The ACADEMY {Work In Progress}

                           
                                                         

The ACADEMY

         She had done it, she had actually done it. 

         Candace shifted, uncertain and clumsy in the darkness, the absence of light as much a restraint as the cage she was in.  With every third word she cursed herself for a fool, realizing that this might represent the most dangerous choice of her very impulsive young life.

         And that was truly saying something...

         A switch somewhere was thrown and a trinity of spotlights ignited, halogen brilliance converging to illuminate Candace from three directions.  Such a stark contrast from her black surroundings it took several blinks before Candace was able to squint through the unrelenting glare, not that it helped.  She still couldn't see outside the cage but what she had felt of it with her hands was now proven.  Flat, black bars---wrought iron, maybe?--- set in a grid work of intersecting vertical and horizontal slats reduced her vision to three-inch squares of darkness and light. The squares were large enough to fit her arm through clear to her elbow but she wasn't quite ready to find out what if anything might be within reach.  She blinked again, shading her eyes with her hands while examining the cage further.  Like her, its interior was naked with the exception of a rectangular bed pillow with a burgundy pillowcase.  The bars were cool against her skin but not rough and now she knew why.  Sliding her fingertips along the grid work she saw that it wasn't raw metal, the bars were coated with...something.

         “Teflon, Candace.  The cage is intended to contain, to establish boundaries, not to hurt.  It is your new living space, become familiar with it.  Seven feet long.  Five feet high.  Three foot, three inches wide.”

         She tried to rattle the cage but the bars were solid and didn't give in the slightest.  Anchored to the floor, she imagined... 

         “So, what do you think?”

         Candace stared out into the darkness without answering.  She couldn't tell where the voice was coming from or even what type of room she might be in.  That the place was big enough for her cage, and large enough  to allow the man speaking to her to stand an indistinct distance from that cage was the best her senses could do.  She didn't like the anonymity; she'd expected some measure of arousing mystery in this role-playing but anxiety and tension were the only things quickening her pulse. 

         “When I ask a question, I expect---”

         "This...this is bullshit," she muttered, cutting off the voice.

         "No, it isn't."

         “FUCK YOU!  I'm in a cage, a fucking cage like a goddamn animal!  Whatever this dungeons and dragons bullshit is, I'm not playing.”

         “When I ask a question," he continued levelly,  as if the outburst hadn't happened.  "I expect an answer.  Take note of this because that is the one and only time I will repeat myself, understood?”

         “I understand...that you're a fucking freak!  Let me out of here.  NOW!”

         “Candace, you came here to us.  Came into the club.  You asked to be shown to Level:3 and, after hearing the usher's...disclaimers, entered the area anyway.  You were not dragged in.  You were not coerced or drugged in any way.  In fact, you didn't even have any of the complimentary drinks offered you as you were prepared and placed here.”

         “Let me OUT!”

         “If you wanted to be out, Candace, you would not be in.”

         That quieted her. 

         For a moment.

         “You're an asshole.  Probably gay too, right?  You wish you had something that was seven feet long!  A dick the size of a Tootsie Roll doesn't cut it though, does it?  Pathetic!  I bet you always dreamt of being the Phantom Of The Opera.  Get beat up much for wearing your cape to school...?  Bet you did, loser.  Fucking perv bastard.”

         Footsteps now.  Slow, echoing--- moving away?--- then stopping.  A silent pause, silence for once that she didn't violate.

         “Candace, you have an...attitude problem.  I am going to correct that.  That mouth, I see, will be first on my list.  As attractive as you are, your words have been nothing but ugly, a disparity when there should be harmony.  I will not have disharmony in my house,  remember that as well.  Goodnight.”

         The switch clicked again, killing both the spotlight and the discussion.  The place seemed, in its absence, somehow darker than before.  Disoriented, Candace stretched out, grabbing reflexively for the cage wall to steady herself.  “Wait!  Wait!  Damn it, you can't...can't just leave me in here.  Can't...I can't...  I want to get out!  Let me OUT!”

         Nothing came back.  Echoing hollowly, her cries died in the dark against walls she could not see.  She was alone; caged, naked, nothing but the sound of her own breathing to break the stifling silence. 

         But He had said a "lesson" was coming.  A lesson meant a teacher.  A teacher meant Him.  Him.  She had dared him, challenged him, tried pushing every button she could think of and only come up empty.  Men were usually so...easy for her.  Easy in that way spiders understood catching flies.  They all had triggers; under the muscle, the bravado and facades, they had always been predictable, weaker, practically unworthy of her time.  This one, He wasn't like all the others--- wasn't like any of the others--- and that frightened her in a strange way.  Strange because in her gut, in that place where her cravings hid, she wasn't actually scared she was excited.

         He hadn't lost his temper or raised his voice.  Remaining dauntingly polite without ever losing reign over the situation, He was---He had been---in complete control.  He possessed a discipline she had never known or believed in and  had endured her abuse like a parent endured the acting out of a toddler.  Candace felt the seeds of respect taking root, her naive preconceptions  being overgrown by the truth of what had happened.

         BDSM, domination and surrender, the stuff of her most lurid fantasies.  As a woman she had evolved and explored her sexuality in a vanilla universe that she thought could only dream of darker things.  But she had wanted more, had always hoped for its reality.  Now she was here, locked in a cage somewhere below ground, alone and awaiting His return.  His return...His discipline and instruction.  Would she be a good student?  What would the lessons be?  He had read her better even than she thought she would be able to read--- and play--- Him, how would she resist anything He chose to do to her?  Did she really want to?  Every table had been turned, all her preconceptions had been flipped.  This place...this place was living up to its whispered reputation.  Candace backed into the nearest corner and drew her knees in tight to her chest. Thankfully the temperature of the room was neutral, not overly cool, not overly warm, but the silence was bothering her the most.  The silence allowed that nagging voice to keep reminding her that this, all this, had been her choice.  With the arrogant curiosity of that metaphorical cat she had rushed into this place where so many "wise men" would have feared to tread.

         Was she crazy?  Did she really want what she thought?  Did He understand the source of those cravings?

         That question stopped her cold because she already had the answer.

         Did He know what it was she wanted?  Of course he did, he was already giving it to her.


                                                                 

                                                           

~~~~< >~~~~

Behind The Curtain...

         "My, my, Christopher, it looks like you have your hands full."

         The voice while lilting no less had an...edge to it.  From above, Alexa, one of his peers on the club's council, watched as he made his way steadily upward from the darkness below.  Christopher continued up the spiraling staircase, following along the curving stone wall until he had emerged from the pit, rising out of the hole set into the upper level's blue ceramic tiled floor.  Alexa, arrogance clinging to her like the second-skin sheathe of designer latex she wore was poised at the landing opposite him, waiting.  Standing at the lip of the staircase which looked like a huge well set into the  floor, she tapped her boot punctuating her impatience.  Named as observer for this session, Alexa had been assigned to watch the proceedings.  If needed---which it never was--- she could intervene on the subject's behalf.  Personally, Christopher thought Alexa had as much to learn as Candace.  Possibly more.

         "She presents her challenges," he agreed, reflecting on what constituted Candace's first session with him. "But her greatest conflict is with herself."

         "Perhaps, perhaps not.  You gave that little bitch too much room.  She was blatantly pushing---"

         "What she was doing," he began, interrupting the commentary, "Was testing me.  Trying to establish my limits, my soft points.  She is apparently familiar with manipulating men, if anything she said had sparked a response her future training would have been nearly impossible."  Staring at her cat-like features, full lips, and inky black hair snatched back into a thick, leather-wrapped pony tail, he worked to remember under that otherwise distracting beauty was an intense appetite for cruelty. 

         "Spare the rod, spoil the bitch, I always say."

         He shook his head at her predictability.

         "As if what you always say matters at all about this."

         Alexa clenched her teeth, angular jaw flexing.  Accustomed to dominating men, to turning them into obedient, boot-licking pawns, it always took...adjustment to deal with men who weren't under her yoke.  The male members of the Council, for instance.  She had known Christopher a few years now but never agreed with his...methods.  Truth be told  her opinions on that---like he had said---didn't matter.  The woman---the conscript--- two floors down in the Pit was His and His alone.  Her conditioning and progression was His to establish, continue, and conclude, not hers. 

         Resenting his strength of will almost as much as she resented his unbroken string of successes, Alexa often wished for his methodology to fail.  For her, discipline was a monochromatic thing.  Rigid, not flexible.  Coarse, not understanding.  Regardless of his results, to her he was still a man like the many that she had broken.  The many who had come here---and to her specifically---worshiping her in supplicant obedience even when she beat and spat on them.  Personally, men disgusted her.  Without voicing it, she held Christopher in as much contempt if not more but the hierarchy of The Academy was strict, the protocols about respect among peers was literally etched in stone.

         She could hate and disrespect him silently, internally, but that was all she could do or she would lose her status and find herself immediately at the disciplinary whims of the entire Dominant Council.  She was bold, yes, even aggressive to a fault but she understood that consequence was not anything she ever wanted to be subjected to.

         Ever.

         "I...  Of course, you are right.  She is yours and I'm certain you know exactly what you are doing."

         Christopher stared a little longer before turning away, moving off toward the elevator at the end of the corridor.  "Yes, I do."

         Bastard, she thought, following him out.


           


                                                 

{To Be Continued...}