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The Academy

All four of them looked up at me automatically as I entered the room, and I had to bite my tongue hard to keep from laughing. In four years of running this program, it had never failed to begin this way.

I wouldn't want it to.

It was only peripherally that I saw their heads turn, since I, of course, kept my own eyes focused straight ahead. It would not be in keeping for me to appear interested in their reactions.

"Come on, man, move it," Emmett grumbled from behind me. I winced at the sound of his knuckles cracking. "I wanna get started."

I couldn't answer him with the girls watching me, not without undermining his authority and breaking the silence with which I preferred to begin these proceedings. So instead I gritted my teeth and walked the rest of the way into the room, eyes on the far door. Mrs. Cope gave me a nervous smile, but the moment she spotted Emmett's bulk fitting itself sideways through the door behind me, her hand fluttered to her heart and she almost tripped on her way out.

This time, when I bit my tongue, I tasted blood. Fuck, everyone seemed to be trying to get me to laugh today. We were supposed to be a team. All the staff, even those who had nothing to do with our…lifestyle…knew the rules. They knew how important first impressions were.

I stopped behind the huge, polished mahogany desk in front, never once looking straight at the women or even indicating that I saw them, and began sorting through the files. I wasn't just doing it to look busy; they would have been photographed upon arrival, and I had to quickly match the names with the faces so I'd know whom I was addressing. As I opened the four folders side by side on the table, I heard Emmett, Jasper, and Felix take their places: Emmett at my left, the other two at my right. Once their feet stilled, there was total silence, which, as I've said, I preferred.

I had studied my own submissive's file, of course, but until now, I'd had no idea what she looked like. In her photo, Tanya appeared to be exactly her stated age, twenty-five, with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair and a mocking smile. She wasn't unattractive by any means, but I still felt rather disappointed. She wasn't the type I preferred—I liked the ones who were already rather submissive in their basic natures, not the spirited ones that needed taming. That was more Felix's type than mine.

Of course, it was entirely possible I'd misread her. Anyone could be caught by the camera at just the wrong moment, lending her an expression completely contrary to her true nature. We would see soon enough.

I turned to the next file, which was for Mary Alice, Jasper's sub. This time, I had no misgivings about the match; this girl was exactly the type Jasper did so well with. In spite of myself, I looked up at the real Mary Alice, seated with the other three at the long conference table. She was very tiny—according to her profile, not even five feet tall—and I almost laughed again when I saw that her feet didn't even meet the ground and were dangling from her chair. Short, dark hair coaxed into spikes with hair gel. Dark, soulful eyes and plump pink lips just made to wrap around the very tip of his—

I looked down quickly at the next file, trying to banish that thought from my mind. Her checklist, I remembered, had a strict hard limit on sharing. I had no business thinking about her that way. And business or no, I had no desire to think about Jasper that way. Not that we hadn't shared subs or done scenes together before, but that didn't mean I wanted to be having visions of his cock at random moments.

Having already betrayed myself by looking up at Mary Alice, I wrote off my disinterest as a loss and glanced at Jessica as I skimmed her file. She seemed made for Emmett—at the risk of being wrong yet a third time, she had that vacuous air about her that Emmett would just love. And she was certainly voluptuous. Had he been in a vanilla relationship, he would need a strong woman interested in sports or cars. Having decided on this lifestyle, the best thing for him was a stereotypical dumb blonde with huge tits that didn't try to talk too much. Another good match.

That only left Felix's sub, and the moment I opened her file, I knew with one look that I'd have to arrange a switch somehow. There was no way I could give this girl over to Felix, not with the way he handled training. Christ, he'd probably literally fucking break her. Many women clicked with Felix perfectly. Tanya would, I was sure: she appeared robust, healthy, and strong. But not her. Not this girl. When I saw Isabella's photo, the only word that sprang immediately to mind was 'frail.'

I looked up quickly and caught Isabella staring back at me with a curious expression. Our eyes met, and she blushed furiously before ducking her head in chagrin, her soft, wavy hair falling in a curtain around her face.

Yes. Oh, fuck me, yes.

Keeping the folders open, I began distributing them among the Doms. Jasper's eyes lit up when he saw Mary Alice's photograph and realized which of the women was to be his submissive. But he showed no other sign of interest. To our students, it was imperative that we appear aloof.

Emmett seemed pleased with his choice as well, but then came the problem of dealing with Felix. He didn't know his sub by face, of course, but he noticed the different name as soon as I handed him Tanya's folder, keeping Isabella's for myself. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could completely ruin our image, I hissed, "Just trust me, please," and the jaws snapped shut again.

He looked down at the photograph and then up at the real thing sitting ten feet away, and I saw the corners of his mouth quirk up. He was pleased. I knew they would be perfect for each other. In fact, the only reason I hadn't assigned them together in the first place was because of Isabella's hard limit on anal sex and sharing, both of which I rather enjoyed. I thought she would, too, if she gave it a chance, but our Doms never so much as touched on the hard limits of the submissives; that was left to the woman's true Master.

But there was plenty I could do to—with—her even without that. Having seen that gorgeous dark hair and sad, sweet little face and compared it with Tanya's, I knew there was no way I could spend the next eight weeks with the smug redhead.

Having handed out the three folders, I let Isabella's hang loosely in my hand as I addressed the room in a brusque, cold voice. "I am not standing here to make a welcome speech. You know why you are here. This is not a play party; it is a learning institution. The fee was paid, by you or your Dom, on the understanding that you are here for intensive training in the art of submission, not a spa getaway. Are we clear?" I waited, and was not disappointed to hear three Yes, sirs in response to my question. Only Isabella remained silent.

I continued as though I hadn't noticed. "While I will remind you, due to its importance, that safeword use is encouraged whenever you find it necessary, there should be no need to explain our program as though you had not gone through months of interviews, screenings, and briefings to get this far. Naturally, you will have read the handbook and know basically what is expected of you."

"Yes, sir," was repeated again by Tanya, Mary Alice, and Jessica.

I gave them all a sardonic smile. "Yet all four of you have been looking directly at our faces this whole time, and only Isabella knew not to speak to me without express permission." In the full minute of silence that followed, I had to hide a smirk as the women fidgeted nervously under my stare, their own gazes having dropped hurriedly to focus on the table in front of them.

Finally, after letting the tension build until the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, I reached down and opened the top drawer of the desk. Mary Alice and Isabella visibly jumped at the sound of the wood squeaking, and when I extracted the leather paddle and brought it down hard against the desktop, even the men jumped at the resulting crack!

"Stand up, all of you," I barked at the women, striding forcefully across the room until I was standing behind Tanya. Isabella and Mary Alice leaped to their feet without hesitation, confirming my instinct that Jasper and I had gotten the more docile, eager to please students that we preferred. Felix and Emmett would be in their element taming the other two. Rarely did the assignments fit so perfectly.

Tanya almost knocked her chair over getting to her feet after I slammed the paddle down on the table right next to her hand. "You were ordered to stand up, Miss Rebane," I hissed. "And you, Miss Stanley," I added, nodding at the chesty blonde. "That will mean two for looking at my face, two for speaking without permission, and two for disobedience."

Tanya stood at attention, her hands hanging at her sides. Yet as I moved so I was standing off to her side, I could see the ghost of a smirk on her face. The proud princess thought this was funny. I raised an eyebrow at Felix and could tell he was barely containing his grin. Oh, just wait until the first week was over and he started with his public displays of discipline. That smirk wouldn't be there long.

As was required, the women all wore yoga pants. I had never had a group come through Reception where at least three out of four did not end up bent over the conference table, and it was so much more streamlined a process to bare their asses for punishment when they were sporting elastic waistbands. In a practiced maneuver, I yanked Tanya's pants straight down to her ankles and ordered her to bend across the desk.

Tanya was the tallest among them, and had to bend further than usual to rest her torso on the table. I could see that she was already wet, the soft tuft between her legs glistening in the sunight coming in the window behind us. Felix would want her waxed bare, as would Jasper with Mary Alice. I didn't understand the appeal myself. I expected my subs to be well groomed, but preferred a bit of hair so I actually felt like I was fucking a woman, not a five-year-old girl or a dolphin.

Wanting to hurry up and get back to my suite with Isabella, I made short work of reddening Tanya's pale bottom. Six times, the leather paddle cracked down on her backside, leaving behind fiery red stripes to mark her, the disobedient sub. Even though I was certain she got more pleasure than pain out of the experience, her eyes—which, this time, remained downcast—were damp when I ordered her to stand and pull up her pants.

Jessica had six to take as well, and Mary Alice only four. Jessica didn't make a sound, not even when I laid the last stripe across her thighs, but Mary Alice squeaked as the last two landed in the same place. I looked up as she was tearfully adjusting her clothes and saw Jasper staring at her with a hungry longing in his eyes. He had stepped behind the desk, probably to hide what had to be a massive erection at seeing his submissive being paddled right before his eyes.

I was relieved that he was trying to hide his arousal; it was better that Mary Alice—or any of the girls—not understand just yet the power they held over us. That would come later.

Isabella was last, and while she looked a little scared just at first, her expression after I had landed the paddle twice across her tiny, perfect ass was carefully kept blank. I was disappointed, but took comfort in the fact that I would have her in my playroom for two whole months. In those months, I would make her cry countless times. Tears of pain, tears of humiliation, and tears of pure ecstasy and release as I pushed her beyond any limit she might have known even existed and into the realm of total, screaming abandon.

Isabella followed me silently down the hall, walking several steps behind me as a submissive should. I opened the door and led her into our suite, which was made up of our two bedrooms, the playroom, a dining area, the huge bathroom complete with Jacuzzi, and a rather impressive living room with shelves of books I'd carted upstate in the back of my Forester. Isabella waited uncertainly in the middle of the room as I closed the door and engaged the security settings.

Thus closeted with my submissive, I circled her slowly, reaching out to touch her ass, feel a lock of her hair, tilt her head back to get a better view of her neck. Technically, I could have been interested in how my collar would look once I put it on, but examining Isabella this way, like one might examine a horse for sale, let her know that she was mine, and her body was also mine to do what I wished with. I was pleased when she began to fidget under my scrutiny—pleased that I could rebuke her, as I had in the reception room.

"Stand still," I commanded, a note of warning in my voice. "Unless you want to be spanked again." Isabella straightened immediately, letting her hands dangle awkwardly at her sides, though I saw how reluctant she was to expose herself that way.

I liked her manner. Training this naïve woman-child in the ways of submission would be utterly delicious. Already, my cock was throbbing, wanting to be buried inside her with her hands bound above her head. And I could have done it—ordered her to strip, or ripped off her clothes myself, and dragged her to the bed or table where restraints lay ready for use. I could have done it, and there would have been nothing she could do to stop me short of a safeword, which I hardly thought likely this early in the game. My hands itched to grasp the fabric of her thin t-shirt and tear it from her body.

But that, also, would come later. Other things were more important.

I believe Isabella sensed my indecision; her breathing stilled for a moment until I broke the tension by speaking. "You will take off your clothes and place them in the hamper," I instructed, pointing toward the bathroom. "For the first week, you will not leave this room for any reason short of an emergency evacuation, and I expect you to be nude whenever you are in my presence."

Isabella turned toward the bathroom, but I put up my hand to stop her. "Wait until I am done speaking to you," I snapped, pleased to see her cheeks reddening at the rebuke. I almost would have welcomed an apology so I might punish her for speaking out of turn—the memory of her frail little body bent over the table in Reception made my cock strain maddeningly against my khakis. But Isabella had been trained well in this regard, and she remained silent.

"While you should have read, and should continue to read, the handbook," I continued, "there are certain things that depend on the Dom's preferences, and this is one of them. Another Dom may have wanted you clothed so he might have the pleasure of undressing you, for example. I have left you a robe…" I took a few steps toward the door where a silk robe hung from a brass hook on its back. "…and you may wear it when I am gone if you feel cold, or when you are accepting our meals from the waitstaff.

"Your trainer will not begin to work with you until the second week, but in the meantime I have drawn up a simple exercise and Pilates plan that you will follow. We will use the gym alone every morning from eight until nine, and you may wear whatever is comfortable for you while in the gym. Those are the exceptions."

Then I took Isabella's wrist and led her towards the dining area. "You know what is expected of you in regards to serving me. You will eat after I am finished and have left the room. The exception will be Sundays, when we will share dinner. You will serve me before serving yourself, but once we are seated you may ask me any questions you have. It will be our time to talk over the week: how it went, how the next week will proceed, and your concerns about the training." I paused. "Do you have any questions right now?" Again, Isabella remained silent. She knew that much. "You may speak."

"No, sir," she whispered.

I smiled. "I am pleased that you do not presume to call me 'Master,'" I told her, and was rewarded with a softening of her features. Not an actual smile, but it was clear she was happy at being praised. "Perhaps you are merely being loyal to your true Master…but another submissive might still have addressed me so in a misguided attempt to please me." I waited, hardly thinking she would speak out of turn, then asked, "Will you tell me which it is? You may speak."

Isabella swallowed hard before answering. This would be the first time she had said more than 'Yes, sir' or 'No, sir' to me, and I wondered how her voice would sound. I expected one so lovely to have a lovely voice to match, and though it was barely above a whisper, I was not disappointed.

"I could never call anyone Master but my own, sir," she said, twisting her little hands together. "I was afraid you might find it disrespectful, but I couldn't betray him that way for anyone."

"And that is as it should be." I left it at that, not wanting her too comfortable in my presence. This week would be focused on breaking down her ego, not building it up. "You may undress now."

I didn't tell Isabella not to close the bathroom door, but I didn't need to. She took off her sneakers and lined them up carefully against the wall next to the bathroom, then quickly stripped off her t-shirt, yoga pants, and simple cotton bra and panties, dropping them in the hamper and closing the lid slowly so it didn't bang. She seemed reluctant to make even the slightest bit of noise, and I wondered how much training her Dom had already given her.

I had never actually met the man, but everyone knew James Travies, the name behind hundreds of apartment complexes down in Connecticut and Massachusetts. He wasn't quite so ubiquitous in the BDSM community, but that meant little; many rich men (and women) were far too busy with their day jobs to be attending play parties. That had been the reason for the Academy: to train submissives for men like James.

As with any BDSM activity, no one was ever expected to participate unwillingly. The subs were fully informed of what they would be experiencing while in our program; their signatures were at the bottom of an extensive series of agreements; all applicants were screened very carefully by our staff psychiatrist before being admitted. If James wanted Isabella here, it was also a certainty that Isabella herself wanted to be here.

"Very nice," I said as she emerged, naked, from the bathroom. "Come here to me." She obeyed meekly, padding across the room on her bare feet with her eyes on the carpeting. I picked up an elastic hair tie from the small table next to my favorite chair, moving behind her and gently pulling her hair back into a ponytail at the base of her neck. I preferred hair to be away from my subs' faces at all times. Later, I would instruct her on how to do a French twist or at least a braid, but this would do for tonight.

Finished, I walked around her again, taking in her whole body: the nipples already pebbling from the cold air against her skin, the gooseflesh cropping up on her arms and legs, the dark patch between her bony hips. Tomorrow, she would be waxed to my specifications. Tomorrow, she would serve me dinner and kneel at my feet as I ate. Tomorrow, I would officially collar her. But for tonight…

"And now, Isabella," I purred, tracing one finger slowly down her arm, feeling the throbbing in my cock start up again even more urgently when I saw her shiver at my touch. "Now, we fuck."