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Message-ID: <49255asstr$1095844202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "The Servitor" <servitor@coolkiwi.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 22 Sep 2004 18:01:00 NZST
Subject: {ASSM} Owning Gabrielle Pt 1 [MF, mc, nc, Mdom, anal, oral]
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Date: Wed, 22 Sep 2004 05:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

  This is a work of pure fiction, meant to be enjoyed by ADULTS. It is not 
intended for minors to read, nor to condone any illegal activity, cruelty or 
non-consensual sexual behavior outside the bounds of the author's and 
readers' minds, where we are, after all, free to to be and do whatever we 
choose. If you enjoy it, please let me know. This story is the sole property 
of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded for the intent of profit. 
If you wish to reproduce the story online in any archive apart from the 
ASSTR, you must first seek the author's permission. You may, however, 
download or copy for your  personal enjoyment or use, so long as there is no 
intent to profit, financially or otherwise, from  such use.

***

OWNING GABRIELLE - PART ONE

Gabrielle Garcia was a strong, independent, confident young woman. She'd 
grown up in a poor quarter of a big city, where she learned many valuable 
lessons. Her mom taught her that you could be poor, and still hold onto your 
dignity if you worked for everything you wanted and didn't take handouts 
from anyone. From a murdered girl in her class, she learned that you'd best 
find out how to protect yourself, because when you needed it there might not 
be anyone there but you to provide it. The hopeless punks that haunted the 
street corners and dark doorways taught her that if you went looking for an 
escape in drink or drugs all you would find was a cage. Her favorite teacher 
taught her that you should define your own beliefs, morals and standards, 
and then live within them so that you would never feel ashamed of yourself, 
and that the best route out of the ghetto went through the classroom.

What nobody ever thought to teach her was that sometimes discretion is the 
better part of valor and that it doesn't do to antagonize those who have 
power over you. If they had, she might have chosen a different way of 
dealing with the psych professor who tried to fuck her during a second year 
tutorial, rather than ramming a knee hard and fast into his balls - and the 
lessons she learned afterwards might have been much easier, and taken her 
life along a very different, far more pleasant route.

***

Professor Nils Avery doubled up, gasping, pain exploding in every nerve 
ending.

When he recovered enough breath to speak, he looked at the figure standing 
defiantly in front of him. "You're going to pay for that, bitch." He spat 
the words at her. How fucking dare she? he thought. She was one of only a 
handful of scholarship students at Rathkeale, a very exclusive mid-western 
college, and he'd always found the 'charity chicks' (as he always referred 
to them) easy pickings. They were all bright, and that meant they tended to 
realise that when you were getting the most expensive education in the 
country gratis, you didn't want to start failing courses. You gave the 
professor what he wanted, he made sure you stayed in school. It was a clear 
quid pro quo.

Gabby Garcia didn't seem to have grasped it though.

"If you lay a finger on me, I'll call the papers." If she'd threatened to 
report him to the college authorities, he'd have slapped her face and given 
it to her rough without a second thought - and so would the Dean if she'd 
dared to make good on her threat. The same was true of the police, they'd 
seen enough instances over the years of female students screaming 'rape' 
about a professor who'd given them a lousy grade in the past to disregard 
any such reports as a matter of course: it was one of those things that 
happened in a college where the students were generally the darlings of rich 
and powerful parents. Which, of course, made them immune from ACTUAL rape. 
Garcia was a nobody though, the illegitimate daughter of a city office 
cleaner, and if she hadn't chosen that particular threat, nothing would have 
saved her.

But she had, and the papers loved a scandal among the rich and privileged. 
Garcia would get hers, alright, but he'd have to be subtle about it. And if 
he was taking the time to be subtle, he thought, he'd be thorough as well.

***

MASTERY: THE ART OF LEADERSHIP. A SPECIAL DIPLOMA.  The students were 
crowded around the poster that advertised a new, and very special addition 
to the Rathkeale curriculum. It was described as an additional 
qualification, a complement to the Bachelors degree, studied in conjunction 
with the final year of honors. But it was more than a qualification, since 
all passing students were guaranteed a one year internship with one of the 
top employers in their field.  The name of the brokerage made economics 
students swoon, and the accountancy practice was to die for. There was a 
place with the policy unit of the party of their choice for politics grads, 
a software giant for CompSci.'s,  various blue-chips for the business 
disciplines, and so on. For the education stream, there was even a junior 
lectureship at Rathkeale itself. There was only one drawback - there were 
only twelve places on the course, one in each subject area. All students 
were invited to apply, but, the poster declared, there would be a rigorous 
selection process.

***

"Can I refill that for you?" The observer who'd overseen her completion of 
numerous tests and assessments and administered the various interviews that 
made up the second tranche of testing nodded at the jug on the table in 
front of Gabby. She looked at it, and saw that she'd just  finished the 
contents, which seemed to be some kind of flavored water or weak juice, 
citrus tangy and more refreshing than she'd have expected.

"Will I need it, do you think?"

"Probably." The young woman, who she vaguely recognized as a PhD student in 
the psych department replied.  "Dr Walters is coming in to do perception 
testing and pattern recognition with you next, followed by some focusing and 
relaxation work, and then I come back to do a series of word associations 
with you. It's a pretty full afternoon."

"Yes please, then. It's really nice, actually. What is it?"

"It's called Focus," the girl replied, "Its not my thing, but lots of people 
swear by it. It's got electrolytes and vitamins and some other bits and 
pieces, with some lemon for flavor - it's supposed to keep you focused on 
task achievement, and looking at your results, it works."

It was the first clue the the young woman had dropped. As she stood Gabby 
said, "Look, maybe I shouldn't ask,  but how am I doing?"

A grin split the plain, cheerful face. "Honey, you're a shoo-in. Look, 
you'll be on the couch for the next test. Why not hop up and get comfortable 
while I do this, and I'll bring the Doc. Back with me."

"Sure."

The PhD closed the door,  and walked over to a small cabinet. She took out a 
sachet, and sprinkled powder into the jug, then filled it from the water 
cooler.

"How's she doing, Lucy?" The girl turned at the sound of the familiar voice 
and grinned at Professor Avery.

"Perfect. Look for yourself." The girl handed over the sheaf of paper that 
contained Gabby's results. "With this stuff to help it along," she jiggled 
the jug, "the conditioning is a piece of cake. Wish we'd ad it earlier. 
She's completely open now, and the doc. Shouldn't have any problems 
implanting his advanced suggestions and triggers.  She's a bright cookie, 
that one.  She ought to be able to use the processes very effectively - 
she'll do well on the diploma."

Avery had been using hypnosis and suggestion techniques for several years to 
assist students develop processes for learning which allowed them to 
concentrate more intensely in their studies, and had proved to increase 
their absorption and recall of material by nearly 40%. Lucy had been one of 
the pioneer hypnosis-subjects, and so it wasn't surprising that she thought 
that's what he and Doc Walker were about with Gabby, especially since it was 
what they'd done with the other Diploma applicants who'd got similar results 
in the testing and intelligence ratings.  Eleven places on Avery's special 
course were taken. Gabby Garcia would fill the twelfth, but Avery planned a 
whole different set of suggestions for her. None of which Lucy, honest and 
ethical, needed to know."

"Thanks Lucy.  Take the formula and the doctor through, and then skip off 
for the afternoon. You've earned a break, and since this is the last session 
of testing, I'll sit in myself and take notes."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Go on, now."

***

Doctor Walters had instructed her to focus her attention on a screen set 
into the wall in front of her then played a video of swirling images and 
patterns, while he spoke quietly. After only a couple of minutes, Gabby had 
felt nauseous and dizzy and then she had blacked out altogether, she 
supposed since she found herself blinking in the sunlight later, the Doctor 
bent over her.

"Wh... What happened?"

"You passed out. An intense but not unheard-of reaction to the Vyshkov 
test." He smiled, and poured her a glass of the lemony drink. She gulped it 
down thirstily, and things started to come back into focus. Doctor Walters 
refilled her glass, and she sipped at it more slowly, wondering if she'd 
screwed her chances totally.  "Don't look so concerned, Gabrielle." he said. 
"It's not a negative thing, not at all. Quite the opposite in fact, since 
that kind of reaction only occurs in people who have both outstanding 
ability to concentrate and remarkable powers of perception.  We'll do the 
Word Association test for form's sake, but I can tell you now, you will be 
accepted for the diploma programme.  Now, relax. I'm going to pull the 
blinds, so that the room is completely dark, to remove distractions which 
might skew the results of the test - you know, something catching your eye 
and you saying what it is, rather than responding to my prompts. You'll hear 
the door open - that'll be me letting my colleague in to record the results, 
okay?"

"Tokay."

"Right. You may find closing your eyes helps too." He was pulling the shades 
over the window as he spoke, and Gabby followed his suggestion and let her 
eyelids drift shut.  There was a breeze from the door briefly opening and 
closing, and then Doctor Walker asked, "Are you ready, Gabrielle?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Good. Now, this is a simple test. I will say a word, and you will respond 
with the first word that comes into your mind afterwards. Speak as quickly 
as possible and don't worry at all about what you say - there are no right 
or wrong answers here, it's just about my getting a chance to see how your 
mind forms connections. Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"Excellent. Then we'll begin. Cat."

     "Dog"

"Left"
    "Right"

"Up"
    "Down"

"Pain"
    "Want"

"Shame"
   "Arousal"

"Sex"
    "Service"

"Love"
    "Master"

"Defiance"
    "Punishment"

"Please"
    "Beg"

"Hen"
   "Egg"

"Cock"
    "Suck"

"Command"
    "Obey"

"Gabby"
    "Slut"

"Slave"
    "Me"

"Thank you Gabrielle. That's all we need. Leave now."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Avery lifted the blind as soon as Gabby left the room. He was grinning. "It 
certainly seems like that worked as we wanted."

"It did, absolutely. The combination of the Vyshkov formula and trance 
sequence make it pretty much impossible for the subject to resist any 
suggestions planted or to break conditioning once it's in place. Miss Garcia 
is as firmly programmed as anyone I've ever treated, despite the brevity of 
the procedures."

"The key trigger?"

Walters held up his hand to display a ring, inset with a small ruby, and 
engraved with a complex symbol. "This. There's one for you, and the second 
you requested to be collected at Esmeril's.  But we agreed that I'd have her 
for the summer, didn't we?"

"Absolutely, on condition that you leave her with no memory of it."

"As per our agreement, Nils."

"Do you think she had any idea how fucked up her answers to that last test 
were?"

"None. She was instructed not to realise."

"What about generally? I mean, am I going to have to instruct her to be 
aware of..."

"I'll see to it before she comes back next semester. It's under control. 
I've done everything you asked. The trigger phrases are as you requested and 
will compel instant and complete obedience, she's incapable of lying to 
anyone in any situation, and over the summer I'll reinforce the responses to 
the standard stimuli to ensure the appropriate intensity of reaction.  The 
kinky stuff you'll have to handle yourself, later, I'm afraid. I'm a man of 
simple tastes. I like my sex straightforward, and plentiful, and provided by 
fine pieces of nature like that one."

"Enjoy, Greg, and thanks."

"De Nada. And I will."

***

It was the last day of the summer vacation, a bright and sunshiny afternoon. 
Gregory Walters knew that his neighbor was in the bedroom next door, so that 
he could see over the fence. He could hardly blame Jim, after all, when 
there was such a good show to watch in Walters' back yard.

Gabby walked out of the house, carrying a tray that bore a glass and a 
pitcher of beer. She was naked, apart from a slave-collar around her neck 
and a pair of four inch heels.  The sandals gave her a sexy, swaying gait as 
she came towards him, and made both the lovely pair of lush breasts and the 
shining mass of red, shoulder-length curls bounce delightfully. She crossed 
the patio to where he sat in a deck- chair, set the tray down, poured beer 
into his glass, and handed it to him. When she straightened, he was gazing 
directly at the silky-smooth, freshly-waxed mound between her legs, and his 
cock stirred in anticipation.

The girl sank gracefully onto her knees on the cushion between his legs and 
leaned forward to kiss him, with a mouth that tasted sweet and citrussy, 
then sat back on her heels and looked up into his face with an expression of 
entreaty in her clear, green eyes. Fuck, but she was a fantastic piece of 
female flesh, he thought. No wonder that even at sixty he could rise to the 
occasion more often than most men half his age, without chemical assistance, 
when he had a lovely, twenty-year-old slut to inspire him to action.

"Let me," she pleaded, in a voice pitched to carry up to Jim. Her hands were 
at Greg's waist, unfastening his pants and she repeated, "Let me, please, my 
dearest master. You know how much I love to suck your cock." He nodded, 
smiling, and she bent her head immediately to the task.

He was sure he heard Jim's groan echo his own when she closed her full lips 
round his cock head, and began to slide down his shaft, with a greedy 
lashing of her tongue, no gag reflex hindering his inexorable progress into 
the soft, sucking mouth and down the white throat. She was beyond willing, 
beyond eager, servicing him with lips, tongue, mouth and fingertips which 
trailed in delicate caresses round and over his balls, as if it was the 
greatest privilege to be permitted to taste his flesh and coax him to 
climax,  a task that took more than an hour, because he was relaxed, happy 
warm in the sun, but shaded from the worst of its heat, and, most 
significantly, still recovering from the vigorous fucking he'd given her 
after lunch.

He'd bent her forward onto a table still cluttered with dishes and shoved 
himself deep into a cunt that bubbled with wet heat and flexed against his 
shaft in ecstatic climax, while she called on God time after time, and told 
him she was the luckiest slave in the world to serve a master who could make 
her come so hard and so often. Told him loudly, so that nobody passing the 
open windows wouldn't have doubted for a moment that the happy girl making 
all the noise was being ridden hard by the most expert of cocksmen.

He grinned, at the memory, and then dragged his attention back to the 
present, and the tireless bobbing of the red head in his lap. Her tongue was 
firm, flexing and flickering against this shaft, then  circling the head of 
his cock in a brief, delicious tease before returning to its rhythmic 
working of his flesh. She had raised herself back up from the seated 
position when she bent to enclose him, so her beautiful, taut ass was lifted 
higher than her head smoothly round, kind of perky and promising.

Greg's mind drifted again. He had lost count of how often he'd sampled the 
charms of the gripping  sheath hidden between those perfect cheeks over the 
past six weeks.  Sodomy was his special delight, and, programmed as she was 
into a surrender that went way past obedience, Gabby had offered him 
unlimited access to his personal heaven. She had never felt his hands 
spreading her buttocks apart without whispering, "Oh, yes, master, please!" 
nor failed press herself onto his hard cock head  when it  touched the 
puckered ring of her asshole, and, because he wanted it that way, she had 
invariably come far harder and more readily at  his most brutal reaming than 
she had when, tired or sentimental,  he fucked her in the gentle way most 
people called 'making love'.

Her tongue was moving faster on him now, her mouth sucking more ardently. 
Greg felt a tell-tale tightening in his balls and grabbed the girls head, 
jamming it down hard onto his cock,  so that the head was deep inside her 
throat when the first spasm of his orgasm hit and the jism burst from him. 
He gasped as the swallowing motion gripped him and withdrew a little, to 
make sure that he would coat her tongue and leave her tasting him when she'd 
sucked him completely dry. It was a long, shuddering climax, a fitting 
tribute to seventy minutes of skilled and devoted cock-sucking.  Gabby's 
eyes were shining with sincerity, as she settled once again into a sitting 
kneel.

"Thank you, beloved master," she breathed.

He smiled at her, sipping his beer, and stroked her cheek.  It was almost a 
pity to give her up to Nils' perverted plans, he thought, and he would have 
had difficulty doing it, but for two things - first, he knew he would be 
invited to witness many of the delicious humiliations his vengeful colleague 
planned to heap upon her head, and secondly, together he and Avery had 
already primed her replacement, during interviews the week before, an 
innocent-faced blonde brahmin princess, with huge, heavily-lashed pansy 
eyes, a pouty mouth, and a five-foot nothing body, slim apart from a quite 
remarkable pair of tits.

Still, there was still tonight, and before she left, him in the morning and 
forgot how she'd passed her summer (except when specifically reminded) he 
would have her grovel on the floor in front of him, and beg him in desperate 
tones to fuck her gorgeous ass until she screamed, and when she'd  done 
enough to convinced him she really, REALLY needed his cock up there, he'd 
give it to her, harder and deeper and crueller than ever before, by way of 
goodbye.

It was going to be a good night.

***

It was the fifth week of the semester, and Gabby was in despair. The work 
for her Bachelors was going okay, though not as well as in previous years, 
since she was having trouble sleeping properly, waking often from strange 
dreams that slipped away from her, but left an echo in her ears of her own 
voice pleading shamelessly to be taken ... to be FUCKED ... to have every 
part of her body used over and over and over by a lover who she only saw in 
blurry faceless images concentrated on a pair of old, cold hands and an 
always-hard cock that rose from a thatch of grizzled grey hair. She always 
woke  with an intense, burning feeling of horror and shame in her belly, yet 
her thighs were thickly, slickly coated with the juices that must have 
literally gushed out of her pussy as she dreamt.

That was disturbing, but it wasn't what was weighing her down. The Special 
Diploma course was a disaster. The first shock had come when she found it 
was taught by Professor Avery. He had looked at her, hatred in his eyes on 
the first evening, when the small group gathered, and he'd been shooting 
questions at her every class since, pouring scorn and sarcasm on her when 
she failed to answer them which she always did. That was the second, worse, 
shock. She knew objectively that there was nothing complex, or even 
difficult in what they were being taught. She should have found it easy, but 
she didn't seem t be able to grasp and hold even the simplest principles. 
Tonight they were going to get their first assignment back, and she knew she 
had failed for the first time in her entire life.

She snuck in and sat in back, hoping not to be noticed. All the others 
accepted on the course were the sons and daughters of  the wealthy, and 
apart from the only other girl in the group, none had ever even acknowledged 
her existence before this year. Now they were acknowledging it, but only 
with mocking laughter, spurred on by Avery. She hated every moment, but she 
desperately wanted to get the internship that passing promised. Without it, 
she knew her background would discourage any first-rate employer, so she 
needed the foot in the door.

Avery stalked in, and climbed onto the dais. In his hands, he brandished the 
assignments. Sunk in her miserable reverie, she didn't see the heads of the 
other students turning surreptitiously to glance at her. She just knew that 
Avery was going to START with the damn grades.

He did.

"Overall, this is a very promising beginning. A couple of A's, eight B's, 
just one C - Mr Grigson, you aren't applying yourself. Unfortunately, 
there's one huge blot on this record. One of you has achieved, if that is 
the right word, the dizzying heights of an E minus, and I'm sure we can all 
guess who that is, can't we Miss Garcia?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Tell me, my dear, have you spent your time in this room catatonic? Have you 
even opened a textbook relating to this programme? Can you, I have to ask, 
READ?" He held out her paper between thumb and forefinger as if it was 
something dirty and stinking "If you can, there's little to prove it in 
here."

"I'm sorry professor, I'm afraid I just don't understand..."

"What you don't understand, Miss Garcia, is your place.  If you had done so, 
and had approached this assignment in that knowledge and from that 
direction, you would certainly have got as good a grade as anyone in this 
class."

"Professor?"

"I will use shorter words, Miss Garcia. You do not have any idea of what it 
takes to be a leader. That does not, in fact, matter.  This programme is not 
intended to teach you to lead, but to understand what leadership is and and 
demonstrate your understanding in a practical fashion."

"I still don't understand what you're getting at professor." Tears stung 
Gabby's eyes and she felt like she was trying to think with a brain made of 
cotton wool.

"Then we'll have to make the words shorter still, won't we - shall we say 
two syllables maximum? You are too dumb to lead. But you can still get an A 
in this class by doing something you are good at. Do you want to do that?" 
He spoke in the slow, careful tones of a primary school teacher addressing a 
five year old.

"Of course! I'd give everything to..."

"Oh, don't worry, Miss Garcia, you WILL give everything. You can start now, 
with our clothes. Give them to Mr Price, please."

"WHAT!"

Avery grinned, and raised his right hand. On the third finger he wore a 
signet with a strange device engraves and a ruby inset. "A simple command," 
Though Gabby didn't know it, yet those three words were just one of a score 
of  triggers that could be used to compel her actions, turning her into a 
helpless puppet, "stand up, strip naked, fold your clothes and pass them to 
Mr Price. Then stand straight, your hands by your sides."

"Don't be ridiculous!" But the girl was on her feet and had kicked off her 
shoes. "What the hell is going..." the word were muffled as she pulled her 
sweatshirt over her head and began to fold it.

"Silence, Garcia!" Avery barked. "Mr Carmichael,  as Miss Garcia disrobes, 
explain to her what she'll have to do to get through this programme."

The were all looking at her.  The girl, Vanessa Fierstein, looked a little 
uncomfortable for a moment, but the men were staring with undisguised 
excitement as Gabby unbuttoned her jeans and slipped out of them, folded, 
and put them on top of the shirt. She was reaching back to unfasten her bra 
as Jack   Carmichael began. As he continued, and the grins widened, she 
realised that everyone in the room but her knew what was happening, if not 
how, and had been waiting for it, eagerly.

"Leadership has two parts - leader and follower. Or, if you prefer, Master 
....  or Mistress ... and Servant. Since you are a slum-bred little slut who 
obviously couldn't expect anyone who had any respect for themselves to 
follow her - great tits by the way - you'll have to demonstrate that you can 
serve obediently,  following orders quickly, willingly and - holy fuck 
you've shaved your cunt! You really are a slut, aren't you, Garcia? Oh, 
sorry Professor Avery... following orders quickly, willingly and completely, 
putting all your efforts into giving total satisfaction, and taking your own 
pleasure from pleasing your betters."

Gabby, naked and blushing furiously, but unable to speak, no matter how she 
tried,  walked to where Neil Price sat at the front of the room, and held 
out her clothes to him, mutely. He took them with a smirk.

"Thank you, Mr Carmichael, very concise and clear. As you've heard, Miss 
Garcia, you'll pass this paper by... Mr Trant, you have a question?"

"Yes, Professor.  Sorry to interrupt, but I wondered, given the situation - 
Surely it's not appropriate to address one's servants with an honorific like 
that?"

"Excellent question! You're quite right, Mr Trant, "Miss Garcia" is NOT an 
appropriate form of address in this context.  Every situation is different 
of course, but in a context like this, where you are in a position of direct 
command over a social inferior you should reinforce your relative positions 
by clarifying how you expect to be addressed, and what they should answer 
to. For the moment," the professor looked at Gabby, "I'll settle for 
'Professor', and use Garcia's surname, but we'll clarify things properly 
before the end of the class. So, to resume... you'll pass this class by 
demonstrating absolute obedience, an earnest and conscientious desire to 
please those, Mr Carmichael so aptly described as 'your betters', and 
evidence that you take proper pride and pleasure in your servitude. Do you 
have any questions?"

Gabby's stood just in front of the dais. She longed to cover her nakedness, 
but her hands seemed strapped to her sides. She couldn't even hunch, instead 
standing with her legs slightly apart and holding her shoulders back as if 
to display her large breasts, and the hairless pussy, that she genuinely 
couldn't remember shaving or waxing,  as clearly as possible. They were all 
looking her  up and down, up and down, devouring her body with their eyes. 
In some kind of involuntary response to the palpable lust in the air, her 
nipples had hardened, rising to plump, stiff rose-colored pastilles, and she 
could feel a warm dampening at her groin.  "How are you doing this?" her 
voice was quiet.

"Oh dear! Entirely the wrong question. You can't possibly expect me to tell 
you, even if your feeble brain could grasp the answer. Miss Fierstein, what 
should she have asked?"

"Something related to how she could be of service, Professor."

"Exactly! Try again, Garcia.  Do you have any questions?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Inelegant, but to the point. We can work on phrasing later. What I want, 
Garcia, is for you to get that pert little ass up here on stage, and then to 
get down on your knees, take out my cock and give me the best blow job you 
are capable of. The grade of your assignment will be changed to reflect how 
I rate it."

She didn't want to do it - not in any conscious way - but at the same time 
something inside her seemed to be insisting the most important thing in the 
world right now was to do exactly what he said, and to put her all into 
doing it. She was barely aware of moving, but thirty seconds later, she was 
kneeling in the middle of the dais, and holding his cock in her hand. He 
gave an mmmm sound of pleasure when she leaned forward to kiss the tip, and 
there were several moans from the students as they watched her swirl her 
tongue around the bulbous head before taking it between lips that trembled.

"Yes!" Avery's voice cracked out over her head, and he grabbed handfuls of 
her hair, and thrust his shaft into her mouth, jamming it mercilessly down 
her throat.

Gabby expected to choke but she seemed to open to him, instead. Her tongue 
explored the length of him with frantic flickerings and long licks while he 
held her onto him, with he nose buried in his pubic hair, and gave little 
jerks of his hips to force himself further in. There was a buzz of excited 
chatter, drifting past Gabby's  ears, but she couldn't distinguish words in 
it as she focused her whole attention on pleasuring the cock she held in her 
mouth. Soon, in her mind, she became,  in essence nothing BUT mouth, a 
tongue to lick in firm, rhythmic strokes, lips to slide over 
saliva-lubricated flesh, cheeks to apply gentle sucking pressure, a tool or 
toy created to provide satisfaction.

She was aware of the rest of her body, peripherally, aware she was 
performing her service before an audience, that as she was doing what she 
was doing, her ass was lifted high in the air, and that the pink lips of her 
pussy must be visible, pouting between her slightly parted thighs, 
glistening with her juices.  She bobbed her head, and felt her breasts sway.

She FELT shame, and humiliation. She was on fire with it. She didn't want to 
be  so wanton, so abject. Nothing in her wanted this, it didn't. But her 
wants and feelings were irrelevant in the face of her needs. She NEEDED all 
of this, here and now, the way she needed to breathe. She needed to taste 
Avery's climax, his jism in her mouth, to feel it flowing down her throat, 
her master's benison and blessing. She felt him tighten to give it to her, 
and then she was full of it, swallowing reverently, spasms of lustful 
delight pulsing through all of her with each spurting jerk of his cock.

And then, he was done, and Gabby was herself again, whole, naked and 
kneeling, holding a flaccid, empty penis in her mouth,  like a disgusting 
slut. Her stomach twisted and churned, tears filled her eyes, and if she 
could have she would have run to the bathroom and heaved, then slunk away to 
hide forever. She knew that would not be permitted.

"Stand up."

She did. He smiled at her, a cruel, sardonic lifting of his thin lips below 
a pair of cold eyes.

"Well," he said, zipping his cock back into his pants, "you may be an E 
minus intellect, pet, but you're an A plus cocksucker." Color flamed all 
over her body as he scrawled A+ on her paper and put it aside. Laughter 
exploded, to be cut off by a cracked command directed at her.

"Well? Thank me."

"Th... Thank you professor."

"Why are you thanking me?"

"For the grade, professor."

"No, you stupid girl. Mr Trant, why should Garcia thank me?"

"For being permitted to serve, Professor. A slave should always recognise 
that it is a privilege to  be allowed to give service, and they should 
always be properly grateful."

Avery nodded.

He held out the other students' papers toward Gabby. "Take these around to 
your classmates. Call them 'Sir' or 'Madam' as you hand them over. Return 
here and stand beside me, silently"

"Yes, professor. Thank you." She learned fast. As she walked round the room, 
giving each person their assignment back with a murmured "Sir, Sir, Madam, 
Sir", Avery spoke to the class.

"Our project for the rest of this programme will be to demonstrate the 
principles of mastery. Each of you will be given command over Garcia here 
for a period of two weeks. During that time, you may have her do absolutely 
anything you choose, it is for you to determine. However, as I explained to 
you during your acceptance interview, humiliation is a prime tool in 
establishing your dominance over another human being. I want the bitch 
humiliated, and at least once during each of your stints of mastery that 
humiliation must be VERY public. On the other hand, what we are doing in 
this class is not public knowledge, so you must be extremely careful not to 
give it away. Is that clear?"

Gabby had returned to her position on the dais as the class replied "Yes, 
professor." Avery continued.

"This ring" he held up the twin of his own, "is Garcia's prime trigger. It 
identifies you as her master. You should all be familiar by now with the 
vocabulary of mastery I gave you, and be able to use it effectively. When 
you are in possession of it, and the slave, you will assess her performance. 
Whether or not she passes or doesn't will be at least in part down to you - 
but be aware that at the same time, your classmates will be assessing your 
performance in control, and if Garcia fails, they may assess that to be 
because she wasn't well directed." He turned to Gabby. "You simply have to 
obey - me, and your master or mistress. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and his snaky, cold smile spread across his face again.

"Good.  Before I pass you across to your first master, there are some 
general instructions of service for you. You will wear this at all times. 
Put it on." He handed her a collar. It was made of thin black leather, and a 
round, gold tag, like a dogs, hung from it, engraved with the same symbol as 
the rings, and set, like them with a ruby. She felt, as she took it from his 
hands, that  she should recognise it, and when she fastened it around her 
neck, she was suddenly assailed with flashing images from her dreams which 
prompted a sudden flood of wet heat between her legs.

"You will always be naked in this class, apart from footwear. You may wear a 
coat to come too and from classes, but you will remove it at the door. When 
you are in the presence of any member of this group, you will speak only 
when spoken to, or given express permission, and when you do speak - to 
anyone - you will be completely truthful, answering any question you are 
asked, however personal, as fully as you possibly can. Everybody you meet, 
EVERYBODY, is your superior, and you will treat them with politeness and 
respect. You will hide nothing except the nature of this course, and the 
fact that you ever act from anything other than your own choices and desire 
and THOSE facts you will conceal at all times, except when there are only 
members of this class present. Clear?"

"Yes, professor, totally clear. Thank you."

"Ah, yes. The matter of address. Outside this room, or my office, professor 
is fine. In those places, however, I prefer you to refer to yourself in the 
third person as "your pet" and to me as"belove professor" Understand?"

"Your pet understands perfectly, beloved professor." Gabby heard the words 
coming out of her mouth, heard the humble, almost worshiping tone. She hated 
herself for i, almost as much as she hated Avery.

"Good girl."

 From nowhere, a tide of ecstasy swamped her. She heard herself cry "Oh God!" 
and start to shake as, alone on the stage, without being touched, she 
climaxed, her nerve endings shrieking with pleasure. Her head went back, and 
her hands moved of her own accord, tangled themselves into her hair, then 
slid  sensuously down her neck. She cupped and fondled her breasts, rolling 
the nipples between her fingers. She began to sway and move sinuously as the 
orgasm went on and on, rubbing thighs that were silky and slick with her 
juices over each other, so that the movement stimulated the pulsing nub of 
her clit. Little gasps, and "oh"s interspersed themselves between whimpers 
and quiet animal grunts so lascivious that she could hear groans from the 
rest of the class as they responded to her primal lust.

The as suddenly as it started it was gone. She was left stranded and shamed, 
while nervous giggles ran round the class.

"Ah, yes. The, um G G command. Very effective, very powerful, as you can 
see." Avery's eyes glittered and his tone was gleeful. "Use it carefully, 
but don't be afraid to use it.  Mr Price, the bitch is yours for the next 
two weeks. Kindly collect the ring. " 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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