kept expecting him to sort of chop off half his fingers but he never did.

He turned back to the cooker where he had a wok sizzling away with ginger and herbs and garlic and stuff in it - it smelt wonderful. I sort of took the chance to… like… snitch a couple of his freshly chopped carrot sticks.

“Babygirl!” he said in a pretend stern voice.

“I didn’t do nuffin’!” I protested. He’d let me get away with that one because we both knew I wasn’t really trying to deceive him… and anyway, technically, with the double negative thingy going on, it was basically true!

But, when my hand crept towards the carrot pile again, he turned round and sort of rapped the table with his spatula just inches from my fingers, making me jump! Then he sort of shoved a couple more bits in my direction and said, “But no more or you’ll not eat your dinner properly!”

He turned back to his cooking and tipped this small mountain of chickeny bits into the wok and started stirring pretty enthusiastically. He went quiet for a bit as he concentrated on his stirring but at last he said, “Your wearing that dress reminds me that we still need to give that other one of yours an airing”

“You what?” I replied without really thinking as I chomped away on my bits of carrot.

Somehow, even though he was looking in the opposite direction, I still knew that he was sort of giving me one of his ‘very hard stare’ things.

Fair enough, I suppose. I know he’s not all that keen on me saying that kind of thing anyway and by now it was sort of ticking around to talking posh o’clock.

“I mean… excuse me, Your Lord and Mastership,” I said, using my best ‘imitating the queen’ accent thing, “but would you mind aaaawfully explaining…” and then I slipped back into an even more plebby accent than my normal one, “what you’re going on about?”

He flashed me a grin without interrupting his chicken stirring for a moment - I knew he wanted to keep it moving to spread all the gingery-herby tastiness through the meat!

“When we bought that beautiful black dress, I promised you that I’d make sure that you have the opportunity to wear it. I think it’s high time I made good on that promise.” He went quiet for a bit and then said, “Would you do me the honour of joining me for dinner next Saturday?”

“If you don’t mind waiting for one moment!” I managed to flash back. “I shall have to consult my social calendar,” I was pretty pleased with that one and he gave me another of his grins as he chucked the onions and carrot batons into the wok.

“Fortunately I’m free that evening,” I went on after a couple of seconds, “and would be delighted to accept!”

He smiled and pushed a couple of beautiful Chinese style bowls and some chopsticks in my direction so I hopped down off the stool and scurried over to set the table for him.

Mr M had taken it into his head to shuffle all our exercise stuff around and, on the Saturday morning, he decided to introduce me to this absolutely delightful thing called ‘intensive intervals’. That’s where you cycle at a sort of gentle pace until you heard a dreaded beep. Then you had to cycle as hard as you possibly could until you heard the next beep. Then repeat about fifty million times.

I quickly decided that me and intensive intervals were not going to be friends!

Somehow you ended up much more knackered than if you’d just gone flat out all the time!

At least he put on some boppy type music for me to enjoy as I suffered…

And I eventually managed to work out that the music was sort of speeding up when I was supposed to be doing that horrible interval bit.

I guess it was basically pretty clever…

But it didn’t make me any less knackered!

At last I was done with that and, once I’d managed to sort of crawl out of the shower, I just chucked on my shorts and a t-shirt - that was the least hassle. Mr M must of noticed the state he’d got me in because he gave me this nod to let me know I could do my ‘collapsing indecorously on the sofa’ thing.

And the next thing I knew, he was waking me up with a kiss to tell me that lunch was ready. He’d even managed to cover me up with the lovely blanket without me noticing so I must have snoozed for a bit.

I tried to stand up but all my leg and bum type muscles had totally sort of seized up. “Stay down a minute,” he laughed.

That was one of the stupidest things he’d ever told me to do. I mean… I basically couldn’t have stood up if I wanted to.

“Roll over on your tummy,” he told me as he took the blanket off me and folded it neatly over the back of the sofa. I was a bit confused but, by now, doing as I was told was basically automatic.

I jumped a bit when he started massaging my bottom but I quickly told myself not to be so silly. I mean… ever since I’d known him, he’d been finding excuses to get his hands on it so there was absolutely no point in getting all stressy about it now. Besides, it felt really good… in this spectacularly painful sort of a way.

He slowly worked his way down my thighs and then my calves as I just lay there and made funny groany type noises at him. He totally deserved it - he was the one who’d made me do those stupid ‘intensive interval’ things in the first place!

At last he gave me this little rap on the bottom to let me know he was done. “Come on, Babygirl,” he said. “Lunch!”

I rolled over onto my back and held my arms up to him. “Cawwy me,” I said in my best baby voice, “Pweease!”

It was sad and pathetic and, if Ro could’ve seen me, she’d have been… like… totally disgusted… but, if it meant I didn’t have to stand up by myself, it was a price I was prepared to pay!

Laughing, he lifted me easily and, cradling me in his arms, he carried me across to the table where lunch was already laid out. He plonked me down in my chair then stepped away and, when he came back, a couple of seconds later, he had my jeans and a pair of fluffy slippers that I hardly ever wore. “Put these on,” he told me. Your muscles won’t stiffen up as much if you keep them warm. I did as I was told and then sat down on his lap, snuggled my head into his neck and let him feed me. If I was going to do the baby babygirl thing, I might as well do it properly. I knew he liked it!

Then, after lunch, we started cooking.

If you’d told me that two people could spend five hours cooking a single meal… just for themselves… I would never have believed you. And if you’d told me it could be so much fun, I’d have basically thought you’d gone stark raving bonkers!

We made some little pots of this delicious-smelling salmony mousse stuff then put them in the fridge to set… and we made loads of them so we would be able to have them for lunch through the week.


We made some tiny, weeny pastry shells - and they even looked like shells; Mr M had some special baking thingies to cook them in. And when they were cool, we filled them up with three delicious, squidgy mixtures: minced up roast beef in a sharp mustardy sauce; a cheesy-apricot mixture; and some squished avocado stuff which went way beyond delicious and out the other side. I scraped that bowl so clean that Mr M teased me that it wouldn’t need washing up!

And then my master turned round with flour on his nose. I was basically laughing so much that I almost wet myself… and he had to pretty much string me up by my earlobes before I managed to tell him what was up!

We baked some tiny bread rolls and made three different types of salad - including a totally delicious one with tiny bits of vegetables in this mint flavoured mayonnaise.

And then, for no obvious reason, my master grabbed me. He pulled me against him and sort of squidged my skinny bottom in his two hands as he gave me this totally wonderful kiss… with tongues and everything.

I probably should have been more suspicious. In fact I probably would have been but I was… like… totally distracted… I was pretty sure I could feel this funny lump thing going on in his trousers as he squidged me into him.

Then we prepared this creamy mushroom and beef medallion sauce to go with some special German noodles that had to be cooked just before they were eaten.

And he kept looking at my bottom and couldn’t stop laughing until I finally got fed up. “Master, please!” I said.

Still laughing, he led me through to my bathroom and turned me round so I could inspect the seat of my pants in the mirror. There were two floury hand prints, one on each bum cheek!

I was still sort of gasping in outrage when he picked me up, twizzled me round in mid air and sat down with me bent over his lap - bottom up! Then he proceeded to brush the handprints away - and that did some totally wild things to my bits down below, I can tell you!

“You have an unhealthy interest in my bottom,” I managed to gasp at last.

“I completely disagree,” he responded, “I have an entirely normal and healthy interest in it. He managed to slip a hand down inside my jeans and gave my bottom a bit of a squidge which definitely left me gasping!

Then we went back to the kitchen where we made three different mini puddings in tiny, weeny pots including this totally amazing crème brûlée stuff. I knew how good it was because there was a tiny squidge of left-over mixture which he let me have.

And, when we were done, my Master told me to go and take a bath.

“But, Master,” I grumbled, “I always shower.” I’d basically never seen the point in baths; I mean… showers were just so much quicker and easier.

“It will help to sort out your stiff muscles,” he explained as he loaded the last few pots into the dishwasher. “And, anyway, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”

I gave a bit of a shrug and went on my way. I mean… when the alternative is being strung up from the light fittings by your toenails, you sort of get in the habit of doing as you’re told.

“I’ll come along and wash your back in a little while,” he called after me.

That sounded way more interesting and had me scurrying off much more… like… enthusiastically!

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