Leather and Grace

by Maggie Ryan

  “What do you mean? I thought there were only ten scheduled.”

  “Well, yeah, but we had a couple more come in. Before you ask, I’ve checked them out as well. Besides, if there’s more than six total left by the end of the day, I’d be surprised. And when they begin to drop like flies, you can let the three of us handle them.”

  While that was quite possibly true, as several students quickly discovered that their fantasies were a lot less demanding than the reality of submission could be, Quentin was still pissed. Before they entered the room, he turned to look at Conner. “Let’s get this perfectly clear. You do not lead, you follow. The next time I ask for something, I don’t give a shit how busy you are; I expect you to do as asked.” When the man’s lips thinned, Quentin truly didn’t care. “If you don’t like the way I do things, you are free to leave.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad, man, and I don’t think Brody would like you threatening me,” Conner said. “This place is already short handed, and if I quit…”

  “Another comment like that and you won’t have to quit; I’ll fire your ass. Either leave now, or stop trying to be cock of the walk and take the opportunity to learn something. Your choice.” Without a glance back, Quentin opened the door and entered the room.

  “Oh my God,” he heard a woman mock-whispering. “Talk about a walking mountain of testosterone.” Her statement had a few others giggling and Quentin lifting his eyes from the folders. The moment he’d crossed the threshold, he was in his full dominant role, and his expression didn’t change when he found the cause of the wave of tittering that was running around the room. Looking down, he matched the woman to a photo on one of the files and then looked up again. His hold on the folders tightened when he realized who was seated next to the blonde. What the fuck?

  ***

  Oh, shit, Grace thought to herself, attempting to sink a bit lower in her chair as Quentin looked up. She had to admit Gretchen was right. While she’d thought the two men who had greeted them, checking IDs against a list, were handsome and sexy, both paled next to Quentin. His black leather pants fit him like a glove, not a single line disturbed the perfectly molded expanse to indicate he was wearing either boxers or briefs. The fact that he was going commando, and the bulge behind the zipper telling her he was very well endowed, had her breath catching and her nipples tightening. She wondered how the long-sleeved black t-shirt didn’t burst at the seams as it stretched across his chest. Her heart skipped a beat at the tiniest glimpse of a tattoo peeking beneath the hem of one cuff, her imagination running wild as she wondered what ink was worthy of adorning such a perfect body. There was only one thing marring the raw sexuality of his pose. His left eyebrow was cocked over eyes that she was positive had turned the hard grey of cold steel as they seemed to be pinning her to her chair.

  She swallowed hard and then pushed herself to sit up straight. She had as much of a right to be here as any of the other women. Mentally kicking herself for dropping her eyes, she pushed her shoulders back, watching as yet another man walked to the front, pausing for a moment before moving to join the two men standing slightly behind Quentin. Of course Quentin was the leader. Grace seriously could not picture him in any other role. She slid her glance to him again, noticing that he was flipping through what appeared to be a set of folders.

  “Sorry, I think he believes it was you who started the giggle fest,” Gretchen truly whispered this time. Grace wished she’d chosen any other chair in the room when Quentin’s voice had every giggle ending and every single woman freezing in their seats.

  “Is there something you’d like to share, Miss Kennedy?”

  “Um, what?”

  “I believe you heard me,” Quentin said, his eyes now on the blonde, obviously understanding exactly who had made the comment.

  “I’m sorry, I was… um… well, it was a compliment.”

  “It was a compliment, what?”

  “Huh?”

  Quentin sighed and addressed the entire class. “Ladies, let’s get a few things straight. This is not some class that you’ve signed up for because you are bored. This class is not to teach you a hobby—it is to teach you a lifestyle. There are rules and protocol that will be followed at all times. Infractions of those rules will result in consequences.”

  Grace noticed that not a single person around her seemed to be breathing until he paused and then, almost as one being, everyone took a breath, herself included. God, his voice was smooth as warm chocolate, and yet the authority with which he spoke had the skin on her bottom crawling wondering exactly what sort of consequences he was discussing. She didn’t have to wonder long.

  “To be perfectly clear, in this class and with the hands-on training you’ll receive, any one of the trainers won’t hesitate to deliver those consequences in the form of their implement of choice applied to your bare ass.”

  At least I’m not the only one squirming, Grace thought, forcing herself to remain still by gripping the edges of her chair, only to blush when she realized Quentin’s gaze had once again landed on her. She saw the corner of his mouth quirk and she knew that if he wanted, he could easily lift her off the chair, no matter the strength of her grip. She forced herself to let go and folded her hands in her lap.

  “There will be no negotiations. Your opinion as to the fairness of the decision does not matter within these walls.” Once again he looked down at the folders, moving one to the top. “Could you tell me why that is, Miss Baxter?”

  Grace heard a soft gasp from a few chairs away.

  “Um, because we are the sub-submissives and you—I mean all of you guys—are the bosses?”

  Quentin’s small grin had everyone relaxing the tiniest bit. “Very good, but the proper term would be Dominant. And, ladies, when addressed by a Dominant, you are to respond with respect…”

  “Oh, oh!”

  Grace saw Gretchen waving her hand furiously, like some first grader in desperate need of the bathroom. She almost winced when Quentin’s head swiveled towards the woman.

  “Yes, Miss Kennedy?”

  “I understand. I should have ended my answer with ‘Master’, right?” Gretchen said, and Grace had to bite the inside of her cheek at the woman’s obvious pleasure in understanding where she’d messed up earlier.

  “No,” Quentin said, instantly deflating the woman. “While you will use the word Master in front of a trainer’s name, when asked a question, the use of the word sir given with your answer will denote proper respect.” When Gretchen begin to wave again, he shook his head. “Let me continue and then, if you have any questions I haven’t answered, we can address them.”

  “Oh, of course, sir. I mean sorry, sir. Um, yes, sir!” Gretchen said, nodding just as vigorously as she’d been waving. Grace had to hand it to Quentin when he didn’t roll his eyes or make any other expression signifying his humor at Gretchen’s repetition of the title he’d just instructed they use.

  “Thank you. Now, as I was saying, the decision to apply discipline is left to your trainers. If you graduate and enter into a relationship with a single Dominant, it will be his responsibility to determine if another Dominant has the right to punish you.” He looked around the room before he continued. “I realize this is the first night of your class but believe me, the sooner you decide to commit or not, the more it will benefit everyone. That said, who has been spanked before?”

  Grace’s hand went up, along with the majority of the other women’s.

  “Let me clarify that,” Quentin said. “Who has been spanked as an adult—not as a child by a parent?” A few hands went down but still more than half of the women kept their hands in the air.

  “Clarifying further, I don’t mean a few swats during sex to spice it up a little. I’m talking about being spanked for punishment until your ass felt like it was on fire, and you found it hard to catch your breath and difficult to sit for a while?”

  Grace lowered her hand and noticed that only two remained in the air. Quentin looked at the
women and then at the folders, obviously searching for a match, but not speaking to them specifically. Instead, he nodded to the two before addressing the entire class. “Ladies, this is the time to decide if you wish to stay or leave. I realize we have yet to go into a great deal of specifics of what this lifestyle requires of a submissive, but I promise that if the knowledge that you’ll often go home with a sore behind is not appealing, then you definitely won’t like your first hands-on experience. No one will think less of you if you’ve decided that this lifestyle is not for you. I’ll give you a few minutes to make your decision.”

  “What about the fee I paid?” a woman asked, already reaching for the purse she’d slung over her chair.

  “You’ll be given a full refund,” Quentin assured her. She nodded and stood, and one of the men who’d checked the women in went to the door to escort her out. As he returned to the front, Quentin appeared to be handing out the folders, and Grace understood he was probably going to split the class into smaller groups. Seeing the paddle hanging from a loop at his waist, and what appeared to be identical ones handing from the other men’s belts, she also understood that a spanking was most likely in the immediate future of those women who didn’t leave.

  “You staying?” Gretchen whispered and Grace nodded. “Oh good, me too. I’m praying I get the leader. God, he’s so freaking hot.”

  It took a few minutes and a bit of whispering, but another woman finally shook her head at the friend she’d entered with and stood. At her action, Quentin looked up and gave her a smile, then nodded to one of his men, who again moved to escort her out. Wow, they’d been in class less than a half-hour and their numbers were already dwindling. How many more would leave either the moment before they got spanked, or immediately after? Squirming again, Grace also wondered if anyone else’s panties were a bit damp. Then her face turned hot as she realized that no matter who spanked her, they’d know that just the thought of being turned over a lap by a dominant man had her wet.

  “All right, no one else?”

  Quentin’s voice and question snapped her attention back to the front. When no one else stood, he nodded. “Good. Let me state that you are free to leave at any time. Just let your trainer know. You will address me as Master Quentin. These men will also be responsible for your training.” He introduced each man by his name as they each gave a nod. Grace noticed that while two also gave the ladies a grin, the blond man who’d entered last just glanced over the group. None of them spoke. Perhaps there was some Dom-code that required them to be the strong, silent type? Her thoughts were interrupted when Quentin… make that Master Quentin, spoke again.

  “If you’d all come line up before me, please.”

  Grace pushed herself up, grateful that her legs were stable enough to hold her upright. She joined the group, noticing that no one even looked like they were thinking of giggling.

  “Stand up straight, arms folded behind you, legs slightly apart,” Quentin ordered, and the line shuffled to allow each other enough space to obey. Once they were in position, Quentin continued. “This is the position of attention, and one you’ll assume when any trainer enters the room.

  “There are different commands for kneeling and you’ll learn the differences as we go along. Most kneeling positions begin with a slight difference in how you’ll position your hands and legs. You’ll discover that most clubs use variants of the poses used in the Gorean subculture. We’ll start with the basic command, which is given with the simple instruction to kneel. As a submissive, you will always need to remain aware of what your Dominant is expecting. The command to kneel can also be given silently by hand signal. You’ll need to become familiar with the slight differences of your Dominant’s hand to indicate variations.” Every eye was on him as he curled his thumb and two fingers into his palm, leaving his middle and index fingers pressed together as they pointed to the floor.

  “Please do so now with as much grace as possible.”

  Grace had a fleeting thought that once again she wasn’t living up to her name as she tried to sink to her knees with her hands behind her back. Seeing Gretchen stumble a bit, she was glad she wasn’t the only one who had to use a hand to brace herself before returning her hands to the required position.

  “In this basic kneeling position, you are indicating you are not just a submissive but that you are willing to serve, and by that, I don’t necessarily mean sexually.” A few nervous titters were overlooked as he continued. “In this pose, you are basically waiting to see what is required of you. You will be comfortable and could maintain this position for a long time. You will learn to rise gracefully to perhaps bring your Dominant a drink or even an implement that he has requested. You’ll sit back on your legs, the tips of your toes touching the floor. Legs together, hands on your lap, wrists crossed. This also allows the Dom to easily bind your wrists if he chooses. Back straight, chest out, tummy in, and head up but eyes downcast.” He paused and shook his head. “That was an instruction, ladies.” Bodies shifted again until each one was in the required pose. Grace watched from beneath lowered eyes and saw four sets of legs move and heard soft voices giving instructions to sit straighter, tummy in, toes pointed against the floor. By the time she felt a presence behind her, she barely dared breathe until she heard, “Very nice, Miss Hensley, but don’t clasp your hands together. Just loosely cross them over one another.” At her nod, the man added, “I can’t hear a nod, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, okay… I mean, yes, sir.”

  “Very good.”

  The next voice was Quentin’s again. “Practice going from standing to kneeling until you can do so without having to think about keeping your balance or where to put your hands. It will seem awkward at first but the more you practice, the more comfortable you’ll become. There are not only variations of this pose but also additional positions, which you’ll learn later. Please rise again, as gracefully as possible.” When they all stood, remembering to return to the proper standing position, he nodded.

  “Good, but without the use of your hands. Again, it will require practice. Eyes on me, please.” Looking at each one, he added, “From now on, I expect to see you wearing either a dress or a skirt, one loose enough to allow your legs to spread widely, and the easier to remove, the better. Eventually, you’ll be moving from one position to another in the nude.” Grace heard a few gasps but felt her sex clench at the image that popped into her mind, and had to admit it would be a sign of obvious submission if required to drop and spread her legs and thrust out her breasts without benefit of any covering. Again she was pulled from her thoughts when he continued.

  “Until then and despite what you might believe, underwear is required. I won’t deny that every man with a cock, well, those who prefer their partners be women, love the naked female form, but lingerie is also quite the aphrodisiac.” He paused as if to allow the women to give that some thought. Grace was already making a note to immediately do some shopping at the nearest Victoria’s Secret. When he continued, she felt her tummy flip. “Having to lower your own panties or having a Dom do it for you is also a part of the experience. And don’t be under the impression that wearing a thong will keep your panties up when receiving discipline. Any questions?” When a bunch of heads began to shake, he shook his, as well. “Your Dominant can’t read your mind. When you are asked a question, you are to verbally answer. Try again, any questions?”

  “No, sir,” the line of women said in unison, more than a few voices sounding a little shaky. Before he could continue, a lone voice spoke.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, Miss…”

  “Alton, Jean,” Master Trent provided, obviously having received her folder.

  “Thank you. Go ahead, Miss Alton.”

  “Sir, um, are you… I mean, are we going to actually be… um… well, you know…”

  “Spanked?” Quentin offered.

  “Um, yes, sir.”

  “Yes, you are. Do you wish to leave before we begin?”

  “Oh
no, I mean, I-I just wondered…” Jean took a long, audible breath. “I-I just wondered about safewords… that’s the proper term, isn’t it?”

  Grace thought the question was an excellent one. From the slight nods she saw from a few of her classmates, they seemed to think so as well.

  “The term is proper,” Quentin acknowledged. “And we’ll be discussing the choice of safewords in a later class. What’s important for now is that safewords are not considered during a punishment.”

  “Really? I mean, what if it… you know, hurts too much?” Gretchen asked.

  Quentin turned his eyes to her. “Because, Miss Kennedy, the entire reason for a punishment is that it does hurt, to remind a submissive that the behavior will not be tolerated. It would be rather pointless if it didn’t, don’t you agree?”

  “I-I guess.”

  “Guess what?”

  “Oh, I guess it would, sir. Be pointless, I mean… um, sir.”

  “Let me reassure you, ladies. It is not our intention to frighten you tonight. It is our intention to help you begin the journey you’ve all decided to take. We are not monsters with palms itching to light into your behinds. Every lesson and every hands-on demonstration is simply another step along the path. Again, I’ll repeat. If at any time you decide this isn’t a journey you wish to take, simply tell any one of the Masters. However, I do ask that you don’t do so when in the middle of your first spanking.” He paused and ran his eyes up and down the line. “I’ll also reassure you that you will survive.” A few women giggled and he smiled before continuing. “Any additional questions before we begin?”

  This time there was a single chorus of, “No, sir.”

  Quentin nodded. “When I call your name, please step forward.” Looking over to the left, he nodded and one of the men stepped forward. “Miss Alton and Miss Landers, please go with Master Trent but, as I’ve stated, you’ll address him as sir on most occasions, as your conversation will be limited to answering questions.” The women stepped forward and followed Trent as he led them to one corner of the room.