Brie Learns the Art of Submission: Submissive Training Center

  I watch with frightened curiosity as the soldiers leave to retrieve the priest…

  “Miss Bennett.”

  Brie looked up from her journal and pouted.

  “Don’t tell me—you’re just getting to the good part.”

  She sighed. “Well, yes…” Unfortunately, her imagination was too prolific.

  “As in the past, I am sure the Dom will be able to work with what you’ve written.”

  Her curiosity was killing her, so she asked, “Mr. Gallant, since we aren’t having another auction, who will be playing out our fantasies?”

  He stood up and took the journal from her. “It is a standing tradition that your last entry is used as a training exercise.”

  Brie squelched a smile, wondering if she would be seeing Greg again, the first Dom she had ever been partnered with. He would make an excellent Thomas. But who would play the part of the priest? The possibilities were fun to entertain.

  “You will proceed to room five, where Master Coen is waiting for you.”

  She got up to leave and was almost out of the door when she spontaneously turned around. “Mr. Gallant?”

  “Yes, Miss Bennett.”

  “You are an extraordinary teacher. Thank you for everything.” She scooted out of the room, afraid she might cry if she stayed. She hated to think of not sitting in his class next week.

  As she walked down the hall, she saw Lea entering room nine. She gave her friend an enthusiastic wave and smiled when Lea waved back before disappearing into the room. Brie’s six-inch heels clicked pleasantly down the hallway. It was good to be a submissive.

  Brie was curious what Master Coen had in store for her when she opened the door and noticed a fire going in a small brazier next to a thin wooden table in the middle of the room.

  She stopped at the door and untied her corset, then laid it on the floor before kneeling in front of Master Coen, her arms behind her back to display her breasts in the pose assigned to her as part of her ritual. She kept her head bowed until he came to her and placed his hand on her head. “You may serve me. Stand.”

  Brie gracefully got to her feet and faced him, intrigued by the fire. She had a hard time not staring at it.

  “This is the last week of training. We have a rite for all graduating submissives. It is not a requirement, but it speaks volumes to your dedication.”

  That fire suddenly looked far more sinister. “I understand, Master Coen.”

  He picked up an iron rod from the fire. “Do you know what this is?”

  She shook her head, although she was certain what it was.

  “This is a branding iron, Miss Bennett. Our school emblem will be branded on your inner right thigh. Think of it as our seal of approval.”

  Brie’s eyes widened in terror. The idea of having her flesh burned in the most sensitive of places was horrifying.

  “Rest assured, we take this seriously and will use the safest measures. Your health is not in danger; however, I will not perform the branding without your approval as it is a permanent mark.”

  Brie looked at the bright red end of the branding iron. The school crest looked to be about a square inch and a half. Not huge, but it would be noticeable if she wore a bikini. She swallowed hard. Was she willing to be marked like this? She closed her eyes to focus and had a long conversation with herself.

  Brie finally came to the conclusion that she was proud to be a graduate of the Submissive Training Center. There were so few in the world that it made her exceptional and worthy of a tattoo—even if it was in the form of a branding. “I’ll do it.”

  She noticed a gleam in Master Coen’s eye at her choice. “Very well. Remove all your clothing and lie on the table while I ready things.”

  She watched him thrust the iron back into the coals. She shuddered, but started to undress. It seemed surreal, but he was busy taking out rubbing alcohol and rubber gloves. Then he rolled up his sleeves in preparation.

  This is really happening…

  When she was naked, she went to the table and put her hands on it as support. She hesitated before getting onto the hard, unforgiving piece of furniture. You can do this, Brie.

  Master Coen said nothing as he watched. He was extremely patient, apparently understanding how difficult this was for her. She finally pushed herself onto the table and lay down. “Put the soles of your feet together,” he ordered.

  She did, and it naturally spread her thighs out, giving him easy access. He put on the rubber gloves and soaked a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol. He spread it liberally over her right inner thigh. The coolness of the liquid made her nipples tighten into hard nubs—of course, her fear also helped. Brie looked up at the ceiling and commanded herself to breathe slowly. Thank goodness for Tono’s training.

  “We need to let the alcohol dry fully and allow the iron to heat up,” he commented.

  She bit her lip and sighed.

  “You are in good company, Miss Bennett. In the world there are less than five hundred submissives who wear this mark.”

  Brie nodded. If almost five hundred women had survived this, she would too. “Master Coen, could you explain the crest? I want to know what I am being branded with.”

  “Certainly. The two letter symbols are Alpha and Omega. The Alpha stands over the Omega. The collar represents submission and the heart-shaped lock is a reminder it is given in love. The words are Respect, Obey, Submit.”

  “I like that,” she said.

  “Good, as it will be burned into your skin.”

  Master Coen was not helping. Brie remained silent, psyching herself up for the fearsome ordeal. But she was distracted as Master Coen began binding her feet, and then her thighs, moving up to her wrists last. “It is imperative that I prevent any movement.”

  He picked up a blindfold. “This will make it easier. In the past it was done without, but submissives find it helpful.”

  Brie willingly lifted her head and let him cover her eyes. Suddenly it felt more real. She was bound and blind, waiting for the brand to burn into her skin. Part of her wanted to scream out the safe word, but she knew she would not. She was in it to the end—fear would not win over her determination.

  “I am marking your skin so that I get it in the right spot.” Her loins contracted in horror as a marker glided over her skin in a circular pattern. She bit on her lip harder, concentrating on the pain rather than what was about to occur.

  “I must ask a final time. Do you want to be branded?”

  ‘Want’ is not the right word. ‘Willing but terrified’ is more like it. She nodded.

  “No, I must hear words.”

  Brie’s voice trembled. “I want the branding.”

  “It shall be done.”

  She heard him messing with items on the table and then the sound of the iron rod as he hit it against the edge of the metal brazier, presumably to knock the ashes off. “When I am about to apply the brand, I will tell you to breathe out. Take a deep breath now and hold it.”

  Brie inhaled deeply and held it in. Her rapidly beating heart protested, wanting her to let it out. She felt the heat of the brand next to her skin. Dangerously close and blistering hot.

  “Breathe out.”

  She let out the breath just as the intense heat seared her. She heard the sound of her sizzling skin and screamed, almost blacking out. Master Coen removed the brand and put it back in the fire. “How do you feel, Miss Bennett?”

  She didn’t hold back the tears. “It hurts!”

  “Would you like to see it?”

  She nodded and felt him untying the blindfold. Master Coen helped her sit up. Brie took a deep breath before she looked.

  The creamy skin of her right thigh was unmarked. She shook her head and looked at the left one. There was nothing on either. She looked up at Master Coen questioningly.

  “The power of the mind.”

  When he untied her wrists, Brie hesitantly caressed the skin of her thigh, not quite believing she hadn’t been branded because she co
uld still feel the aftereffects of it on her skin.

  “It felt so real.”

  “The power of suggestion, Miss Bennett, is quite potent. I told you what was about to happen; your mind accepted it and responded accordingly.”

  “But I felt the hot iron and heard my skin burning.”

  “I switched the heat of the brand with the chill of ice and I sprinkled water into the fire. Effective alternatives to trick the senses.”

  Brie lay back down, still feeling dazed. “That’s crazy.”

  “This exercise demonstrates the intense power of suggestion.”

  She chuckled nervously. “You’re not kidding!”

  Brie shuddered; the reality that she hadn’t been branded not quite registering. Master Coen smiled down at her as he undid her bindings. “You were brave, Miss Bennett. Quite impressive.”

  She frowned and turned from him. “Not so impressive when nothing happened. I feel like an idiot.”

  He picked her up in his large, muscular arms and carried her to a lounge chair in the corner, holding her like a child. “You do not appreciate it yet, but you are a prime candidate for mind play. Your creative nature makes you a charming plaything.”

  She looked at him sadly. “That sounds like a bad quality to me.”

  “On the contrary, in the hands of a trusted Dom the possibilities are limitless.”

  A shuddering sigh escaped her lips, remnants of the emotional experience. Master Coen held her tighter. “We are going to explore erotic hypnosis with you this week. After today’s session, I believe you will be successful and will appreciate the experience.”

  She tentatively touched his square jaw with her fingertips. “Master Coen, the idea both excites and frightens me.”

  “I understand. However, erotic hypnosis is not meant to be a mind-fuck.”

  “Mind-fuck?”

  “What you just experienced. Being led to believe something for the amusement of the Dominant. Erotic hypnosis is mutually enjoyable and will enhance your ability to explore sexual experiences you could not before.”

  Master Coen reached between her legs and began lightly stroking her clit. Brie closed her eyes and relaxed under his attention. “I have seen few submissives with your courage or stubbornness.”

  She opened her eyes and gave him a tentative smile. “Thank you?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, it was meant as a compliment. Lie still and accept your reward for that gutsy display.”

  His fingers began flicking at a quicker pace, causing a slow burn in her pelvis. Brie tilted her head back and moaned. He met her lips with his own. His kiss was gentle, in stark contrast to his burly exterior. It appeared Master Coen had a softer side, one that she was just now beginning to see. It didn’t take long before her hips were bucking against his hand in pleasurable release. It felt so intimate, so sweet to come in his arms like that.

  “Thank you, Master,” she whispered.

  He kissed her forehead. “I take pleasure in rewarding my subs. Just ask the two I have at home.”

  She could just imagine his harem of girls, waiting to service Master Coen’s every need. A threesome might work for some, but Brie wanted exclusive rights to her Dom.

  “Tomorrow you will be working with Master Anderson after a short session with Marquis Gray in room forty-two. They will be providing you with lessons based on your interest in becoming a full-time sub. However…” He laughed aloud. “I doubt it’s what you are expecting.”

  He refused to elaborate, which made Brie excruciatingly curious. She had never been on that side of the school and couldn’t begin to imagine what was hidden in those rooms.

  Ineptitude

  When Brie pulled up to the school the following night, she was overwhelmed by disappointment. Blue Eyes was still missing. She hadn’t been overly concerned on Monday when he hadn’t been at the door, but two days in a row seemed odd for him. Brie wondered if it was a rule that they couldn’t fraternize after an auction, or if Faelan was training extra hard now that his class was also coming to a close. Our last week… The thought depressed her.

  She hurried to classroom forty-two, anxious to discover what unusual encounter Marquis had planned for her. Brie swung open the door and stopped cold. It was a kitchen.

  Marquis stood beside the counter, along with Mary and Lea. “Running behind, Miss Bennett?”

  She glanced up at the clock. Still five minutes early, but that seemed to mean nothing at this school. “Sorry, Marquis Gray.” She dutifully untied her corset, then set it to the side before kneeling in front of him. He ignored her, speaking to the other two girls instead.

  “If you wish to be a full-time submissive, it will be expected that you can cook. You have heard the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Well, in your case, the way to a Dom’s good graces is through pleasing his discerning palate.”

  Brie’s jaw dropped. Cooking? That was one area she had no talent for or interest in. She desperately wanted to question him on it, but would not be allowed to until he acknowledged her.

  “Although we are only going to touch on the basics today, you should be able to produce a few exceptional dishes to please a variety of tastes. I shall start you off. Once you prove you have mastered this basic skill, you will move onto Master Anderson in room forty-eight. He is trained as a gourmet chef and will further your education.”

  Marquis Gray walked over to Brie and placed his hand on her head. “Come join us, pearl, but re-dress. I do not want to see burns on those lovely breasts.”

  Brie nodded, smiling inside. Marquis knew just how to tweak her ego.

  There were five stoves in the large room. He directed her to the one closest to Lea’s. “You three will cook omelets for me.”

  Mary raised her hand. “What if I don’t know how?”

  “Do your best. I want to see the extent of your cooking knowledge.”

  Brie groaned inside. This was not going to be pretty…

  There was already a pan on the stove and a bunch of ingredients set in bowls. At least they had made it easy for her. Brie cracked a couple of eggs into the skillet and fished out the shells. She threw in a pat of butter and turned the stove on high. She remembered something about needing to sear the outside. While she waited, she sprinkled a little bacon, lots of cheese, and a touch of parsley for color. When the eggs started bubbling, she grabbed the spatula and attempted to turn it. The omelet would not come off the pan. She scraped the bottom, and noticed it was a little too brown. She took it off the burner and finished scraping the egg from the pan. It was a hot, scrambled mess.

  “Please present your omelet attractively on the plate and give it to me,” Marquis instructed.

  Brie looked over at Lea, who tilted her pan and let her omelet slip out onto the plate. At a little flick of her wrist before it was completely out, it folded neatly in two. Lea put a sprig of parsley and a thin wedge of twisted orange slice on the side for decoration. It was disgusting how easy she’d made it look!

  Brie patted her brown scrambled eggs into the shape of an omelet and handed it to Marquis with her head bowed in shame. She sneaked a peek at Mary’s plate and was relieved to see that hers was not much better.

  All three girls stood before him as he tasted their work. He started with Lea’s first. “Nice color. Pleasing to the eye.” He cut off just the end and took a bite. After chewing it for a few seconds, he swallowed. “Good consistency; appropriate seasoning; nice ingredient choice. I really cannot help you further, Ms. Taylor. You may proceed to Master Anderson.”

  Brie wanted to protest. She had been looking forward to spending time with her best friend. Instead, she had to watch Lea collect her thong at the door, slip it on and bow to Marquis before leaving.

  Marquis Gray went for Mary’s next. He had a hard time cutting through it with his fork and did not look anxious to place the bite in his mouth. He chewed it for much longer than he had Lea’s and swallowed hard. “Rubbery. Way too much salt.” He addressed Mary directly. “Did I as
k you for an omelet, Miss Wilson?”

  “Yes, Marquis Gray.”

  “Then why did you give me a fried egg?”

  “I… Isn’t it an omelet?”

  He pushed the plate away. “No. It is not.”

  Brie trembled when he took her plate. He shook his head when he tried to cut it and it just fell apart. He looked hesitant as he put the forkful in his mouth, then spat the egg back onto the plate.

  “Horribly burnt, inedible and no seasoning to speak of. What were you thinking, Miss Bennett?”

  She burned with humiliation when she admitted, “I can’t cook.”

  “Obviously, but have you never been in a kitchen?”

  She stared at her feet when she answered, “My mom did all the cooking. I just kind of watched.”

  “Did you learn nothing?”

  It clawed at Brie’s insides to know she was a complete failure. She’d never thought for one second her cooking skills would play into her role as a submissive.

  He walked over to the stove Lea had previously occupied. “I will instruct you both on how to make a decent omelet. Pay attention. I will not repeat myself.”

  Mary looked over at Brie and shrugged. At least the two of them were in it together.

  “First, you should get your pan heating on medium heat. To get a fluffy consistency, I separate the egg whites and whip them.” He was quick and precise as he cracked and separated three eggs. “Add a tablespoon of water and whip until it is incorporated. Then whip the egg yolks in a separate bowl, add a little salt and pepper to taste and fold the egg whites in gently.”

  He showed the girls how to scoop from the bottom and fold it over the top of the whites. “Don’t over-fold or you will eliminate the air pockets you just created.” He put it down and put two pats of butter in the pan. “Take it off the heat while the butter melts. Once it is completely melted, you can put it back on. This prevents you burning the butter—a common mistake.”

  He put the pan back on and poured the mixture into it. “Add your favorite ingredients. I personally like a touch of green onion and bacon. Wait until it starts to set and then swirl the pan around to cook the run-off, like so.” He swirled the runny eggs so that they met the side of the pan. “When they look almost done, sprinkle with cheese. Aged Gouda and Swiss cheese are my preference. Once it is melted, you can plate.”