Page 40 of Bottoms Up
I’m usually whipped or caned immediately upon being let out, but I was allowed to feed — and to drink directly from the tap for the first time since my new Master had taken official ownership of me. The blood was from a docile prey animal, but it flowed full of energy and sunshine, and I drank until Silver touched my arm, a silent order to stop.
So I did.
The deer shifter left, and then came morning discipline — the cane today, harsh and sure, splitting the skin. I never know whether I’ll get a half-dozen strokes or four dozen. It’s usually one or two dozen, but she split the difference at eighteen on this evening.
I gasped and fought to breathe when she finished, but I didn’t move because she hadn’t told me to. I remained as she’d ordered me, leaned over, holding the back of the sofa with my head between my arms, feet planted shoulder-width apart. Blood seeped down my legs, but I kept my feet in place. Untrained slaves shift and move around when in pain. Well-trained slaves handle what they’re given with grace.
Silver set the cane to the side for me to clean, and told me, “Shower and dress in the clothing provided. Your boss needs to take you offsite. You’ll be on your best behavior, or you’ll pay for it.”
But as always, I went to my knees and thanked her, before I followed her orders. Thanked her for caring. For training me.
For loving me, but I left the last part unsaid.
Chapter 14
Silver
The first two months were absolutely worse for Julian than me, but I’m pretty sure they were hell for both of us.
I didn’t get a single good night’s sleep those first eight weeks. Even when Julian was locked in his compartment, I’d lie awake going over the day in my head, looking for signs I’d miscalculated — that I’d pushed too hard or not hard enough. That I was turning into the kind of Master I swore I’d never be. But every morning he rose, met my gaze, got into position for discipline when he saw the implement I’d chosen, and when I finished the strokes and gave him leave to move out of position, he knelt and thanked me for caring enough to see to his training — and I’d never told him to do that. He did it of his own accord. Every time.
I had to find the strength to see this through because there was no other option.
We were both depending on me. If I went too soft and he fucked up without the discipline he needed, I’d never forgive myself, so I stood firm.
Even when I wanted to throw the whip down and soothe him.
On his second day belonging to me, we’d set up joint checking and savings accounts for him, so we were both signatories. I could log in and see all transactions, though hecould not, at first. I showed him the status after every deposit Marco made into his account, but he didn’t have direct access.
On his second month anniversary, I gave him full access to his accounts, including the debit card that went with the checking account.
I also supervised while he set up accounts in his name at the two biggest online retailers, and I told him he could spend a combined two hundred dollars per calendar month without needing to ask permission. If he wanted to spend more, he’d need authorization from me.
After a long discussion with Marco about my options, I let Julian know he was back on the regular flock rotation. What I didn’t tell him was that Marco had brought the flock members in he specifically wanted to rotate Julian through — people our slaveboy would be tempted to break the rules with. This was about teaching him to make good decisions, even when doing so is hard. I didn’t want to set him up to fail, but I also wanted to make sure he was appropriately challenged.
And so, all flock members on his schedule for the next six weeks were those who had specific rules they had and hadn’t agreed to. It would be up to Julian to read their files and follow their directives.
I debated about whether it was time to drop morning discipline. On the one hand, his days were mostly normal now, other than the cock cage and being naked, but the routine was that of someone with a job, rather than that of a slave. He’d probably earned the right to lose it, butbecausehis days were so normal, it felt important he still have a daily reminder of his status.
Also, now that he was back to getting sixteen to twenty-four ounces of blood per day, the damage was fully healed every evening when he rose — a blank canvas for me to decorate all over again.
Marco had suggested I allow others to handle his morning discipline, suggesting Adelaide would be happy to help, but no way in Hell was I letting her anywhere near my Julian with a whip. No fucking way.
I understood Marco’s point. Owners can loan their slaves out, but I wasn’t interested in doing that.Fuck, I’d taken on the damned role in the first place to keep someone else from pushing him too hard and breaking him. Why would I loan him out?
In the end, I decided the rising discipline should stay — a daily reminder of what was at stake, of why it’s important to make good decisions.
At three months, he took and passed his driver’s license test. Mostly, he needed it for ID purposes, but we sent him with security, who waited outside while he went inside and dealt with the DMV all by himself. It was his first time navigating bureaucracy without a handler, and I told him how pleased I was with his progress.
I stopped his rising discipline at four months, changing it to weekly discipline, every Tuesday morning. Our weekly conversations about how he handled the previous week, and identifying challenges in the coming week, happened on Saturdays, and it felt right to put some distance between the two.
As we neared five months, he was allowed four hundred dollars per month on his debit card without permission. So far, he’d handled his finances appropriately, and he’d exactly toed the line with the flock — even the ones Marco felt might test his discipline.
Dr. Woods felt we needed to send him out on his own more. The catch, however, was that he can’t go out without security. He’s too valuable to Marco, and since he wasn’t powerful on his own, he needed guards to keep him safe.
Six months earlier, I’d commissioned a custom guitar from a luthier in Vegas, and the timing lined up perfectly: the guitar was ready, and Julian needed a challenge. I decided to send him to pick it up — and to have some fun while he was there.
As instructed, he sent me a proposed itinerary: three shows he wanted to attend, and a trip to one of the legal brothels. He’d stay in a vampire-safe room at the hotel run by the Master Vampire of Vegas.
