The College: Receiving An Education

Chapter Three-2

“All of it outside now, pile it up for a bonfire, then report to me.”

With that she turned from me and vanished again.

I felt tired and filthy and had thought that I had finally finished for the day. Sighing, I picked up a pair of bags and began to climb the stairs with them.

Once in the kitchen I looked out through the window at the fast darkening evening light, the temperature change from the cellar is vaguely noticeable. Dare I risk a cool glass of water? Obedience first I told myself, how could I claim to want to be her slave if I just do as I want? Especially when she got demanding! My self-imposed lecture had its own rejuvenating power, taking a deep breath I pushed out through the back door and turned to my right. Across the lawn I walked obediently carrying the first of what would be many loads.

Carefully I emptied out the bags creating the first foundations of my soon to be bonfire. Exactly as my mistress had ordered me to do. There was a gentle breath of wind caressing my erect c**k; as for my balls they have scrunched up at the winds cool touch. I was actually enjoying my subjection, despite my growing tiredness and physical discomfort. Time for another load, my eyes scanned the area as I turned. There she was, sitting looking like an oil painting, in a leather upright chair and holding a glass of white wine, watching me as I obeyed her instructions.

Ellie smiled and tilted her glass towards me, as she sat looking out of the window watching me as I carried on about her request. No, ‘order’ you fool, I told myself, she does not request, she orders!

***

Ellie knew that she did not have a total grip on this situation, she accepted that she was not a natural dominatrix; therefore she had to work hard, and try harder if she was to understand and fulfill her role in this strange relationship. Ellie watched her husband work his cold arse off and smiled to herself, knowing that no matter how hard it gets, he will be enjoying his task in a warped, submissive sort of way.

***

Peter placed the last pair of waste bags contents onto the large pile.

I had created a heap that was ready to be burnt. She, my Mistress, was still sitting in the same chair, but now she was reading something, I stood outside of the window expecting her to look up at any second, she did not, she was too engrossed in the papers that she held.

Like all good well-trained slaves I knelt down on the grass, putting my hands behind my back, kneeling up straight, whilst I waited for her to decide to notice my humble presence. I watched her as she turned and returned the pages. Looking, studying, or comparing each of the printouts she held.

Despite the growing feeling of being cold I wondered what was so engrossing her, probably bank related stuff I decided. The cold had really begun to bite before she finally looked up and noticed that I was waiting naked for her attention. She indicated upward. I thankfully am dismissed for the night, I can go and get changed and join her. Once again I can become her husband, not her slave for a short while.

As I entered the room, now fully clothed, dressed casually, which is to say jeans and a shirt, Ellie folded the papers that she has been so intently studying, and slipped them into a buff file, which she then tucked under her chair. She smiled and before I could speak to her, she stretched and yawned.

“I’m tired,” Ellie said. “I think its time that I was in bed, are you coming or are you going to stay up awhile?” She asked me.

Peter’s first thought was that his luck was in, she never goes to bed much before twelve, and it is only ten-thirty.

Bowing low to my queen, I open the door for her, waving my arm to indicate that she should pass. She stood and smiled at me before walking out of the room and up our stairs.

***

No matter what delusions Peter was acting under, I meant every word I said. Tired was an understatement for how I felt, I was going to bed and to sleep. The beginnings of a bulge in his trousers told me everything that I needed to know about how he was feeling. I realised that he had misconstrued my desire to go to bed, but of one thing I was absolutely certain about, he was out of luck.

Finally, he realised that he was not going to get laid, that fact became quite clear to him when I entered into our bedroom wearing a night-dress, and rubbing on thick white face cream. If he had any doubts left, they soon vanished when I climbed into bed, turned on my side, said goodnight, and immediately fell asleep.

Peter feeling slightly to say the least frustrated, turned out the light and settled down. With his erection slowly fading he also dozed off.

The illuminated bed-side-clock told Ellie that it was three, thirty-two a.m.

I awoke from a strange and yet vivid dream in which I was standing looking up at the closed doors of ‘the building’. To my right I could hear the groans of an unknown male, he was bound clear of the ground to an X shaped piece of wood. I could see him only occasionally as the dense mist covered and then uncovered his suffering as it swirled around the building.

He was naked; in my dream, I saw that his c**k stood out, erect, at full attention. His balls dangled freely between his out-stretched legs, I remember. There was something covering his face, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was.

Then a woman walked out of the now open door striding right through me, as though I was a voyeuristic ghost heading towards the restrained male. She spoke to him; he nodded his head at her. Then without warning her booted foot kicked up at his dangling balls, the male convulsed, bucking and pulling at his bonds, she watched appearing unmoved by his agony. Once his agony had subsided, she produced a knife and cut him free. He crumpled to the floor at her feet. Then he began to crawl away from her, until he finally passed completely from my view, followed slowly by the woman.

I sat bolt upright in my bed clutching the covers, shocked awake by my vivid dream, and something else. I could feel a distinctive fire burning in my s*x, reaching my fingers down between my body and the still clutched sheets, probing between my slightly parted legs, I realise that I was dripping wet, and clearly not with sweat. I have never awoken from a dream feeling quite as desperate for s****l relief as I felt at that moment.

I glanced towards my quietly snoring husband, realising that he doesn’t offer me any promise of the relief which I desperately crave. With no other option, my fingers slowly began to explore my sopping most intimate area. They slipped easily between my engorged outer lips, first one finger then two penetrated, easing deeper, automatically my thumb sought out and found my love button and stroked it. Already I could feel my first orgasm building, with my other hand I teased at one n****e, circling my aroused nubbin until finally I squeezed hard, crushing my sensitive flesh between finger and thumb. I came; carried like flotsam in a raging river of pain, and in a flood of self-gratification I soak my other hand with my juices.

Flopping back into the pillows I wonder at myself, I am amazed at my smuttiness as I rarely masturbate! I am not a regular self-abuser, ‘my mother’s phrase’, and most certainly on the few occasions that I have been tempted, I have never experienced such an intense deep feeling or such a strong all encompassing orgasm. In a way, it is a little frightening the feeling of being totally controlled by my s****l needs, but at least I know that I am all woman even if a little confused, and perhaps feeling slightly guilty.

Sleep returned quickly, perhaps because of my self-sating, this time I do not dream of the building, but I will on other nights. As for poor Peter lying next to me, he doesn’t have a clue what I had decided whilst sitting in the chair, watching his naked butt doing my bidding.

He has asked to be my slave, or more accurately I correct myself, ‘begged to serve my every whim’, now I have an idea of my own. The papers that I had printed out stated that once certain security checks had been completed; I would be contacted. It took exactly four days until that contact was initiated. The computer had beeped an incoming E-Mail. I had finished making myself a mug of coffee when I first heard the beeps, so I went hurriedly through to the lounge and accessed the incoming mail. Much as I hoped, it had been from them.

INSERT AUTHORIZATION CODE

The screen kept flashing at me, finally feeling a bit dumb I realised what is required of me and typed in.

ANDROMEDA

Immediately my screen turned black, and then slowly the black began to fade away, until the building, still swirled by mist became the dominant image.

INSERT PERSONAL IDENTITY AND D.O.B.

I type my name and birth date, this time the doors to the building opened and the computer image seemed to fly me towards the revealed corridor.

WELCOME MISTRESS ELLIE

The working symbol appeared on my screen, next to the message. I wait, and sure enough it soon changed again.

PREPARE TO ENTER INTO YOUR NEW LIFE

Again I waited, the text changed again on my screen.

Ensure your printer is loaded with paper and turned on, then PRESS PRINT.

I did not know exactly why but just for a second I hesitated, then having taken a deep breath I pushed the required button. The printer started up, and for the next twenty minutes it spewed out page after page. I gather all the pages together, and before I could do anything with them, my screen firstly turned black, and then returned to my normal desk-top screen saver image. Obviously, the message was complete, or had something gone wrong, seriously wrong?

With my hands full I sat myself down and began to read. As well as the training information offered by the ‘college’ as it described its self, there were a pair of forms for me and my husband to fill in. They seemed to mostly concern our personal measurements, but they also included food likes, medical history and much more. The last page provided the charge scale for the recommended four-week training course for the both of us.

The senders whoever they were seemed to have a very detailed understanding of both my husband’s ‘needs’, and my own ‘problems’ with providing for those needs. They detailed that the two training courses would run concurrently. I would undertake the Mistress component, whilst my husband would be trained fully in the requirements of his role as my total slave.

The charges levied seemed steep to me at three thousand pounds, which was until I realise that they included all fees, tuition costs, clothing, food and accommodation. There was also a picture provided of what the text describes as ‘a standard Mistress room’, it seems to be very plush. Even before I had read all of the information provided for the first of many times, I had decided to stick to my original decision. I would accept the terms and the training for us both, and that was that!

Peter returned from a carpentry course, just one of many D.I.Y. courses that he had been ordered to complete. They would provide him with all the necessary skills to renovate, to a high standard, my inherited home. The cost of the slave and mistress training, though high, was easily affordable, due solely to the invested income I received. That evening I sat down and filled out my forms, then it was Peter’s turn. He asked endless questions, which frankly, I did not wish or choose to answer, so I told him to shut up, or else! He wisely did just that, and things went much quicker. I wrote a cheque for the total and placed it in an envelope. I sealed it and finally filled in the box number address on the envelope. I positioned the stamp and it was all done and ready to be posted.