The Vassal Academy Part 30: Jeannette's lesson.
The last four days had been hectic for everyone. The academy was finally back in normal operation though. The stall walls had been removed from the training wings, the furniture had been broken down and stored. The linens had been laundered and folded and put away for when it may be used again.
The slaves had all had a spin on the table, and Devon had returned to town, once with Jeannette, and once with Geneva. Suzanne would return in a couple days to resume her training while her Master went to check on production facilities in the Malaysia for ten days.
Devon was ready for the next project though. He picked up the phone and glanced at the folder he had just digested. It was Sarah Miller's file, and he thought he was ready to talk to her.
The phone rang. Sarah answered it. "Yes?"
"Ms. Sarah Miller please." Devon said.
"Speaking." Sarah answered. She hadn't recognized the number on the display.
"Ms. Miller, This is Devon Jamison of the Vassal Academy, I was hoping to speak to you about your request."
Sarah felt the floor dip below her, and then she realized it was her stomach. She tried to compose herself, stepping out of the hallway into a smaller cubby that was unoccupied. "Mr. Jamison, I'm on my way to a meeting right now, may I call you back at this number in a couple hours?"
"Certainly. Someone will be here to answer it, and I will be able to discuss your request at your convenience." Devon answered with tones of understanding in his voice.
Sarah sat through the production meeting, making notes, and asking a couple questions for clarification. She agreed with the Executive Vice President who oversaw all public relations, the branch of the company she was working in, that there was no need to change the current ad campaign, sales were consistent, and even climbing a bit.
After the meeting was over, she returned to her office, and then decided it was too risky to discuss this information here. She took her briefcase, and she left the building. Not early, the meeting had let out at six, but not as late as she would sometimes stay.
It took thirty minutes to reach her condo, and once inside she leaned against the door, trying to catch her breath. They were going to help her. They were going to help her after all. She had talked to Dominique, and gotten an explanation that they were involved in a big project for Hollywood, and it would be a couple weeks before they could discuss her case. That had been almost three weeks ago, and now they were calling her.
She set her purse and briefcase on the kitchen table and selected Devon's number from her history. She thumbed the call back button, and listened while it rang.
"Vassal Academy, Devon."
"Mr. Jamison, it's Sarah Miller returning your call."
"Good to hear from you Sarah." Devon said simply. "Please feel free to call me Devon, and I apologize for taking so long to get back to you. We had a very large project that we only just completed."
"Yes, Dominique explained that as well. Mr. Jamison, I'm hoping that you can help me here."
Devon didn't allow his voice to lose any of it's cheerfulness. "I'm not sure if we can, or not. What I'd like to do is meet with you this weekend. I'm planning on coming to Houston to look at some other related matters, and I'd be quite happy to meet and discuss this with you in person, unless you object of course."
"Why would you need to meet with me?" Sarah asked.
"To discuss the specifics of your request. Ms. Miller, surely you realize how unusual your request is." Devon temporized.
"Yes." Sarah agreed. "Very well, I'll meet with you. Where will you be staying?"
"The Airport Marriott, I've reserved a suite, and I should arrive Friday at about noon local time, unless the flight is delayed. Would seven pm be satisfactory? We could dine at the Hotel, I understand they have some very good food."
"Is this to be a date Mr. Jamison?"
Devon laughed. "Ms. Miller, Friday you will know how silly that question was. For now, just take my word that I intend to discuss this matter, verbally, with you. No untoward behavior is contemplated."
Sarah considered for just a moment. In her best no nonsense Vice President voice she said. "Very well, I'll see you at seven then."
"I'll confirm that on Thursday Ms. Miller. Good night." Devon said and then hung up. He chuckled and returned to his book.
Sarah on the other hand began pacing in her condo. She walked to the window, and then back to the door. This wasn't what she'd expected. A meeting with them in her home town was not on the agenda.
Sarah went to her kitchen and looked in the refrigerator. There was very little inside, and she walked to the drawer with all the delivery menus. Deciding on Chinese, she placed an order by phone, and then got out of her work clothing. It was a severely cut suit jacket with matching slacks. A blouse that was buttoned to one short of the collar went with it.
Sarah emerged dressed in baggy jeans and a T-shirt before opening a Diet Coke and turning on the TV. After paying the delivery guy for her dinner, she sat at the TV and tried not to think.
She had become aware of her desires in College, slowly. At first, it had been strange dreams of rough and bruising sex. Then there had been the actual events, which somehow, left her wanting. She had a wild night with a Football player who had a reputation for rough and ready sex escapades. That should have satisfied her. It hadn't. The next morning, she had bruises on her thighs from his hips, and her pussy had been red and sore. She decided that it wasn't something she could pursue, and she had instead locked it all away and left it behind.
So she had thought at the time. For almost ten years after her Graduation, she hadn't spared a moment's thought for her love life, instead, burying herself in the company, and her job. She had finally risen to Vice President of Public Relations. Under her were literally dozens of employees. Every single one of them wanted her job, and her title. She wanted the next job, Executive Vice President in charge of Communications and PR. Thomas was her immediate supervisor, and knew that she wanted his office. She wanted the perks, and she wanted the bonus package he got every single year. Her own stock options were nice, his were nicer. Her own perks were nice, his were better.
Sarah finally realized she might just be good enough, ruthless enough, and smart enough to battle her way to the very top. The path was slippery, and steep. Many fell from it before reaching the pinnacle. Many were pulled down by fellow climbers, or tripped up by scandals. An office romance here, an embarrassing wife or relative there. An arrest for DUI ruined more than one career at the company. A child who was arrested for pot, or was busted for drinking had brought several promising careers to a screeching halt. One had been arrested for Tax Evasion, ending his career aspirations. Sarah overpaid her taxes slightly, claiming less for charity than she actually paid, and she also went out of her way to underestimate her tax deductions. If she was audited, she would get a check from the Government. Tax fraud only worked one way, and she worked another.
The competition was so stiff, that any mistake, no matter how small, ruined you for future opportunities. Those ruined souls always did the same thing, contacting headhunters, to start jumping companies, hoping to hop from one ladder to another, and start climbing again. Some did manage some advancement, most fell completely from the ladder, ending up in a window seat job somewhere. A window seat was a Japanese Term that had been adapted by some American Corporations. When you were erroneously promoted beyond your means, you would be laterally promoted to a job where all you had to do was stare out of a window all day. In time, you would retire, or you would just quit, and no one noticed, you hadn't had any impact in a very long time.
Then, after ten years of climbing the corporate ladder, she had taken one vacation, and the desires she had buried since college, those rough sex desires popped back into her mind. Three years ago, she had been having dreams. Dreams of being raped, of being forcibly taken by one or more assailants. This had disturbed her, it would have been called a nightmare, except for one thing. She would wake up near the point of an orgasm from the dreams. Right on the verge of a climax. This was not a proper response for any lady to have.
She found a therapist, and started to go. It took four sessions before she was comfortable enough to admit the reason, and the response of the therapist had ended all further sessions.
"Have you considered trying to find a way to act out your fantasy?"
Absolutely not. Sarah had left the office in a huff and not returned. It wasn't a fantasy, there was just something wrong with her. Something that she needed to fix, so she wasn't distracted by it any longer.
The problem was her reactions started to dictate her leisure time. Not that she had a great deal of leisure time. She read her first porn story on the web a couple years ago. The raped woman enjoyed it, and turned to find more activities like it.
Then Sarah had discovered Bondage Erotica. Her dreams had immediately adapted to this new knowledge. Her dreams took on newer and more powerful imagery, and her social life suffered as a result.
Her last relationship had been a year ago, an investment banker who was sweet, kind, considerate, and boring as hell. In bed, he had tried to be a considerate and attentive lover, and Sarah admitted, he would have succeed with anyone else. She hadn't liked it. As he kissed and caressed her, her mind had screamed tie me up and just fuck the shit out of me. Orgasms with dates had dwindled, and then died.
Now, to climax, she had to imagine herself folded into impossible shapes, her mouth, her sex, and sometimes, even her ass would be used by a dark and dangerous man who dominated her.
In a few of the stories, a female slave would service a female dominant, and Sarah found herself wondering what that was like.
She responded in her real world by becoming even more conservative. She donated a huge amount to the Republican Party of Texas, and tried to attend church regularly. She prayed that God would take this, and He hadn't. Perhaps God was busy elsewhere, but he hadn't answered her prayers.
Then Sarah had read about the Vassal Academy. This pinnacle of bondage and subjugation. Sarah had been thinking about her Father, and how he had cured her of smoking. She had been caught with a pack of Cigarettes when she was 16. He had sat there and made her smoke the entire pack, until she was sick as a dog. That was what she needed, someone to make her do this, until she was sick of it. It had worked on the smokes hadn't it?
Her professional life couldn't take this revelation. She was looking at being one of the most powerful people in the company, and she would have to quit if anyone knew this about her. Her secret had the key to her failure, and her future hung in the balance. There was no choice, she had to get this under control.
Vincent Kolich sipped a glass of wine and looked at his own dinner for one. His cook, Marcella had just presented it and he thanked her. Taking the first tentative bite, he looked at the plate without any real interest. He had no appetite. Food didn't appeal to him, nor did business. He'd conquered all the challenges, and he had played the games. At forty-seven, he was at the pinnacle of a career spanning more than twenty years, and a half dozen continents. He had sacrificed nearly everything to get here, the head of the co-operative shipping conglomerate and he was not just bored, he was bored to death.
