Chapter 1: Introduction

Friday I agreed to be a sex slave. I thought I would make a good one since I have a big cock that is hard most of the time. But after only an hour my mistress became very exasperated with me because I was unable to please her as a good slave should. "You don't even know how to lap a cunt properly," she complained. "You're probably even more useless at advanced tasks."

I was devastated. "But Mistress, I'll do anything you want, just teach me." She dismissed this pitiful suggestion with a wave of her hand. "I haven't got time for that kind of nonsense. I'm a busy woman. I want a useful slave, not a useless one."

I was already on my knees before her and my cock was rapidly wilting in disappointment. "Please don't send me away from you. I want to serve you. Please, please give me a chance," I whined.

"I can't be bothered," she said haughtily and marched out. I was crying by now in frustration. I ached to be her slave. I wanted to worship her beautiful tits and cunt and serve her with my tongue and cock. But I was a failure. What could I do?

I raced after her. "Mistress, if I enroll at the Sex

Slave Academy and get good grades will you let me try to serve you again?"

She paused, turned and considered me thoughtfully. I sank to my knees before her in an imploring posture.

"I'll work hard and take every course you think is important, Mistress. But please give me another chance."

And that is why I was now, on Monday, at the front door of the Sex Slave Academy ready to undergo a two-week course for cunt slaves. Mistress had kindly signed my application (you have to be sponsored by your Mistress, you can't just show up) and had sent in the form indicating what skills I was to acquire. I did not know what courses she had requested. It was not my place to know. It was my job to learn as much as I was taught so that I could be a good slave for her.

I entered the reception area where I found a woman dressed in a business suit behind a desk. Facing her on her left was a naked man with his legs spread and his hands behind his head wearing a green collar around his neck. "Who are you?" she snapped without looking up from the forms she was filling out.

"I'm Jim Brodie," I said.

She looked up and glared at me. The proper reply is, "I am slave Jim Brodie, Mistress."

She stretched a paper out at me. "Read and sign this, slave, or leave immediately." I took the proffered page and read:

I, Jim Brodie, accept that for the next fourteen days I am a slave-in-training at the SSA. I will instantly obey the orders of all females at the Academy to the best of my ability. I recognize that I am subject to physical punishment for inadequate or laggard performance.

I looked up and started to ask "Does this mean..."

Before I could finish, the woman said, "Sign or leave, there is no discussion!" She held a pen toward me. I hesitated, but my desire to be a good slave overwhelmed my few qualms. I signed and placed the paper and pen on the desk.

The woman leaned back in her chair and gazed arrogantly at me. "Strip!" I was startled and hesitated. "That's one demerit for hesitation," she said and made a notation in a ledger. "Strip!" she said again.

I hurriedly stripped off my clothes. By the time I was naked, my cock was getting hard.

"Assume the position," she commanded, "legs apart, hands behind the head elbows back. Eyes down." I quickly took up the same posture as the naked man next to me.

I could see in my peripheral vision that she was looking me over very thoroughly with an expression of great amusement. Her eyes lingered on my cock, arousing me to further stiffness. "Judging by the condition of your cock," she said teasingly, "you must think you're going to have fun here."

I actually thought so.

"You won't," she said with emphasis, "but you'll be a useful cunt slave when you leave. Put this collar on."

She handed me a green collar that I attached around my neck. "Keep that on at all times. It indicates the punishment level you are subject to. Why your mistress thinks you can be properly trained at such a low level of discipline amazes me. Both of you are obviously worthless pricks. But maybe you'll forget to keep it on and then you're subject to any punishment any mistress wants, including death!"

That scared the hell out of me, wilting my cock a little. But the thought that my mistress valued me enough to restrict my punishments encouraged me to think my future here and in her care would prove enjoyable. I vowed to keep the collar firmly around my neck. Little did I know now that the green level included a wide range of humiliating and painful punishments. I would come to pity the slaves with yellow and red collars. The slaves without any collars at all didn't last long.

She addressed both of us. "Slaves Jim and Bill, You two will go through basic training together. It begins now." She picked up a quirt from her desk, stood and said, "Follow me!"

She moved toward a door at a quick step and we hurried to follow. The sight of her long legs in high heel shoes and her voluptuous ass wiggling under a fantastically tight silk skirt hardened my cock to full extension.

Chapter 2: The Discipline Mistress

The receptionist led us into a spacious room containing mirrors, benches, mysterious frames, hooks, chains and a toilet, sink and shower. The ambience sent a frisson of fear through my cock. She turned to us and stared at our cocks with a smirk on our face.

"You'll soon learn to keep those pitiful specimens under control. Stand in the position facing that door.

Your discipline instructor will be here when she's ready to begin your training, hopeless as you may be.

There will be no talking between you. Just stand there and think about how much you want to serve your

Mistress' cunt." She left through the smaller doorway we had entered.

We stood facing the door she had indicated. It was a double one. My anticipation was so high that it seemed hours that we waited, although it was probably only fifteen minutes or so. Suddenly both doors slammed open and the most thrilling, yet frightening, apparition strode purposefully through toward us. She was a magnificent blonde of almost six feet.

She was wearing a skin-tight Lycra body-suit of bright red that molded her fantastic figure. Her jizz- inspiring tits thrust forward and her protuberant nipples were obvious. She was wearing thigh-high boots with very high heels, making her height even more imposing. She too was carrying a quirt that she beat rhythmically and menacingly against her palm.

All of this was intimidating enough, but the thing that sent a shiver of fear though me and almost wilted my cock was that she was wearing a black dildo of huge proportions, fully a foot long and three inches in diameter. I had the sudden realization that a green collar might protect me from some punishments, but a reaming at both ends was not among them.

My first reaction was to run. My second was the realization that I was thrilled at the humiliating prospect of having that gorgeous goddess grasp my hips and plunge that huge fuck-tool deep into my asshole while she cruelly twisted my cock and balls.