The Academy Ch. 1bySateema Lunasi©
Chapter 1: ...And Introducing Lily
Welcome to The Academy. We have never called it anything else. We have never known it as anything else. We have been here since 1792, an age when decadence and the idea of a libertine was not so unheard of. We have thrived here for ages and have made little secret of it, though most still think of us as a “secret society” full of mystery and sin. Reporters do not get past our walls. No cameras are allowed. We do not record anything that goes on here. This is not secrecy. This is privacy. We have, as of today, 2,824 paying members on our roster.
We have another 6,807 people who own basic membership which entitles them to our newsletters and our social events, though it does not give them access to the Academy itself. We have a staff of 15 and a student number of 32. We have branched out to other countries and smaller houses. We now have schools in Amsterdam, Berlin, The British Virgin Islands, Los Angeles and Boston. Still, here in England, we are the beginning of it all. Our house is the largest, most of the others holding only 10 students and three to five staff members. We get letters, portfolios and resumes from thousands of potential students each year who beg us to take them as students. 97% of them are refused. To be a student here is to be a student of the finest training academy in the world for our trade. To put it nonchalantly, we train sensual slaves.
Everyone is willing here, everyone cared for, but the work is difficult, physically and mentally . A proper slave is willing to please his or her master or mistress in any way they can. A good slave is beautiful, talented, intelligent and sensual. A real slave feels that there is no other kind of life that is better. This is happiness in the fullest to them.
I am 1st Trainer here. That means that aside from those who own The Academy, who are rarely seen, I am in charge of most things here. If a decision is to be made, it passes me before it is allowed. I came by this early in life. I was seventeen and I begged to be allowed to work here. Alas, I was not accepted until I turned eighteen. I am 23 now, young in most people’s eyes, but seen as a capable and often fierce authority figure here. I train the slaves well, and I nourish their minds and souls. I have seen some of the most beautiful people in the world filter through these doors, bodies from Heaven, and I have seen them go on to work in the houses of fine aristocrats and even royalty.
I have decorated this place from head to toe, redesigning the interior and the sculpting the gardens. Our facility is perhaps as special as the people we train. In 1792, this place was purchased for the Academy to act as its headquarters. It has served this purpose since. The building is a beautiful chalet style stone manor house set on 42 acres of grounds. Lush subtropical gardens surround a private lake and several small stone cottages on the property. Two years ago, I hired landscapers to redesign the garden with a fully-grown implanted quarter of an acre hedge maze. The Academy is my pride and joy and I keep only the finest things inside and out of it.
What kind of a person is a trainer at a BDSM academy? Shall I introduce myself then? I am not much different than you. I want the same things as you. I dream the same dreams of life. I would not call myself beautiful, though others have called me so. I have dark auburn red hair that flows prettily down my back. My skin is pale and lightly freckled. My face still has the unmistakable mark of youth in puffy cheeks and bright wide eyes.
My eyes are perhaps my most striking features, as they are very brilliant emerald green. I am very small in stature, too small, in fact. I stand four feet and ten inches tall and am slender but curvy. My appearance possesses a sort of half woman half child appeal, which seems to get a few compliments. I went to school in Ireland, my homeland, and traveled as a child. My father was in the military. My mother a shy piano teacher. I have a twin sister who attended convent school and became a nun. I was always the same as everyone else...and still very different.
I teach willing students to be the greatest lovers, to be subservient and to pleasure always. I entertain guests at this mansion with games and playfulness of an erotic nature among those in my charge. I am everything to everyone here.
Those who are fortunate enough to afford entrance to our rooms can have any pleasure they wish. Anything they desire. When the students finish their training, they go to auction and are bid upon by the beautiful, the famous, the fantastically wealthy. I choose most of my students from amateur auctions.
THE AUCTION AT ST. TROPEZ
St. Tropez in the French Rivera has been my favorite place to find good students. The auction there which is held bi-annually by a wealthy German couple gives me a chance to find beautiful slaves who have been somewhat trained already by their spouses or in a private house. The Academy is always given VIP access to the auction.
Strolling through the scenery of the outdoors-garden venue, I cautiously looked over the selections of around fifty slaves, carefully chosen from fine upbringing and aesthetic beauty. In the garden, they stood gracefully, posed almost like statues among the roses and orchids that bloomed brightly throughout the lush greenery . Holding the extensive catalog with descriptions and information on each slave, I approached a beautiful well-muscled male slave with dark blond hair.
“Your name is Andrew?” I asked. He hesitated in answering. He was not sure if he was allowed to speak. I took the slender black riding crop tucked beneath my arm and I swatted him sharply on the naked backside with it. He flinched and answered.
“Yes Mademoiselle. My name is Andrew.”
“You are from Australia, it says.”
“Yes Mademoiselle. I am from Melbourne Australia.”
“Have you been trained at all?”
“Only a little, Mademoiselle, by Mistress Marianne Daly. I have good references.”
I looked over the information on the clipboard. His height, his weight, his education, his health records, his history, nationality, his talents, his references, his cock size...
“It says here your cock size is 8 inches.”
“Yes, Mademoiselle. It was measured yesterday by Madame Blechardt herself.”
“Make it hard then. I would like to see.” I ordered and sat down on the marble bench nearby to casually wait for him to do as I asked.
He blushed but he obeyed and I gave him some extra points for courage. He took his large hand over his cock and stroked it into hardness, pumping it faster until it was at full attention. It was now swollen pink and hard as a rock. I was impressed with the thickness of it, and with his willingness to please. Just then, Gabriel Spencer, a fellow trainer at the Academy saw us and I invited him to give his opinion on this slave. Gabriel seemed impressed and Gabriel is definitely the best trainer in the Academy, in any of our houses. I may be in charge, but he is by far the best.
I watched with undeniable lust as Gabriel, a man twenty years my senior and perhaps the most sinisterly beautiful man on Earth, as he slowly examined Andrew, tracing lines with those exquisitely sculpted hands down Andrew’s spine. Andrew came to life under his touch. Good, he liked men as much as he liked women. That was always better. I saw Gabriel pinch the flesh of the slave’s tight buttocks, saw him take the man’s engorged cock in his hand and squeeze it lightly, forming a little pearl of milky clear fluid at the pink tip.
“He responds quite well, but can he take punishment?” Gabriel asked. I took cue and once again assumed the roll of an innocent baby faced ice queen in Vercace clothes. Gabriel quickly bent the man over and I swatted his backside with my riding crop. Then again with my gloved hand feeling the heat even through the kidskin leather. I liked Andrew. He would make a good slave, but there was another I was interested in as well. A pretty black female slave standing close by, being obedient and statuesque. I had inspected her earlier, and now an idea came to mind. I sent Gabriel to discuss purchasing these two slaves for The Academy with the German couple. Gabriel was a fine negotiator. I instructed the female slave, Deya, to demonstrate her talents on Andrew. I wanted to see what both could do.
Deya nodded and silently obeyed. Good, she had been voice trained. She set her skills upon Andrew and he was rather overwhelmed by her talents. She was much better trained than he was. Her mouth worked wonders over his taut flesh, the twitching muscles of his back, his chest, and his stomach. And her mouth moved to the apex of his thighs and I turned to see Gabriel returning with ownership papers in hand and a twinkle in his eye for me. I was wildly turned on and he could see it. Gabriel knew me too well. He sat beside me, his Cashmere sweater brushing against my arm, and I looked over the papers briefly as the two slaves performed for us, the pretty black woman, Deya’s head bobbing forward and back as she took Andrew’s length into her mouth.
“The purchase is finished?”
“It is complete.” He answered.
“And are you happy with the choice, Gabriel?” I asked, pressing closer to him.
“More than satisfied...with them.”
“With them? Are you not satisfied with something else?”
“Hmmm, with you. I want you Lily.” It was said in that magnetic low growl of his that only surfaced when he was very turned on. I felt his arms embrace me, felt the pressure of him, the intoxicating scent of him, the power in his arms, and I let myself fall into him. Let him kiss me, my hands, my face, my eyelids, my breasts. And while Andrew and Deya had confused looks on their faces but did not dare to stop, I felt Gabriel lift me up easily in his arms and carry me to a more secluded part of the garden.
He made love to me for hours as was his usual custom, and this time it was as explosive and wonderful and different than the last and the time before that and the time before that. Waves of pleasure washed over me and when we finished, he carried me naked to the fountain and washed my skin slowly as if I was a pleasure slave, though his touch only made me want him again. He dressed me, buttoning each button of my satin blouse carefully, pulling the slim skirt up around my hips, nipping at my skin with tiny kisses and playful bites as he did so. As he walked me back to the slave quarters of the garden, he asked me,
“Have you ever thought of taking your own slave. A permanent one?”
“I am a bit more of a submissive actually.”
“That, I never would have guessed of you, my darling Lily.”
“Let’s take our new slaves home and put them at ease, and perhaps tonight I will demonstrate for you.”
“You tease me, Lily.”
“Only a little.”
To Be Continued...