Late Registration

Diana was ready to be spat in the face, stripped clean and whipped in the street.

She prided herself on being punctual, especially for things that really mattered. But for the first time in her 38 years of life, she was late, and terribly so--by a whole three weeks.

Unforgivable. Absolutely unforgivable.

She stood a foot away from the front desk, her two leather valises sinking in both hands, which she had lifted off ground, ready to set out as the receptionist put together all the papers she had just signed in a stack. He was an imposing man: black, clean-shaved, and looked not half bad.

So far he hadn't blamed her for the late arrival. In fact, he hadn't spoken any more word than necessary. A soft-spoken giant.

She watched him clip her papers together. That was a lot of NDAs. She waived this right, agreed to that rule, and promised to shut her mouth about such and such, none of which she bothered reading too closely.

Sign here, here, and here:

Diana Elizabeth Wilson.

Diana Elizabeth Wilson..

Diana Elizabeth Wilson...

By the end of the spree, she had nearly forgot how to write her name properly.

Diana recalled her time at the boarding school, where the supervisor ordered her to write her name 500 times as a punishment for wetting her bed, a mishap labeled as 'egregious' due to her being already 13 at the time. The fact that she was bullied as the new girl mattered little.

She still saw the meaty cheeks of that grumpy old woman, how her slow-parting lips revealing two rows of deformed yellow teeth, pointing to all the wrong places.

How dare you, girl! How dare you!

Her bedwetting was eventually cured, though not without crippling her self assurance. Since then Diana had acquired bit of a hunch. Her husband was half-correct in diagnosing it as an unconscious body language caused by her subsequent development of large tits.

Diana laid down her valise to scratch her left arm, and immediately picked it up again. She glimpsed over her shoulder: not many guests in the lobby. Behind the piano a paid performer in bow tie was playing blues.

Better try apologizing again, Diana thought, to clear any bad air. For some reason she had made up her mind to please this man. His double-breasted suit was made of velvet and paired with a broad scarlet tie. A big gold watch on his thick dark wrist. She wished for those pairs of hands to be on her, fiddling her strings until they are in the right tune.

But when her thoughts got ahead of her Diana started to stutter, another childhood habit she never fully overcame, unlike the bedwetting:

"So-so-sorry again, for being s-s-so late."

She immediately regretted it. The receptionist looked at her and raised his hand as if to make a vow, or to stop an adolescent from cracking another crass joke.

"Stop blaming yourself, Mrs. Wilson. I understand."

So he understood! A glow came to Diana's eyes. She thrived on the smallest bit of approval from strangers, like pigeons on the sandwich crumb. And they were having a real conversation! She must follow up. Her lips started moving. Before she knew a train of passionate nonsense was coming out of her mouth, creaking and puffing steams:

"...life is such an endless chore - of course you know. You understand! Nothing pleases me. Everything has to be right! Getting the children right, the right flowers in the garden, the right detergent for the laundry, the right type of m-m-meals..."

She began to hyperventilating. He checked her with another look into her meek blue eyes.

"Soon it won't be. Soon, you won't need to face any hard choices."

A faint smile and he went back to his business.

No need to face hard choices. Her throat moved slightly as she swallowed. That doesn't sound half bad.

Diana watched him open a leather file folder. In went her driver's license, passport, insurance card, everything else that no longer mattered for the next few years. He bound the string around the seal several times and hid the folder below his desk.

"Follow me this way, Mrs. Wilson."

Diana caught up to him in small brisk steps. She was a little shocked that he didn't offer to carry her bags. They went to an elevator in the back of the lobby, a behemoth freight elevator reserved for hotel employees only. He inserted a small bronze key and the mouth of the beast slowly pulled open.

Years later she still recalled the moment when a realization struck her, watching the receptionist pressing the button, that her life had gone off track forever, a free fall into eternal bliss. The car started to ascend. There was no going back.

"How did you get here, if you don't mind me ask?" The walls were mirror-like; he was examining her in the reflection.

"Cab." She lied. She left her car on a random street, doors unlocked with the key thrown on the seat. She also left her ring on top of the dashboard.

"Wise choice. Some let their family drive them here, and they make a scene and disturb the other guests."

Oh, her family would surely make a scene, she mused. They'd rise hell, if they knew what she got herself into. Her husband's brother would drown her in the nearest toilet than letting a black man touch her.

Bing! The elevator announced in a joyful young woman's voice that they had arrived at the floor. But the door did not open. He didn't push the door button.

Is something wrong? She threw him a quickest glance.

"You can put down your things now, Mrs. Wilson. They look heavy."

Diana laid them down and wondered what this meant. She almost said thank you.

"Now, you will do well to start taking your clothes off."

"E-excuse me?"

"You know why you are here, Mrs. Wilson. Stop acting like a child."

A flush came upon her face. 'Excuse me.' Such a knee-jerk reaction, a nasty habit, to question and second-guess things. Yes, she knew perfectly why she's here. It's just that no one had spoken to her like that for a long time. Plus she wouldn't have guessed her training to start so early.

Diana attempted to clear her throat, then began to undress.

Though she had fantasized about this forever, undressing in front of a stranger was hard. Every other inch of her exposed skin made her more frantic, like a kitten trapped in a bag of dirty laundry.

"Keep going please. We don't have all day." He raised his wrist to check his watch while she worked at her bras.

She was stopped when only the white garter belt was left on her, keeping the stockings up her thighs. Then he asked her to take those dull short boots off her feet. In the mirror Diana was mortified to find her slight hunch much more obvious with her clothes off.

"Put your hands away. Don't try to hide yourself." He moved closer, his breathing ruffling her cowlick on the forehead.

He was right. Her hands were shielding her genitals with herself realizing. Diana hurried to put them behind her back. Now her shoulders tensed, and her chest held out. Between her thighs her strawberry blonde hair had grown out too long, as if she's clutching a ball of straw down there. She lowered her head.

"You will need to start shaving regularly," the receptionist remarked. "Now pull your knees apart."

Diana parted her thighs. All her life's struggle trying to be proper and lady-like blew to dusts in that brazen instant. She felt like a fridge left wide open on a hot day and all the contents inside spoiling away.

How dare you, girl. How dare you.

Then she felt his hand like a giant spider behind her hips, pushing her forward. She almost lost balance and fell back, but was caught right in his chest.

"Look at yourself." His hand gently cupped around Diana's soft tit. "You look marvelous, Mrs. Wilson. One of the best looking students we have this fall."

Did he say this to every woman who came here? For she looked despicable, all her pale flesh put on display like a piece of cheap white loaf. If there's a noose she'd hang herself right now. This shame was just too much.

Diana started to cry.

He bent down to kiss her neck; it tickled, and in the great confusion resulted she almost giggled in her tears. He bit her burning hot earlobe.

"You need to get used to seeing yourself."

She nodded, still sobbing.

"Good. Are you ready?"

"Yes." For what? Everything, she thought. Everything.

"From now on you need to address me as sir every time. That is the rule, and no one is above it."

"Yes sir." She felt like a girl scout on her first expedition. He gave her a smile of approval and pushed the door button. They stepped outside. The place had red walls and long hallways.

"This way. After you, Mrs. Wilson."

"But my things..." She looked back at the forlorn figures on the elevator floor that were her two suitcases and a pile of clothes.

"You will get new things to wear. All will be provided to you during your entire stay."

"But..."

The receptionist's brows furrowed. For the first time Diana saw the man displeased, and it was terrifying.

"You need to start learning how to let go, girl. It's pivotal to your success in the program."

Girl. No one had called her that for ages, save for her own parents. That's what she would be here in the academy. A girl. A pupil. Someone here to learn and to be led. Diana bit her tongue and spoke no more.

She walked, still gasping at how naked she had allowed herself to be, especially her feet; she never walked around in barefoot, even at home, and the thin layer of stockings somehow made it worse. She limped at the front, but really she was following his direction.

"Stop for second."

There were shoe boxes built in the wall. Actually, a whole wall of them, each displayed a pair of heels, backlit by some garish LED lights. He picked a pair of pink mule slippers with a ball of faux feathers.

"Try these on. They should fit on you."

And they fit perfectly. Diana wondered how he'd known her size. Then she realized that he must have been on this job far longer than she thought. Really she couldn't even tell how old he was. White women like her were notoriously bad at guessing black men's ages.

The heels were taller than her boots. The slight elevation brought Diana a little above his shoulders. As she walked her hips took on a more obvious swing. The receptionist was filling her in on her program:

"We have four grades here at the academy. You start at freshmen and work your way up. If everything goes right you will graduate in the 4th year - after you pass a final exam. You will be a certified slut, and that could open up a lot more doors."

So far they hadn't met anyone. The hallways they were traversing were empty. They felt endless, like in a dream.

"Where is everyone?" She asked.

"They should all be in training right now. We are very strict on breaks and pastimes."

They came to a larger resting area, with couches, easy chairs, and four doors facing each other diagonally. Behind the first door came laughters, chattering, a man on top of his voice, trying to rein in the class. His effort was met with a woman's 'boo.'

"What is going on there? Sounds like total c-c-chaos..." Diana was curious.

"That'd be the freshmen. It's always like that with the new girls. Once they are comfortable with what their bodies can do they lose control. Would take a full semester to put some discipline in them."

"Will you not bring me in - to say hello?"

"You will be introduced tomorrow, at the general assembly. And tonight you'll get to meet your other five roommates ahead of time."

Diana turned to him surprised. "I didn't know there'd be that many living in one room."

The receptionist gave off a small chuckle. He must know this question would come up.

"The spaces are tight around here. We have been expanding our program in recent years to meet heightened demand. This current lease with the hotel will be up in two years. We are building a larger campus, all new, in Arizona, and will move several existing campus there. Soon you will only share room with another girl."

Arizona sounded like Mars to her. Good. That meant they'd never find her.

Diana came to the second door. There's constant hard poundings, squeaking beds, moans, and curses. What's going on behind the door was unmistakable. The terrible warm blush crept back to her.

"That's the sophomores' training room. Things will get more serious in your second year. There'd be no jokes, no messing around anymore. You will be trained all the time."

They moved to next door. This time she heard screams, cries, sounds of slashing, a woman begging no more, no more. Diana backed off, a startled breath from her parted lips. The receptionist put hands on her shoulders.

"The Juniors learn to take an amount of pain necessary for real pleasure and control. Without it, sex has no flavor, like oatmeal without sugar. Would you eat your oatmeal without sugar?"

He moved his hands over her tits and pinched both her nipples at the same time. She whimpered. A bowl of sweet, thick, and white oatmeal. She'd want one right now.

"No. I won't stomach it." She had not yet understood what it meant.

The last door, which was painted black, had no sound coming from behind. Just dead quiet.

"Is this the senior's training room?" Diana put her ear next to the black door. Nothing.

"No." He said. "Seniors are randomly assigned throughout their year to the guests in hotel, who have expressed interests in having a trainee slut at a reasonable price. This is the specialty training room. Every year we have a few girls who are just exceptional. This is built for them. They are put on an expedited schedule and can graduate in two years."

"Is no one in there right now?"

"The room is well-insulated. The girls there need total concentration. The training they take on is often extreme. Right now four of them are fettered to mattresses for days, except for times to eat and to relieve themselves."

Eat, shit, and fuck. Fucked against their will. No one would hear their cries... Diana suddenly felt the potential for this expedited program. She just needed a chance to prove herself. And she couldn't wait.

They moved on from the training area. They passed what looked like a small cafeteria, where a young woman was stacking the chairs on the tables so she could sweep the floor. She heard them approaching and raised her head to see for a second. Diana thought her nudity would raise an eyebrow but it didn't happen.

"The girls here take turns doing chores. You are relieved from training on that day. But bear in mind, often that'd be the same day when you are bleeding, so it won't be any easier." They passed the woman, who went back to her work.

Chores, housekeeping. Diana could take that. This time not for someone she no longer loved, but for herself, and other women like her. They began to pass doors that looked like dorms. They stopped in front of one. This must be her unit.

"None of the doors are locked. We don't lock doors around here. But still, I would advice you to enter other units only with the occupants' approval. Stealing is a terrible offense, and those caught would be severely punished."

"I won't dare trying, sir."

He let her into the room. It wasn't a big room, just enough space not to feel claustrophobic. A standard hotel unit, converted into a dorm with three bunk beds aligning the walls. Her roommates had put in some simple but thought-after tricks to beautify the place. Diana felt at home almost immediately.

"It's nice in here..." She thought of her boarding school years and felt a shiver. But this is different. Everything will be right this time.

She came near the large window. The entire city lay beneath her feet. In its blue hour the night was approaching, one lit window at a time. It was so beautiful. Diana did a little tap dance.

The receptionist looked at her, his smile inexplicable. "I see you're getting more comfortable."

"Yes, sir. It's not as bad as I thought."

"You'll find things to wear in the closet. They are shared with your roommates and should more or less fit."

He inspected the girls' bedsheets and belongings with some interest.

"You should know that you are privileged, Mrs. Wilson. Here our girls are all the nice clean kind, from good family and well educated. We don't just let any kind of white women in. You've paid a handsome tuition to stay here, so you deserve to have the best."

He restored a misplaced pillow at the head of a bed. Diana could see that he really cared about them. She sat on a bed, her legs dangling.

"Tell me ab-b-bout my roommates. I can't wait to meet them."

"What can I say? They are all exceptional people. Some are about your age. Others younger. You will find them all like sisters. I shouldn't spoil anything for you. In another hour they should be back. Prepare something nice to say, maybe write yourself a little monologue."

For the first time Diana noted the man had a sense of humor. He looked at his watch.

"I will leave you here then. For your first week we have some catch up to do, but I will let you sleep in, since you'll need some adjusting anyways. I'll pick you up tomorrow at 9 a.m. sharp."

She followed him to the door.

"Sorry again, for being so late. I..."

"Save your apologies for tomorrow's training. Pick something comfortable to wear. You don't need to impress me. Remember, This is about you."

She nodded and bit her lower lip.

"And one more thing. This is the last time I will be nice. You are part of the Academy now, and we expect a certain level of rigor from you. You'll soon learn what that means. But for now, remember this: your body can always take on more than you think."

He was smiling but his eyes were serious.

"Enjoy your free time, Mrs. Wilson. You won't have it too often."

She felt odd down her body and looked; he had grabbed her between thighs, a finger playfully dipping inside her. Diana hadn't realized how wet she'd got. She wanted to put her hands around his face and kiss him, but he pulled away.

"W-wait..."

The door closed. She was alone again, perhaps for the last time while she was here. So strange to think, that all her life she had never been alone much, just a matter of living under different men's roofs.

But this new collective life she'd lead for the next four years would be radically different. It's her gift to herself. No one forced it on her, nor could anyone stop her from it. She wanted this, to be a slut, a black-worshiping white slut.

She had refused to have a third child so that she could carry a baby for a real black man. That'd cure her of all her disabilities, all her shyness, her lack of faith in herself, her childhood traumas. A big black cock would be her magical wand.

Diana wondered what would be done to her things left in that elevator. Given to the poor? Straight into the dumpster? Burned in a furnace? The last option seemed most satisfying.

So how should she live the last one hour of her former life, before the academy transforms it for good forever?

First Diana opened her closet. So many different kind of lingeries. More heels. The absolute variety dazzled her, her eyes went starstruck. She put them on in rapid succession, like a runway model, admiring herself in the mirror.

Then she found some toys in a drawer. They looked clean. She used them on herself. One was so strong it sent her directly to the moon, squirts all over the mirror. She made a mess! Had to clean things up before her roommates came back!

Diana Wilson watched herself stretching across the carpet with her legs splaying, the vibrator sticking out amidst her lush shrubbery, spinning at top speed. She felt no shame, no remorse, just a heightened sense of self.

So this is what it feels to be a slut.

She's so beautiful. Absolutely drop dead gorgeous. She might be 38 and a mother with two kids, but she's still finding out about things. She's still coming, and she had never come so many times and so hard in such a small space of time.