Students of Submission

by Leigh Turner

  ‘I see. Here is what we will do. Take her for some exercise and hide her away for the afternoon. Produce her at the theatre at three, bridled and cuffed. You will find a leg-spreader in the inner cellar; use that on her at the presentation. Be careful if you go in the cellar and anyone is there; do not try to bite off more than you can chew. Retreat is better.’

  After this enigmatic speech, she bridled Becky and led her from the stable. The three of them walked across toward the garages, there to obtain a trap for the unfortunate Becky’s exercise.

  The crunching of the gravel under their feet as they approached smoked somebody out. It was Fiona who emerged from the garages. Her complexion was flushed, but her expression was one of defiance and challenge. She wore just a tight tank top and hot pants now, in shiny black rubber. Her feet were sheathed in high-heeled patent leather calf-length boots.

  ‘So. My challenger. What about wrestling me? Winner takes all. Loser to be enslaved together with all her conquests.’

  Sally knew that the risk was high, and kept her silence while she thought.

  ‘There is no rule that says you must,’ said Jane, softly.

  ‘I decline your offer,’ Sally replied.

  ‘Wimp.’

  ‘Unless you care for a tag match. Tom and I against you and a partner.’

  Both Jane and Fiona now paused, looking at Sally, weighing up the new information. She had gained nothing by revealing her alliance with Tom, so it had been a foolish move.

  ‘I think probably not. We’ll see what happens at three, shall we?’

  ‘Now who’s the wimp?’ Sally could not resist.

  As Fiona moved away toward the house, glaring, Jane called her.

  ‘Is Max in there? What’s he doing?’

  ‘He’s minding my slave for me.’ Fiona turned on her heel with the last laugh.

  ‘Taunting is not ladylike,’ Jane admonished Sally as she approached the door. ‘Wait until you have people helpless in bondage next time, before you use such terms.’

  ‘I’m sorry, mistress.’

  Jane noted the change in tone.

  ‘Mistress is what you must be if you are to win this.’

  ‘Yes. Of course. I thank you for your advice, Madam Jane.’

  Max was in the back of the garage, sitting in an old armchair. Vanessa was at his knees, kneeling, face in his lap. He sat casually with his cock out of his unzipped shorts as she sucked on it. She had on stockings, heels, and a tight latex panty-girdle, nothing else. Her breasts hung loose. Jane knew the latex device probably incorporated an internal dildo. Still, Vanessa was not one to find disadvantages in being pinioned to phalluses, so she supposed she was happy enough. Certainly she did not pause in her fellatio.

  ‘You’re so uncouth, Max. We’re taking a trap.’

  ‘Does Lena know about it?’

  ‘Lena has nothing to do with it, Max. Remember we have guests here. Lena and I are negotiating an accommodation at present. Your status in it is as a member of staff with secure tenure. That is all. Do not get above yourself; you may find your ally is a little more concerned for her own position than yours.’

  They left him to silently ponder on the comments, and selected the yellow trap.

  As they harnessed Becky, without tail today, and Sally took a whip and mounted for a gentle ride, she wondered what Lena had to do with all this, No matter. She rejoiced in the command that was hers as Becky pulled her along. Five slaves now. Surely that was enough?

  She enjoyed an extended sojourn with Becky, taking the bridled slave beyond the folly and across the rolling pastureland. Eventually they made their way back, around the far side of the woods. Here, Sally could see fences away on the left, denoting the limit of Jane’s grounds. What if a passing farmer saw them from his tractor in the distance, a naked pony girl pulling another one along, riding the trap in just black underwear, stockings and all?

  They wound their way round and back to Tom’s enclave, where Becky was unharnessed. Sally took pity on her and unbridled her too. The girl sunk on to the grass to rest. Sally had not exhausted her, but she was almost like an animal now, responding to simple stimuli.

  Sally knelt down, taking Becky’s hand in her lap, stroking her hair. Jane could be so cruel at times, she thought. No matter what Becky had done with Nick, this was no way to treat anyone. But a woman scorned … Sally wondered how she might feel, 20 years down the line, if some bimbo seduced her husband. Oh well.

  Morning became afternoon. Tom had brought some sandwiches and bottled water, so they had rations in their foxhole. He explained how Lena had been round earlier, teasing and parading, hands on her hips. He had remained cool, he said, and she had gone away, saying there might be a surprise in store at three. Today he would remain fully clothed until the finale. Sally was not to worry. She was glad of it. The thought of an encounter with Lena made her shudder.

  What might the surprise be? They agreed that little else could be done now, that it was a question of waiting it out. Sally delegated Tom to visit the cellar for the leg-spreader and cuffs. He was promised, safe, but her nerves were still on edge. She was the vulnerable one. Could she resist a marauding Oliver, or Lena, or both of them?

  But nobody came, and Tom returned with the equipment. All he had found in the cellar was Greg, trapped in the stocks in the inner sanctum, Liz teasing his naked body with a soft whip. He had asked if she might wish to be fucked in front of Greg, to submit to his enslaving cock as her helpless boyfriend watched. However, she had smiled and politely declined.

  ‘Well, thank you for trying, I suppose. I hate the thought of you having anybody else now.’

  ‘You’ll have to get used to it if we’re doing any filming. Jane’s got a little jaunt planned soon. Have you thought whether you’re going to go for a film contract?’

  ‘I don’t know. Can I?’

  ‘Oh yes, she’s keen on you. You’ll do well. The money’s excellent and she won’t use anyone who’s an unknown quantity, it’s all in house. So you’re safe from that point of view.’

  ‘Well, maybe. We’ll see. It doesn’t exactly seem like the type of career I’d looked at so far …’ She smiled as her voice tailed off.

  ‘Don’t worry about that. She likes people who can work in her mainstream companies. Or, if they’re still at uni, to finish their education. It was the same with last year’s group. Some of them will be joining us over the winter for a bit of indoor stuff.’

  ‘So you’ll be fucking other people?’

  ‘Like I said, it goes with the territory. A hard job but someone has to do it.’

  Seeing her lack of response to his feeble joke, he held her tight.

  ‘But you’re the special one.’

  The clock seemed to accelerate a little as three o’clock neared, and they prepared to walk to the theatre. Tom said there was no need to fetch Inez; she would bring Simon.

  Sally decided to harness Becky to the trap. She fixed the bridle, without any helmet, and the waist harness without dildo. Becky had worn soft pumps for the outing when Jane fetched her from the stable, the better to cover the ground, but her continued shaven nudity above her feet served to fully emphasise her lowly status.

  They made an imposing entrance, coming from the far side of the theatre. Steven walked ahead of Tom, in his thong outfit on a leather lead attached to one of its rings just above his bottom. Tom had added a final touch by fitting him with a rubber gimp mask which left only his eyes and mouth visible.

  Sally followed in her chariot, disembarking as they arrived. Freeing Becky from the shafts, they undid the leather belt and fitted her with the leg-spreader, and cuffs behind her. Her submissive nature cemented now, she showed no protest.

  As they did all this, they saw the others filing in. Oliver, in his country gentleman boots, breeches, and white shirt. Lena, casual in jeans and tight white T-shirt. Fiona in her latex, guiding the girdled Vanessa in front of her, whip in hand. Sally wondered if she might have had Max in tow, but there wa
s no sign of him.

  Celia appeared, the picture of an efficient company secretary. Sally marvelled at the disguise which carried no hint of her alter ego, the dildo-wearing virago who stalked the dungeon.

  Next to appear on the scene were Liz and Greg. At least one assumed it was Greg, for he too had been fitted with a gimp mask by his “owner”, Liz. The stocky, hairy body was naked, but encumbered by strapping which held his arms behind him, his upper arms vertical but his forearms horizontal across his back, lashed together. The final touch was provided by a long stick which she held in her leather-gloved hand, which was attached at its far end, by means of a finely engineered universal joint, to a butt-plug secured within him by a black leather jock strap affair. It left his cock free before him, sprouting from his hairy bush, swaying and twitching in its full arousal.

  His mistress had divested herself of the pencil skirt, and her white blouse was corralled at the waist by a wide black belt. Below it she had on skimpy white panties, and white suspenders led down to contrasting black stockings and shoes.

  Sally could not help but admire her presentation. It was imaginative, and thorough in its detail. Though Liz must know she could not now be the overall winner, she remained cool and impassive, in total control of her minion.

  Her appreciation of the spectacle was tempered by the absence of Inez and Simon. Were they busy copulating somewhere, unaware of the time? All the others had filed in now, save Celia, who waited in the foyer.

  Sally began to think she must lead her party in soon. Was there time to dash to find them? How rigid was the deadline? Just as she turned to Tom to tell him to go in, they arrived.

  Thank God. Simon was completely naked. He was followed by Inez, who sported an extremely expensive looking pair of red high-heeled shoes, conventionally supportive at the rear, devolving to a delicate strap design at the toe. Her stockings were a lightish fawn, achieving a sexy look on the petite Frenchwoman without falling into the dreadful numptiness of an American Tan. Above this, she was clad in her white medical tunic, which came down to just below her knees. Under this, what she wore was a matter of speculation. Not much, Sally guessed.

  They filed in, Sally at the rear behind the slow-moving Becky, who clumped awkwardly down the aisle. Finally they settled in various seats, certain members compelled to remain standing, Becky at the front in her spreader, Greg next to his mistress in the aisle as she held the controlling pole idly across her lap.

  After a minute or two, they heard the movement at the rear of the auditorium, and turned their heads to witness Jane’s entrance. Ahead of her were Nick and Peter, bridled now, on the end of short reins held by the mistress. Celia followed them in, closing the door and taking a seat at the rear.

  Jane bade her creatures, identically clad in white open girdles above their exposed cocks, black stockings on the suspenders, and black high-heeled court shoes, to stand at the front, while she walked to the lectern. Neither wore a wig, so that above the waist they were naked men; below it, feminised perverted sluts, cocks twitching.

  Jane smiled and addressed the assembly. She remained in her blue business suit.

  ‘Thank you so much for coming to this, our dénouement. We will proceed forthwith. I see that some of you have chosen, or succumbed to, the subordinate role. So for the purpose of points, we may discount slaves Rebecca, Simon, Gregory, and Steven. Thank you for participating, for the yang is nothing without the yin, as the Chinese might say.

  ‘We are left with four serious contenders for our prize, who are now required to reveal their hand. I shall choose the order of presentation.

  ‘First, I ask you, Mistress Elizabeth for that is what you are, a fully fledged dominatrix to present. Do you have slave or slaves?’

  Liz stood up.

  ‘I present to you my slave Greg, mistress.’

  ‘Well done. Bring him to the stage.’

  He was led up, and Liz was told by Jane to command him to kiss her gloved hand. This he did, gratefully and eagerly, as she held her controlling wand in the other hand.

  ‘He has proved his status, and Liz scores five points,’ Jane announced. ‘Now, we move on, and I wish to see the prowess of Mistress Fiona. Do you have any slaves to present before us?’

  Fiona and Vanessa stood up and climbed to the stage.

  ‘I present Slave Vanessa,’ said Fiona proudly. ‘She is wearing a latex panty-girdle incorporating integral vaginal dildo and a clitoral stimulator mound. Thus her genitals are mine and the rest of her submissive body follows.’

  ‘Excellent. You have learnt well. Now have her kiss your boot,’ said an approving Jane.

  Vanessa doing so, the pact was sealed.

  ‘Vanessa is a member of staff and worth slightly more than one of our contestants,’ Jane continued. ‘However, she is a habitual wanton submissive and therefore worth just six points. But very well done, Fiona. Have you any other conquests?’

  ‘No, madame.’

  ‘Very well. Six points. You and Mistress Elizabeth may take your seats. Now. We approach the climax of our competition. I call upon Madam Sally to come to the stage.’

  Madam! It was a rare compliment. Did Jane see her in such an exalted bracket?

  She rose, and clicked on her heels calmly to the stage. Gaining it, she stood in the centre.

  ‘Madam Sally will now present her slaves,’ said Jane.

  The pronouncement carried the inevitability of a line spoken in a play. She must now play her role, on cue.

  ‘I present firstly Slave Steven. He is under the direction of Slave Thomas, whom I command to follow.’

  Would he let her down at the last? Visions of Gary Cooper stepping out to meet his fate in High Noon played incongruously in her mind. Do not forsake me oh my darling.

  Tom slapped Steven’s rear. He was standing next to Tom at the end seat, not permitted the dignity of sitting down. As the submissive walked toward the stage, Tom rose and languidly pulled his T-shirt over his head, following it up by kicking off his trainers and rolling down his jeans. Pulling them off, he made his way to the stage, barefoot, in just his white briefs.

  When he stood before her, Sally looked at him, face impassive, though her heart was beating fast. Hands on hips, she spoke.

  ‘Strip naked for your mistress.’

  He did so, and Sally, feigning disinterest, turned to face the audience.

  ‘I call upon Slave Simon to present himself in front of Slave Rebecca. Kneel down, and free her of the leg-spreader so that she may climb the small steps to the stage. Slave Rebecca, you may then kiss my hand to prove your devotion.’

  As they followed her orders, she relaxed somewhat, realising that she was taking to this game like a duck to water. She finished her tableau by summoning Inez.

  ‘Finally, Slave Inez. Pray join your mistress.’

  Inez stood. She unbuttoned her tunic, taking her time, and stepped out of it. It was as Sally had thought. Underneath it she wore precisely nothing, save for a pearl necklace. Even in nudity, her sense of style was evident. Her stockings were of the hold-up variety, so no suspender belt broke the outline of her lithe body as she walked, or should one say sashayed, hips swaying seductively, up to the stage.

  She smiled at Sally, who smiled in return.

  ‘Bravo, chérie.’ She spoke softly. ‘What would you have me do?’

  ‘You must display yourself, I suppose.’

  ‘You suppose nothing, chérie. You command. Order me. I am not ashamed, whatever you say.’

  Sally now spoke louder, for the benefit of the audience.

  ‘Slave Inez. Kneel and present your disgraceful bare arse to the audience. Take the cock of Slave Simon in your mouth and suck on it until I permit you to stop.’

  Inez went down without demur, adding to the spectacle by reaching behind her with both hands and pulling her cheeks apart so as to provide a better view of her widened vagina. She addressed Sally, to put the icing on the cake.

  ‘I thank Madame Sally for allowing m
e to subjugate myself before her. I am her willing slave and now beg to be granted the chance to suck cock like a strumpet.’

  ‘You may suck.’

  Sally almost heard her own voice as if it came from another. She drew a deep breath of relief as Jane said, ‘Well done, Madam Sally, a superb display, we all agree. I am satisfied with the demonstrations of allegiance, so we will move on to the scores.

  ‘You have five each for our contestants, Rebecca, Steven and Simon. Inez, member of staff, is worth eight and Tom worth ten, being one of my less servile males. That gives you 33 in total, an extremely capable and well conducted effort. Stand now at the side with your slaves.’

  Once Sally had done as Jane asked, the director continued, ‘Finally then, we have one remaining contestant, the handsome Oliver. Would you care to step up, young man, and tell us of your conquests?’

  Oliver rose to his feet. As he passed Lena’s seat, on the row behind him, he bent and exchanged quiet words with her. Sally thought she saw Lena shake her head slightly, after which he straightened to his full height. His face was set into a slight scowl as he walked down the aisle, unbuttoning and then discarding his white shirt upon the front seat as he passed.

  His bearing was one of determination as he reached the stage. Jane sensed that ceremony was no longer required, and spoke promptly.

  ‘You may begin.’

  ‘Good. Firstly I claim Fiona as my slave. Get up here and show who you belong to.’

  Fiona was up in a flash, and cantered to the stage far too eagerly. Once there she turned her back on the audience, facing Oliver. The latex hot pants framed her rounded arse perfectly, but not for long, for she pulled them down and knelt, unzipping his fly and extracting his phallus, then taking it lasciviously into her mouth.

  ‘I see you do not require a verbal oath from this conquered whore,’ said Jane, looking down at the spectacle. ‘Have you any other slaves to call?’

  ‘Yes. I call Vanessa to pull my boots off and take my trousers off. She will then suck my cock to keep me hard until I am ready to favour the slave Fiona with a small helping of cock.’