by Vi Keeland
Sir continued, “This will be a visual reminder for others to keep their distance until your training is complete.” He said in a lower voice, “This does not indicate my ownership of you.”
Brie’s heart dropped, but she said, “Thank you, Sir.”
He chuckled lightly. “Everything you feel is written on your face, Brie.”
She felt shame and then wanted to die because he could tell. Sir lifted her chin. “I am your trainer. I cannot claim you as my submissive.” He kissed her one last time, and the collar around her neck rubbed pleasantly against her delicate skin.
It didn’t matter that Sir had said to wait until her training was over. In this one area, Brie could not obey—her heart was already his.
(Day 3)
Brie Learns Her Power as a Submissive
An Exchange of Gifts
The sun streamed into her bedroom, announcing the start of a new day. Brie curled up under her blankets with a grin on her face as she relived her encounter with Sir. His erotic touch had surpassed her wildest dreams and she could not forget the look of vulnerability on his face afterwards. She knew he felt the strong connection, but Brie had to be patient. As her trainer, Sir was not allowed to claim her.
Still… She caressed the thin black leather collar around her neck. He insisted it was a ‘protection’ collar so the other Doms would not influence her during training. She had a sneaking suspicion the collar’s true purpose was to stake his unspoken claim on her. Brie didn’t mind; she wanted Sir all to herself.
She popped out of bed when the alarm started beeping. Today would be her third day at the Submissive Training Center. Of the six women who’d started the program, three had already dropped out. The first two sessions had been meant to weed out wannabe subs. It made her wonder what tonight’s training would be like, now that only serious submissives remained. She trembled with excitement.
Brie dressed for work, this time choosing tight-fitting jeans, a black silk shirt and her six-inch heels. After only a few days of class, she already looked at herself in an entirely new light. She’d always worn clothes for comfort, but now she wore them for power—sexual power. It was thrilling to observe the positive reactions from men, and sometimes even women, in the confines of the little tobacco shop.
People treated her differently now. Mr. Reynolds, who had always been respectful, now treated her with reverence. It was intoxicating. Even Jeff, who was worthless as a coworker, tried to get in her good graces. He stocked the cigarettes on his own these days and pointed it out, hoping to impress her.
Um…that’s his job, she thought as she priced the new shipment of tobacco. When the door to the little shop opened, she looked up, wondering which of their regulars it would be. Her stomach did a little flip when she saw it was Tono. He looked at her with those rich, chocolate brown eyes and a smile that melted her heart. Seeing him in her work environment was disconcerting, but in a delightful, earthmoving way.
She stood up slowly and faced him, practicing her grace and poise. His eyes traveled from her face to her neck, but then locked on the collar. Without a word, he turned and left the shop.
She felt the urge to run after him, but stayed where she was. She fingered the thin, leather protector around her neck. Who knew it had that kind of power?
Brie was grateful Sir had thought to collar her. She would never have guessed that Tono would be so quick to start something outside the Training Center. Sir had read the Dominant’s intentions well. It was obvious that the young Dom respected Sir, based on his quick retreat.
However, something pricked her consciousness. Even though she was devoted to Sir, there was no denying she had feelings for Tono. She couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment at not getting the chance to talk to him. She hoped she would see the charming Dom that evening, so that she could express with her hands what she had been unable to say with her mouth.
After work, she readied herself for class, taking special care with her nails. She painted them a deep red, wanting them to look as sexy and desirable as her lips. Once she was dressed in her corseted school uniform, she practiced her transitions from a kneeling position to standing in front of her full-length mirror. Beauty and grace, she repeated to herself.
She was so caught up in doing it perfectly that she forgot the time. Brie had to grab her long coat and rush out of the door. When she got to the campus, she only had four minutes to make it to class. She turned her ankle, smashing hard into one of the business students at the entrance of the school. He caught her in his arms, preventing her from falling onto the cement.
“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he asked with a smooth chuckle.
She looked up into crystal blue eyes and forgot herself for a second. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have to go or I’ll be late.”
She whipped off her shoes and ran for the elevator. With seconds to spare, she made it to the classroom and sat down at her desk. She gracefully slipped her heels back on just as the bell rang.
She glanced up and saw everyone staring at her. Brie smiled innocently and shrugged. Mr. Gallant began his lesson on cue, not allowing her dramatic entrance to disrupt his teaching. She wondered if he would reprimand her after class.
“It is important that you understand the power you have as a submissive. It is not a case of you being inferior when you bow at your Dom’s feet. The reality is your Dom only has the illusion of power. You are the one in control. You decide how far the scene will go. It is your gift to him or her. The Dominants in this establishment understand this and treat it as the valuable gift it is. Not all Doms are as enlightened, but we will talk about that another day.”
He walked from the other side of the room to Brie’s desk. He glanced at her collar momentarily and then began speaking again.
“You will find the more power you give up, the more powerful you will feel. You are, in essence, giving a magnificent and selfless gift to your Dom. It is sacred. Never lose sight of that. A true submissive is a jewel of great worth.” His voice dropped lower and became sensual when he added, “There is nothing more intoxicating than looking down at my sub when she’s trembling at my feet in breathless anticipation for my next action or command.” Brie found her body responding to his words and had to force herself not to envision herself bowing at his feet.
He continued, “What does your Dom give back to you? He takes on the responsibility of caring for your needs throughout the scene, but he also brings to the table his imagination and experience. His is the art of arousal. A Dominant’s job is to increase his submissive’s state of excitement throughout the encounter, while at the same time testing and challenging her limits. Not an easy task, mind you, but one well worth the staging and planning required.” Mr. Gallant’s voice took on a silky consistency. “The union of a dedicated Dom and a confident submissive is a harmonious marriage of souls. There is no other experience like it.”
Brie closed her eyes as he spoke, his words resonating through her. Just listening to his description of a Dom/sub relationship gave her chills of pleasure. She couldn’t wait for the next practicum.
“I would like you to write down a favorite scenario that arouses you. One you have fantasized about for years because it makes your loins quiver when you think about it.” He handed out cloth-covered notebooks, each one different. Brie’s was a luxurious wine color. “This is your fantasy journal.”
She opened the book and was delighted to see each page was lined with gold. It was an opulent book, made to hold her sumptuous and naughty dreams. Mr. Gallant then handed each of them a gold pen. “You will not find a better writing instrument.”
Brie took hers and wrote her name on the first page. The pen glided over the paper effortlessly. She purred, loving everything about this assignment.
“Please include as many details as you can,” he continued. “You will also want to describe your feelings throughout the fantasy. You will find it aids tremendously in understanding your deepest desires. Being an exceptional sub
missive depends on you connecting to your unspoken needs and underlying motivations. A fantasy journal can help you do that.” Mr. Gallant sat down at his desk and proceeded to write in his own journal.
Since she was a filmmaker, Brie’s fantasies were complicated affairs. They had to make sense and her characters needed to have believable backstories or she couldn’t get into it. She took a deep breath and dived in, knowing exactly which fantasy she wanted to release onto the page.
My parents wanted to move us to Kansas in the hope that we could make a fresh start. My father had been a dreamer ever since I could remember. He’d lost everything we’d owned pursuing his impractical schemes. It didn’t surprise me when he jumped at the chance of free land when they opened up the West. He had no qualms about taking his family into the wildness. When I voiced my innate fear of Indians, Papa chastised me so severely that I never spoke of it again.
I was only eighteen at the time, a proper young woman of marrying age. Naturally, my mother and I were concerned about finding a suitable husband for me on the prairie. Papa dismissed those worries as well, claiming that Kansas men came from good stock and I would have plenty of fine gentlemen to choose from.
We were just days from our destination when our wagon train came under attack.
****
I hear the wild cries before I see them circle us. A cold chill grips my heart. Momma screams, “Run, Isabella! Run as fast as you can!” She pushes me off the wagon. The terror I feel gives my feet incredible speed. I don’t look back when I hear her scream—I only run faster.
I sprint until my sides ache, but I refuse to stop, knowing that it will spell my doom. Just when I think I can run no more, I come upon a stream and plunge my face into the cool water, to try to quench my insatiable thirst.
After several desperate gulps, I feel eyes boring down on me. I look up to see a savage warrior on a roan horse. He says nothing, watching me from the other side of the stream.
His look is foreign and frightening: bronze skin, long black hair, high cheekbones, and eyes that pierce my soul. When his horse starts towards me, I spring in the opposite direction even though I know it’s pointless. In a matter of seconds, the horse is running beside me.
The Indian launches himself off the large beast and tackles me to the ground. I struggle beneath him, but I am powerless against his incredible strength. He chuckles, as if he enjoys my terror. Then he turns me over in the dirt and crushes my body with his weight while pulling my hands above my head. I look into his dark eyes and see unbridled lust. It both frightens and excites me.
His lips come down on mine, demanding and firm. I whimper softly, unable to break from the intimate embrace. His smell and taste assault my senses, stirring something inside me I haven’t felt before.
Suddenly, he lifts himself off and ties my wrists together with a leather strap. He boosts me onto his horse and gracefully jumps on behind me. He nudges the magnificent beast towards his village. Once we arrive, I see that his people are celebrating the raid and showing off the spoils. As horrifying as that is, I cry out in panic when a brutal-looking warrior pulls me from the horse and drags me away.
He is stopped and a verbal exchange begins that I do not understand. To my relief, my original captor leads me to his tepee, but then he leaves me there alone. I listen to their inhuman screams and laughter throughout the long night.
Eventually, he enters the tent. I am petrified. Tears stream down my face unhindered, for I know he is about to take me. My only consolation is that he is not the other warrior. He gently wipes the wetness from my cheeks and murmurs something reassuring I can’t decipher.
I stiffen when he forces me down onto the buffalo hide. I feel his hands reach under my dress and I cry out for mercy. There will be no mercy tonight. I close my eyes tightly when he forces my clenched legs apart.
He moves between them, his manhood pressed against my womanly flower. I start to scream, but his lips muffle my cry. I struggle at the burning, pinching sensation caused by him forcing his large shaft into me. When he has pushed the entirety of his cock into my virginal depths, he stops and gazes into my eyes. There is something tender in the fierce eyes of my warrior.
He kisses me again and I feel myself start to melt. I am his now.
He gives a deep, guttural growl before he begins stroking me with his rock-hard…
“Please place your journals on my desk.”
Brie looked up with a frown, disappointed that she could not finish the fantasy. Glancing around, she noticed that the other girls had finished. Brie wondered if she was the only one who entertained such detailed fantasies. She lovingly fingered the book before placing it on Mr. Gallant’s desk. Sitting back in her seat, she willed her body to calm down. It was only a silly fantasy, after all.
“Before you start your practicum tonight, I want to inform you of tomorrow’s event. We started our first class on Wednesday for a reason. We wanted two days to weed out the non-submissives and one day to prepare you for the auction.”
Now he had Brie’s full attention.
“Every Saturday, you will participate in a private auction. It provides you with a chance to practice what you’ve learned while experiencing different Doms outside the Training Center. Rest assured, the Dominants invited to these auctions are prescreened. We guarantee whoever ends up ‘winning’ you for the day is worthy of your trust.”
Brie’s heart rate shot up. An auction? Her loins warmed at the thought of being purchased by a stranger and used for the day. Even though she was certain it wasn’t a possibility, she daydreamed Sir would be the one to win her.
“Tonight’s practicums have been especially designed to meet your individual needs. We want you prepared for tomorrow’s event. Take what you learn to heart and trust our training methods.” For some reason, Mr. Gallant stared directly at Brie when he said it, making her curious about what lay ahead.
As she was leaving the classroom, she heard him call out her name and her heart sank. “May I have a word with you?”
He was going to lecture her about almost being late—she just knew it. Brie walked over to him sheepishly. Mr. Gallant didn’t need to reprimand her; there was no way she would make that mistake again. Her ankle was still aching from when she’d wrenched it.
“I have a quick question,” he said kindly. She smiled, feeling a surge of relief that he wasn’t going to chew her out. “Why are you wearing a collar?”
Brie blushed slightly when she explained, “Sir felt a few Dominants needed a visual reminder to stay away until the end of the course.”
“Interesting,” he said, as if to himself. “Thank you, Miss Bennett. You may leave.”
She hurried towards the door, excited to join the others for the first practicum. Before she made it out of the room, however, he added, “For the record, being late is a sign of disrespect.”
She cringed inside, but turned and gave him a bright smile. “I promise not to let it happen again, Mr. Gallant.”
She almost threw him a kiss goodbye because she was so giddy about the upcoming session, but managed to stop herself. OMG, how embarrassing would that have been?
Blind and Stripped
They entered room twelve again, the room that looked like a dance studio with its mirrors and wooden floors. Brie remembered to take off her heels and to keep her eyes down when she entered. She stood before the panel of four trainers, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to spread across her lips. Being in Sir’s presence after such intimate contact the night before gave her delicious butterflies.
“Tonight’s first practicum will involve yesterday’s Doms putting you through your paces. We want the commands to be second nature for you, but we also expect to see grace and poise at all times,” Sir explained in his deep, commanding voice. Brie physically trembled at the sound of it.
Their handsome Doms entered the room—all except Tono. Instead of her gorgeous Dom, Brie had a small Middle Eastern woman. Had Sir ordered Tono away because of his
interest in her? The thought both saddened and pleased her.
Ms. Clark stood up and walked over to Brie. “Miss Bennett, because you had such difficulty averting your eyes yesterday, you will wear this the entire night.” She produced a blindfold and ordered Brie to turn.
Brie swallowed hard. Facing the unknown without the benefit of sight was terrifying to her. “Please, Mistress Clark,” she begged, “I learned my lesson, I promise.” However, she made the mistake of looking directly in Ms. Clark’s eyes.
“Turn,” barked the trainer angrily.
Brie dutifully turned. With deft movements, the imposing Dominatrix tied on the blindfold and snorted. “I am a strict teacher, Miss Bennett. You will learn that I do not tolerate disobedience.”
In a softer tone, Ms. Clark said, “Let me know if she disobeys you in any way.”
Brie heard a gentle voice answer, “Yes, Mistress.”
“You may go now.”
Brie felt a tight grip on her arm as the tiny woman led her from the room. Everything in her cried out to remain with Sir, but she knew defying Ms. Clark was not an option. Obviously, as the headmaster of the school, Sir agreed with her punishment or he would have prevented it.
She tried to hide her disappointment by concentrating on the woman’s touch. Although it was tight, the woman exuded calm control. Brie remembered Mr. Gallant’s assertion that she should trust the trainers’ lessons tonight and forced herself to relax. This is to prepare me for the auction, she repeated to herself.
She felt a temperature difference in the new room they entered. It was significantly colder, which made her nipples harden into tight buds.
“I want you to undress and lie on the table,” the woman commanded softly as she directed Brie’s hand to the edge of it.
Brie ran her hands over the table to get her bearings before undressing. She left her clothes on the floor and climbed onto the small table. It was barely wide or long enough to hold her. She gasped when her warm skin touched the cold vinyl. Then she heard the distinctive sound of stirrups being pulled out from the table, as if she were at a doctor’s office. With small, warm hands, the woman placed her feet into them.
