- well my dear. We should get dressed and get going.
And then to us
- You two. Chauffeur uniform. Slave. Just as you are.
- And boy, go get the cage in the back of the truck.
Tamara and I dashed to our rooms to get into our Chauffeur uniforms. Something we could be seen in the outside world. For me it was shiny black shoes, pressed and tight dress slacks, a tight black t shirt over which I had a blazer. No underwear, of course, and the cockring would keep the bulge in front of the pants prominent.
Tamara also wore a blazer, but her shoes were 4 inch heels, and a short black miniskirt over her bare legs. The crop top under the blazer showed off her toned tummy. And underwear was also forbidden.
While Tamara went to help our Owners with their dressing, and to assist Tiffany understanding on how to do it, I took the keys and put the cage in the back of the Chevy Tahoe and brought it around front.
When it was time to leave, we three slaves were at the front door waiting in line, Tamara and my self standing ready to be inspected in our uniforms, and Tiffany kneeling still with only her chrome accoutrements on.
After a quick inspection, including tweaking Tamara's nipples so they poked out from her crop top, Master took a leash and attached one end to Tiffany's collar and signalled her to rise and then we were out the door.
I opened the back and master indicated Tiffany should crawl into the cage. Which she did after only a moment's hesitation. I put the blanket over top to conceal it from prying vanilla eyes and closed the back and moved to open the door for Master. Tiffany and Mistress were already seated, when I took my place behind the wheel.
With our owners in the back seat, Tamara riding shotgun, Tiffany in the cage in the back, we were off. As I pulled away, Master said
- To The Academy
This caused a shudder from both Tamara and me. The Academy had put us through so much, but had also brought so much out of us. It was a love hate relationship for sure with the building, the staff and the Headmaster in charge.
The Academy was in the country. An old estate still surrounded by stone walls and fences and well away from nay neighbour. The main house was a large imposing gothic building that even still gave no hint of what happens inside.
It took more than an hour to arrive. We pulled up the circular drive in front of the main house as slaves descended on our car. They wore the unique Academy uniform. Large leather collar, cuffs, and a leather thong covering cocks and pussies, and bare chests.
Tamara and I were still at our Owners doors first and helped them alight. When I pulled open the back and removed the blanket, Tiffany seemed to almost shrink back. But Master opened the cage, grabbed the leash and pulled her out until she was standing. Then he attached her chrome cuffs behind her back, tweaked a nipple and strode away taking Mistress's hand in his own as he went. Tiffany had little choice but to follow, as the other slaves swept them up the stone stairs towards the massive front entrance.
We returned to the truck, parked it and entered through the side entrance. The slaves' entrance. Right inside the door was a kind of locker room. We quickly peeled off our uniforms and stored them in a locker. Slaves did not wear clothes at the Academy, not a lot of clothes anyways.
When we were ready we passed through the wooden door to the antechamber where there were a number of house slaves and handlers working at ensuring the evening's activities ran smoothly. We glided to our knees and then put our heads on the floor waiting for the Head Handler to acknowledge us.
- Ah. You two. It's been a while. You must be due for some refresher training here soon?
It was a question, but it required no answer. Our Owners would decide if we required refresher training.
- On your Feet. Inspection. Let's see how things have gone since you were last here.
We rose quickly to our feet and assumed the inspection position with our hands behind our heads, our chests pushed forward, and our toes just touching the line on the floor.
The head Handler moved around us looking at everything. He tweaked nipples, he ran his hand over our crotches looking for stubble, he ran a finger up to our rear holes, he checked to see how tight our collars were. He pinched at sides and legs looking at our conditioning.
- I think you'll be back sooner rather than later. It appears to me that you Owners have been a little slack.
Now Tamara and I didn't flinch. We didn't talk back, but we both tensed ever so slightly. Who was this man in front of us to tell us that your Owners were less than perfect? Our owners had us exactly where they wanted us and they were no slouches. We would gladly return to the Academy, if our Owners desired it, but we served our Owners before ourselves and this man was questioning them!
The Head handler actually noticed the stiffening in both our postures. But, unbeknownst to us, he took it as a measure of our commitment. He did not say anything about it. However,
- Not sure why your nipples are not rouged girl! Haven't we taught you anything? And boy, you should know better than that as well. Over the horse, the two of you. 10 should nicely warm you up.
We moved surely and knowingly to the horse on the far side of the room. We had both spent hours over this horse or others like it at the Academy, having our asses "warmed", or striped, or flogged or smacked or paddled.
There was no need for us to count. That was for bad porn movies. We simply braced ourselves and endured the 10 smacks from the wooden paddle.
And our asses were well and truly warmed when the last one finished and we were told to stand. We had only grunted during the last few as the pain and the heat built up.
The handler quickly attached our cuffs behind our backs, and then a leash to Tamara's collar. He also attached a leash to my collar, then ran it through Tamara's legs and up to her collar, forcing me to bend in half such that my nose was firmly planted in her butt crack. I could feel the heat of her ass cheeks on my own cheeks.
And my ass was glowing red like a caboose on a train as we started following the Handler out of the room and to rejoin our Owners.
My ass stayed very much up and open and my nose very much planted in Tamara's ass throughout the journey through the Academy. And the Academy was a hive of activity. Other Owners were arriving at the front door and being greeted and house slaves and trainees were scurrying hither and fro with drinks, appetizers and jackets to be hung up.
We passed into the main ballroom. A luxurious room with a massive chandelier in the middle and high vaulted ceilings. Today there were more than 50 leather wing backed chairs arranged around a small circular stage. Our Owners occupied two such chairs not far from the stage and Tiffany was on the floor between them.
As we stopped before them and the handler handed the leash over to Master, they both could not help but notice our travel position and our red asses. Only the Academy would dare to correct someone else's slave, but Master could still make his feelings understood.
Without accepting the leash he calmly asked
- How are they to serve us if they are attached in such a fashion with their hands restrained?
This caused the handler to pause, caught by something unusual.
Then he turned and unfastened our cuffs and our leashes that allowed us to take our positions kneeling beside our owners without further looking at him.
He turned back to present the now unattached leash to Master. But he was in conversation with Mistress and was studiously ignoring him. He was forced to wait almost a full minute before Master turned back.
- I don't need that. You may go.
There was a certain amount of inner joy that Master had sorted him out like he had.
Master and Mistress were already supplied with drinks and appetizers, so we had little to do, so we waited. Kneeling. Like the slaves we were.
Master and Mistress chatted and sat comfortably. It wasn't that many years ago, that they had sat here waiting for us to be displayed.
The night was a cross between a graduation and an auction. Those slaves already attached or owned were displayed so that everyone could see what they had become, and to whom they belonged.
Some slaves arrived unowned and today was the day they graduated and were auctioned off.
As we sat we could hear that tonight was the specialty night. The one night a year that specialty slaves were graduated and sold.
And what were the specialties. We would soon see. And it also explained the full house with over 50 Owners scattered around the room, with many, many slaves attending them, not counting the house slaves and trainees.
The band in the corner, a trio actually of two girls and one boy, was interesting enough to look at, given that they were all slaves and played their instruments in a costume that consisted mostly of a bow tie and thong. I guess no one wants drips on an expensive musical instrument.
When they finished their last number and went to their knees, it was apparent that the auction was set to begin.
The lights went down to almost nothing and then there was a parade of sorts that came into the room. Led by a handler, it was 6 very beautiful slaves with larger natural breasts (not every slave was beautiful and not everyone had large tits), who wore long floor length skirts with a large zipper up the front, six inch platform heels, and a solid steel collar on their neck from which a yoke emerged and went out two feet to capture their hands which were holding large lighted candles.
Their naked tits glimmered with oil and sparkles and from each of their nipples hung a glass pendant that caught and reflected the light. They were human chandeliers, and even more so when after they had been placed around the room at equal intervals, a naked male slave lowered the zipper on their skirts to the floor which gave them almost no room to move their feet, even if they had been so inclined.
- Well that's new. But I must say I like it. Perhaps we should be looking for a skirt like that for ours?
- It is a most interesting way to light a room!
With room and mood lighting taken care of, the spotlight on the stage rose and the Headmaster of the Academy strode to the stage. He wore an impeccable tuxedo, and carried himself with an air of grace and authority.
He had been running the Academy for so long no one could exactly point out when he arrived. There were rumours that he had actually gone through as a slave many many years ago.
The Academy was the premier training school for slaves the world over, and it was in no small part due to the Headmaster. His selection, his attention to detail, his all-encompassing training regimes produced nothing but the best and his graduates were highly sought after.
And believe me, Tamara and I knew how encompassing the training was!
There was polite applause as befitted the surroundings and he took a small gentlemen's bow before reaching out his hand.
