Have you ever tried to serve a someone a meal, flirt with them, then seduce them, all while being desperate to cum – and have to do so without making the tiniest mistake? I have.
Mistress Andrea stood off to the side, watching as I performed an erotic dance for an honored guest, Master Aleksandr, who was watching from the dinner table where I had just finished serving his meal. Mistress Andrea would ultimately be the one to pass judgement on whether I was good enough to be initiated as a slave for my Mistress, so it was vital that I impress her.
This was a multiple trial. First I had been expected to serve his meal perfectly, laying the table, going to and from the kitchen without dropping or spilling anything, anticipating what he would want before he knew himself so that he never had to wait for anything, and ensuring the food was exactly to his liking. Any mistake, no matter how tiny, was considered grounds for punishment later on, and I know Mistress Andrea was keeping close track of how I was doing.
Now I was to entertain Master Aleksandr, enticing him as much as possible as he was a very experienced, somewhat jaded Master. If I were successful, it would then be up to me to perform any sex act he asked. I would be graded, both by him and Mistress Andrea on how well I did at serving, the seduction, and the sexing.
Yet, the greatest challenge was that they had had one of the other trainees perform cunnilingus on me, but not to orgasm, to get me hot and desperate. Then they had inserted Ben-Wa balls into my cunt before the dinner started.
Their purpose was to edge me, to make me horny right from the start, in order to test my ability to control my feelings. I was absolutely forbidden to cum. If I performed all of my tasks perfectly, I would be allowed to cum later. If I made even a small mistake, I would be denied, and if the mistakes were not small, I would also be punished.
I was desperate to cum, which meant I was even more motivated to be perfect. And I had to do this while smiling, flirting, enticing, and subtly edging Master Aleksandr himself with my presence during dinner, and with my performance afterwards.
Being on edge, sexually, also made it that much harder for me to get everything else right as it messed with my concentration. Because I am naturally a slut, this ran completely counter to my nature, so I had to focus hard on what I was doing.
But that was the purpose of this training. To force me to concentrate, and to be able to do ordinary things – or extraordinary ones – perfectly, no matter how I felt.
~~~~~
All trainees are referred to by a number, not a name, to underline that we are property, not people. In what might have been a joke, or an acknowledgement of my occupation, my number was Sixty-nine.
By the second month of my training, most of my waking time was spent actually learning things. These fell into five main categories: personal fitness, deportment, serving, sex, and entertaining. I was now being trained, at times, alongside two other candidates, a guy, Carel, and another girl, Adriana.
We each had unique courses of learning, but there was also a fair amount of overlap. We also instructed and practiced on each other, especially where we each had particular talents. Adriana, for instance, wasn’t much to look at, but was an amazing cook, and was, I think, being trained as a domestic slave for her Mistress.
I, on the other hand, spent time teaching both of them sexual techniques because of my background as a sex worker. Typically, I would demonstrate, then require them to repeat my lessons, using me, each other, a dildo, or another male slave brought in for the purpose to practice on.
This was typical of our educations. There wasn’t much in the way of book learning, but a great deal of time spent in listening, watching, doing, and practicing.
Personal fitness consisted of actual physical workouts, mostly involving stretching, light weights, but also diet, yoga, meditation, and, for me, self-defence, including Tae-Kwon-Do. And as I was to be primarily a sex slave, I was also instructed in additional forms of dance, including ballroom, line dancing, belly dancing, and specific kinds of Eastern erotic dances. All of these involved significant physical workouts in addition to learning the steps.
Slaves are supposed be sexy, and that means their bodies need to be sleek and attractive, hence the emphasis on diet and fitness. And Mistress wanted me to be a lioness, she had said, so for me, particular attention was given to self-defence, which proved to be useful later on.
The personal deportment included speech, which turned out to be particularly difficult for me. I was from Rotterdam, and from a working-class family, so my accent, vocabulary, and elocution were not up to my Mistress’ precise and exacting standards.
What I got was not formal instruction per se, but rather lessons were imparted as we were engaged in other pursuits. If I said something improperly, or with the wrong accent or vocabulary or pronunciation, I was corrected immediately. If I repeated the mistake, I was punished, although lightly.
As well, we were taught how to walk properly, which few people ever learn. We had to look proud, but not arrogant; elegant, but not entitled; and seductive without being obvious about it. Learning how to convey all that through our gait was surprisingly difficult. It was something we were constantly being reminded of as time went on until it was second nature.
We were also taught to speak in the third person. Nika would often refer to herself as her Mistress’ slave, rather than me saying I was my Mistress’ slave. The purpose is to emphasize that we are property, not individuals. It’s a habit I still fall into.
And we all learned the etiquette demanded of slaves, including how to behave towards, greet, and obey Masters and Mistresses, ordinary people, submissives, and other slaves, including those we knew, and those who were strangers to us. This involved showing appropriate deference, of course, but also when we were supposed to make ourselves available for service or sex, and who determined what orders we should follow, and which ignore.
Not all slaves are available to all Masters or Mistresses, for instance, so knowing how to behave, and when, was critical.
Serving is straightforward but requires specific, detailed knowledge. It means knowing the proper way to set a table, the use of each kind of utensil, which side to serve on and which to clear from, how various courses were served, and so on. And it included mixing and serving drinks, both in private residences, and in a bar or restaurant setting. This wasn’t sexy (although sometimes it was supposed to be, as when we were flirting with or seducing guests), but was something every slave needed to know.
Likewise, I learned a lot about cleaning house, which is not something most people would expect from a sex slave. But as I am naturally a slob, and my Mistress is a neat freak, I got a lot of instruction in this that I didn’t particularly enjoy.
Sexing should have been straightforward, but very much wasn’t. It depended on what one’s Master or Mistress wanted a slave purposed for, the social setting, whether one was in public or private, whether it was in a BDSM setting or something more vanilla, and much more besides. At its essence, this boiled down to whatever direction one was given by one’s Mistress or Master. Yet, we were expected to be able to anticipate what they would want of us, so we needed to be able to assess situations quickly for ourselves.
This became very important for me, as Mistress would later send me out on my own, either on loan to someone, or through an auction or other financial transaction. She expected me to use my own knowledge and assessment of a situation to behave properly – and Mistress’ standards were the highest of anyone’s, for reasons I would not learn until after my initiation.
Entertaining was both simple, and complicated. It often entailed dance, of course, whether as a single person providing a floor show, a group of dancers providing entertainment for a crowd, or as a dance partner for a Master, Mistress, or someone else, on loan or for rent.
But it also meant we needed to be able to engage in polite conversation, be witty without being offensive, to know when and how to laugh, and show fascination for someone, even if they had bad breath and were a crashing bore. In short, we needed to learn how to be the perfect date or escort, typically without revealing our status as anything other than an upper-class member of society. Later on, I would often serve as an escort, with or without sex, for someone to an event, a gala, the opera, or some other public function.
This meant that I had to know how to dress, how to be glamorous, how to use the proper fork at dinner, how to be bright and witty, and how to be interested and flattering. In some ways, the hardest thing of all was to be bold, and not be intimidated by the people I was with, or the surroundings I was in.
All of this constituted a post-graduate degree in navigating society. In several different societies, in fact, from the wealthiest, most elite, to everyday working folk, to people in the Lifestyle of BDSM, and much in between. It helped, of course, that many members of BDSM societies were, themselves, wealthy, and members of society’s elite.
It was an immense amount for us to learn, and we were expected to learn it quickly and flawlessly. Unlike slovenly university students, we could be punished – hard, if need be – if we goofed off or were sloppy. This was particularly hard for me as I was an indifferent and troublesome student in high school.
Yet, as this education unfolded, I quickly noticed something strange about the way I was being treated.
~~~~~
“Your fish fork is too close to the dinner fork.” Mistress Andrea swept the utensils aside. “Do it again.”
I glanced at Carel’s place setting, and saw that his was distinctly worse than mine had been, yet I knew I dare not say anything in protest.
Quietly, but quickly, I set about re-doing the place setting.
“You went too far in your turn,” our dancing Master said to me. “Repeat it.” I had gone a fraction farther than was perfectly correct in a rapid, and difficult dance turn, so small that I was surprised it provoked comment.
Yet, Adriana’s twirl had barely made it, her feet were set wrong, and her knees were bent instead of being straight, but he said nothing to her.
I repeated the turn without even a pause.
“Better,” he said, grudgingly, and we moved on.
“No, no, no, no! You do not cover your mouth with your hand when you laugh at someone’s witticism!” The crop came down on my hand, smashing it away from my face. “That’s something a country bumpkin would do, not an elegant lady.” I didn’t seem to be able to do anything right for our deportment Master today, which meant I would definitely not be allowed to cum tonight.
Of course, I had come from a poorer background than the two other trainees, and therefore had more to learn, but it was not lost on any of us that I was being singled out for criticism.
It didn’t take long for all of us to realize that I was being treated more harshly than the others, and expected to perform to a higher standard. No one offered an explanation of why, and at first, I resented it.
But over time, our attitudes shifted. My fellow trainees began to wonder whether their training was inferior, and therefore they would be valued less highly than me.
Meanwhile, my puzzle-solving mind quickly saw the hand of my Mistress in this. Her standards went well beyond “very good,” and even past excellent. She clearly wanted me to be the best, and at everything. And it seemed clear that our trainers were intent on making sure that was precisely what happened.
Once I had reached this conclusion, I remembered what she had said to me in the car, just before leaving me at the door of DeCoven on the first day of my training: “It is critical that you learn everything you need to learn, that you be perfect in everything you learn, and that you persevere until you are perfect.”
It was clear that this was my Mistress’ will – and therefore, it became mine, and I embraced it with a vengeance. So, I began to take pride in being held to a higher standard, and started to work even harder to be not just the best, but to be perfect!
And slowly, grudgingly, the trainers began to agree.
It was a proud day for me, the first day they couldn’t find a single fault in an entire day. Not only was I allowed to masturbate to orgasm that night as a reward, but I exulted in the knowledge that I was pleasing my Mistress. And that was a feeling that took me well beyond a mere climax.
~~~~~
There were other strange things that happened over the course of the training, and one in particular sticks in my mind.
It occurred following a yoga session, which for some reason I did without the other two trainees. Proper yogic practice always ends with savasana, a form of meditation. In my yoga sessions, the savasana always stretched into more formal meditation, often with the trainer chanting, or leading me through some form of guided meditation. At times, at the end of the meditation, I would awake, as if I had fallen asleep, yet feeling far more awake and refreshed than any short nap would have left me.
This particular day, when I was brought back from the meditative state, there was another trainer there, a Master whom I had never seen before.
“When you are ready, Sixty-nine, sit up in Easy Seat,” he said.
I quickly sat up, relaxed, shoulders back and down, neck straight, eyes forward, legs crossed in Easy Seat.
In a loud voice, he said, “Nika, climax for me now.” And he snapped his fingers.
And I came. It was as if a lightning bolt struck me. One moment I was relaxed, seated, and the next I was writhing on the floor, back arched, quivering in an astonishing orgasm, mouth open and screaming in ecstasy.
When it finally passed, I was exhausted. I have rarely experienced an orgasm as extreme as that, and never without extended foreplay.
“Very good,” the strange Master said, and departed, leaving me completely flummoxed as to what had just happened.
I later decided that I had been hypnotized, and instructed to climax on command. It would explain things that happened to me later on.
~~~~~~
Most of the second month had involved increasingly detailed instruction in a variety of areas, with every day full of active instruction of one form or another. There was never any time off, so we were able to cover an incredible amount of material in a relatively short period of time
Up until now, all of this had taken place in the Dungeon. Yet, as the month wore on, we began to be taken out of the Dungeon, first into the wider DeCoven Club premises, and later into the outside world.
Among other things, I got to see that the true Dungeon was hidden deep within the Club, and was distinct from the one the public saw and played in. The door from the public part of DeCoven into the Dungeon was an impressive metal door with a serious lock on it, and was hidden behind a tapestry well away from the public play areas. No one who wasn’t in on the secret would be able to tell it was there, or that there even was a true Dungeon in the Club.
At first, we were taken to the public rooms of DeCoven as waitresses and waiter, to serve in the bar and restaurant. I wore my training collar plus red thigh highs, a crop top, and red thong as food service required a higher standard of cleanliness that being naked would not allow.
My job was fundamentally to serve, but also to flirt, act seductively, and be bubbly and fun. There was no tipping, but I got a lot of attention, in large part because flirting and seduction were old, familiar games for me, and I was – and am – really good at it.
Before long, I started being used in the play rooms. I took this as an indication that there had been requests for my services, stemming from my successes in the bar and restaurant. At first, I would entice people, mostly men, but with a steadily rising percentage of women, into the rooms, and help them get started with their own sex games.
I quickly moved into being part of those games, after having been given orders by my trainers. Again, it was my popularity that seemed to be motivating the change. And the play rooms were often fun, even for me as a servant.
Yet, there was one drawback for me: I wasn’t allowed to cum, which sometimes made my service awkward, and, at times, incredibly difficult.
I could be engaged in a scene, often involving several men and women, which would be reaching a climax for the participants, and the attention would sometimes turn to me. This typically happened when it became apparent that I was the only woman who had not cum. In fact, at times, this became a point of honor, or even a challenge, for some of the men, notably those who thought of themselves as great lovers.
Fortunately, I can fake an orgasm well, having had lots of practice. Yet, because I’m so naturally horny, even a fake orgasm held dangers for me. As a result, I tried to avoid being noticed, and instead worked on trying to bring others to climax.
For the record, I can state from first-hand knowledge that almost no men are as great lovers as they think they are, and most are distinctly uneducated when it comes to pleasing women.
Almost.
But there is a small handful of men who truly are great lovers, and they became my most dangerous playmates. I remember one scene, which involved two other women plus four men, where one of these men seemed to be paying particular attention to me. Finally, he managed to get me off to one side, and said, “Sixty-nine, you’re the only person here who hasn’t cum yet. Let’s fix that, shall we?”
