“I can’t believe it’s finally our last day,” Ellie said excitedly. Me and my three best friends were having dinner at the diner. We’d been best friends since before we started our training; it couldn’t have been a coincidence that we all wanted the same thing out of life—to be sexual submissives. We’d still been in high school, a round of truth or dare finally forcing Sam to tell us her deepest secret. Ellie and I had said the same thing almost instantly. And then there had been Danny.
“Same,” he’d whispered. “Oh, and I’m gay.” He said the second part as if it wasn’t a big deal, while the first was a huge secret. We’d laughed at him. Truthfully, to the three of us he’d told, neither had been a problem. We loved him, and his sexuality didn’t matter. We may have even loved him a little more for being a submissive right along with us.
When we were nineteen, Ellie was the first of us to get a boyfriend who wanted to try to be dominant in bed. We’d all been sharing an apartment on the side of town we went to college at. She’d said it was horrible and nothing like the books and movies we’d all read.
That was when we decided we needed proper training, from Doms who had been properly trained. Unfortunately, because we were college students who also had to work to pay tuition and bills, we couldn’t join one of the demanding classes. They were four times a week in the evening from six to ten.
We just couldn’t make it work.
But after we graduated, we all immediately signed up for the six-month course. Despite how long and demanding and in depth it was, the Doms had made it clear that depending on our status, contractual or relational with a given Dom, he or she would also want to train us to their preferences.
That part made me nervous.
When your Dom was your boyfriend, your relationship was much the same as any other, except for if you were in a slave relationship- a consensual one. But, in my opinion, a BDSM relationship went so much deeper. What if I spent years with a man, learning his preferences, desires, trying o be his perfect sub, only for it to fall apart and for me to have to unlearn the things he preferred and learn someone else’s preferences? Ellie had tried assuring me that was the same as in any other relationship. She’d related it to food. For example, one of her exes loved scrambled eggs. The first time she made them for the last guy she dated, he’d thanked her gratefully, but declined to eat them. He despised scrambled eggs, but would eat them in any other form. When she’d put it like that, it had made more sense, but it still seemed daunting.
I was also the only one in the friend group that didn’t love the idea of casual play or that most BDSM relationships started out contractual. The exception was usually if a Dom met someone, liked her and wanted to turn her into a submissive. Of course, not everyone could be turned into a submissive. We all had something in our character that made us crave dominance from a partner, not everyone had it, and not everyone was willing or able to give the necessary trust to a partner.
“I just can’t wait for our coming out party,” Sammie said excitedly. Our class of subs had a welcoming party, hosted by the club we’d paid to train at, planned for tomorrow night. It sounded a lot like being put on the market to literally be bought but everyone else was excited for it.
“Me either,” Ellie said, just as excited as Sam.
“I’m nervous,” I admitted, while biting my lip and playing with the food on my plate.
“What if I’m a bad sub?” I asked. The first time I’d ever read anything on the internet about BDSM, I just knew it was for me. I craved that type of love, protection, guidance and dominance in a man. But what if I wasn’t good at it? What if my entire life I’d thought I’d be one way, but I was actually completely another?
“You’re going to be a great sub,” Danny said. “Any Dom would be lucky to have you.” I gulped, but nodded at him. My self-confidence wasn’t usually a problem. I knew I was pretty as conceited as that might be. My friends were all gorgeous too.
“Just don’t expect to meet Mr. Right Dom at our coming out party,” Ellie said. “It might take some time to find the one for you,” she said.
“But we can sure have fun while trying to find them,” Sam said, shooting us all a dramatic wink. We laughed at her. She’d always been sexually free, chasing after man after man, but none of her previous lovers had been able to do anything for her. She said it was because they couldn’t give her what she needed, a Dom.
Ellie And Danny rolled their eyes at her while I smiled widely at her. Sam was my best friend. Ellie and Danny were my best friends, too, but Sam was my person. If I killed someone or needed to be bailed out of jail, she’d be my phone call. She knew all my secrets, and I knew all of hers. Danny and Ellie were closer too, which was what made our group so well. But we also didn’t gossip about the others. Not only was that a poor personal trait, but it had been made clear that a respectable Dom didn’t like a sub who gossiped, no matter the gender.
Danny’s prospects would either be much better or much worse than ours. Out of the twelve of us in training, there were only two men, and the other male submissive was looking for a female dominant. There was one woman looking for a female dominant as well and one who didn’t have a gender preference. That meant that he was the only man in the class who was looking for another man. That either meant that he could have his pick of whoever he wanted, or he wouldn’t be able to find anyone because there just weren’t a lot of gay Doms. I had no idea if there was or wasn’t. We’d find out tomorrow at the coming out party.
“We’re gonna be late,” I said, glancing at the clock on the wall. Being late to training was absolutely unacceptable. Although we weren’t punished during training, they kept a list of our transgressions. Anything deemed punishable by a Dom would be passed to whomever became our dominant—if they belonged to the club, that is. There were other clubs we could explore and plenty of other ways to meet Doms other than the ones at Ropers.
The name was a little too on the nose for me. But it seemed like most of them were.
Quickly, we tossed wads of bills onto the table and raced towards Sam’s car. Thankfully, the traffic was light as we drove the ten minutes through the city traffic to the club. Sam pulled the car around the back, parking in the very last spot, meaning we were the last to arrive. With any luck, Master Eric wouldn’t already be in the training room. Quickly, we raced inside and stripped ourselves down to our panties and bras. Danny obviously wasn’t wearing a bra and was only in his boxers. It was true submissive attire, especially not what could be seen around the club, but it served its purpose for our training.
Master Eric was nowhere to be seen, so we quickly and quietly got in line with the other submissive. We sat on our knees, resting our butts against our heels, palms on our legs- face up and our heads bowed in submission.
When the doors opened, the aura of authority walked in with whoever it was. I knew it was Master Eric. Half way through our training course, Master Eric had replaced Quinn, who we called Sir, for our training. Master Quinn had taken a new submissive, and she was uncomfortable with him doing the training. I understood where she was coming from; I wouldn’t have been comfortable with it either, even though I knew what went on in submissive training. There was no play in training, whatsoever. It was just that- training.
The master in charge corrected our behaviour, posture, taught us general rule and guidelines, how we were expected to act in the club and in the presence of another dominant or submissive. There was touching involved, but touch wasn’t always sexual.
I had to fight my instincts to not look up at Master Eric. He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life. He was tall, towering over my frame. His hair was blonde and trimmed neatly at the sides and longer on top with a sleek, slicked back style. His muscles were always on display, toned and powerful. It was visible even when he wasn’t shirtless in the training room. If I looked up at him, into those piercing, sapphire blue eyes, I’d be corrected. But I wanted him to correct me, I wanted his focus on me and not on one of the other dozen submissives in the room with us.
We all held completely still while Master Eric walked around all of us, standing in front of us while he assessed our posture. “Very good,” he appraised all of us at once. It was a basic position; it would have been bad if one of us had gotten it wrong on our last day. “You may stand,” he said.
Master Eric had taught us that despite what we read in all the books, we weren’t actually supposed to kneel for dominants before we were under their protection or in a contractual or real relationship with them. It was fine to stand at attention, with your head bowed in submission.
I hadn’t known that, but there were some things I had known. Like, calling someone Master or Mistress was reserved for a contractual or relationship, and most preferred the term only from a sub they were relational with. The acceptation to this rule was the dungeon Master. He was the Master of the entire club, protecting the submissives if necessary, and he was the one responsible for punishing the Doms, should they need it. Master Eric was the dungeon master. He was well respected within the club and the BDSM community.
When we were all standing at attention, hands resting at our sides and feet together, Master Eric called out “inspection.” Quickly, we all changed positions. Putting my hands behind my head with my feet a little more than shoulder width apart.
My breath caught in my throat when Master Eric was standing in front of me, looking at me, inspecting me. If this were an actual scene, if he were my Dom or even if we were playing casually to see if we were a good fit, I’d be naked. Heat flooded my core at the thought of being naked in front of Master Eric. Would he like what he saw? Would he like that I kept my pubic hair completely shaven except for a small strip? Would he like that my nipples were dusty pink? Images of him inspecting me filled my mind.
“Very nice,” he whispered lowly. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought, hopefully, that those words were for me and me alone and not for the rest of the class, like he’d been addressing everyone.
Master Eric continued walking around the room, inspecting the ten female and two male submissives.
During our training we’d covered all the basics, safe words, hard and soft limits, collars, position training. We’d been taught about wax play, ice play, electric and fire play, but we still hadn’t experienced any of it. We’d learned about pussy worship, cock warming, whips, ropes, the St. Andrew’s Cross, the spanking bench, the spreader bar, nipple clamps, cock and ball torture. I shuddered for Danny on that one. We learned about orgasm torture. and honestly, it didn’t sound that pleasurable to me. Sam and Ellie couldn’t wait to try it. The list of everything we learned seemed endless, but I was happy to say that I remembered all of it. This was the most I’d ever paid attention in any class ever.
Part of me was worried I’d never find someone to experience all the things I’d learned with someone; because I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for casual play. I was the least experienced of our friend group; I’d had a few boyfriends, but I wasn’t one to hook up casually. Ellie, Dan, and Sam were so excited to put on green bracelets tomorrow, sure they’d, at the very least, find someone to play with for the first time.
But BDSM was all about trust, and I couldn’t make my brain work in the way where I figured out how you could give someone you just met that much trust over your body.
It didn’t make sense to me. They might all be wearing green bracelets tomorrow, signifying that they were open to play, but I was planning on wearing yellow. That meant that a Dom could approach me, but that I wasn’t open for casual play.
“You’ve all done very well,” Master Eric said. “Tomorrow is your coming out party, but it is also a test. You are in no way expected, required or even encouraged to find someone to play with, but if you find yourself ready or with the right person, you’re obviously more than welcome to. But your behaviour is going to be a direct reflection of myself and Quinn. I expect all of you to be on your best behavior. Since you are all submissive members of the club as of tomorrow when you step in, I do have the right to punish you as necessary, don’t forget that. We also recommend that the first time you play with or meet a new dominant you are not under the influence of any type of drug or alcohol, so sip responsibly.”
“Yes, Master,” we all said at the same time.
We all squealed in delight, finally finished. Slowly, I walked to where my clothes were neatly folded in a pile on the floor, one of the first things we’d learned.
“Excuse me,” Master Eric’s voice said from behind me after we were all dressed and tugging on our shoes. “Abigail, may I speak to you?”
“Sure,” I said nervously. My friends all had wide eyes expressions on their faces.
“We’ll be in the car,” Sam said.
“Actually,” Master Eric said. “I’d like to take her home. If she agrees, that is.”
“Um, okay,” I said nervously. “I’ll see you guys at home.”
Each of them hugged me. Sam was the last. “Fuck yes, girl,” she whispered excitedly in my ear. It took effort not to laugh at her and keep my face neutral, but, somehow, I managed.
Once we were alone, Master Eric spoke again. “Would you like to have a drink with me? Do you prefer coffee or tea?” He asked.
“Iced coffee,” I told him.
“I think I know where we can get that,” he said. Master Eric pushed his hand against my lower back and guided me out of the training room and back out the backdoors of the club. “It’s about a ten-minute walk. Do you mind? Or would you rather drive?”
“It’s nice out,” I said, looking up at the sun shining high in the sky. “Let’s walk.”
He smiled down at me, two rows of incredibly white and perfectly straight teeth flashing down at me.
“How did you like your training?” He asked while we walked.
“I enjoyed it very much,” I told him. “We wanted to do it years ago, but we couldn’t make it work with our college classes.”
“And you’ve graduated now?” He inquired.
“And what was your major?”
“Communications. I work for a radio station now.”
“That’s not something I expected. Are you on the air?”
“God no,” I said, horrified. “I work behind the scenes. I plan the segments, do research on trending topics. Sometimes I’ll filter the callers, but no, I have no desire to be on air.”
“And you’re twenty-two then?” He asked.
“I’ll be twenty-three in a few months.” He nodded. With his arm, he gestured for me to turn at the corner and head down the other street. “How old are you?”
“Thirty,” he said easily. “I was very impressed with you at your training,” he said, catching me completely off guard. “You’re a natural.”
“Thank you,” I said. Turning to look at him, I looked at his eyes, momentarily losing all my sense as I got lost in the sapphire blue color, so unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
“You can look at me,” he said when I looked away, quickly correcting my behavior. “Right now, I’m not Master Eric. I’m just Eric.”
“Okay,” I said softly.
The rest of the walk, we made casual small talk, where we were from, our friends, favorite trips, nothing serious. But my heart was beating frantically the entire time; my palms were sweating, just being this close to him was filling me with nervous anticipation and excitement. When we got to the coffee shop, he held the door open before me. When we were being waited, he let me order my drink. “Cold brew, with sweet vanilla cold foam.”
“I’ll have a coffee, black. Real cups, please,” he told her. “Would you like something to eat?”
“No, thank you.”
She nodded and rang him up. He gave her a credit card, and we went to sit at one of the tables.
Eric didn’t say anything until after our drinks had been called. He went to collect both of them and set mine down in front of me. “Thank you,” I told him sincerely before taking a sip from the straw.
“This may seem a little forward,” he started. My heart rate accelerated at his words. “As soon as I stepped into the training room, you had my attention. You’re very beautiful, Abigail.” Nobody ever called me by my full name, it was always Abby, but hearing it from his mouth made me all tingly, like a naïve teenage girl. “I would like to be your date for your coming out party,” he said.
“Date?” I asked.
“Yes. I would like to play, see if we’re as compatible as I hope we are.”
“And if we are,” I asked, a little too boldly. His nostrils flared, but he was the one who said he wasn’t Master Eric. If he was just Eric, I could ask him whatever he wanted.
“We discussed in class how BDSM relationships usually progress he said. A contract and then either an extension, a mutual parting of ways or a relationship.”
“You don’t currently have a submissive?” I asked.
“I’ve engaged in casual play recently, but I haven’t found anyone that I’m compatible enough with to enter into a contract with.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay, as in, you’ll be my date tomorrow?”
“I’d love to,” I smiled.
I couldn’t wait to get home to tell my friends.