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pompeii -> RE: slave training (4/21/2009 6:53:54 AM)
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quote:
ORIGINAL: DesFIP
Is Butchmann's Academy still in operation?
I've been thinking of a new career ... and, well, slave training ... now that's a new vocation.
I could set up a farm, private, fenced in, hundreds of acres, and, well, I could accept applicants, well heeled but we'd have a scholarship program for the needy. We'd bring new recruits every two weeks by the half dozen, into the foyer for their initial 10am orientation lecture and signing papers. Once contractuallyl signed in, they would dutifully head off single file to the living room for their first of many to come lineup inspections. Obediently placing their hands above their heads, the attentive and focused staff would circle them, grunting "ah hah" with a slow nod of the head, or "anh anh eee", with a wistful side-to-side motion as a graduate slave kept notes on the particulars for each student slave being inspected by the Master Master which will go into their pedigree papers and will be held in perpetuity whenever a reference is required.
The Headmaster will smack an ass of a student, to see her reaction as she is startled by the force. He'd lift the skirt of another whose legs were held wide and poke at her hole with his pointer to gauge the opening. Somehow, he seemed to have the right experience to know to which use each might be best suited. He'd open the blouse of a particularly big-titted one and twist her nipple almost 270 degrees and nod appreciatively as she responds wondrously, each time, a notation being placed in various columns of the checklist for each slave. Another was told to bend before them, exposing her anus, where ginger roots were inserted as she was told to get back in line and wait. Finally, after the obligatory group spanking as they sang the school song (the spanking was just so they know what punishment will feel like when they do do something wrong), the girls were collared and leashed, and each assigned to a waiting Master-in-training, who will take them through their two-week course in how to be a good slave.One by one, off they go, on all fours, to eat dinner, out of the doggy bowl at the side of their newly assigned Master in training as he sits down to a sumptuous dinner prepared by graduate slave trainees on an internship program.
All but one ... She is still pensively standing there, alone, afraid, for an hour, then another, well after the others left on their knees. Her blindfold now starting to feel warmly reassuring, her cuffs fitting nicely but restricting her movement as she kneeled arms behind linked to her ankles. Wondering what is to be done with her. Half naked in the chilly room, too afraid to move (the last command being to stand there until told otherwise), the smell of dinner long ago wafting into her hungry senses, she obediently waits, her nipples still hard from her tweaking test, her soft ass and warm thighs no longer stinging from the spanking, the block of pine still in her mouth, starting to taste reassuring as her teeth have made perfect indendations, she waits. And waits. Finally she hears a rustling becoming aware of someone else in the room. How long has he been there she knows not, but, her shoulders droop with relief. ... her Master has finally arrived to take her into training.
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