Chapter Twenty Four

 

The chatter in the crowded hall stopped when Wanda came on the stage. The audience of trainee-Dominatrices settled comfortably in their chairs, their right hands dangling between their legs. In the other they held their favourite implement for obtaining obedience.

From where he was standing, Cyril saw the most popular instrument was the cane. This was followed by the riding crop and then the whip. A few were holding a device which looked like a pair of slim long-nosed pliers.

In reply to his whispered enquiry, the elderly slave standing beside him muttered,

‘Arse-hole stretchers, mate. Widens y’r hole. A bit like the old days when ya needed a pair of gloves stretched. Very effective, too. But, blimey . . . Hurts!’

The man winced.

‘Pay attention,’ said Wanda. ‘This evening we’re going to start with an examination in Gay Love. Voting will take place afterwards. A Pass requires 75% “Ayes”. Less than 75%, the candidate fails and will be sent for Special Revision . . . ‘She paused, while the audience smiled in anticipation. ‘. . . and the candidate will - be - suitably - RE-TRAINED. ’ Again she paused. ‘A - painful - process,’ she added slowly.

This time Cyril saw several of the Dominatrices working their right hands energetically between their legs, joining in a roar of laughter.

‘No slave has ever failed twice,’ she said.

This time the laughter was unrestrained. Every hand flew backwards and forwards vigorously.

Wanda raised her hand for silence.

‘The candidates are Cecil, Maudine’s slave, and my own pupil, Erica. ’

A white-haired man stepped forward, his blushes emphasizing the difference between his mature years and his status as an unqualified slave.

‘This is Cecil,’ said Wanda. ‘Cecil is the man. While Erica, this one . . . ‘

Erica approached, looking embarrassed in his French maid’s uniform, a simpering smile on his plump face, his round glasses steaming up and twisting his little white apron between his fingers.

‘. . . Erica is the queen. ’

She slashed Erica’s bottom with her crop, making him jump towards Cecil.

As Cecil eagerly lifted the queen’s skirt and ran his hand underneath, Erica closed his eyes, pursing his lips together. He thrust his hips towards the fumbling man.

He gave a gasp as Cecil found his target. He was breathing audibly. Then his hips jerked forwards and backwards while he masturbated openly in Cecil’s hand.

His trembling hands felt for Cecil’s organ, pulling open his willing seducer’s flies. Grabbing at the man’s erect cock, Erica sank to his knees and took it in his mouth, his own hanging down in full view.

He began to suck, all the time playing with Cecil’s member, rousing its sensitivity, encouraging it to grow. Cecil’s mouth fell open; he moaned loudly and his knees buckled. His face came level with into Erica’s and they began to kiss. Slow kisses. Kisses moist and prolonged.

Animal noises came from the men as they gave way to their emotions. Half-finished words - unfinished sounds - fluttering hand movements -

Cecil gave a sudden, short, wild scream. He flung Erica face down on the ground and, yammering incoherently, pulled back the French maid’s skirt as far as it would go. Ripping the fragile cami-knickers away, he exposed the twitching bum. With a half-strangled cry, Cecil flung his body on top of the squirming maid. Their voices mingled.

‘Fuck me. ’

‘Fuck! ‘

‘Fuck.

‘Fuck!’

As they screeched wildly, their movements became a whirl of thrashing arms and legs. Over and over they rolled, each trying to climb on top of the other.

At last, the movements stopped. There was silence in the hall as the lovers twitched out their last few drops of love juice. A silence that was disturbed only by shuddering sighs from some of the onlookers.

Wanda stepped forward.

‘Ayes?’

Every hand shot up.

‘Noes?’

Nobody moved.

Wanda smiled.

‘Well done. But now,’ she said, ‘for something more serious. ’

The audience, released from tension, sat up again.

‘While Cecil and Erica rest, the remainder of the slaves will take part in a Time and Motion Study.

They will line up in front of this row of graduated bottles. Quickly!’

There was a rush to obey.

‘The bottles are graduated in tablespoon measures. The object is for the slaves to wank themselves into the bottle in front of them. The spunk is caught in the bottles. When all the come has been collected, a slave who has given 10 tablespoons will be eligible to sit for the qualifying examination of the College of Strict Discipline. This is the diploma which is sought all over the world. The holder can put the initials “CSD” after her or his name, and can be certain of getting a position in the highest household in the country.

In addition, thanks to continual research, a free copy of our monthly bulletin, called “Sadie’s Standing Orders”, containing reports of the latest S & M techniques, CP and auto-erotic practices, is sent to every diploma holder. ’

Once again she paused. After a few moments she went on, speaking more slowly.

‘But - if a slave gives LESS than 10 tablespoonful’s, he will be punished . . . Indian squaw style. ’

A shudder went through the audience. A low groan of anticipated pleasure came from the slaves who trembled although none had any idea of what the punishment was.

Restrained giggles ran through the assembly as suggestions were whispered among the onlookers. A few fingers were seen to pass gently over hardened nipples and around quims which were jerking uncontrollably.