Class Begins
Brie did not have to wait long to hear back. She received a large package in the mail three days later. She knew it was good news as soon as she recognized the Submissive Training Center crest on the parcel. Brie tore into the box and the first thing she saw was a letter:
Dear Miss Bennett,
We are happy to inform you that you’ve qualified for a full scholarship to the Submissive Training Center. Your entry was among the finest received by the school to date. We firmly believe the opportunity provided by our school will benefit you, now and in the future.
As stated when you first contacted us, you will begin the course immediately. Class starts tomorrow at 7:00 PM. You must be prompt and ready to learn. A school uniform has been provided.
Understand that this six-week course is a rigorous undertaking. We will expect much from you but promise expert training in return.
Sincerely,
Thane Davis
The letter had the most exquisite handwriting. Brie couldn’t believe a man had penned it and wondered if Thane Davis was the gentleman she’d met at the tobacco shop.
She lifted the tissue paper away, expecting something similar to a high school uniform; instead, she found a miniskirt and leather top with laces up the front like a corset—both were dark brown. Also included was a pair of six-inch heels, some crotchless pantyhose with sexy seams up the back, and a red thong. The next item she pulled out was a tailored black trenchcoat. At the bottom of the box was an elaborate makeup kit with instructions to emphasize her eyes and lips. The instructions also noted that she was to wear her hair down.
Brie was ecstatic about trying the uniform on. She didn’t really own sexy clothes. She was a filmmaker at heart, so a loose-fitting, not-too-flashy ensemble was the norm. As she slipped on the skirt and zipped it up, she finally understood why they had asked for body measurements in the paperwork. Each piece of clothing fit perfectly.
It took a bit of adjusting to get the seam of her hose to go up her leg in a straight line. She slipped into the heels and almost toppled over when she stood up. Dang, the heels were hell to walk in. She stood in front of the mirror and looked herself over. The skirt was almost scandalous and the top accentuated the round fullness of her breasts. Those difficult heels did a real number on her legs, making her calves look shapely and elegant. The seam of the hose created a sensual trail for the eyes to follow. Everything about the outfit made her feel like a woman—a hot, sexy woman!
She undid her ponytail and tossed her hair back and forth. Brie looked into the mirror again and saw an entirely different person looking back. This woman was alluring, more confident and ready to please. She wondered what would happen if she walked out of her apartment dressed like this. Brie giggled, realizing the necessity of the coat. She reluctantly took off her uniform and laid it over a chair to keep it wrinkle free for her first day of class.
Getting through another tedious day at work was the ultimate torture. Brie was both excited and nervous about the upcoming session. Not knowing what the school was like or what would be expected of her was daunting. She was also wondering about the other students. Would they be friendly and helpful, or backstabbing bitches?
She asked to leave a half-hour early. Mr. Reynolds, being the sweetie that he was, let her go and took the last part of her shift. Brie wanted time to get her clothes on and her makeup just right. Even though she had printed directions to the school, she left early to leave extra time in case she got lost. Being prompt was important to her.
It took twenty minutes to arrive at the campus. The Training Center looked like any other community college. The parking lot was full of cars and normal-looking college students milling just outside the large brick building. Nothing about the older building hinted as to what was happening inside. Brie got out of her car and tightened the belt of her coat around her waist. She stumbled a couple of times as she made her way to the entrance. God, I hate high heels!
A young man opened the door as she approached. Now, that is a pleasant change. She smiled at him and nodded in appreciation. Inside, she saw an information desk and headed directly to it. The woman at the desk smiled and asked, “Can I help you?”
“Where do I go for the…Training Center?” Brie was embarrassed to say the full name in public.
“It’s one floor down. Just take the elevator to your right.”
“Thanks.” She was about to leave, but turned around and asked, “What kind of school is on this floor?”
The receptionist smiled brightly. “It’s a business college. Are you interested in applying to it as well?”
Brie shook her head. “No, just curious. Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime. Enjoy your first day.”
Brie sighed nervously. This was it—there was no turning back. She hit the button in the elevator and watched the doors slowly close. She was curious about what the Training Center would look like. Would it be one giant room with many beds and tools of the trade hanging on the walls, or would it have small, individual rooms with beds and curtains for privacy? Brie held her breath as the doors opened, and then laughed out loud. The elevator opened to a large commons area. It was lined by normal-looking classrooms with desks and large whiteboards. Brie shook her head. Definitely not what she had been expecting.
She stepped out of the elevator and looked around. A tall woman in a harsh business suit came up to her and demanded, “What class are you taking?”
Brie got out her schedule and looked for her first class so she could answer. “It’s called Submission 101.”
The woman pointed. “Go down that hall. It’s the last door on the left. Hurry, you don’t want to be late.”
Brie quickly made her way down the hall, which was a mistake on her part. Her ankle rolled and she found herself on the floor. She picked herself up and continued on, not daring to look back at the woman. Damn, I hate these shoes!
She walked into the classroom and saw that there were five other women already seated. The instructor, a tiny man wearing a nametag that said ‘Mr. Gallant’, indicated where she should sit. She made her way to the desk and sat down, breathing a sigh of relief. At least she’d made it to class on time.
“Miss Bennett, since you are the last to arrive I see no reason to wait until the bell rings. Let’s begin. We have a lot to get through tonight.” Her instructor had silver highlights in his hair and a wiry frame. Although the man was small, he had a commanding voice and demeanor. The two-hour class was devoted to defining and classifying who and what submissives were.
In a short period of time, Brie learned the difference between submissives and slaves. “Understand that a submissive volunteers and is allowed to voice preferences and set personal limits. Slaves give up those rights.” Brie knew right then that she would never be a slave. The whole idea set her on edge.
“There are various levels of submission, but we will only talk about the major three. Light submissives give of themselves for short durations, setting many boundaries around what they will and won’t do. Even though they submit to their Dominants, they still maintain a high level of control. Moderate submissives put fewer limitations on their Dominants and are interested in living the D/s lifestyle for longer periods of time. They offer the Doms a more significant level of control. You should note that most submissives fall under this category. Then there are those few who are heavily submissive. Such submissives desire one full-time Master and set very few limitations on the Dominant. It is similar to acting as a slave, but the submissive still has control—he or she just chooses not to use it.”
Brie wrote down everything he said. Although she’d read similar information on the web, he defined things in a way that was easier to understand.
“Miss Bennett, have you ever heard of the term ‘subspace’?” Mr. Gallant asked.
Brie looked around, wishing he had called on someone else. “Sorry, no.”
“That’s fine,” the tiny man answered. “This is an introduction course. In fact, if we go over any information you have questions about, be sure to stop and ask. You cannot offend me with what you do not know.”
Brie nodded in gratitude. She really liked him as an instructor. Mr. Gallant’s voice commanded her attention and he seemed to care about his students. A silly thought flitted through her head: What if he is a Dominant in real life? She wondered what it would be like to have him as a partner. Brie actually blushed and had to refocus on his lesson.
“The term ‘subspace’ refers to a trancelike state experienced by many submissives. Certain types of ‘play’ can help pump endorphins into the bloodstream, making the submissive open to more intensive stimulation. While in that state, the sub must rely on the Dominant’s vigilance because of the higher pain tolerance. In fact, the sub may become incapable of verbal communication while floating in subspace, making him or her completely dependent on the Dominant during and immediately following such intense play. Naturally, a high level of trust is required between partners.”
To Brie, subspace sounded like a frightening experience. To lose control like that and be at the mercy of another person’s whims seemed unacceptable. It made her wonder if she wasn’t submissive material after all.
“Ladies, it is imperative you understand that a true submissive finds pleasure in serving the needs and desires of another. If it is more about your needs than your Dom’s, then it is just roleplaying in the bedroom.”
After that profound statement, Mr. Gallant ended the class. “It is time for your first practicum. Please leave your coat at your desk and proceed to room eight, at the other end of the hall.”
Brie looked at the other five women nervously and then undid her coat. She slipped it off her shoulders and laid it across her desk. The other women followed suit. Each had on a different outfit. Some were made of leather of different colors, similar to hers, while others were made of satin and lace. Brie wondered if any thought had been given to each individual uniform, or if they had all been randomly selected. Whatever the case, all of the women looked scandalously stunning in their uniforms.
The five filed out and she followed behind them. Just as she made it to the door, Brie stumbled and slammed against the doorframe.
“Miss Bennett, I recommend that you get used to walking in those shoes. Tomorrow I want you to wear them as soon as you get up and practice walking in them the entire day. Consider it your homework assignment.”
Brie wanted to protest, to explain why that wasn’t practical given her place of employment. However, the kindness in his eyes made her stop and reconsider. Mr. Gallant wanted her to succeed with her training and, for whatever reason, six-inch heels were important to him. She nodded and smiled before attempting to walk down the hall with grace.
It turned out that room eight was not a normal classroom. There was a table at the front with four instructors already seated at it. The floor was made of a soft, spongy material and, in the middle of the room, Brie noticed six odd pillows that looked like large triangles lying on their sides. She had no idea what they were used for, but they certainly weren’t for sitting on.
“Take your place behind of one of the ramps.”
Brie looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. Her heart started racing upon seeing the object of her fantasies sitting in front of her.
“Tonight we shall weed out the wannabe submisssives.”
There was a collective gasp in the room. Brie looked at each of the four instructors, wondering what that meant. The panel consisted of three men and one woman. The woman was the same one who had met her off the elevator. She looked serious and severe, although she was striking, with long, blonde hair. The two other men were polar opposites. The man on the end was tanned and large—in a bodybuilder sort of way—while the one next to him was a skinny man with dark eyes and pale skin. Unfortunately, none of their faces gave a hint as to what ‘weeding out’ meant.
A fellow student spoke up. “What are you saying exactly?”
“You may address me as Sir. That goes for all of you,” he replied, looking directly at Brie. She trembled under his gaze.
There was silence in the room until the girl said, “Yes, Sir.”
He nodded and answered her question. “Similar to in Ivy League institutions, your first few classes are designed to discourage the weak. We are only interested in training true submissives. You may choose to leave the program at any time, or you may be asked to leave by any one of your instructors.”
“What about our tuition?” the girl complained.
“It will be returned in full. Let me reiterate, we are only interested in true submissives. Some of you are unable to identify if you are true submissives yet. Tonight we hope to make that abundantly clear.” He held up their application packets. “We have your personal lists of preferences and dislikes,” he stated. “The men chosen for this first practicum were picked based on your responses.”
Brie couldn’t breathe. They were going to have sex in front of the instructors, right now? She looked down at the pillow in front of her and suddenly realized what it was. If she were to lie face down on it, the edge of the ramp would lift her ass into the air at the perfect height for fucking.
An assistant came into the room and handed each of the girls a black strip of cloth.
“Tie on the blindfold and lie down on the ramp.”
Sir’s authoritative tone spurred her to comply. She looked over at the other women. All of them looked as shocked as she was. Brie covered her eyes and tied the blindfold tightly around her head. Then she knelt down and felt for the ramp.
It was firmer than she’d expected, but the spongy floor made kneeling comfortable. She pressed her waist against the edge of the ‘ramp’ and laid her torso down on the large pillow. The angle of it made her head lower than her pelvis. She could just imagine her ass in the air, as if she were begging to be fucked. Brie sighed nervously, silently hoping Sir would be the one to take her.
She heard the men enter the room and felt the tension rise. None of the men spoke, but she sensed that one was standing behind her. A tingling sensation coursed through her body as she realized a complete stranger was about to have sex with her.
Brie felt his hands reach under her skirt and peel off her little thong. She bit her lip, keeping silent. She heard him unzip his pants and remove them slowly. Brie started hyperventilating when the man knelt down next to her and grabbed her ass cheeks. He positioned his cock against her opening and waited.
She could hear the other men moving, and some of the girls gasped. Then there was silence. Sir’s voice was low and sensual. “Miss Bennett, you indicated that you were turned off by men over the age of fifty.”
She automatically stiffened. “Yes, Sir.”
“Meet your partner.”
The man with his cock pressed against her spoke. “My name is Greg, and I am sixty-eight.”
Brie heard the girl who had asked about tuition suddenly shout, “Is mine fat?”
“Yes, Miss Evans, he is.” Brie heard scuffling and then the dull thud of heels on the matting as the girl ran from the room. Brie was distracted by it until Greg began pushing his shaft into her. All her attention immediately focused on him as the man slowly penetrated her with the head of his cock.
He took his time with Brie, letting her adjust to his length, giving her time to enjoy the feel of his manhood moving inside her. Once his cock was fully engulfed by her moist walls, he began thrusting. Greg held down her hips in a way that allowed his cock deeper access. She found that it didn’t matter that he was old enough to be her grandfather—her body responded to him eagerly. She bit her lip again, resisting the urge to cry out in pleasure and embarrass herself.
“That’s it, lass. Milk my cock with that hot little pussy.”
Brie moaned softly, so softly that she doubted anyone but her partner could hear it. She heard the grunts and cries of the other couples in the room. There was something so primal about copulating in the presence of other people. She forgot about the panel watching her as she pushed against his shaft, taking him even deeper. Brie wanted to be possessed by his manhood, to be used for his pleasure.
He slapped her ass, making her yelp. “Good. I want to hear you, pet.”
Greg took hold of her waist and started pounding with vigor. Brie cried out at the intensity of his thrusts, but again she bit her lip to silence herself. If she truly let go, she would sound like a wild animal.
By the sounds of the grunting going on in the room, some of the men were already finishing off. She felt her pussy contract in pleasure in response to their noises.
Brie found it sexually exciting to give herself to this stranger. She realized his age didn’t matter. It was the way he handled her, the way he derived his pleasure from her that had her so wet and horny. “Oooh…” she moaned.
Her moan must have triggered his orgasm, because he stiffened for a second and then started pounding her without restraint. The room filled with the sounds of their flesh slapping against each other as he possessed her with his cock. She took all of him, reveling in the feel of his climax. When he finally pulled out, she sighed inwardly, wanting more of him.
“Take off your blindfolds and thank your partners,” Sir instructed.
Brie slipped the cloth down around her neck and turned her head. Greg looked every bit his age, with his wrinkly skin, gray hair and a hollow face, but it didn’t matter. She’d enjoyed their encounter. “Thank you, Greg.”
He fingered a strand of her curly brown hair. “My pleasure, pet.”
The men dressed themselves and left while Sir talked to the students. “That was a good start, class. As you noticed, we have already lost one of you. I expect there will be a few more casualties tonight.” He looked at each of the girls individually, as if they were the next in line to go. Brie shivered under his gaze.
“Dress and stand before the panel,” he ordered. Brie lifted herself off the ramp and put her little red thong back on. It was slightly moist and smelled of her. She thought back on her little tryst and smiled.
When all five girls were standing in a line, Sir began the critiques. “Ms. Clark, any comments on Miss Bennett’s performance?”
Brie was surprised when the severe instructor looked at her and smiled. “Overall, I was pleased. It is obvious that she enjoyed the experience, which in turn pleased her partner.”
The burly man on the end spoke up. “I was concerned that she was so silent. Her partner indicated that he wanted her to make more vocalizations, but she didn’t.”
Sir jumped on his comment. “I agree, Master Coen. I noticed she bit her lip on several occasions. Explain yourself, Miss Bennett.”
Brie was shaking, embarrassed at being criticized in front of everyone. “I didn’t want to sound like an idiot, Sir. I was trying to be sensual.”
“Nonsense. Your partner encouraged you to be vocal and you denied him that. Don’t let it happen again. Unless your Dom specifically tells you to be silent, you need to let him hear your pleasure and pain. How can he adjust to your needs unless you do that?”
Brie wanted to disappear, but she whispered, “Sorry, Sir.”
The ghostlike instructor spoke up. “Although I agree that her lack of vocalizations was a problem, it was obvious to me that his age did not affect her ability to please or to be pleased by him. Bravo, Miss Bennett.” She smiled at him, grateful for his praise. However, his dark gaze caused her loins to contract in fearful pleasure. She was surprised he had that kind of power over her and looked down at her feet.
Each of the remaining girls received critiques of a similar nature. All had weaknesses that the panel highlighted and addressed. It was a humbling experience, to say the least.
When they had finished, Sir spoke to the class as a whole. “We will discuss your performance amongst ourselves. Make your way to the commons area. There you will find refreshments. Wait until I come for you.”
Brie stumbled twice before she made it out of the room. She heard Sir call out to her, “Shoes!” She turned to him and nodded, humiliated at being called out like that. She gritted her teeth and tried to walk away with grace. Damn these fucking shoes!