Trained Up North

"I never really thought about-"

Before I could finish, I stopped; I hadn't been deliberately hiding anything, but, as I searched my subconscious, a whole month's worth of dominant fantasies sprang to mind.

"There you go," Vladimir goaded. "I know that face- you've got it. Now, what will it be? A whip or a crop?"

"A whip," I immediately decided. "Give me a full loincloth and a necklace of beast hair, like the one I had at my village. I will channel my warrior's strength and conquer these women like... like..."

"That's the spirit!" Vladimir approved, cutting me off before I could stutter to a stop. "Anything else?"

"No."

"Alright," Vladimir concluded. "To the fetishwear closet!"

Before long, next to a picture of the other doms sat a portrait of me. I stood with my whip firmly coiled in my right hand, posing with my tribal loincloth clothing my masculinity and war trophies strung around my neck. I stared at the camera with the unmistakable gaze of a hunter stalking his prey.

"Looks good," Vladimir approved, seeing it. "Changing these pictures is the work of a moment, by the way. If you want a do-over, come to me after hours."

"Thanks. When do I start tomorrow?" I asked.

"We open at five P.M.," Vladimir informed me, "but customers who pay extra can come at about any time."

"Do I need to be ready all day?" I guessed.

"Only if you're slow at getting ready," Vladimir specified.

"Got it."

"Want to go to bed now?"

"I'm allowed to?" I realized.

"Of course," Vladimir laughed. "We're doms. As long as we keep working, we can do whatever we want."

"Take me there."

My cot was little more than a pair of thick blankets; it reminded me of home. As I bedded down in it, I was gnawed at by the constant feeling that I was forgetting something. I knew why; I had not made Mistress' dinner. I had to keep reminding myself that that was because neither of us were at her house.

"Not anymore, Mistress," I mumbled, as I fell asleep. "I hold the leash now."

The next morning, I awoke with that same feeling, thinking I was late for Mistress' breakfast. Looking around, I smiled.

"Good morning," bade Vladimir, who stood in a room full of other doms. "I see you slept well. I don't believe I have your name yet."

"Silk," I replied.

"No, not your slave name," Vladimir corrected. "Slave names are for subs... for boys. What is your dom name? What is your man name?"

I thought for a moment. "Darren," I finally answered.

"Master Darren," Vladimir repeated. "That sounds fantastic."

"Glad you think so," I returned. "So, what do we do all day?"

"Well, unless we get any off-hour customers," Vladimir qualified, "whatever we want. We have a few books here to occupy our time. Want to learn how to read?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

"What kind of answer is that?" teased Vladimir. "Say it like a dom."

"Yes," I sternly reiterated. "Teach me how to read."

"That's more like it," Vladimir approved. "Acahuana here is the best reader. Aca?"

At Vladimir's summon, Acahuana- whose homeland and ethnicity I could not begin to guess- held up a book and sat down on the couch, motioning me to join him.

"Let us get started," Acahuana resolved, in an airy, staccato accent.

For much of the day, this stranger taught me the Snefolk alphabet. Dutifully, I did my best to learn, but my mind was inevitably elsewhere.

That night, I and the other doms geared up as the brothel's marquee lit up outside. Intrigued, I watched as our first customer arrived. She was a woman who looked to be teetering on the brink of middle age, with short hair tied in a ponytail behind her and fleshy cheeks accentuating a naughty smile. After scanning the portraits, she picked her dom. Once she made her choice, Vladimir approached her, forcibly bent her down to his appreciably lower eye level and secured a collar around her neck. The appointed dom then grabbed it and set to work.

This fascinating scene repeated itself with slight variation every time, until, at last, my turn came.

Five young women eagerly entered the lobby from outside. In their midst was a teenage girl, dressed in a standard T-shirt and jeans with a long, thick overcoat that still failed to hide her delicate, beautiful form. Tellingly, she was blindfolded, and a pair of noise-cancelling headphones kept her deaf. Her blonde hair hung just beneath shoulder height, and what I could see of her face was set in a vacant expression.

"It's her eighteenth birthday," one of her companions informed the receptionist, "and she's wanted this for so long. She doesn't know where she is, and we don't want her to find out until she gets collared."

"Can do," replied the receptionist, motioning to Vladimir.

Carefully, Vladimir took a leather collar, stood behind the blindfolded submissive girl, put his arms over and around her head, then pulled it around her neck.

With growing arousal, I watched as the collared girl gave a quick, effeminate gasp, then started as the blindfold was pulled from her eyes.

Her jaw slack, she stared at her surroundings for a few seconds, then turned to her companions.

"Is this..." she stuttered, "am I... is this for real?"

"It sure is," one of her friends assured, sporting a broad grin. "Go ahead- pick one."

Not seeming to notice the portraits on the desk, the submissive girl scanned the roomful of men, then her eyes settled on mine and she grinned with coquettish excitement.

"That one."

For a moment, I stood, dazed, before it hit home what she had said. It was my turn. My first domination. My first conquest. Standing up, I kept staring the girl in the eye as I marched up to her, then grabbed her collar as the others had done.

I began to think about what I might say to start off, but my mouth was far ahead of me.

"Kneel."

The woman obeyed.

With a manly cackle, I realized that I would make a fine dominator. When I grabbed the girl's chin and made her face me, I saw in her eyes that she was thinking the same thing.