illianacole
Tina's Fallen Angel
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2011
- Posts
- 4,254
"If you'll just sign here, Ms. Tremont." The tidy woman behind a glass top desk pointed to the signature line of the contract in front of Alyssa.
She couldn't believe she'd actually had the guts to come here today. She'd been exploring the BDSM world for eleven years now. Enough to know that there was something about her, whether it be her looks or her truly submissive nature, that drew Dominant men to her like bees to honey. It was also long enough to know that not one had ever made her feel like a submissive. They all seemed to attempt training her sexually and then expect her to be the maid, the cook, the hostess, anything but their submissive. They never touched her after the first three months. It was exasperating.
She'd heard about the Lathane Academy from a submissive she corresponded with online. It was a nationwide training facility for both Dominants and submissives. They were supposed to turn out the best and only allowed carefully screened clients to purchase a submissive's contract. It had sounded wonderful to Alyssa, though it had still taken her another month to contact someone here and another six months to sell or store all her things since submissives were required to live with their assigned instructor during their training.
This morning, she'd taken the final step, kissing her father goodbye with a story about an overseas job and calling her stepbrother to tell him goodbye as well. Now she sat here in this impersonal office about to sign a contract that would turn her into a sex slave for a stranger.
With a shaky hand she signed her name to the paper, pushing it back towards the woman on an equally shaky breath. It was done. She was no longer her own person.
"Thank you. Now if you'll follow me, I'll show you where you can wait for your trainer." The woman said as she led the way down a long corridor and opened a door that led to a small unsuspecting sitting room with two wingback chairs and a small table opposite a wall made of mirrors. "Your trainer will retrieve you shortly."
Alyssa watched as the woman walked back down the hall toward her desk and then stepped into the room to wait for her trainer. She couldn't help but see herself in the mirror as she moved to one of the chairs and stopped to take a good look.
She had to admit, for being 29 she didn't look a day over 25. She was only five foot three inches tall and a little on the thick side at 160 Lbs. But she didn't jiggle where she shouldn't, her 38d's didn't sag, and there wasn't a man alive who didn't notice her hourglass curves. Add to that her hip length chestnut curls and soft grey bedroom eyes and she thought she made a pretty, if unconventional, picture.
From her lacey white jacket, to her light blue jeans, all the way to her sensible sandals she looked like a lady today. No one would guess that she was the type of woman to sign herself into sexual servitude by looking at her.
Satisfied that her first impression would be a good one, she sat in one of the chairs and waited, nervously biting and her full pink bottom lip.
She couldn't believe she'd actually had the guts to come here today. She'd been exploring the BDSM world for eleven years now. Enough to know that there was something about her, whether it be her looks or her truly submissive nature, that drew Dominant men to her like bees to honey. It was also long enough to know that not one had ever made her feel like a submissive. They all seemed to attempt training her sexually and then expect her to be the maid, the cook, the hostess, anything but their submissive. They never touched her after the first three months. It was exasperating.
She'd heard about the Lathane Academy from a submissive she corresponded with online. It was a nationwide training facility for both Dominants and submissives. They were supposed to turn out the best and only allowed carefully screened clients to purchase a submissive's contract. It had sounded wonderful to Alyssa, though it had still taken her another month to contact someone here and another six months to sell or store all her things since submissives were required to live with their assigned instructor during their training.
This morning, she'd taken the final step, kissing her father goodbye with a story about an overseas job and calling her stepbrother to tell him goodbye as well. Now she sat here in this impersonal office about to sign a contract that would turn her into a sex slave for a stranger.
With a shaky hand she signed her name to the paper, pushing it back towards the woman on an equally shaky breath. It was done. She was no longer her own person.
"Thank you. Now if you'll follow me, I'll show you where you can wait for your trainer." The woman said as she led the way down a long corridor and opened a door that led to a small unsuspecting sitting room with two wingback chairs and a small table opposite a wall made of mirrors. "Your trainer will retrieve you shortly."
Alyssa watched as the woman walked back down the hall toward her desk and then stepped into the room to wait for her trainer. She couldn't help but see herself in the mirror as she moved to one of the chairs and stopped to take a good look.
She had to admit, for being 29 she didn't look a day over 25. She was only five foot three inches tall and a little on the thick side at 160 Lbs. But she didn't jiggle where she shouldn't, her 38d's didn't sag, and there wasn't a man alive who didn't notice her hourglass curves. Add to that her hip length chestnut curls and soft grey bedroom eyes and she thought she made a pretty, if unconventional, picture.
From her lacey white jacket, to her light blue jeans, all the way to her sensible sandals she looked like a lady today. No one would guess that she was the type of woman to sign herself into sexual servitude by looking at her.
Satisfied that her first impression would be a good one, she sat in one of the chairs and waited, nervously biting and her full pink bottom lip.
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