Brie's Submission (7-9) (Brie's Submission Boxed Set Book 3)

by Red Phoenix

  She smiled apologetically, pretending to adjust her glasses before turning her focus back to Master Anderson. There was no doubt in Brie’s mind that the serious-minded man could benefit from Master Anderson’s friendly nudging. Oh, Mr. Larson, you have no idea what you’re in for tonight…

  “Before we enter the school proper,” Master Anderson said, standing at the front to address the group, “let me explain the concept behind the Denver Academy. While we run both a Submissive and a Dominant Training Program, tonight I will focus solely on the submissive aspect. Our training consists of an intensive six-week course that tests and refines the men and women chosen to attend our classes. Each night they begin with a formal lesson, then they move on to a practice session critiqued by a panel of Dominants, and finish with a personalized practicum centered around the individual’s interests and talents. At the end of each week of the course, we hold an auction attended by vetted Dominants from the community. They take our students for an extended excursion outside the walls of the school, where the submissives receive additional practice and a written critique by the winning Dominant. In every way, we strive to prepare our students to become skilled submissives who are not only confident in their talents, but also highly sought-after by the BDSM community worldwide.”

  “Isn’t there a school like that in California?” one of the investors asked.

  Master Anderson nodded. “You are correct, and our curriculum is based off of that highly successful program.”

  The man who’d asked the question scribbled in his notebook, so Brie followed suit, using her stylus to type in the information on her tablet, hoping she would appear like a serious investor.

  Master Anderson continued, “We take the privacy of our students seriously, but I’ve informed the class of tonight’s agenda and they’ve graciously agreed to allow an observation of the lesson.”

  Brie trembled as Master Anderson led them down the hall to the first classroom on the right. She fondly remembered the excitement of being a student, and warm feelings of nostalgia washed over her as she listened to the teacher’s confident voice lecturing on the other side of the door.

  Master Anderson instructed in a low, commanding tone, “Please line up against the wall to the left as you enter, and remain quiet. I’ll answer any questions you have after we exit the room.” He opened the door and the group was treated to an anatomy lesson—one that Brie remembered well.

  Pamela, the pretty redhead Master Anderson had spoken of, was standing in front of the class beside a muscular male. Both were completely naked.

  Brie snuck a peek at Mr. Larson, who seemed to be scanning the classroom and making mental notes, until he spied the redhead and his eyes opened wide in surprise. He shifted his feet, which inadvertently garnered the attention of the woman. When their eyes met, a pink hue crept over Pamela’s face. She quickly turned back to face her classmates, pretending she hadn’t recognized him, and Brie didn’t miss the worried look in her eyes or the slight frown on her lips before she set them in a firm, straight line.

  “Mr. Avery, please come up to the front of the class and name the anatomy of both sexes.”

  One of the male submissives stood up from his desk and took the wooden pointer the teacher handed him. Brie smiled to herself, recalling when Boa had stood before her as she’d pointed to his impressive manhood while naming each part.

  To Pamela’s credit, she showed the same confidence Boa had. Any sign of her earlier distress was gone as she focused on the back wall of the classroom, her head held high but at a respectful angle.

  Brie stared at Pamela unashamedly, admiring the beautiful contrast of her red pubic hair against her pale white skin. She suspected Mr. Larson was appreciating that triangle of curls as well, or perhaps that Mr. Avery was pointing out the pink areola of her breast near her very erect nipple. Mr. Larson surreptitiously loosened his tie before undoing the first button of his collar. The attraction he felt for her was obvious to Brie, and she couldn’t help wondering how things would play out between them when they met again outside the school walls.

  The group was ushered out of the room once Mr. Avery had successfully named the various body parts of both sexes. Brie noticed that Mr. Larson was the last to leave, and smiled to herself. While Master Anderson answered questions in the hallway, she casually glanced at Mr. Larson again. The man’s attention returned several times to the door they had just exited. Even though he hadn’t been taking written notes during the tour, he was obviously no longer making mental notes either.

  Master Anderson noticed his distraction as well, and winked at Brie.

  The next stop on the tour was the row of practice rooms specially furnished and designed to accommodate specific kinds of play. “You will note that a fully functioning kitchen is utilized in our training as well. We want every graduating student to please their Master’s full range of appetites. I have seen firsthand that some of the submissives we train are in dire need of such instruction.” Master Anderson glanced briefly in Brie’s direction, chuckling loudly as he continued down the hall.

  “And this is my crowning glory,” he announced, as he opened the doors to the luxurious theater-in-the-round. The dramatic reveal was met with appreciative whistles from the crowd.

  “The practicums are the heart of this training program. It was important for me to invest accordingly. We have state-of-the-art lighting and sound systems, as well as fine leather seats for the students and trainers. If you look above the stage, you will notice a variety of equipment hanging from the ceiling, which is lowered for use as needed during training.”

  “This is quite a remarkable setup you have,” Mr. Larson stated, once again engaged with the tour.

  “Thank you. It’s my belief that to create superior graduates, you must utilize superior equipment and hire only the best trainers. There’s no reason the Denver Academy can’t become as renowned as the Submissive Training Center in LA.”

  For the last part of the tour, Master Anderson guided them to a large, open room with an impressive assortment of BDSM furniture and suspension equipment. “Unlike the Training Center in California, this warehouse is large enough to include a dungeon area especially designed for the use of the bullwhip. The area itself is perfect for community gatherings and special events, and can be an added revenue generator when classes aren’t in session.”

  A stern-looking female raised her hand and asked, “Does all this equipment come with the school?”

  “Yes, everything you see here is included with your purchase of the Academy. As an added bonus, you will also receive the experience and talent of the staff members who remain.”

  Mr. Larson tucked a strand of his blond hair behind his ear before asking, “Will training continue for the current class of students if the center changes hands within the next six weeks?”

  “Rest assured, Mr. Larson, as Headmaster of the school I will not be abandoning my current students. Only after this class has graduated will the transfer of ownership take place.”

  The object of Pamela’s attentions narrowed his eyes and nodded curtly. Brie was certain his interest in the future of the students was for purely personal reasons.

  Score!

  There was quiet murmuring among the investors when Ms. Clark walked into the room, dressed in a slim, black business suit, her high heels clicking seductively as she joined the large group.

  Master Anderson introduced the Mistress to the potential investors. “This is Samantha Clark, a long-standing faculty member of the Submissive Training Center. She understands the program inside and out, and will remain part of the training panel after I’m gone.” More murmurs erupted and Master Anderson responded by adding, “You need to be aware that I’ve asked several staff members to stay in order to ensure the quality of the program remains consistent. As part of the contract, I will also have the program evaluated each year to confirm that the Denver Academy continues to meet the high standards I have set.”

  “That’s highly
unusual,” a shorter man wearing thick plastic frames complained beside Brie.

  Master Anderson smiled broadly. “This is a highly unusual school.”

  Suddenly a door opened on the far side of the dungeon and a hefty man entered carrying a large cardboard box—followed by a steady stream of cats.

  “Not again!” Master Anderson cried in frustration.

  “What the hell?” the man beside Brie exclaimed.

  Brie looked around in utter shock as at least fifty cats stormed the dungeon. Master Anderson growled, barking commands to his staff. He sounded properly exasperated when he apologized to the group. “Could you please excuse me for a moment?”

  Brie feigned a look of horror, even though she was giggling inside. Cats? Really?

  One of the staff members picked up a bullwhip from the wall and started swinging it at the creatures.

  Master Anderson yelled at him, “For God’s sake, Ryan, put that down now. You might hit one of the damn things.”

  An orange tabby rubbed against Brie’s leg and she screamed loudly, clutching the short man beside her for protection. “I hate cats,” she whined. “They’re too much like giant rats!”

  The group of investors became more agitated with her antics as the entire Academy staff—minus Baron—arrived to descend on the cats.

  Ms. Clark picked up a crop and tried to herd the cats in one direction, hissing, “Shoo, shoo…”

  “Ms. Taylor,” Master Anderson yelled at Lea, “I need a little help here!”

  Lea grabbed two paddles off the wall and tried to direct the clowder of cats back into the far corner, where Master Anderson stood ready to grab them. She waved the paddles wildly, saying in a deep, manly voice, “This is your captain speaking, please find your way to the nearest exit.”

  “Make the awful things go away,” Brie begged, continuing to cower against the man next to her while she watched the reigning chaos with delight.

  To her surprise, Mr. Larson took her antics seriously and reached down to remove the cat from her ankle, idly stroking its neck while he watched the bedlam around them. She noticed a wedding band on his finger and wondered why Gunnar Larson and Master Anderson were trying to hook up a married man.

  But the cats soon distracted her again as they scattered, some even climbing onto the equipment to avoid capture. Brie noticed a fluffy white Persian sitting primly on a spanking bench, licking its paw as if it didn’t have a care in the world. Ms. Clark tried unsuccessfully to sneak up on the beast, but her high heels gave her away. The moment she was close enough to grab it, the cat jumped down dismissively and disappeared under the bondage table.

  Finally, the man who had let the cats in managed to catch one standing on the top of a St. Andrew’s cross. He held it up proudly for all to see.

  “Good job, Nathan,” Master Anderson called out.

  The man walked to the door, struggling to hold on to the squirming creature. When he opened the door to throw it out, three more cats ran in to take its place.

  Mr. Larson shook his head, smiling for the first time. “Herding cats? You can’t be serious, Mr. Anderson.”

  “What?” Master Anderson asked innocently, holding two mewing kittens in his muscular arms.

  Larson raised his eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face.

  Master Anderson handed the tiny felines over to Ms. Clark and pointed at him. “I knew I liked you for a reason.” He reached out to take the tabby from Mr. Larson’s hands, before whistling loudly.

  A new door opened and, as if by magic, the cats headed towards it. When Master Anderson set the tabby down to follow its comrades, the feline rubbed against Mr. Larson’s dark pants leg, leaving a patch of white-and-orange fur to mark its territory.

  Before it left, Mr. Larson bent to give it one last ear-rub with his large but gentle hand, almost making Brie want to purr herself. To his credit, he didn’t even attempt to brush the fur from his once-impeccable suit.

  Turning her gaze toward the retreating cats, Brie nearly lost it when the Persian sauntered past Ms. Clark, its head held high in a dismissive manner as it strolled towards the door.

  Master Anderson crossed his arms, staring intently at the group of investors as the door closed with a resounding clang. “This was simply my way of illustrating how investing can be a lot like herding cats unless you know what you’re doing. This Academy is growing, and will continue to grow at a steady rate with the right person heading it. You may think that you came tonight to decide whether this is the right investment for you, but you’d be only partially correct. I will not hand over this business unless I feel confident that you are worthy to own this training center.”

  “Well played, Mr. Anderson,” Mr. Larson replied, clapping his hands in admiration. Brie joined in the applause with everyone else, impressed by the meaning behind his little stunt.

  It was easy to see that Master Anderson had won them over with his unconventional methods, and he was peppered with questions as he led them to a meeting room to lay out the numbers in black and white.

  Master Anderson was absolutely brilliant, so that by the time he’d finished, many of the investors had voiced interest in becoming the new owner of the Denver Academy. Brie noticed, however, that one investor kept glancing at the door. It appeared that Mr. Larson was far more interested in a certain red-headed trainee within the walls of the school than in Gunnar Larson’s financial future.

  Brie gave Master Anderson a slight bow of her head when he looked in her direction, wanting to show her gratitude at being included in the evening’s events.

  It had been exactly what her heart needed.

  A Good Day

  Brie arrived home late from the Academy and knew the next day was going to be brutal. Still, she faithfully wrote to Sir in her journal, adding a brief fantasy rather than challenging herself with a toy. She hoped Sir would not only understand, but employ it at some future date.

  The Intruder

  I’m woken by a strong hand covering my mouth.

  “Don’t scream, or I’ll hurt you.”

  My mind sifts through the fogginess of sleep, quickly becoming alert when it registers that this man does not smell or sound like my fiancé.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” I plead when he takes his hand away.

  “Lie still and I won’t have to.”

  I start trembling, my body thrown into the primal fight-or-flight instinct when he rips the blanket from me and whistles his admiration at my nearly naked body.

  The hand returns to my mouth as he starts to caress me with the other. I can only stare at this frighteningly beautiful stranger as he invades me with his touch, squeezing my breasts and pinching my nipples before his hand heads lower.

  I feel him tug at my panties, but I refuse to cooperate, squeezing my thighs together. It proves to be of no consequence, as he rips the material from my body and tosses it aside. I whimper in terror and hear him chuckle in response.

  Knowing that he hungers for my fear, I remain silent, even when he forces his fingers between my legs.

  His middle finger grazes over my clit, demanding entrance into my sex, but my pussy is dry and tight. I attempt to bite the hand covering my mouth, but he growls in anger and moves it from my mouth to my throat, pressing against my windpipe.

  The action effectively quiets my protests.

  “Open those legs.”

  I resist until the blood starts pounding in my ears, my body desperate for the oxygen it needs. I spread my legs for him and he rewards my obedience by easing the pressure around my neck.

  He forces his fingers inside, and I squirm but make no sound.

  “Good girl,” he praises, as if I am his pet.

  My body is initially resistant to his manipulations, so he changes tactics, unzipping his pants. He repositions himself, straddling my chest and presenting me with his rigid manhood.

  When I turn my head, he responds by increasing the pressure around my throat. “Come on, baby, open that mouth and suck that cock l
ike a good girl.”

  I shake my head, but when the pressure on my throat increases, I open my mouth reluctantly.

  “That’s it,” he murmurs, forcing his large shaft between my lips. “I want to see it disappear down that pretty little throat.”

  He releases his hold on my neck, grasping my hair with both hands as he forces me to take all of him. I am left gagging on his cock, and try to pull away, but he holds my head still, telling me, “I want you to choke on it.”

  To my horror, he reaches between my legs and discovers I am wet. He looks at me, a knowing smile on his lips, but says nothing.

  When he tires of my mouth, he announces, “I’m going to fuck you hard.”

  “No!”

  He laughs wickedly. “I never leave a wet pussy unsatisfied.”

  The man grabs my wrists in one hand and lifts them over my head as he settles between my legs. I feel the head of his penis pressing against my opening and I cry out.

  “Make no mistake, I’m going to give this body exactly what it wants…”

  Brie closed her journal and slipped it under her pillow, wanting to feel closer to Sir. She closed her eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.

  The alarm went off far too soon, but Brie dutifully dragged herself out of bed and dressed. Checking her phone, she was relieved to see a text from Sir, sent while she was sleeping.

  Thinking of you today. Be strong.

  She texted back.

  I will, Sir. Love you.

  She stuffed the phone into her purse, then walked out of the room, looking for Tono. She found him sitting cross-legged out on the patio. She opened the sliding glass door and asked, “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “Please,” he answered, patting the ground beside him.

  She knelt down and looked at the colors of dawn making their appearance in the eastern sky. The vibrant hues were spectacular, but did little to calm Brie’s nerves.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “At peace. And you?”