With the exception of the one hour in the evening, there is not a single moment for the next week that Marlo is not busy. 

Chris approves the exercise routine Marlo was doing, with some modifications and some yoga. He adds a daily meditation practice-- ten minutes, on the theory that if Marlo was left alone with his thoughts for much longer he might explode. To build on Marlo's military background, Chris hires a specialist slave, Sensei Chen, to teach him martial arts for bodyguarding. Every inch of Chris's house is scrubbed, polished, waxed, and dusted several times over. Marlo cooks three meals a day. He memorizes innumerable details of protocol. He is drilled on forms of address and body positions until he can do them in his sleep. When Chris runs errands, he stands behind Chris's shoulder and holds his things. When Chris works, he stands at attention near his desk, ready to fetch whatever Chris may need. Mealtimes are spent being quizzed on everything from the proper way to clean silver to how Marlo would respond to his owner having a stalker. 

On the third day, Chris gives Marlo a journal. "I expect you to write in it daily, at least two pages," he says. "I won't read it."

Chris is demanding, relentless, and perfectionist. Anything that is not done perfectly-- a mantel with a speck of dust, a stumble when he's carrying a package, a sentence with imperfect grammar, a kata or lift with slightly incorrect form-- must be redone. At one point, Marlo spends two hours walking into and out of the room until Chris is satisfied with how he did it. When Chris thinks Marlo should be doing better than he is-- and he often does-- his words are harsh: "lazy" and "disobedient" are joined by "arrogant," "willful," and "weak." If Marlo executes something flawlessly the first time, he earns a smile or a "good boy." Chris is visibly unhappy when he has to give an order to have something he wants accomplished; when Marlo correctly anticipates what is needed, Chris will not only praise him but sometimes even stroke his hair.

Though he extensively studies the etiquette of such encounters, Marlo does not encounter other slaves, owners, or trainers. 

Every evening, after dinner, Marlo is hit, dozens of strokes, with the strap or a cane or a whip or Chris's bare hands. As he hits him, Chris explains every mistake Marlo made over the course of the day, every deviation from the behavior of a good slave. When the punishment is finished, Chris kisses his forehead and praises him, points out some details of Marlo's behavior that day that were particularly excellent, assures him that he has the potential to be a fine slave and that Chris is pleased with him. Unlike the first time, Marlo is clothed; also unlike the first time, Marlo is not given permission to masturbate.  

He learns. Not just forms and terms of address, but how to tell when Chris wants him back quickly and when Chris wants him to do extra work, how to tell what Chris will want from him. 

Arrogant and willful and weak join lazy and disobedient in echoing around his head when he pauses to let them. Medititation practice is taken up almost entirely with letting them. He writes two pages every day; sometimes he accomplishes this by copying out things he's trying to memorize, but he does accomplish it. 

He learns to look forward to after dinner; the beatings hurt but he feels clean when they're finished, he glows when Chris tells him what he's done well. The echoing stops, at least until he does something wrong again, which inevitably he will. 

He continues to not remember his dreams. 

One evening, Chris looks at Marlo's back and says, "this won't work. You're solid bruise across your entire back."

…he does his best not to interpret that as "you've needed so much punishing that you're making it more inconvenient to punish you," because if Chris meant that he would say that. 

Chris is not known for his willingness to hide his disdain from his slaves, no.

He sits. "Pants off. Lie across my lap."

…okay. 

He does. 

"There was water on one of the glasses." Chris spanks him. "You almost dropped a book." Spank. "You gave an incorrect answer about what to do if your master's guests demand contradictory things." Spank. "You covered your mouth when you opened it four times." Spank, spank, spank, spank. 

Normally, Chris's style of punishment is to start as hard as possible and then get harder. But the spanking starts lightly, almost not painfully at all, and builds gradually, with the intent that Marlo will have endorphins floating through his system by the time there's any real pain. 

It's much lighter than Chris usually uses, at the beginning. He tries not to read too much into that, or into the way Chris hits him harder as it goes on. 

He doesn't think about the contact. About the warmth. Runner's high sets in after a few minutes and then he's not thinking about much of anything. 

Chris continues to list off failings. Marlo's hair wasn't dry enough when he was done grooming in the morning. He made eye contact with Chris three times when his eyes were supposed to be downcast. He was unacceptably slow to answer a question. He made a noise when he was clearing the plates. The spanking is firm but not harsh, and calculated to be the pleasurable sort of pain. 

He stops and places his hand on Marlo's red ass, strokes it, then spanks him again. "Your back arched when you were squatting."

A soft high-pitched broken sound, at the touch. 

It's like — it's like when Chris is gentle afterwards, except that when it comes in the middle Marlo's so much more grateful for it. 

When he's finished, Chris rests his hand on Marlo's ass. "Good slave."

He shifts a bit to see if Marlo is hard.

"— Thank you, Chris." He sounds like he's about to cry. 

(He is.) 

"You've improved immensely since you first walked through that door and I think in seven weeks you shall be an excellent slave."

Chris strokes his ass gently and traces little circles on it, while murmuring about how Marlo is a good boy and a good slave and he makes Chris very proud.

He makes tiny little whimpering sounds and relaxes into the contact. (He's — overly sensitive because of the hitting — it's not actually any different from when Chris touches his hair, or after any other punishment, if Chris usually followed punishments with touching his back that would feel like this too — he doesn't think about the logical implications of that thought.)

(There are rocks less hard than Marlo is right now.)  

Chris bends over and kisses the back of his head. "If you'd like to go get yourself off, you can."

When Chris kisses him his breath comes out a sob. The sentence takes him a moment to parse.

"— thank you Chris," he says, and gets up and walks to the bathroom on shaky legs and does not think. 

It takes him about ten minutes to come back out, and he's obviously been crying. 

Chris takes one look at his face, stands up, and hugs him. 

He buries his face in Chris's shoulder and — he really hopes this is okay — hugs him back, holds on tight like he hasn't been hugged in years. 

"Shhh. Shhh. It's okay. It's okay. You're good, you're all good." Chris pets his hair. 

His breath hitches like he's crying again. (Chris's shoulder stays dry.) 

Gradually gradually gradually, he starts to relax into Chris's chest. 

Chris is significantly smaller than Marlo but still manages to project an air of protectiveness and a sense that he will keep Marlo safe. 

He touches Marlo's hair and back gently, careful not to hurt his bruises.

He's so (strict/gentle/punishing/kind) good. Marlo notices absently that he's clinging. 

"Would you like to tell me what this is all about?"

It is, distinctly, not an order.

"I," very quietly into Chris's shoulder, "I don't know," and his voice is shaking. "— I don't know what it's about not I don't know whether I want to tell you," he adds, all in a rush. 

"It seems to me," Chris says, holding him tightly, "you became aroused when you were being spanked, and you're having difficulty handling that."