Students of Submission

by Leigh Turner

  Neither did she feel much like attempting conversation, even when Peter broke the silence.

  ‘I’m sorry about last night.’

  ‘Forget it. Don’t apologise. You’re only a man.’

  ‘Not everyone seems to think so.’

  ‘You’re still a man, even though you’re a pervert. I enjoyed your tongue, you’re very good at it.’

  ‘Thank you. What do you think they’re going to do to us?’

  ‘Who knows? They probably us want to speculate on it. Not knowing is quite exciting, don’t you think?’

  ‘I suppose so. A frisson of fear. Causing … more arousal.’

  ‘Your cock’s getting hard. Do you want me to wank it for you?’

  ‘God, no. We’re in enough trouble already. I’m going to finish these dishes.’

  Sally smiled. It suited her not to talk too much. She thought about the personalities she had met here. Could there be any Achilles heel, any weaknesses, in Jane’s empire?

  Chapter Ten – Descent

  It was half an hour later when Jane walked into the kitchen. During this time Sally had felt the need to piss, and had had to negotiate the corridor to the toilets, Peter opening the kitchen door for her. She had accomplished this without being seen by any other occupants of the house, yet the palpable threat of discovery had made her heart beat faster. Had it been one of her student cohorts coming round the corner, they would in all probability have been wearing little more than her; but the scant amount of material involved in the girls’ standard issue blouse and skirt would have made an immeasurable difference in the psychology of such an encounter.

  Sally tried to relax, and was leaning, legs stretched, with her back to one of the work surfaces, when Jane entered. Glancing around, the director approached her.

  ‘So, little dear. Alone with your lover of last night. Your disobedient, weak-willed bedmate, slave to his own penis.’

  Peter’s gaze fell downwards, toward his high-heeled shoes. Sally waited for Jane to continue.

  ‘You seem remarkably relaxed for one so compromised. An attractive pose, my dear. I like the way you display your hairy bush. Are you proud of it?’

  Sally did not know what reply would fare well. She kept silent a moment longer. Jane closed on her; facing her but slightly to one side, she pressed her right middle finger gently into the top of the vaginal opening at the base of the unshaven mound.

  ‘Well? Do you revel in the luxuriant growth of your young body?’

  ‘Yes, madame.’ She pronounced it as Inez had, with the continental emphasis on the second syllable.

  ‘Good.’ Jane rubbed her a little more. So close, her expensive musky scent wafted into Sally’s nostrils. Madame. Was she showing here a little tenderness?

  The thought lingered only momentarily as Jane now desisted from her cursory exploration.

  ‘Tell me. What happened to your mistress Lena?’

  ‘I …’ Sally paused, sensing a Catch-22 situation. ‘I do not wish to tell tales about the other mistress, madame.’

  ‘Very commendable. But you are pledged to me, are you not?’

  ‘Yes, madame.’

  ‘Then tell. You will not be punished if you tell.’

  Sally was trapped. She foresaw Lena’s wrath at some point in the future should she be forthcoming. The alternative would be more punishment heaped upon an agenda which was already burgeoning. The thought that Lena was probably already in trouble, whatever she said, tipped her into her decision.

  ‘She had intercourse with Tom’s slave boy, madame. She had Tom place him on the table and she straddled him and took her satisfaction from his engorged cock.’

  Jane beamed. ‘Very, very good, my dear. You show descriptive talent. So refreshing to hear in today’s youth. You have clearly imbibed some of the atmosphere of our establishment. You should try to continue in this vein. Obedience and talent deserve reward. We are not exclusively about punishment here. Now, follow me.’

  They left the kitchen, Sally tottering behind her mistress. She reflected that her confession had at least spared the detail of Steven’s fellatio of Tom, who was also no doubt facing some form of disapprobation after Celia’s discovery of him in flagrante with Vanessa. Had he intended to take up her offer of fucking her anus, before the interruption? The notion rather turned her off, despite her naturally broad-minded nature. Yet it was not enough to extinguish her persisting fascination with the well-built groundsman.

  They moved left in the corridor, coming to an alcove before the toilets, wherein was a door. Jane opened it, revealing steps down to the cellar area. Before they descended, Jane stopped and moved behind Sally. The click of a key in the small padlock at the edge of her right-hand cuff prefaced the unexpected freedom afforded to her hands.

  ‘Do not abuse this favour. I wish you to hold the handrail, because the stairs are a little narrow and steep. Take your time and focus on your forefoot placings. Go one step at a time, two feet onto each step before proceeding.’

  With this instruction Jane finished undoing the left padlock and Sally was free of the chain entirely. Grateful, she negotiated the stairs. At the bottom was an oak door.

  ‘Go through,’ said Jane.

  Sally entered a large room which had clearly been modernised from the original cellar. The walls were painted in a deep burgundy colour and recessed lighting on dimmer switches provided a subdued glow. The floor was luxuriously carpeted in a deep pile dark beige, fitted to the room, adding to the cave-like atmosphere.

  As her eyes quickly adjusted to the light, Sally was not greatly shocked to see a scene of some perversity; indeed, by now she was virtually conditioned to expect it. On the far side of the room, to her right, was a chrome rail supported on waist-high posts about 12 feet apart. To this, in the centre, Greg was tied, his arms behind him. Sally could make out one sliding ring on the rail, restricted from too much sideways movement by a clamp at its outer side. From this a chain ran behind him; Sally presumed his hands to be cuffed and attached to this, and to an identical chain arrangement on his right, which she could not see behind his body.

  The captive was completely naked and his cock sported a full erection.

  In the middle of the room were two large, upholstered benches in soft black leather. They ran parallel to the chrome rail, lengthwise one after the other with three feet or so between them. Lacking any backrests or armrests, they incorporated several metal eyes at various positions on their bases, no doubt provided as attachment points for chains and suchlike, thought Sally.

  Leaning against one of the benches was Vanessa, still in her customary uniform, or lack of it. In a nonchalant manner, she was exposing her arse to Greg’s view. With her legs slightly parted, his vigilance was assured, although he glanced across at Sally as her entrance broke the spell.

  Jane had followed Sally into the room. The sound of her shutting the oak door caused Sally to look over her left shoulder. In doing so, she noticed yet more naked bodies near the left wall, and, after seeing that Jane did not seem to be demanding her immediate attention, turned her focus back toward them.

  On this wall was secured a large board, running most of the length of the space and thus about six feet longer than the chrome rail opposite. It was not vertical but formed a hypotenuse from the floor to the wall, secured to the wall at its top, and about two feet out on the floor at the bottom.

  Here were two more of her cohorts, Fiona nearest her and, further along, Becky. The board was upholstered in a dark red flock-type material and had various chrome rings embedded in it at strategic points. The two girls were manacled facing the board so that their legs and arms were spreadeagled slightly. Despite their confinement they did not appear too uncomfortable, as the lean on the board helped support them. Their leather-cuffed wrists were tethered a little above shoulder height, but not at full arm stretch, so they were able to shift position within the constraints of the short chains that held the cuffed wrists and ankles to the board. Completely nude, the
only contrast to their skin tone was to be seen on their posteriors, both of which glowed a rosy pink.

  Just beyond Becky stood Tom and Steven. Tom was once more naked, Steven still in his gimpish straps. They stood silently, arms behind them, awaiting a cue. Beyond the two males, Sally now noticed Inez. She was sitting in a large, throne-like chair at the far end of the room; to its left were two similar chairs offering comfort and a complete view of any proceedings. Inez sat with a clipboard and pen; incongruously, for she had now dispensed with smock, skirt, and any upper garment. Her small, pert breasts were proudly bare and she relaxed with one leg crossed over the other in black briefs, suspenders, stockings, and high-heeled shoes, all likewise in black.

  Jane spoke from just behind Sally.

  ‘Well, my dear. What do you think? Perhaps we will use your services on these captives too, eh? But I see their treatment is well in hand. Would you like me to tell you what we are doing?’

  Sally did not imagine that a negative answer would go down well.

  ‘Yes, please, mistress.’

  ‘We have here three of the group who joined with you. It would normally be four but Steven, after his disgrace during the wrestling tournament, expressed a wish to be excused from activities for a while, and has now forfeited his status as a contestant. He remains with us, however, and will be allowed to express his sexuality during his stay, in return for helping us. He is now, and will remain, in thrall to Tom.

  ‘The three you see in bondage are at the lower end of the points table currently; Becky the lowest, then Greg, then Fiona. They were brought down here in that order. It is a condition of continued participation, and thus eventual reward, that a period of bondage is undertaken.

  ‘Today’s task is to endure the bondage as long as possible. Not as easy as it sounds, as my staff will be introducing various stimuli into the situation. Previously we have tolerated orgasms during the bondage; however, I now feel that that tends to bias the task to the advantage of those with pure physical stamina, not to mention the time taken up.

  ‘So now an orgasm from a participant will result in disqualification. The test is a simple competition of sexual endurance – the one who lasts longest will be the winner. Times will be noted, and points awarded, 10 for the winner, then 6,4,3,2,1 and 0. How do you think we define the end of a participant’s sojourn in bondage?’

  Sally was surprised by the sudden question.

  ‘Er, when they ask for the stimulation to stop?’

  ‘No!’ Jane appeared not so much irritated as triumphant, offered the opportunity to elaborate on her refinement of the task. ‘No, no! They will have to beg for it to stop, to forestall any onset of orgasm. Yet in doing so, they deny themselves satisfaction and enter the zone of torment at the threshold of ecstasy. It’s so delicious. I love to watch it and will soon do so. Should I let you join me? Or should I use you as one of the tormentors?’

  Jane paused. The questions appeared entirely rhetorical, for she did not look toward Sally, instead surveying the predicament of those who were tied, awaiting their fate.

  ‘So how do we decide when their time is up?’

  ‘I am not sure, mistress. Perhaps when they beg to be released.’

  ‘Well that is part of the answer. The definition is simple, as follows. One. If they beg to be released, as you say. I like your use of the word “beg”, by the way. It shows a promising attitude. Anyway, secondly. If they beg to fuck or be fucked. And thirdly. If they beg for further stimulation. Do you understand?’

  ‘I think so, madame.’

  ‘We shall see. Bear in mind that the tease whip constitutes stimulation. You might be surprised how soon some slaves beg for its caress.’

  ‘May I ask a question, madame?’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘What happens if a … slave begs for the whip to stop, yet the …’

  ‘The dominant.’

  ‘Yes, what if the dominant does not stop?’

  ‘That is a good point, of course, well made. Are you familiar with the concept of safewords?’

  ‘I am not sure, madame.’

  ‘Well, in some CP play, as we call it, it may be wise for the participants to decide beforehand on the use of a safeword, one not liable to be used in the scenario. Tell me a word, something incongruous, mundane.’

  ‘I can’t think, madame.’

  ‘Come on, girl. Anything.’

  ‘Tabby cat.’

  ‘OK. Bizarre, but effective as long as both participants remember it. For such is the perversity of the human soul that a slave in bondage may cry “Stop, stop, please stop!” while expecting and indeed wishing for their master or mistress to persist in the punishment. Whereas the cry of “tabby cat”, or whatever the chosen word, would break the spell, the dominant then sparing the submissive any physical pain they did not desire to experience.

  ‘That, then, is the concept. However, let me tell you now that I detest severe pain and any infliction of it. My staff are trained in subtlety, not brutishness. Also, the tease whips here are relatively soft, as you will soon witness. I would never countenance the laceration of skin under any circumstances.

  ‘Of course, a skilful dominant can conjure a rosy glow on a slave’s hind quarters, as you see here.

  ‘So, to answer your question. For the purpose of this exercise, there are no safewords. Remember the slave may ask for release at any time, at the cost of position in the competition, perhaps. But we do not seek to break endurance by the infliction of physical duress; rather, the exact opposite is the case.

  ‘Right, I have decided. Join me on the seat. You have been granted a privilege.’

  With that, Jane moved to the centre “throne”, alongside Inez. Sally was obviously expected to occupy the third seat, and did so. She rested her hands on its arms, luxuriating in her freedom from fetters, mindful that the capricious Jane might not allow such a condition to last too long.

  ‘May I speak, madame?’ Sally broke the silence.

  ‘Your deference becomes you. You are beginning to learn. Yes, you may speak.’

  ‘Does each slave receive the same stimuli?’

  ‘Ha!’ Jane chortled. ‘You are a psychology student, are you not? Scientific methodology, and so on, is that your point?’

  ‘It is, madame.’

  ‘No. No is the answer, for actions progress entirely at our whim! As you will find later today. Now, speak no more unless spoken to.’

  Sally felt the strong hand of Jane’s dominance. The velvet glove of their recent conversational exchange had merely hidden it for a while. She waited.

  On Sally’s left, at the far corner of the room from where they had first entered, was another oak door. This opened and Celia emerged.

  No longer was she the respectably presented secretary. All she wore was a black basque, strapless and tight-waisted, like the Merry Widow type of corset worn in the Fifties with Dior’s New Look gowns. Suspenders descended from it to seamed black nylons, pulling them up tightly, emphasising the inverted V shape at the top as the clasps caressed her creamy thighs. Protecting her modesty was a panty-girdle which encroached over the bottom of the corset. Both girdle and corset were made in a strong Lycra, with thicker decorative panels at the front on which similar embroidered patterns in gold, relieved the solemnity of the black material.

  Celia’s natural hourglass shape was enhanced considerably by the ensemble, with the Merry Widow in particular looking as though it had been especially tailored for her, for it was unlikely that any such garment off the shelf could have adequately supported and restrained her voluminous breasts. Normally one would encounter such G-cup enormity only on a stouter woman; Celia was unable to disguise their impact even in outer garments, and now they preceded her imposingly, counterbalanced by the jut of her buttocks as she strutted on her heels.

  Her hands and forearms were encased in tight black velvet gloves which extended up over the elbow. In the right hand she held an implement which consisted of handle, shaft an
d multifold strands at the end. Although it resembled a cat o’ nine tails, the whip strands looked soft and velvety.

  She turned to the three chairs and addressed Jane.

  ‘My felicitations, madame.’

  Then, turning to Inez, she asked, ‘How long have they been pinioned thus?’

  It was all Sally could do to stifle a laugh. Did language have to sound medieval just because they were in the modern equivalent of a dungeon?

  She focused hard on the figures which Inez presented.

  ‘Becky 30 minutes, Greg 20, Fiona 10.’

  ‘So. Let us see how they fare as we resume. I see the male is hard.’

  Inez merely smiled. Celia approached the helpless Greg, who shuffled ineffectually in his fetters. Transferring her whip to her left hand, she reached with her right and clasped the helmet bell of his cock. With thumb and index finger, she ran her grip slowly to the shaft, but only by an inch or so. Pausing, she then repeated the treatment, at which Greg groaned loudly. He thrust his hips forward, as if to push into the teasing hand, but Celia relaxed her grip and replaced the whip in the right hand.

  ‘Do you want more, slave?’

  ‘No-o-o-o!’ Greg spoke through gritted teeth, the desperation and the lie obvious to all.

  Walking behind him, she drew back the whip and began a gentle and slow thrashing. Sally could see that Greg’s backside was less marked than those of the girls, yet the very lack of force appeared to drive him to a frenzy.

  ‘Do you want more of this, slave? More of the whip? Ask, and I will slake your lust.’

  ‘Aaargh!’ Greg’s facial expression revealed real anguish. He bent forward as far as his restraints allowed, the better to present his arse for its treatment.

  ‘More, slave? Or would you like to plunge your hot cock into the soft and welcoming cunt of our waitress? She is ready for you, she wants you.’

  With a swift motion, she thrashed the arse, harder this time. The softness of the tails’ material pillowed the sting, but the blow nevertheless made him wriggle. He began to thrust his cock and wiggle his arse alternately, bereft of control despite the ineffectual nature of his writhings.