Juliette collected the papers and gave them to Ms. West, who put them on the desk, coming to stand before the class. She wore a suit with black trousers and jacket over stiletto heels. Her dark hair was pinned back from her head in a severe bun. She looked a bit like the stereotypical strict professor or librarian.
“Now,” she said. “You are all here because you have something in common. But you all no doubt have different reasons. Perhaps you are exploring a new relationship with a dominant who has sent you here to learn the skills you need. Perhaps there has always been a burning need inside you - a desire to yield to the right Master or Mistress. Perhaps you are curious, and the idea of submissive training simply appeals to you in a way you can’t yet articulate.”
She looked at each of the students in turn, with a tight little smile. “These are all fine, and as this course goes on, you will decide where you fit in. Or even if this is not for you, after all.”
Juliette was passing out a new stack of papers.
“These print-outs contain a wealth of information,” said Ms. West, “About the Academy, and about domination and submission in general. I will expect you to read them at home, before the next class, and think about the subjects within. There is also some paperwork, which you will hand in tomorrow night.”
She gave the students a moment to look at the pages, rewarding Juliette with another quick pat on the head.
“These are the rules.” She continued. “Be respectful to your trainer above all else. Address them with their preferred title, and speak only in turn. If you have a question during class, raise your hand and wait to be called on.
Every Dominant has different preferences, and that is something you will have to sort out with your future masters. Our purpose here is to teach you the basics - the things you will be expected to know when you finally give yourself to him or her.
In classes, you will make eye contact with your trainer while he is speaking, and while you are speaking to him - unless he indicates otherwise. Your eyes are a gift for your Dominant and you must learn to exercise control over them.
You may be bruised or temporarily marked by your trainer. Never permanently or severely injured.
Learning to place trust in your trainer is an important step. There are no “safe-words” here. Safe-words are a good idea for people you don’t know well.
This is not play. It is training - training to learn to trust and do as you are told. You are giving up your control when you enter these doors. However -” She paused, tilting her chin to look at each seated girl, “you are free to stop, and leave whenever you wish, if you decide this is not for you. Simply tell the trainer, and turn in your collar.”
She turned, nodding at the assistant, who gathered something up off the counter and passed them to Ms. West.
“Training here will lay the foundation for any master-sub relationship you desire in the future. Our graduates are in high demand, and our slaves are sought by some of the most affluent, respectable and even famous individuals in the world.”
She held up her hand, revealing a fistful of white ribbons. “These are your training collars. The first level is white, as you can see. I expect you to wear these at all times - even when not in class.”
There was a nervous giggle from one girl, and the others shifted uncomfortably.
“Of course,” she said, with a slight twist to her mouth, “we accept that you may not be able to display them openly at your place of work. So feel free to tie them around your ankle, wrist, or other out of the way place. All that matters at this stage is that you know it’s there.
As with a proper collar, the purpose is to help you keep in mind - at all times - your position and your training. Wearing your ribbons, you will be mindful of your manner, your posture, and your speech. Understand?”
She paused while the girls all nodded. Ashley stared at the white ribbons dangling from the woman’s clenched fist. There was a strange little shivery feeling in her chest. What would it be like wearing a collar all day: an ever-present, visible reminder of your master?
Ms. West continued. “Do not lose your collars! If you arrive without one around your neck, you will not be admitted to classes.”
Ms. West paced before the line of students, commanding their complete attention.
“During the training, students will have the option to mix with dominants from the Master’s school. After training, we can assist you in finding a dominant that suits you. Slaves are another matter, but we will discuss that later.”
Having finished her speech, Ms. West cleared her throat and looked over at the other trainers, who were sitting silently. She nodded, and the tall salt-and-pepper haired man stood up and made his way to the front.
“Now, you will each be called in turn. Come up and present yourself to Mr. Barrett Karen?”
The brunette who had stared at her phone in the lobby stood up. She smoothed her skirt, picked up her handbag and walked to the front. She stood in front of the tall Dom, looking up at him.
He stared at her for a long moment, until she began to look uncomfortable. She shifted her weight to one leg, shrugging her bag up on her shoulder.
“Put the bag down.” He immediately said.
Karen frowned slightly, but did as she was told, bending and dropping it to the floor.
“You hide behind your possessions,” said Mr. Barrett “You will leave the bag and phone home tomorrow. Understand?”
She opened her mouth, but closed it again and nodded.
“Bend again and pick it up.”
She did so.
“No.” He said, with an edge of stern disapproval. “You put no thought into your movements. When you bend, you bend from the waist and your skirt rides up. That might be acceptable to some masters, but not in a public place and certainly not in training. Also, you move too quickly and jerkily. Put the bag down again - but this time, lower yourself gracefully. Bend from the knees, and be mindful of the image you present.”
Karen did as he asked, dipping slowly to place the bag on the wooden floorboards.
“Much better.” He rewarded her with a smile, showing a glimpse of straight white teeth. “You will practice this at home tonight, understand?”
She nodded, looking back up at him.
“You will answer, ‘yes, Professor.’”
“Yes, Professor.”
He nodded. Then he turned, and took a white ribbon from the counter where Ms. West had placed them. “Turn around.” He told Karen.
He tied the ribbon around her neck, sweeping her long straight hair to the side and making a bow at the back of her neck. He let her hair fall back and turned her by the shoulders, and she smiled at him again. Her face, normally stony and cold, was very sweet when she smiled.
“Vanessa.” Called the Dom after Karen had taken her seat.
The tall blonde with the makeup got to her feet. Smiling, she walked her model-perfect walk over to where Mr. Barrett waited.
“What is that on your face?” He asked immediately.
The glowing smile on Vanessa’s face faltered. “Pardon?”
“You chose to flout one of our most important instructions on your first day here.” Said the Professor. His expression was dark, his black eyebrows knitted. “We told you to arrive without cosmetics for multiple reasons. We wish to see if you can cast aside vanity when told to do so. We want to see you bare, without any of the things we hide behind in daily life. We want to see you pure. Do you see?” He waited, until she gave her silent nod. “Go with Mr. Morgan for punishment.”
Morgan had gotten got casually to his feet as Barrett finished scolding the girl. Ashley’s gaze was drawn to him, even as she knew she should be paying attention to what Mr. Barrett was saying.
Mr. Morgan crossed his arms in front of his chest while he waited. His jaw was set, stern but neutral, his handsome face hard to read. If he was particularly displeased, he didn’t show it.
He was watching Vanessa, so Ashley looked at him without fea
r of discovery, admiring his hazel eyes and full lips; his broad shoulders and the tanned forearms revealed by the rolled-back sleeves of his white shirt.
“My office.” He said.
Vanessa arranged her red lips in a pout. She was suddenly looking a little pale.“Sorry, Sir,” she muttered, and hurried after Mr. Morgan as he led her from the room.
Ashley watched the two as they left. The professor held the door open for Vanessa to pass through, as though they were a couple going out on a date.
What was he going to do to her? Ashley felt a slight pang, a tightness in her throat. Nerves? Anticipation? Or was she actually jealous? She’d never been spanked or whipped and it didn’t even seem like something she’d like. Discipline was one of the blank areas on her questionnaire. Did she really wish she were the one about to see the inside of Mr. Morgan’s office?
“Ashley.” Mr. Barrett’s voice rang out, startling her out of her thoughts.
Suddenly, her heart was in her throat. She swallowed hard, hoping he hadn’t noticed her distraction.
She got to her unsteady feet. What would the professor find wrong with her? She hated being scrutinized. Criticism bothered her more than it should; she knew she was oversensitive. But she couldn’t help it.
Trying to keep the trainer’s advice to Karen in mind, she stood up slowly and walked deliberately in an effort to be graceful, or at least not to fall over in her shoes. At least she had obeyed the dress-code - that was one thing she couldn’t be berated for.
She stood in front of the Professor, looking down at her feet, clasping her hands loosely together, trying to resist the urge to fidget. She could feel his eyes boring into her, sweeping over her from head to toe. Her face started to get hot again, and she knew a blush was showing on her cheeks.
“Kneel before me, Ashley.” He said.
She looked up at him quickly. He gave a small nod.
Ashley got carefully down to her knees, still trying to be elegant. It wasn’t as easy as she thought, especially in her heels - and she cringed slightly, knowing how undignified she must look. Her blistered heels stung, her knees uneasily coming to rest against the hard floor.
“You seem uncomfortable.” The trainer said.
“Yes, Professor.” There wasn’t any point in denying it. “Sorry. It’s the shoes.”
“You are not used to wearing them?”
“No Sir.”
“Stand, Ashley.”
She stood, gritting her teeth.
“And your clothing - is this an example of something you’d normally wear? Look at me while I’m talking, remember.”
Her natural instinct was to look down at the floor, as though she were a guilty schoolgirl standing before the principal. She blushed as she snapped her gaze back to his. “No, Sir.”
He nodded.
“Your task for this week is to practice walking in those shoes. Wear them every day. You will also find clothing that you are more comfortable in, and wear it every day of the week. Something that fits our requirements, but also makes you feel good. Desirable.”
For a moment, he looked up and addressed all the students. “As submissives, your duty is to glorify your Master at all times,” he said. “You must always be aware of your sexuality and strive to be sensual in all your movements and actions.”
He looked back down at Ashley, his steel-grey eyes glinting. “Is this something you struggle with?”
For a moment she couldn’t answer. How had he seen through her so quickly? Ashley hadn’t felt sexy for a long while. Her recent efforts at changing that had been confidence-building, but she was directionless, and it was hard. After always being selfconscious of her body, it wasn’t an easy habit to shake.
She nodded, then managed to find her voice. “Yes, Sir.”
“You are a very beautiful woman.” He said, looking into her eyes. “You should be confident, and proud to display yourself.”
She blinked hard, surprised. Ashley was unused to such compliments - especially from men. Her face was burning hot and she had to fight hard not to look away in embarrassment. “Thank you, Sir.”
He held up her white collar and had her turn around. Ashley’s heart began to race, fluttering in her chest as the trainer brought the ribbon up around her neck. He quickly tied it, and she shivered as he moved her hair back with a lingering, caressing motion.
She was relieved when he dismissed her, and rushed back to sit in her seat. She idly toyed with the ribbon-collar around her neck, watching as the last two students took their turn.
Harmony, the petite blonde with the big brown eyes, was told she needed to speak up instead of mumbling. She received her collar with a rapturous expression, gushing thanks.
The last to be called was Ella, the 30-something woman in the yellow dress. Her short brown hair framed her features prettily, and she had a smile that lit her face as Mr. Barrett praised her posture and poise.
“Think of yourselves as moving, living works of art,” he told the class, as Ella took her seat. “Whether you are with your Dom or away, your purpose is to bring pleasure to everyone who lays eyes on you, in a way that is pleasing to your Master.”
It was at this point that the door swung open again and Vanessa returned, hurrying without a word to take a seat. Ashley glanced quickly over at her. Her face was bare of makeup, her lips still slightly stained from the lipstick. Her face was red from scrubbing, and she gave a small sniff as she settled in her chair. She had clearly been crying.
“Just in time,” said Barrett “If you will all follow Juliette, she will take you for drinks and snacks. Then you will begin your next class. Vanessa, see me before you leave.”
The girl paled, but nodded. Ashley felt a twinge of sympathy for her.
Juliette beckoned, and the girls all followed her. Ashley shot a quick look back at Vanessa, who she noticed was humbly presenting herself, kneeling before the trainer to receive her white collar.
Positions and Protocol 101
Where the last room had the feel of a regular classroom, this one looked a bit like a dance studio. There were huge mirrors lining the front wall, and several unidentified, sinister looking apparatus pushed against the sides.
Mr. Morgan was waiting at the head of the room, standing in front of the mirrors with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Take a place on the floor, with enough room to swing your arms, and make sure you can see yourselves in the mirrors!” He called out. His voice had a rich, resonant quality and carried well in the spacious room.
Ashley let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, rushing after the others to secure a place. She took the spot nearest the side wall, too shy to stand directly in front of the trainer.
“Now,” Morgan started, “we cover many areas here at the school.“He counted them off on his fingers as he spoke. The physical training, the mental training, emotional, verbal, and of course sexual training.” He looked at each of the students in turn. Ashley made sure to stand still and keep her eyes on him as he spoke.
“Today, we start on the very first thing you will be expected to know when entering into the service of a new dominant. There are five positions you absolutely must memorize. The first is the sitting position. Now - it sounds easy, but you might find it more challenging than you realize. Do it now - take a seat on the floor.”
The girls all obeyed. Ashley sat cross-legged, the way she sometimes did on the rug in front of the TV at home.
Morgan nodded, pacing along the line of students. “Good.” He said. “Now take a look at each other.”
Ashley tilted her head as she curiously looked in the mirror, glancing down the line of students. They were all in different positions. Karen was leaning lazily back on her hands. Ella sat back on her heels, looking perky. Vanessa looked decidedly uncomfortable, shifting around. Ashley wondered if she’d been whipped or spanked. Harmony was sitting with her legs in front of her, ankles crossed.
There was a little mutual giggle as they a
ll looked at each other.
“When you take a master,” continued the trainer, “he may have his own preferences, and may teach you different versions of these positions, and any number of new ones. But if you memorize these for now, you will be well ahead.”
He paced up and down the rows again, looking at each of them in turn. He stopped right in front of Ashley this time, so that she had to crane her neck up to look at him.
“The ‘sit’ position is a casual one.” He said. “If your master tells you to sit, you are free to sit in whatever manner you choose. However, there is one caveat. You must do it - like everything else - gracefully.” He smiled a charming, lopsided smile. “Now, do it again! Watch yourselves in the mirrors, and find a way of getting to the floor gracefully, and a position that is pleasing to the eye once you’re sitting.”
Ashley looked at herself. Cross-legged, she was comfortable, but her back was slouched and she looked less than alluring. She stood, and tried a few different poses, wincing each time as her shoes stung her feet, wishing she could take them off.
She finally found she could - after a bit of practice - get gracefully into a kneeling position and then sit to the left on her bottom, so that she didn’t have to put pressure on her knees.
She rested her hands on the tops of her thighs, watching in the mirror, and smiled, satisfied with her efforts. Her back was straight, her skirt still modestly covering her, and she could kneel and stand up all without showing her underwear.
She practiced a couple more times, trying to perfect her movements. After a moment, she looked up, and saw Mr. Morgan watching her. He gave her a nod, and a small smile. Her heart leaped in response, and she felt a warm glow at his acknowledgment. It felt almost as good as if he had praised her loudly in front of everyone.
“Good.” He said after a minute more. “Now, look at yourselves one more time.”
They were all still, looking in the mirrors at their own reflections. They were all either up on their knees or sitting to the side as Ashley was – one leg bent in front and one behind.
Learning to Yield (Power Exchange Academy - Submissive Center/Master's School) Page 3