Brie Learns the Art of Submission: Submissive Training Center (11 page)

She was pleasantly surprised when he pulled
her against him and lifted her chin up. Sir’s lips pressed against
her mouth and she moaned in pure ecstasy.

“Something tells me that this ex-virgin
would like more.”

“Yes, Sir,” she purred.

“Too bad, my dear. You must wait.”

She wanted to seduce him, but remembered her
place. “As you please, Sir.”

She stepped into the torturous six-inch
heels and hid her pain with a look of contentment. She followed
close behind Sir as he walked down the hall, curious to know what
he planned to give her.

As soon as they entered his office, he
commanded her to kneel again. He sat down at his desk and began
searching through the bottom drawer. He held up a thin black
collar. Brie’s heart wanted to burst with joy. It was obvious he
wasn’t pleased with the other Doms showing an interest in her, and
she’d read online that a collar was a sign of ownership.

“As one of my students, you are under my
charge. I cannot have Doms endeavoring to claim you before the
course is finished. There is still much for you to learn.” He
walked back over to her. “Brie, it would be foolish to choose a
Dominant until you have more experience. Although I can safely say
that all of the Dominants used in training would make good
partners, I do not want any of them attempting to sway your
decision. Therefore, I am placing this collar of protection around
your neck.”

She felt his manly touch as he fastened the
collar on her. Brie closed her eyes, her stomach fluttering at the
intimate contact.

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.

Brie Learns
H
er Power as a
Submissive

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 submissive
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.