AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter begins a sequel to "Mistress Kathy's Academy" and is the eighth chapter in the overall series.
An excerpt from Adam's Sub Journal:
May 9
First, notice that I'm calling this a "sub journal" instead of a slave journal. Being a sub sounds more like a choice than an obligation. BDSM has always been a fascination of mine, and being a bottom is the choice I've made.
Writing a journal, however, is my mistress's idea. She says it's traditional for a sub to write his thoughts so that his mistress may have a written account of his innermost feelings. Most girlfriends just ask, "What are you thinking?" but our relationship is special.
She also thinks this is a good way for me to work out my feelings regarding the traumatic adventure we both survived five months ago.
By "adventure," I'm referring to the harrowing four days (it seemed longer) that I spent at Mistress Kathy's Academy of Domination and Submission. It began when Monica, my former girlfriend and mistress, signed a series of contracts she didn't read containing hidden commitments to a "school" with an academic tradition of sexual slavery. It ended with her becoming trapped there, and me only narrowly escaping—with help from my new mistress, Eve, the only person I know who believes my story.
Eve, of course, spent much more time on the island than I did and suffered much rougher treatment. Perhaps reading this journal will help her as well. So far, she seems reluctant to talk about her own experience there.
Okay, I admit that's a hint. I hope someday she'll be ready to tell me how she arrived on the island a mistress and ended up an enslaved pony girl.
Since having had this shared traumatic experience, my new mistress and I have bonded (don't laugh) in a way I never thought possible. What I used to have with Monica was thrilling, but it was mostly sex. Eve and I, on the other hand, shared an experience no one else will ever understand, and that has cemented our relationship in a powerful mutual trust.
We're in love. We both know it.
Not that I've forgotten about Monica or her captivity on that island. I've pursued official channels to try to get her (and others like her) out of that terrible place, but with no success.
It turns out the State Department does not believe the Academy is a real place. No island of the type I've described exists, they say. The Academy is an internet hoax, they insist. Monica left the country of her own free will, they presume, and she probably doesn't want to be found.
It doesn't help that I can't prove my story. Although the Academy has regular customers, it seems that repeat customers keep their patronage secret. While I was there, none of them shared anything more than their first names with me, making it impossible to find anyone on the mainland who can corroborate my story. It seems the very nature of the Academy is motivation enough to keep repeat customers silent, and new customers are thoroughly screened to keep out those who ask the wrong questions. A few bloggers know rumors of the place, but even they are skeptical.
I've kept copies of every letter I've sent to authorities and of the correspondences I've had on the blogs about the subject.
My new mistress urges me to give up this pursuit. She says the Academy has been doing this for too long, knows too many tricks, has too many resources. She says I mustn't blame myself for what happened to Monica, that it's out of my hands, and that what happened to her is mostly her own fault anyway.
It's hard to argue that last point. I don't know what I could have done differently when I was on the island, yet I can't help wondering.
Meanwhile, Eve and I have continued to pursue our fascination with BDSM, despite the promises we made to each other to give it up. My new mistress's natural tendency toward sexual dominance and my willingness to submit to it have ultimately proved irresistible.
Eve says it's the lingering effect of our time on the island. She doesn't claim to understand it, but she says there's something about the place that changes people, enhancing their natural sexual tendencies and amplifying them. Apparently, the effect persists even after we leave.
That explains a few things—like why Eve and I have been unable to keep our hands off each other since our return, why I seem to be in the best physical shape of my life, and why women I know are acting differently around me, as if I'm suddenly more interesting than before.
And there's something else. I wouldn't mention this, but my mistress insists that I write it here.
My dick is bigger. She constantly teases me about it.
Enough about that.
Even after what's happened, Eve wants to interact with other couples like ourselves. I guess I do, too—but I'm afraid. Can you blame me?
Eve assures me that it's safe to embrace our lifestyle again. That there are real people who practice BDSM safely within caring relationships. That there is a better way to follow our passions than the brutal and reckless way taught at the Academy.
And she says it's time for me to test the waters and leave the sanctuary of our home. "What's the point in having a sub if you can't show him off once in a while?" she asks me. So she wants to take me to a fetish club—out of town, where we won't be recognized.
And she wants to introduce me to a friend of hers—Mistress Tina. She's a domme Eve met after our escape from the island. They trust each other, and they meet from time to time to shop for hard-to-find leather goods and discuss all things mistressy. Mistress Tina has her own sub (who's beautiful, I'm told) whom she wants us to meet, and they've decided that a bondage-themed night club is the perfect place for all of us to be introduced to each other.
I admit I'm nervous. But my mistress is always right, or so she tells me.
* * *
Adam knew that his mistress wouldn't like him writing so much about his ex-girlfriend in his journal, but Eve had said that writing it would help him work through his feelings, and his ex was at the center of the emotional knot he felt whenever he thought about the island.
Eve was going through her own adjustment phase, and Adam did what he could to help her through it. Before she'd moved in with him, Adam had hidden all the pictures of Monica that he'd had in his home. Eve was the jealous type and never apologized for it. He didn't know how she would react to seeing pictures of his former mistress and decided not to put the matter to a test.
This could have annoyed him, but he understood Eve's quirks. He even found them kind of sexy. Great sex helped make up for the control issues. Eve's time at the Academy had trained her well in such matters, and now she was training him.
He was even starting to look forward to their weekend getaway.
In the tower above the bondage club, he was impressed by the size of the room Mistress Tina had arranged for them.
"When do we meet them?" Adam asked his mistress as they settled in.
"They're coming on a later flight, so they're going to meet us downstairs at The Club," Eve explained. "That gives us plenty of time to get ready to meet them." As she said this, she opened Adam's suitcase on the bed.
"Hey, that's not what I packed."
"No, it's not," she agreed. "I took the liberty of repacking it for you. Complaints?"
Adam had wondered why his bag was so heavy. Now he knew it contained more cuffs, clasps and chains than he had packed—and fewer clothes. Eve had already started the game.
"No complaints," he said. He always liked her games.
"Good boy," she complimented. "I have a few surprises in here, including a variety of outfits for you to choose from." She pulled out a series of fetishy shorts and trunks he had never seen before. "I'll let you choose which one you want to wear."
"I'll take these," he said, choosing the one which offered the most coverage.
"I knew you'd pick that one. I shouldn't have packed it." She smiled as she put the other outfits back in the suitcase. "I generously let you choose your own outfit, so tonight, if someone comments on what you're wearing, you must now volunteer that you picked it out yourself. Understand?"
"Yes, mistress."
"Now here's what's going to happen next. You're going to shower. Then I'm going to help you get ready. For what I have in mind, you'll need a little help. Then you're going to sit quietly while
I
shower and get ready. That will take a while longer, but if you're good, I'll turn on some music while you wait. I may even mix you a cocktail which you may drink with a straw."
"Why a straw?"
"I think you know why."
He did—and he looked forward to it.
Two hours later, as he was finishing his drink, Eve emerged from the bathroom in a sparkly short cocktail dress. She posed for him, leaning against a table and crossing her perfect legs.
As stunning as she was, her clothes were more subdued than his. The mirror on the wall reminded him how his spandex shorts gripped his butt, and he didn't need reminding how tightly his latex straitjacket kept his arms pulled behind his back.
She said she's been waiting to show me off,
he thought
. Good thing I trust her.
"No dominatrix suit for you?" he asked out loud.
"I'm tired of that old thing," she admitted. "It's too much like my pony suit. You're the one who needs to make a good first impression on our new friends." She picked out a ball gag for him.
"We won't need that," he said.
"We won't
need
it," she agreed, "but it flatters you, so it's part of the outfit." Mercifully, she allowed the gag to hang around his neck.
Finally she attached a leash to his collar and gave it a little tug. "A tug means I want a kiss," she reminded him.
He kissed her. She held him close to her body. They enjoyed each other's warmth.
