Dog Days Are Beginning

Note: Contains hardcore BDSM elements. The events in this story are purely fantasy. In real life, please show respect and practice safe and consensual sex.

*****

Chapter 2 - Training: Day 1

*****

"25," the clerk called out. A short skinny man strolled up and handed some forms to the clerk behind the glass who went over them and asked the man some questions. Steve and Mark were sitting in the waiting room of the training facility, waiting to be called. There were other couples and some single people sitting and waiting like them. All the other applicants were male; the female training programme was separate, probably in another part of the training grounds. There had been a mixture of same sex and opposite sex couples so the applicants seemed to vary in sexuality. Steve and Mark had gone over the application forms, read the terms and conditions, and filled out every detail. The man, 25, had finished with at the clerk desk and passed through to some double doors into another room.

"Next, 26," a couple, a man and a woman, strolled up to the desk.

"How are you doing?" Mark asked, squeezing Steve's leg.

"Bit nervous and excited," his leg was shaking in anticipation.

"You'll do great," Mark rubbed Steve's back.

The couple had finished and moved towards the double doors. The clerk called out, "excuse me, only applicants passed the doors." The couple were teary-eyed and holding onto one another. They whispered in hushed tones as they hugged, not wanting to part. Eventually, the man broke away and passed through the doors. Once they had shut, the woman left the waiting room in tears.

"I wonder what their deal is," Steve whispered.

Mark shrugged his shoulders. "You'll have to ask him."

"Next, 27." Steve jumped in surprise. That was him. He and Mark went up to the clerk and handed over their forms. Steve carried a rucksack with a week's worth of clothes and some toiletries. The clerk glanced over the sheets, inspecting each ticked box and written detail.

"Which one of you is Steve?" The clerk peered at the men over her glasses.

"That's me," Steve waved.

"Mmm hmm," the clerk replied. "You've read over all the terms and conditions?"

"Yes."

"And you agree that you will be the property of the sub training programme for the duration of the week?"

"Yes."

"And you agree to the physical, mental, and sexual methods used as part of the training programme as outlined in the application forms?"

"Yes."

"Perfect, please sign here as a confirmation to the terms of agreement." Steve signed his name and handed back the sheet.

"And you're Mark?" The clerk glanced over to Mark.

"Yes, that's me."

"You agree that should Steve complete his training and pass the final test, you will become his owner?"

"Yes, sure."

"Ok, sign here." Mark signed the sheet as the clerk explained, "So if Steve's training is cut short for any reason we'll get in touch with you by your contact details, otherwise, you can pick him up here next Monday."

"Great!"

"Ok, that should be everything, Steve you can make your way to next room. Next, 28!" The clerk yelled with almost apathetic efficiency.

Steve and Mark walked towards to door. Mark gave his husband's hand a squeeze and they hugged. "If you need to call it quits at any stage, it's ok, don't worry. We can always find another way of you getting a job."

"Ok, I know. I'll do my best to try to get through it. I love you."

"I love you." They kissed one last time. It felt like they were seeing each other off at the airport because one of them was moving to a separate continent for a year. They parted.

"See you soon," Steve gazed at Mark's face, taking in every detail.

"Good luck. Remember: it's just one week. See you next week!"

"Bye," Steve turned, wiping a tear from his eye as he left the waiting room, passing through the double doors and onto the next room. There he entered what seemed to be a locker room. The 26 other men who had registered before him were sitting along the benches, some chatting, some looking at their phones, others shoving their bags in the lockers aligned along the walls. Steve followed suit and stuffed his rucksack and jacket into an empty locker.

"So what are you in for?" A gruff-voiced man sitting on the bench beside him asked. He was white and looked in his late 40s.

"Sorry?"

"I'm Paul, or number 14 as I've been assigned," he shook hands with Steve who gave his own name and number. "I was just saying you're quite young compared to everyone else here; you must have a reason for signing up." Steve looked around. The guy was right. He seemed to be the youngest there. There was a mixture of men from their 20s, 30s, 40s, and possibly early 50s with all different body shapes and shades.

"Oh, yes. I was finding it hard to get a job. I graduated a few ago and nothing was happening so I joined this sub internship programme at the company my husband works for -- or I will be joining it if I pass this week."

"Husband eh? What does he think of this?"

"We were both a bit apprehensive but he's supportive. If it gets me a job, we'll be happy."

"Yeah, it's tough what you young people have to go through to get your foot in the door. It's not easy with these financial crashes happening every decade."

"True that. So, what about you? What has you doing the programme?" Steve asked as the last few applicants came into the locker room.

"Bit of a late bloomer myself. I only discovered I liked being submissive a few years ago. Checked out some fetish websites and it opened this whole new world for me. Unfortunately, my wife found out and she flipped. But she soon came around and is fully supportive. As long we keep it in private behind closed doors, she's ok with it."

"Aw, that's lovely. It's great you discovered this new part of you," Steve smiled. "I'm glad your wife is supportive."

"She's my rock, for sure. This accreditation as a sub, fingers crossed, would mean the world to me. Belonging to Ann, my wife..." Paul sighed and smiled.

Steve was taken aback by Paul's explanation. He had never really thought of people wanting to be a sub as part of their nature. Sure, he knew some people sometimes leaned either one way or the other into submission or domination, but Paul seemed quite passionate about it. Steve had only considered the financial and employment benefits of completing the training; it was purely something to be ticked off for bureaucratic reasons. Sure, he'd roleplayed in the bedroom, but he never thought it'd expand beyond that. Would this week change things and draw something out of him like it had with Paul?

Steve's musings were interrupted by a speaker over the intercom. The chatter in the room ceased. "Applicants, once you have stored your personal belongings including phones, keys, and jewellery in the lockers, please proceed through the blue door for your induction." Everyone rose to their feet; made sure they had put everything away and then shuffled through the blue doors. They came through the other side into a large hall. It had concrete floors, black walls, and had an industrial feel to it. There were a number of men at the end of the top of the hall peering at the 30 applicants as they filled the open space. They seemed quite militant: serious, muscular, and dark clothed. They gave off an air of superiority.

One of the men came forward. He was tall and well-build. "Welcome applicants to the sub training programme," his voice broadcasted throughout the room, demanding attention. "I'm Strike, or to you, Master Strike," he smirked. "This is Master Joe," he gestured to a burly man with a mohawk and crazy eyes, "Master Rick," he moved on to a heavily tattooed man with a noticeable bulge in his trousers, "and Master Bryce," he nodded to a man who gazed at the applicants like the cat that got the cream. "We will be overseeing your training programme this week, and of course we have our other Doms here to keep you in check," he gestured the other men standing in line behind the four head honchos.

Master Rick stepped forward, "Throughout this week we will be developing you into the perfect subs. Some of you will make it to the end of the week, others won't. And of course you will need to pass the final test to be legalised subs." Master Rick looked around at the applicants, "it is important to note that that should you wish to quit the programme, you are free to do so at any stage. And if any of us Doms feel that any applicant is not fit to continue the programme, we will be terminating the applicant's journey for their own safety and well-being. Aside from that, from this point forward, we own you." Master Rick left that last bit hang in the air. "You will be used, you will be punished, you will be obedient."

Master Bryce took up the helm, "Each day will be dedicated to a different part of sub training. Day 1, today, we will be focussing on humiliation. Day 2 you will learn about punishment. Day 3 will be about sexual submission. Day 4 will explore objectification. Day 5 we will be about pet play. On Day 6, you will learn about serving. Day 7 we will have a review of the week with your mock test, and Day 8 will be your test day and hopefully your accreditation." The applicants took in all the information. It was a lot to process. Steve never knew 8 days could be so daunting.

Master Joe bounced around on his feet, "Can we just fucking start? All this talk is boring!"

"Master Joe, there is a process we must follow. Calm yourself," Master Strike gave him a look. Master Joe sighed but relented.

Master Rick brought forward a large black briefcase. "During your stay here, you will be collared. Each of you will receive your own individual collar with your assigned number. This is to show temporary ownership. It is also good practice as subs in real life are more often than not collared, so this will help you get used to your attire should you pass this week."

"But first things first," Joe rubbed his hands excitedly. "Subs should be naked," he smiled around at the crowd of applicants. "Well, what are you waiting for? Clothes off." Steve and the other applicants hesitated. Joe raised his voice, "When a superior gives you a command, you obey. Take your fucking clothes off now." His roar echoed around the room. The applicants tore off their clothes, pulling off their shoes and shuffling out of their underwear. Steve followed suit. He removed his t shirt, runners, pants and stepped out of his underwear, cupping his genitals for privacy like most of the other men. He could feel the cold of the concrete on his bare feet. A good number of the men were in good shape, Steve noticed.

One applicant hadn't removed any of his clothes. He appeared to be around the same age as Steve. He was shaking nervously and looking around. "I-I-I can't do this," he stuttered and ran out through the door they had come through.

"Ah, our first drop out. There's always one who drops out at the beginning. Don't forget, no refunds!" Master Strike yelled to him as the applicant left. "Who was that?"

"That was number 3," Master Bryce confirmed, crossing a line across a sheet of paper.

"Some are just not able to stomach the training," Master Rick explained to the applicants. "You might not know it yet but there will be more of you dropouts. You have to be built a certain way to become a sub, and that's ok. Not all of you worthless excuses for men have it in you. But hopefully, we'll make subs out of some of you."

Master Rick popped open the briefcase. "When I call your number, come forward, you will be collared and then move to one of the red X's on the floor." He gestured to the red X's that were painted along the concrete floor across the room. You will forget your real names. Subs don't have names, only the names their owners have given them. In here, your number is your name.

"Number 1," Master Rick called. A pale gangly red-head in his early 30s walked forward. He bowed his head once he got to Master Rick. "Ah, a bowed head, he knows his stuff, very good submissive behaviour, you've got promise, boy," Master Rick rubbed 1's head. Steve noticed 1 smile slightly. He must be enjoying this, Steve thought. He picked up the collar. It was a silver-coloured metal with "#1 PROPERTY OF SUB TRAINING PROGRAMME" inscribed on it. He opened the metal collar; it swung on a small hinge. He closed it around 1's neck and slipped a padlock through the holes in the front, locking it in place. It looked secure but not too tight around 1's neck.

"What do you say to Master Rick?" Joe asked, lilting his voice in sing-song manner.

"Thank you Master Rick," 1 answered, looking down at Master Rick's leather boots.

"You're welcome boy; now, over to the X." 1 turned and moved to one of the markings.

Master Rick continued down the line until he 7 came forward. He was a beefy south-east Asian man in his 30s. The Doms were smirking as 7 was fully erect. "Well it's good to see we have some gays amongst our ranks," Master Rick playfully slapped 7's cock. "Us gays really know how to have fun."

"Though there is something enjoyable about breaking a straight into submission," Master Joe said with mischief in his eyes.

When it came to Steve's turn, he walked forward, taking cues from those before him to be respectful and stare at the floor. "Such a handsome boy," Master Rick said, lifting Steve's chin, forcing him to look into Master Rick's green eyes. They bore into Steve, calculating, almost telling Steve he was planning something. Master Rick secured the collar inscribed with "27" around Steve's neck. He gasped as he felt the cold metal against his skin. The weight of the collar rested on neck and collar bone, a constant reminder of his being owned. It was a symbolic transition towards his submission. It was almost too much to process in the moment.

When all the applicants had been collared and were standing in a line on the X's, Master Bryce began to explain, "It's important for subs to learn to present themselves correctly. You must carry yourselves appropriately. Your stance and your posture are a reflection on your owners. A well-presented sub means a well-respected Norm. Your first lesson will be to learn the sub positions. The first is to kneel, which you will be doing a lot of as the sub's proper place is on the floor. Now kneel," Bryce commanded. The applicants moved to the floor, kneeling down on the hard concrete. Steve felt the rough surface against his knees.

Master Bryce surveyed the applicants, walking in and around them, "back straight, head bowed, and palms resting on your thighs." The applicants corrected their postures. "Good," Master Bryce nodded. "I expect you to know this default position. I won't be correcting anyone again. If any of you losers mess this up, there will be a punishment."

"Next is present. Up, everyone up. Stand straight, hands on the back of your head." Master Bryce smacked 17, a Latino in his late 20s, on the chest, "chest out, eyes forward, have some pride in your submission. And hold your posture there." Steve followed suit, not wanting get punished, his heart was beating rapidly. He noticed he wasn't the only one nervous; a few of the others were beginning to drip with sweat.

"Good, now, at ease. You can lower your arms." There were a few sighs of relief. Master Bryce chucked, "don't be so relieved, the last one is the hardest. Crouching position. Lower yourself and balance on your toes and the balls of your feet. Back straight and hands on the back of your head." The applicants struggled with this one. Most wobbled, struggling to stay firmly in place. Steve could feel his balance wavering as he tried to both stay on his feet and keep his back straight. Grumbling filled the room, noticeably louder than before.

"Quiet," Master Bryce shouted. "I didn't give any of you permission to make noise. And compose yourselves, if you can't even manage to stay in position for a few minutes, how are you going to manage being a sub in real life?" 21, a heavy-set white guy with a dolphin tattoo on his back toppled over and onto his side.

"Back into position, 21," Master Bryce yelled at him, towering above him. 21 struggled to get back into the correct stance. "21, if you don't get your sorry ass back into position, you're journey here will be over." 21 tried to balance on his feet, holding his arms out to try to steady himself. Steve gulped, hoping that 21 could hold it together. Come on, he thought, you can do it. But within a few seconds, 21 was down on his back, gasping from exhaustion.

"Well, looks like we have our next victim, 21, you're out," Master Bryce gestured to the helper Doms to escort 21 out of the room. They lifted him to his feet and walked him out.

"By this rate, we'll have no one left by the end of Day 1," Master Strike said, crossing another line across the sheet. "This is turning out to be the sorriest group of applicants I've ever had to train. At ease." The applicants let out a breath of relief, sitting back on their butts and catching some air. They were given a few minutes rest while the Doms chatted amongst themselves; none of the applicants dared chat with each other for fear of reprisal.

The Doms broke up as they finished their chatting; the applicants had had a chance to catch their breath. Master Strike spoke, "time for a very important lesson. It is integral to learn, accept, and remember the sub mantra. It is the very essence of what a sub is. It explains your existence in this room, in your potential owner's home, and in society at large. Keep this mantra in your mind and soul and you will become a completely fulfilled sub. This is the moment of your sub enlightening."

Master Strike pushed a button on a remote and a screen on the wall flashed on. There were lines of statements scrolled across the screen, almost like a declaration. "Begin reading them out loud in unison, now!"

Steve and the others began calling out the mantra together, like a prayer at Church:

"I am not a man.

I am a sub.

I have no rights, liberties, or freedoms.

I am owned by my Master, my Dom, my owner.

My body and mind are not my own. They belong to my owner.

I shall be obedient at all times.

I shall be submissive at all times.

I shall be available at all times.

I deserve to be humiliated.

I deserve to be punished.

I deserve to be used sexually.

I deserve to be objectified.

I deserve to be a pet.

I deserve to serve.

I am happy to submit to my Master, my owner, my Dom.

Their happiness brings me joy.

Their sadness makes me sad.

Their needs are my needs.

Their wants are my wants.

I am nothing without my Master, my owner, my Dom."

The room echoed to a silence.

"Again," Master Strike yelled. The applicants began reciting the mantra again. When they had finished, Master Stirke yelled, "Again! Louder." They did so again and again, Master Strike egging them on every time with a new command, "Savour every line; Understand each word; Let it enter your mind; Let if fill your soul; This is who you are; This is who you are meant to be."

Steve tried to take in what he was reading and speaking aloud over and over again: 10, 20, 30, 40 times, he lost count and also lost track of time; they could've been there 2 minutes or 2 days. The mantra was becoming a mindless chant. His own voice was blurring in with the other applicants. The individual words and lines began to lose all sense of meaning; instead he felt the mantra exhausting him both physically and mentally. He began to believe every statement, every line as if they were true, as if they had always been a part of his beliefs, as if he had been born with those thoughts in his mind. He no longer needed to look at the screen, he knew the words off by heart as he repeated them over and over, becoming glassy eyed as he stared off into the distance, reciting the mantra on auto-pilot. He and the other applicants hadn't noticed the other Doms slipping out of the room.