To Train A Wild Rose

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Chapter 30 Candlelit Dinner

After a couple of minutes, my master called me over to table and served me with small dollops of each of the salads. I looked down and was sort of totally overwhelmed - there were about a million different knives and forks and things laid out in a pretty pattern around my plate and I didn’t have the faintest clue where I should even start.

“Babygirl,” my master said sort of gently.

“What?” I snapped back.

He put his head on one side and looked at me with a slight frown. I sort of kept on fuming for a bit but I couldn’t hold out against that look for long. I stepped around the table and was about to drop to my knees next to his chair but he sort of caught me by the hand.

“Not when you’re wearing that lovely dress,” he told me. “You are to go and sit down but you will behave as if you are kneeling.

“Yes, Master,” I answered, sort of automatically. It was that sort of instruction.

I went back to my place and sat down and sort of lowered my head… as if I was doing my kow-tow thing, I guess.

He gave me a couple of seconds to get my head into the right sort of place then he said, “Look at me.” His voice was gentle but… like… totally firm. He waited until I met his eye and then asked, “Do you have anything to say?”

“I guess I’m sorry, Master,” I said.

“For?” he said and his eyes seemed to bore straight into my heart.

“For being grumpy at you?” I guessed.

I should have known that he was never going to let me get away with that. He just stared at me and did one of his silence things at me, telling me that I needed to do a bit more thinking.

I suppose it was obvious really. This whole posh meal thing was making me feel really uncomfortable… stupid and ignorant and… well… totally useless.

“Not trusting you enough, I guess,” I answered at last. “If I don’t know something, all I have to do is ask. You’re trying to build me up, not put me down.”

He reached over and took my hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of it and I sort of knew that the whole telling off bit was over.

“The general rule for cutlery laid out in this traditional manner,” he explained, as if I had just asked the question and I’d not had my whole strop bit, “is to work from the outside in… so this little knife and fork,” he said, pointing to one pair, “are for the salad… this spoon for the soup…. This pair for the mousse and the larger knife and fork for the Spätzle. And, finally, the spoon and fork above the plate are for the desert. And this one,” he indicated the blunt knife on the side plate, “is a butter knife.”

“Why so many?” I asked as I started to put some butter on one of our mini bread rolls - using the proper knife, of course!

“I don’t know… to show off how much cutlery you have… to intimidate outsiders… I think it’s probably just tradition now.”

I nibbled the corner of the roll. It was all soft and, with the salty butter, simply delicious.

“In the simpler restaurants in rural France,” he went on, “you are just given one knife and fork and are expected to wipe them clean on your bread between courses.”

“That sounds so much simpler!” I said with a bit of a smile.

Now I could sort of relax again and return my attention to the salads. They were all delicious - and I’d never imagined that three salady things could taste so totally different. The only ‘major culinary disaster’ was that the colour from the beetroot had sort of leaked out into the mint-flavoured mayonnaise in our vegetable salad giving it little splotches of a pinky colour and Mr M sort of joked that, next time, we ought to try and colour it all pink!

And I took another sip of the fizzy wine and decided that I quite liked the idea of there being a next time.

And, as the meal wore on and I became more comfortable with the whole situation, and maybe, as the Sekt did its thing on me, I began to relax and to properly enjoy the whole posh meal thing. I mean… I was never… like… short of my master’s attention but to sit down with him for over two hours with all that totally delicious food… and his attention fixed perfectly on me… was basically a rare and wonderful treat.

And when, at last, we were done with the whole eating bit, we wandered back to the comfy sofa with tiny cups of this. quite amazingly strong espresso coffee. I think I managed to work out that that meal had six different courses. I was pretty full, of course, but because most of them were only teeny weeny nibbles of food… and because we’d just spent so long eating it… I wasn’t totally stuffed by the end of it.

Mr M had this huge glass with a splash of brandy in the bottom of it and I had pretty much the smallest glass I had ever seen with a tiny drop of some Irish Cream Liqueur stuff which was quite spectacularly, amazingly, stupendously delicious! I was taking the tiniest of tiny sips to make it last as long as possible.

OK, maybe I was a bit full… there was another of his lovely, sparkly silver trays on the table in front of us with some chocolates that sort of sparkled, as if they were covered in some sort of metal snowflakes or something, but I was just too full… and too comfy, doing my ‘sprawling indecorously’ thing on the sofa with my head on his lap… and maybe an incy wincy little bit too drunk… to be bothered to sit up and collect any.

But luckily I had a master who liked to feed me!

And I was… like… more than happy to have them popped into my mouth!

I was trying to keep the conversation going but I was finding it a bit tricky and, in the end, my master took the empty glass out of my hand, leaned down and gave me a kiss on my nose and said, “Time for bed, Babygirl. You’ve stopped making any sense.”

I sort of wanted to grumble about that but as I couldn’t actually remember what I’d been talking about for the last few minutes, I managed to work out that it was going to be a bit tricky! And, anyway, I suppose, if my master said it, it was pretty much bound to be true. I sort of wanted to explain this to him but, just at that moment, the whole idea seemed a little bit too complicated.

He helped me to my feet and we walked across to the table together where he started tidying up the last couple of bits and blowing out the candles and things. I sort of made a move to help him but he gently grabbed my wrists and eased me back, away from his lovely plates and stuff.

“You’re a bit too drunk for that, Babygirl,” he told me. “Go and get yourself ready for bed.”

I kind of wanted to grumble about that too but he gave me the sort of look that told me not to bother trying. I might have been a tiny bit drunk, I suppose… but nothing like drunk enough to… like… disobey a direct instruction from my master!

But, as I turned to head towards my bathroom, he did sort of run his hand gently over my bottom, sending these amazing twingy type things through me that sort of cut through all the fizzy wine I’d been drinking. “Lovely dress,” he said.

I smiled back at him over one shoulder, then swayed on towards the bathroom, muttering something about, ‘an unhealthy interest in my bottom.’

I guess the bright lights and the cold water of the bathroom must have sobered me up a bit because I was tucked up in bed, snuggling Mr Orange and waiting for him when my master appeared. He sat down on the chair next to my bed and gave me a lovely smile but then he said, “You appear to have forgotten something!”

I did my normal sort of confused puppy thing at him. I’d brushed my teeth properly and even remembered to hang up my lovely dress in the wardrobe.

Only when he gave me a kiss at the top of my chest… sort of interestingly close to my breasts… did I manage to work out that I had forgotten to take off my lovely necklace. I hopped out of bed and was about to scurry off to my bathroom but he captured me and pulled me backwards onto his lap.

He unclipped the necklace for me and then gave me a little kiss on the back of my neck. It sort of tickled but, at the same time, it sent a rather nice tingly feeling zinging through my shoulders and back.

Then he gave me another kiss just a little way round. I’m not sure whether the tickle thing was any less but there was certainly more of the whole zingy thing going off.

Another kiss and, this time, the zing left me gasping… and then a couple more and my brain had pretty much dissolved. I’d never even… like… dreamt that my neck could be anything like that sensitive.

And then he found this point just below my ear and it was as if something… like… totally exploded inside me. I sort of collapsed back onto him like a rag doll or something.

’So that’s where you like it, is it?” he murmured in my ear. Luckily enough, he didn’t expect an answer. At that point, I don’t think I could have said anything if my life depended on it.

And then his mouth sort of descended on that special spot again, not just kissing any more but chewing and sucking and nibbling and even gently biting. And suddenly I could sort of see where the whole vampire bit was coming from. I mean… if he’d decided he was going to drink my blood right there and then, I don’t think I could have done a thing to stop him. I mean… I’m not even sure I’d have… like… wanted to!

I just hung there, basically totally helpless, as his arms sort of wrapped around me and suddenly he had my breasts in his hands, sort of rolling then in his palms through the thin material of my lovely princess nightie.

But even though that felt pretty wonderful, it still didn’t really compare to the amazing things he was doing to my neck.

But he must have been reading my thoughts because, as he carried on eating my neck… well, not really eating, … more sort of devouring… his two hands started to drift downwards, kind of rubbing up and down as they went. By the time they reached my tummy I was sort of swaying backwards and forwards a bit, sort of in time with those rubbing hands, I guess. I was making this kind of funny sighey, groany type of noise and, without any particular thought from me, my thighs seemed to sort of drift apart… as if they were kind of inviting him in, I guess.

And by the time his hands had made their way on down, past anything that could usefully be described as tummy, I’d pretty much forgotten about the wonderful things he was doing to my neck. I just sort of collapsed back into him, totally helpless, as he started moving his hands with this powerful sort of rhythm up and down sort of over my hips. My head sort of fell backwards and basically all I could do was whimper as these spectacularly intense pulses kind of surged through me. I was getting more and more… like… excited as his hands started to rub closer and closer together, nearer to the bits that were so sort of… well… totally desperate for him, I suppose.

But then his rubbing bit was sharply cut off… and for a moment I was left feeling a bit sort of disappointed… but then I realised that one of his hands was between my legs, all kind of wrapped around my bits. I just lay back into him, totally helpless, as pulse after pulse of my own gentler sort of surgy rhythm did its stuff down there. He went back to work on my neck but it was the gentler kind of kissing and nibbling thing and I guess I felt a little bit disappointed when I sort of worked out that it was all over.

“I don’t want you to stop, Master,” I sort of breathed to him and, without really thinking, I tried to raise my hips a bit to kind of push myself up into him. But, when I did that, he sort of eased off the pressure, making it totally clear that it was him who was in charge… as if I didn’t know that already.

“I appreciate that, Babygirl,” he answered in his gentlest master’s voice, “but, right now, I do not consider you to be in a fit state to make objective decisions about that sort of thing.” Then, suddenly, he seemed to basically bite down on my neck, sending this totally wild surge through my whole body, and, by the time I had recovered, his hand was gone.

And my bottom bits suddenly felt all sad and lonely!

“There’ll be other evenings,” he sort of promised me as he eased me across into my lovely babygirl bed. I sort of nodded as I snuggled over on my side and grabbed his hand.

I gave it a little kiss and then he let me hold it and snuggle affectionately into it until I could sort of wind down enough to fall asleep.

But somehow my orangutan baby must have crept down between my thighs again in the night.

Naughty Mr Orange!

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