Back in the Training School…

23 Dec

…i am leaving the classroom when Professor C stops me.  Notebook in hand, he glances from it to me. 

“It looks like you’re on the list,” he says.


“The list,” he says, a little impatiently. 

i don’t know what he’s talking about, so i wait.  i have learned not to push for answers, to accept what’s given.  i’ll be told as much as i need to know.

“For next week – the party,” he says. 

My heart stops – it really does, just for a split second, but i can feel it.  O.  The party.  i’m on the list for the party. 

 i’m thrilled and i’m terrified.  i’ve heard about the parties.  Just enough to know that this is a big deal.  i bite my lip – i want to ask a zillion questions, and –

 – “i am?” i say.  My heart is racing now.  i’m on the list.  The List.

“Yes,” and then he looks at me and grins, “Oh, this is your first time, isn’t it?’

i  nod, “Yes, Sir.”

“Well, sit down a minute, I’ll fill you in.  You’ll get lots of specific instructions and some special training in the few days, and I don’t even know exactly what your tasks will be, but I’ll tell you about the party now.”

i sit, remembering without even thinking about it to lift my skirt so i’m sitting directly on the seat.  Of course, the clothes we wear at the Training School are designed to make this easy.  Sometimes i wear a very short skirt that barely needs to be lifted.  Other times, i wear a long skirt that has been slit in the front and the back.   Velcro strips along the edges allow some control of how high the slit is, ranging from mid-thigh to all the way to my waist. 

Being unreceptive to instructions will generally lead to more exposure.  If i’m slow to offer myself, the professors may actually fasten my skirts on either side – as if they were ponytails – so i’m completely uncovered to the waist.  The skirt bunched on either side of me feels awkward, and is an embarrassing reminder that i’m exposed this way due to some infraction of the rules.  

Often, when my skirts have been fastened in this way, any one of the Doms in Training may stop me as i’m moving through the halls.  Bend me over a table postioned conveniently along the hallway.  He may take one of the implements off the wall, or even use his hands, to smack my ass.  He is only supposed to give me three licks at any one time, but often there is a fourth one “for good measure.”

When he is finished, i’m to kneel, of course, and thank him nicely.  i kiss the implement he’s used, or his hand, and kiss his cock.  Then i’m allowed to go on my way.

But today i’m wearing a long skirt, well, calf length, opened only to mid thigh.  While the professors or DIT’s (Doms in Training) could still bend me over any time, they are less likely to do so.  

i am wearing a corset though; one that exposes my nipples.   i lift my skirt as i sit, feeling the chair beneath my naked ass and pussy. 

Professor C , still standing, puts his notebook down.   He reaches out and grasps a nipple in each hand, lightly at first, then tugging on them firmly until they stand erect.   “Much better,” he says.  “You have nice nipples, and they’re much lovelier this way.”

i blush, pleased by this praise.  My nipples are tingling, and i’d like for him to play with them some more.  My pussy is soaking wet, but it always seems to be.   The more they use me for their pleasure, the more i want them to.

Professor C laughs, and sits down.  “Enough of that, slut,” he says, and i blush some more.  “Pay attention.  You know, the school was started to train sluts for their Doms.  The Doms or Masters would bring their girls or boys here, and we’d teach them to be obedient.  We’d teach them some skills in serving, and send them back.  Sometimes, that’s still what we do.  Were you sent here by your Master?”

  i shake my head, “No, Sir.”  He waits, looking at me expectantly, so i g0 on.  “i met a man who told me about the school.  i – i thought it sounded – interesting.    So i -“now i’m really blushing – “i guess i kind of, um, volunteered to come.”

Professor C grins, leans back in his chair, “O, that’s nice.  My favorite kind of referral – the volunteers.  Yes, we discovered that there are submissive women and men, natural slaves, who don’t have Owners, who desparately want a Master of their own.   They jump at the chance to come to the training school. 

“So you’re a volunteer,” he continues, “I’m not surprised.  As you know, volunteers are free to leave at any time, but if you walk away, you forfeit the opportunity; you’ll never be allowed to come back.”  He reaches out again, grasping both nipples, pinching hard enough to make me whimper.

He releases my nipples then, but continues to caress them with his thumbs, teasing them even more, although they are already hard swollen nubs.  i am so aroused, i begin to squirm a little.  “See,” he says, “see how nicely you respond.  i bet you’re sitting in a puddle there.  Aren’t you?’

And i am distracted, so it takes me a moment to realize he expects me to answer, but then i say it quickly, “Yes, Sir – yes, i’m very wet.”

“Tell me about it,” he says, “tell me what it feels like to have a hot, wet cunt.  To be such a slut that you’ll sit here with your skirt pulled up for me.  That you want me to do this,” and as he says it, he pinches my nipples cruelly.  i gasp.  “Tell me,” he says.

And i am speechless.  i want to tell him how it feels, but i can’t, truly i can’t, all i can think about is his hands on my nipples, my aching nipples, and i can barely say, “Sir, please, Sir,”

– and he says, “Please, Sir?  Please what?”  He’s smiling, relaxed, but not releasing my poor nipples.   “i want to hear what this is like for you,” he says again, “How your cunt feels… what it’s like to want this.”  And he tugs on my nipples, still pinching them hard. 

i’m squirming, but trying not to pull away from him, because that only makes it worse.  And i can’t talk.  i just can’t.  “Please, Sir,'” is all i can get out –

– and quite suddenly, he releases my nipples.  Leans back in his chair. 

i am relieved, breathing again – and quickly aware that i want him to touch me more.  i don’t quite want him to stop. 

He’s smiling.  “Hard to talk, huh?   But look how lovely your nipples are now.”

Obediently, i glance down at my nipples, extended and hard and red, almost purple.  “Yes, Sir,” i say softly.

“So tell me now,” he says, “Tell me what it’s like to be hot all the time.  To want that touch, even though it hurts.   To be the kind of slut who volunteers for this.” 

i am humiliated, mostly because he’s right.  i do want it.  But i don’t know what to say to him, and the silence between us grows.  

He stands up then, and a whimper escapes me because i don’t want him to leave – i want him to stay and touch me some more – and – o, i almost forgot about the party and the list, and i want to know about that – and

He slaps a notebook and pen down on my desk.  “Here,” he says gently.  “Write about it.   Tell me what it’s like for you, all this feeling.  When you’re through writing – i want at least a page, but it can be as long as you like – when you’re through writing, close the notebook and fold your hands on the desk.  

He continues, “I’ll be back, but while you’re waiting, i want you to think about your nipples.   Think about how my hands feel on your nipples.   I want your nipples to be hard when I come back, so if they’re not hard at any time after you finish writing, you may touch them or pinch them to make them hard.  Is that clear?”

i nod, “Yes, Sir.”

“Repeat it back to me,” He says.

i struggle to arrange my thoughts.  

“Yes, Sir – i’m going to write at least a page in the notebook about – about what it feels like to be hot all the time, what it’s like to um, be a volunteer slut?”  He nods. 

i continue, “And when i’m through writing, i’m going to fold my hands on the desk and think about my nipples.  And if they’re not hard, i’ll touch them and make sure they’re hard when you come back.”  i pause and he says,

“Yes.  But don’t touch yourself otherwise.  No cumming.  Clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” i say.  “But – Sir – may i ask a question?”

“Ask,” he says.

“What about the party?  Will you tell me about it?” 

He smiles, reaches out and twists my left nipple.  “Yes.  I’ll tell you when I come back.”


Only seven more days til i see my Sir again…  {Smiles}



9 Responses to “Back in the Training School…”

  1. Mick December 23, 2010 at 8:56 am #

    wow…. very hot stuff, Aisha.

  2. strivingforpeace December 23, 2010 at 9:02 am #

    What a devious imagination you have.

  3. sin December 23, 2010 at 10:20 am #

    I gotta show my Dom this. Maybe he’ll send me too?

  4. thesubmissivebf December 23, 2010 at 12:58 pm #

    Hot story, longing fuels the imagination.

  5. aisha December 23, 2010 at 6:19 pm #

    Thanks,Mick and Sin, and Sfp, and Submissivebf – I’m glad you liked it!!!


  6. nilla December 23, 2010 at 6:29 pm #


    *throws hand in the air*


    • aisha December 23, 2010 at 6:30 pm #

      LOL – does that mean you like it?

  7. tipacanoe December 24, 2010 at 9:45 am #

    I would like to put a application for the job of Head Master for this school. Can’t think of a better place to work, for a second career. Very very good.

    • aisha December 24, 2010 at 4:09 pm #

      @tipacanoe – You know, you’re the first person to apply! I have to admit that makes you the top contender for the position. Perhaps we should come up with interview questions, right? Like – scenarios to see how the candidates would handle it…




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