xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The Orientation by "Altered Ego" xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Chapter 1 No matter how hard she'd try to think of anything else, that conversation with Anne kept coming back to her. Well, she'd know for herself soon enough. Even if she kept to the speed limit, she'd be there in less than half an hour. It wasn't the words so much as the tone, the way it revealed the same sort of - dependence? helplessness? almost terror - that she hadn't felt since that time her fifth grade teacher made her tell who ripped the Thanksgiving poster. 15 years ago. Could they turn you into an 11 year old again? No, Anne is no 11 year old, that's for sure. Still, something about the way she said those words... Laura glanced at her watch. 6:34. "Can I make it by 7? Do I want to?", she found herself saying out loud. The time struck her, for some reason. She noted in her mind that it was exactly one week and 34 minutes ago that she last saw Marc - no, he's My Lord now - and she missed him. But those were the rules. No contact for the week prior to the Orientation. Rules. Orientation. And that conversation with Anne. But she had thought about it enough already; she wanted to go through with this, and there's no sense going back now. And what a week it was, she thought. They had been separated before, even for a month, but it was never like this, she thought, glancing over at the journal she was required to keep. It was never formal. Somehow, the formality of her aloneness this past week made her feel overpowered. Overpowered by a man who isn't even there. I guess they want you to feel this way, she thought. Anne and Laura have been the closest of friends for 6 years now, since they met in college. It was Anne who told her about the Orientation; in fact, it was Anne who convinced her that it was all right to explore that side of her relationship with Marc in the first place. Anne always seemed like the quintessential well-adjusted woman, kind of a role model for Laura. That's what made the way she said those words so disturbing. It was the week before last, right before the isolation period began, when Laura needed to talk to Anne just once more. Anne came right over, and they sat in the kitchen and sipped wine until the sun came up. Anne reassured her that she really could leave any time she wanted to, but that if she completes the Orientation she'll never be quite the same again. She said it's hard, but you learn so much about yourself it's worth it. Think of it as kind of a graduation present, a kind of learning vacation, she said. The way kids go to Europe for a month after they finish college. Innocently, Laura asked, "But what happens when you get there? What do they DO?" "I'm not allowed to tell any details," Anne said, flatly. Laura had heard it before, but this was the first time she noticed the fear behind the words. It wasn't a playful answer, not one that really meant "It would be BETTER if I don't tell you any details". No, she really felt forbidden from telling her best friend any details of what she said was- the most profound experience of her adulthood. At first, taken aback by Anne's uncar acteristic seriousness, Laura pressed for an answer, expecting Anne to just laugh and break the uncomfortable mood. Anne could only say "You'll understand." Now, Laura wondered if Anne knew how much those few silly words had affected her this week. Marc was reluctant at first to give his approval. Even though it was clear to both of them that their relationship was evolving to a point where they were both happiest with Marc as the Master, the idea of the Orientation made him a little uneasy. He liked Laura's independence, and didn't want to have to think for her. It was Anne who convinced him. After all, she had been through the Orientation and she was as able to function as ever before. It did seem to make her and Anthony a lot closer. Besides, at the interview, he was assured that Laura would be able to start her job in the Fall, just as they had planned. "Laura will come back Laura, only more so," they said. As she reached the exit from the highway, it occurred to her that in just 10 minutes or so she'd begin to find out what it was that Anne couldn't tell her. Laura's mind raced as she negotiated the unfamiliar streets. She had never been to this part of the state before, but she knew from the map that she was almost there. Her nervousness turned to raw excitement as the reality of what was to come set in, and she had a little bit of trouble concentrating on driving and following the complicated map directions. After what seemed an eternity of one turn after another, she saw the house. It looked a bit out of place; too big and stately in this quiet farm- community-turned-suburb. Like a Southern mansion from "Gone With the Wind" or an elite boarding school, which in fact it had been, originally. She had little time to ponder her surroundings, since as soon as she pulled into the driveway a young man appeared from the door and approached her car. "Laura?" he asked, and she nodded. "Please leave your car here and come with me." He looked to Laura to be in his early 20's, a bit too young to be in charge of a place like this, she thought. It occurred to her that she had never directly met anyone connected with the Institution. It was all through Marc, or Anne, or over the telephone. They sent her forms and instructions in the mail, and questioned her at length on the telephone, but she never met any of them. It all seemed so normal, though, insofar as an arrangement of this type can be normal. She brought her journal and followed the young man to the house, and she felt an air of finality as he closed and locked the heavy front door behind her. "This way," he said, leading her up the main staircase and into what appeared to be a waiting room for an important office of some sort. "This is Laura," he said to an older woman sitting at a desk who appeared to be a receptionist or secretary of some sort, and he left. "Hello Laura, please sit down. Do you have your journal? Please let me have it now," the woman said with a warm smile. It seemed so routine, as if she was at the doctor's office and had to provide a urine sample while she waited for her appointment. Almost reluctantly, she handed over her journal. "Please wait here. We will be ready for you in a few minutes." With that, the woman disappeared behind the door leading to the main office, leaving her alone in the waiting room. She realized that she was ushered into the waiting room so quickly, so efficiently, that she had no time to look at the place. The stairs were large and grand, she remembered that, and there seemed to be some sort of activity going about the house, but there was little else she could recall seeing. So she concentrated on her immediate surroundings. The waiting room itself was imposing; its well-maintained wood paneling and overstuffed chairs helped create an impression of power mixed with good taste. Seductive combination, she thought. There were paintings on the wall, mostly old portraits of people she didn't recognize. She was beginning to feel overpowered again. All she could do was wait. "You may go in now," said the woman as the door opened from the inner office. Laura found herself jumping up, then hesitating a moment to regain her composure. The woman smiled and Laura slowly entered the inner room. The woman left, closing the door behind her. Laura was so nervous, so excited, that she found the only way she could remain standing was to focus her attention the first object she saw, which was a small coffee table beside a fireplace. "Hello, Laura," came the voice from behind the desk. Quickly, her eyes searched for the voice. It was a woman, and that surprised her. She had expected a man, although in retrospect she didn't know why. She looked to be in her early 40's, a mixture of the most dignified qualities of teacher, mother, and successful businesswoman. Her presence commanded attention even without the scrutinizing gaze that she was giving Laura. "I am Ms. Palmer. You may call me Mistress Elizabeth. My husband, Lord Gregory, and I, run this institution. Did you have a nice ride up here, Laura?" "Yes, Mistress Elizabeth," Laura found herself answering. She noticed that Mistress Elizabeth had a file in front of her that seemed to have the pictures and forms she had sent in. "Good. Please sit down," she said, pointing firmly to the chair in front of the desk. "Before we can begin your Orientation, we must assure ourselves that you fully understand exactly what it is that you are doing, and that you are indeed ready to take this step. Have you read the material we sent you last week?" "Yes." "Good. Are there any questions you would like me to answer for you? You make speak freely now." Laura had never felt the need for permission to speak freely before, and yet she found herself grateful for it. She had trouble finding the words. "What-- When-- How long will it take?" she finally managed to ask. "As you know, it is an on-going process. Assuming you do not leave the program, as about half the trainees do, you can expect to be here for about four weeks. Sometimes it takes a little longer. But this is all spelled out in the material you read. I think what you really want to know is exactly what will happen to you. Is that right?" "Yes, Mistress." "You must be prepared to leave this in our hands. I can tell you that you will start out with a comprehensive examination and assessment of your potential. Then you will learn the basic skills required for your role, as well areas of special interest to your Lord. For now, that will have to be enough for you. All right?" "Yes, Mistress Elizabeth." Less informative than Anne, she thought. "As you know, you are free to leave at any time. Similarly, we may ask you to leave if we determine that you are unable to manage with your new role. If you decide to leave, it is ordinarily final, with little chance of being allowed back. Do you understand?" "Yes." "Yes, what?" "Yes Mistress Elizabeth." "Very good. You see, you learned something already. As I'm sure you read in the handbook, we are quite insistent that you follow the all the rules, even the small ones. It may seem silly and uncomfortable to address me in a formal manner all the time, but it will soon become automatic - as all the rules must for you to succeed here. I also must remind you that while you're here, we assume complete control of every aspect of your life. You can no longer expect privacy in any sense. Your body is no longer yours, and neither are your thoughts. You are subject to physical correction for any reason. You may be ordered to perform tasks that you find distasteful, and you are expected to carry them out without hesitation or question. As long as you remain here, you are ours, and ours alone. If you complete your Orientation, you will be your Lord's, and your Lord's alone. These are not idle words. You will come to know it as a fundamental truth. It will change you. Is that clear?" As the gravity of the words sunk in, Laura knew this was what she wanted. She savored the though of being Marc's and Marc's alone, and she could not help but smile as she answered, "Yes, Mistress Elizabeth." "There are four basic rules of the Orientation. You should have read them already, but I'll go over them again now, just to be sure you understand. Of course, you'll be given more specific instructions as it becomes necessary, but at all times you are governed by these basic rules. "First, you must obey fully any order given by any member of the staff. If an order contradicts a previous order, you must inform the staff member of this fact. "Second, you must be silent at all times except when given permission to speak by a member of the staff. If you require permission to speak, you may present yourself with your head bowed and your arms behind your back. "Third, you must be truthful. Your answers to questions must be honest, direct, and complete. If you, or anyone else, violates any rule or order, you must report this fact to the staff at once. "Finally, you must be constantly mindful of the fact the neither your body nor your mind belong to you. You must never touch yourself unless ordered. Your only desire is to serve your Lord Marc. "Do you understand?" She had read these words over and over this week. "I understand, Mistress Elizabeth." "From now own, you are no longer Laura. You are Marc's Laura. Remember that." Mistress Elizabeth pushed some sort of buzzer, and another woman, about 30 years old, entered the room. She must have been waiting outside. "Fiona, this is Marc's Laura," she said. "Laura this is Mistress Fiona. She'll get you started." Mistress Elizabeth smiled warmly. Laura tried to smile, too. Chapter 2 Laura was led down the hall at a slower pace than her initial entrance, and finally had the opportunity to take notice of her physical surroundings. The hall she was in seemed to house former classrooms and offices, being lined with those wooden doors with frosted glass windows that used to be so common in institutional buildings. Something about the hall seemed warm and comfortable, though, not like you'd expect a school to be. It must be the carpeting, or maybe the just the lack of harsh, fluorescent lighting. Some of the rooms had sounds coming from them, though she could not make out any voices. It was only now that she became conscious of the fact that that there were other trainees here, although why would she have expected to be the only one, she thought. She wondered how many others were here, and what they were like. She thought about Marc again, forgetting that she must no longer think of him as Marc but rather as her Lord. She wondered what part he would play in the Orientation, what they would teach him. Thinking of him confused her, since she was having trouble deciding whether she was doing this for him or for herself, and she wasn't sure there was a difference anymore. They went upstairs and down another hallway, this one more residential. Here, the doors were of solid wood and had numbers on them. Just as she entered the hallway she could see one of the doors close behind what looked like a man and two women. One of the woman was naked, or wearing very little at most. Laura tried not to wonder about it too much. Sitting at a desk at the end of the hall was the young man who met her at the car. He was busy reading a book, and didn't appear to notice her. When they reached the last room on the hallway, they stopped and went in. Mistress Fiona closed and locked the door behind them. This would have intimidated Laura, but the woman's easy smile and matter-of-fact manner somehow made it all right. She didn't look like a `Mistress Fiona' to Laura, especially with her slightly dowdy, though neat, housedress and her walking shoes. She was slightly overweight, though Laura thought her quite attractive. The room was sparse, with a bed, lamp, small desk, two chairs and an empty bookcase. No dresser or mirror, though. There was another door that might have led to a closet or bath. Almost like dormitory furniture, but the bed was a bit unusual. The headboard and footboard were solid wood and there were cords and ropes coming from the corners. Some sort of restraints. Would they tie her up? Her mind started to race again when Mistress Fiona finally spoke to her. "Remove your clothes." Her voice was soft but firm without being angry or harsh. She had just a hint of a British accent. Laura had never undressed in front of anyone except for Marc before, and she began to blush. At the doctor's, she'd always insist on undressing alone, even when she knew they'd see her naked anyway. There was something private, personal, about the act of undressing that made her not want to share it. It even took her more than a year before she could undress in front of Marc, who found her unease about it kind of endearing and sexy. Still, it surprised her that she was having trouble following this simple instruction. Maybe because it was the first time she's been asked to do something that she'd just as soon not do. "Didn't you hear me? Remove your clothes." Same soft, firm tone, still without anger. "Wait-- Please, I just need--" She didn't mean to say anything. "No, that's, `yes, Mistress Fiona'. That's all. I know you're new, and I know it's hard for you to adjust, but if you don't follow instructions or speak out of turn like that again, you'll be disciplined. We'll let it go this one time, though, but not again. Now get those clothes off." Laura took her shoes off, which gave her the time to find the courage to begin in earnest. By the time she was finally down to her bra and panties, she was starting to feel as if she could do this, after all. It was such a small thing, yet it felt like a big step, and she smiled as she unhooked and pulled off her bra with a bit of a flourish. Mistress Fiona seemed not to grasp the significance of this step, and reminded her that this was not a striptease. She was more reserved as she pulled down her panties. "There. That wasn't as hard as you thought it would be, was it?" Maybe she did understand, after all. Maybe Marc told them this would be difficult. "When you stand, you keep your feet 1 meter apart-- good. Put your hands at your side. Keep you head facing forward, but look at the floor with your eyes. Get used to this position. When you enter a room, you are to remain like this until instructed otherwise. Now we'll have to get you cleaned up, and get that awful makeup off your face. There's quite a bit to do tonight." This time, Laura was responding almost before the commands were spoken. Laura found that her position made her feel vulnerable, since she couldn't look around or make eye contact with her speaker. The cool air that circulated between her open legs heightened her sense of nakedness, and for the first time since her arrival, her feeling of being overpowered became overtly sexual. "Come with me." As Mistress Fiona led her down the hall, Laura remembered the young man at the desk and instinctively lifted her arms to cover her breasts. "Hands at your sides," she was quickly reminded. As she continued toward the end of the hall, she began to feel almost triumphant, as if the rest would be easy now. She wished Marc could see her, though. They ended up in a large, old fashioned bathroom with a large, freestanding tub. There was a large countertop with various hygienic items spread about it. First she was given an enema, which made her feel a bit exhausted and drained. Then came a douche, which at once stimulated her and made her feel violated as Mistress Fiona inserted the nozzle while maintaining a firm grip on her hands. She was bathed and scrubbed thoroughly, but was not permitted to participate in the process, her hands held above her head for the most part. Two other women came in and helped at various times, but they never spoke and Laura was not permitted to look at them for very long. This must be what a baby feels like, she thought, so helpless and the focus of so much attention. As she was being dried off, the door opened and a man came in. This startled Laura, and again, she lifted her hands to cover her breasts. "Hands at your side!" This time, Mistress Fiona sounded angry and a bit embarrassed, and wrote something in a small notebook she took from her pocket. Laura quickly resumed her position, fixing her eyes on the floor in front of her. Why do I keep doing that, Laura wondered. She felt guilty. "She's fussy about her breasts, I see," the man said, although it was not clear to whom he was speaking. From what Laura could tell he was in his 40's or so, very well dressed, and rather distinguished looking. She didn't get to look at him for very long though, since he continued walking until he was behind her. He didn't seem particularly interested in those breasts that he said she's so fussy about, Laura thought; she didn't known whether it was worse to be leered at or ignored. He chatted with Mistress Fiona for a while, and though they seemed to refer to her fairly often, she couldn't quite hear what they were saying over the sound of the hair drier that was being used on her. Eventually, the man left, and Mistress Fiona told her that the man was Lord Gregory. That made sense, Laura thought. From what she had seen, he looked like she thought he would. As the other women left the room, Mistress Fiona seemed to scrutinize Laura's body. She poked and probed her at length without saying a word, or even seeming to acknowledge that Laura was present. Finally, she said, "You need to gain a little weight. You also need exercise." Laura resented this, but she also knew better than to react. There was an uneasy silence, and she guessed that this was deliberate, to see if she'd say anything. "Put this on," Mistress Fiona eventually said, and she handed Laura a neatly folded garment. It was a loose fitting gown, something like what they give you in a hospital, or maybe what they wear in prison. When they got back to her room (or at least she assumed it was her room), she found her clothes had been taken away and the bed had been made. "Did you eat dinner?" Mistress Fiona asked. "No, Mistress Fiona," she said eagerly, since she was quite hungry by this time. "Wait here and I'll get you some," and Mistress Fiona left the room. Even though she had only been there for a few hours, Laura felt overwhelmed by all the attention and was glad to be left alone. She sat on the edge of the bed and thought about how much things had changed, how different things were already. She was proud of herself for reasons she couldn't understand, since following orders wasn't something she often considered a virtue. But she thought about Anne, and how she must have gone through all the same things (and this was only the first day!), and that made it easier to accept, somehow. And she realized she was learning self control. She wanted so much to be under Marc's control sometimes, but she often had trouble getting all the way there. Maybe she's learning how. It's only the first day. Try not to think so much, she told herself. It felt good to curl up under the blanket. The door opened, and Laura was quickly lurched out of her introspection. "What are you doing? Were you told to lie down?" Mistress Fiona demanded, angry again. "No, Mistress Fiona," Laura said, jumping to her feet and assuming her standing position. Damn, she though, she did it again. Mistress Fiona made another note in her book and told Laura to sit and eat the dinner she brought her. Then she added, "Ordinarily, I'd discipline you right now for this. We'll have to leave it for later, though - there isn't time. Now I know you're trying, but I don't think you understand that we're serious when we say you have to obey us in every way. This is more serious than you seem to think. Think about this while you eat." She looked almost sorry - disappointed in Laura - and she left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Discipline. The word terrified Laura, and she had trouble eating, though she was very hungry. This place seemed so... serious. Whatever they do to you has to be worse than those spankings Marc would give her, even when he used the riding crop she got him last year for his birthday. (She remembers him complaining that she really bought it for herself). But, she reasoned, she needed a little discipline, although she was having trouble remembering exactly why. She felt guilty, and very uneasy. The meal helped calm Laura down, and soon after she finished, the young man from the car came to her room. "Come with me," he said, and she wondered if he was going to punish her. She knew she shouldn't ask, though, and she followed him down the stairs to the same waiting room she was in before. The secretary wasn't there this time. He told her to wait while he went into the main office, where she heard him tell someone that she was ready. They told him something, but she couldn't hear what it was or who said it. When he came out, he told her she could go in, and he left. She walked into the room slowly, so she could get a look around before she would have to assume her standing position and gaze at the floor. After less than a day, she was beginning to learn how to cope with the rules, and that thought made her a little bit smug. Mistress Elizabeth and Fiona were there, as was Lord Gregory and another woman she didn't recognize. They didn't seem to take note of her presence at first, talking among themselves about people she hadn't heard of. Lord Gregory was the first to speak to her, after a very long few minutes. "Marc's Laura, I've not had the chance to properly introduce myself. I am Lord Gregory, although perhaps you know that already. There is so much we must do when a new trainee arrives, it is so easy to forget to be civil. Although I've not yet read your journal, I feel as if I know so much about you just from your file." He had a warm, fatherly look about him. He was charming, Laura thought, and she found herself hoping that when her Lord Marc grew older he'd be something like this, too. Quite an improvement over what she thought in the bathroom. She realized that her new name, `Marc's Laura', felt like it fit, like it really was her name, for the first time. "You're a beautiful and very intelligent woman," he continued, "and for the first time in your life, you may find your beauty and intellect making things harder instead of easier. But it also makes things so much more interesting." She wondered what he meant. Mistress Elizabeth, who was sitting on the couch behind her, spoke next. "Turn to face me. Good. You're here because you want to learn to please your Lord, enough that you are willing to make enormous sacrifices to do so. But that's not enough. You must change. You must learn what it means to be governed by another person, and that's often painful and perplexing. You've been here, what, four hours, and you've only begun to get a taste of the sort of changes you must make in order to succeed here and in order to achieve your goal. I hope you can do it, I really do. One thing that you must remember is that we're here to help you do this, and that will be very easy to forget at times. But once you put yourself in our hands, your goal will get easier." Laura was having a hard time understanding what they were trying to tell her, and she decided that she should just take it all in for now and not try to understand anything. Maybe they were about to punish her, after all. Lord Gregory spoke again. "You have been whipped before, have you not?" Oh, god, here it comes. "Yes, Lord Gregory, by my Lord Marc." "What did he use?" "A riding crop, Lord Gregory." "On your ass?" "Yes, Lord Gregory." Get on with it already! Her voice faltered a bit, which made her even more nervous. "Have you, yourself, ever administered discipline?" She didn't expect this question. "No, Lord Gregory." "You'd be surprised at how hard it is to do properly. Physically and emotionally difficult. When your Lord whips you, what do you feel?" Why is he asking these questions? "Some pain, but his love for me makes it a good pain, Lord Gregory." She had no idea where those words came from, but she seemed satisfied with them, even if it was stuffier than she'd like it to sound. "Have you ever had an orgasm while being beaten?" "Once, Lord Gregory." "From the whipping alone?" "No, Lord Gregory, he rubbed me between the strokes." Marc must have told them, she guessed. Right now, she was starting to become excited again. "It's not easy to do properly," he repeated, almost under his breath. "Fiona, would you hand me my cane, please?" Yes, here it comes, she thought, as she saw the long, thin, tan stick in the corner of her eye. "You will learn a lot about control, and pain, and pleasure, and yourself, for that matter, while you are here. Right now, you will learn about proper punishment. Come here." He motioned for her. "When Lord Marc whips you, he may do it for a number of reasons. He may want to punish you, that's true. But perhaps he finds it erotic. Perhaps you yourself find it erotic - a sensual form of communication between you. Here, though, the purpose of a whipping is simple. We use it to teach on a deep, automatic level. When we whip, it is anything but erotic. It's just a lesson - a painful lesson." Laura braced herself and walked slowly toward him. He's enjoying drawing this out, she thought. "This is the cane. We like it more than some other tools because it can be quite effective without excessively many strokes, and it leaves few lasting marks. It works best on the ass and the thighs, being fleshy parts of the body. To be used to best effect, you must stand back from the subject and use your whole arm, without bending your wrist and keeping your elbow fairly straight. Like this." He brought a sharp blow on the bottom part of her ass, over her gown. It made a muffled cracking sound. She jumped, almost loosing her balance. "AHHH!" she cried out, automatically. It was one of the sharpest pains she had ever felt, even through the modest padding of her gown. Much worse than anything Marc had ever administered. And the sting lasted, like a deep ache. There was no way she could take much more of this. It was anything but sexy, and a few moments later, it occurred to her that she was no longer excited. She still felt overpowered, though. "Oh, I startled you! I'm sorry, really I am quite sorry." And he really did seem sorry. "I should have warned you first. But that is what a properly administered stroke should feel like, more or less, at least for starters. Here, you try. Use the edge of the sofa." What? He wanted her to use the cane? What was he doing? "Go on," he encouraged her. Reluctantly, she took the cane, and gave the sofa a light tap. "No, no. Use your whole arm. It doesn't take much force, but you have to give it something." She pulled her arm back, and, with a loud swish, landed the edge of the cane on the arm of the sofa. She could feel a vibration in her hand when it landed. "Very good." He seemed genuinely pleased with her. "Give it a few more tries." She still felt uneasy about this, but she did her best for three or four more strokes. Is this what they would do to her, she wondered. "Now you've got the hang of it. See, it's really quite easy, mechanically speaking. Now you must always land the stroke below the lowest part of the back. Before you learn to aim well, it is best to aim for the lower half of the cheeks. If you miss and hit a thigh, that's all right." Why was he telling her this? She didn't come here to learn to whip people, that was for certain. "Rita, why don't you get Kenneth's Lydia now?" he said to the woman who Laura didn't recognize. Mistress Elizabeth took the cane, and explained, "Normally, minor violations of the rules are corrected immediately and forgotten. More serious infractions involving willful disregard for the rules are taken care of in formal disciplinary sessions, generally right before bedtime but sometimes in the afternoon. It can be quite exhausting, you know. Anyway, all but the most serious infractions can be properly disciplined in one or two sessions." Laura was becoming scared again. "They say that to dominate, you must know what it is to be dominated. The converse is true as well, you know. Since Kenneth's Lydia is being punished this evening anyway, we thought this would be an excellent opportunity to teach you what it means to administer discipline, so you will be better able to learn and profit from it when the time comes to for you to be disciplined." They're going to make her watch while they whip another trainee. Almost on cue, the woman, Mistress Rita, returned. With her was a small woman wearing the same kind of gown Laura had on. She looked a little younger than Laura, maybe 23, and she was quite pretty, Laura thought, with flowing brown hair and a sweet face. On that face Laura saw a look of resigned apprehension, as if she were about to undergo her second root canal. Mistress Elizabeth, who held the cane, addressed the woman. "Kenneth's Lydia, you know why you're being punished, right?" She sounded just like a mother chastising her daughter for staying out late. "Yes, Mistress Elizabeth. I'm sorry," she replied, with little emotion. "I hope this helps your body learn what your mind must already know. We are going to do things a little differently tonight. Remove your gown." She complied quickly, though not eagerly. "Bend over the couch, that's right." Lydia bent over the back of the couch with her legs spread about four feet apart and her hands grasping the front of the couch seat. It must be a position they teach you for being whipped, Laura thought, and she noticed how it positioned her cheeks right where she landed the cane when she used it on the couch. Lydia had a number of faint and not-so-faint bruises on her cheeks and thighs, and Laura wondered if they made the whipping worse, and what it was she did to get them. She felt sorry for her, and she wished she didn't have to watch this. "Marc's Laura, use the cane to whip Kenneth's Lydia," Mistress Elizabeth commanded. She couldn't believe her ears, although it was obvious that that's what they wanted her to do. She just didn't want to believe it. After ten or fifteen seconds, Mistress Fiona added, "You heard her, take the cane." Slowly, Laura took the cane. She thought about those words, `ordered to perform tasks you find distasteful' and she knew this was one of them. She had never met this girl, she couldn't hurt her. That cane hurt like hell. She couldn't do it. But she knew she had no choice. Laura prepared to cross another line. She raised the cane, and gave Lydia's left cheek a light tap. "Harder," someone said, probably Mistress Fiona. "You know how to do it." This time, Laura really let the cane go, and she heard the same swishing noise and loud crack that caused her to jump. But this time, it was she who held the cane. Lydia groaned loudly. "Again. Continue until you are told to stop." Laura continued, but the cane seemed to get heavier and the vibrations in her hand more acute. After five or six strokes, however, she began to find herself disconnected from the whole situation, as if someone else was holding the whip. She almost started to enjoy the power. The disconnection and enjoyment was short-lived, though, since each of Lydia's frequent cries brought Laura abruptly back to reality. Then Laura felt even worse. Lydia's cheeks were covered with long, thin welts. Laura tried to avoid hitting them again, guessing that they hurt more. "Harder," they urged her on. After a few minutes (they could have been hours, for all Laura knew), she just couldn't do it any more. She began to sob openly, and her strokes became weaker and less accurate. Finally, Lord Gregory told her to stop. "That's enough," he said. "That was barely adequate, but I think you have learned something. Rita, will you please finish this upstairs?" Mistress Rita helped Lydia to her feet. There were tears in her eyes, but she managed to walk, with some difficulty. She turned to Laura and said, "Thank you." Laura couldn't believe it. What was she thanking her for? Laura mouthed "I'm sorry" to the woman, but she may not have seen it as Mistress Rita hurried her out the door. Were they really going to whip her more? Whatever could she have done? Laura continued sobbing, and Mistress Fiona led her back to her room. Mistress Fiona deposited Laura in her bed, and told her that she would give her a little time alone to collect herself before she punishes her for her earlier behavior. Chapter 3 For a little while, all Laura could do was cry. Eventually, perhaps simply by virtue of running out of the energy required to maintain the flow of her tears, Laura got more of a grip on herself. She tried to sort out the cacophony of thoughts that whirled around her head. Maybe if she could just decide what it is she is feeling she could come to terms with it, at least. But there were so many things to think about. She tried to take her emotions one by one. First, there was guilt, of course, and the inevitable rationalizations that follow from it. The picture of Lydia, being taken naked from the office, her rear covered with those welts, was as vivid in Laura's mind as the room around her. But they made her do it, didn't they? Some excuse. Just following orders doesn't cut it. But aren't all the trainees here voluntarily? Lydia could leave if she didn't want it. And besides, she must have done something to deserve such a whipping. Doesn't mean you had to enjoy doing it though. That last point weighed heavily. She took a little bit of solace in the fact that they were going to punish her, too. Fear. The thought of being on the receiving end of a whipping half as severe as the one she had just administered mortified her. She remembered the sharp burn that seemed to cut right through her, making her jump. And that awful ache; she could still feel it. That was through her gown, too. She couldn't take it. Why were they going to punish her, anyway? She remembered feeling ashamed for something or other earlier, but what was it? Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they won't whip her. Maybe she can convince them not to if she just says she's sorry, or something. Denial. Not such a great defense mechanism when you realize that's what you're doing. No, she knew Mistress Fiona would be coming back soon, and she knew that this time, she really was going to get a beating. She thought of the times Marc would spank her. One time, he really did hurt her enough that she almost called out her escape word. (They had always agreed that when they were playing she could end things right away by just by saying "mercy" if things got a little too rough. No escape word here. Unless she quits, and she didn't want to quit). It was about six months ago, while they were on vacation at that little country inn celebrating his new book. It was just as they had planned, until the phone rang. It was his publisher; they never got the final draft. She forgot to mail it. He had a copy with him (thank god), so it wasn't as bad as it could be, but he was mad, madder than she had ever seen him. It took a few hours before he could talk to her, and they agreed that he'd punish her the next day, after he'd cooled down. The next morning, he was calm, but both understood that she had to be punished. They didn't have their crop with them, so he had her drive into town and purchase another, which was embarrassing enough. This time it was real punishment, and he hit hard enough that there was no doubt that this wasn't for her enjoyment. She had trouble enduring it and he kept at it for what seemed like an eternity. The only thing that kept her from yelling mercy was that she knew she was getting just what she deserved, and that he'd still love her when it was done. Most of the time, though, it wasn't like that. She loved those spankings, the feel of his hand, the gentle caresses afterward. It was an expression of his power over her, and sometimes, when he was a little too forgiving, she'd have to tease him and bait him into doing it. The thought of Marc's hand, his touch, his power, led Laura to an undeniable state of arousal. She wanted to see him, hold him, anything. Just laying in bed was almost a sensual overload, with her frequent breaths tickling her shoulder and the gentle flow of air beneath her gown enticing her, seducing her. Without deliberate effort, she slowly smoothed out her gown with her hands, grasping the the fabric where it ended just above her knees. Her whole body tensed as she began to pull the gown up above her thighs, her own thoughts beginning to carry her away from this room and back to Marc's embrace. And then she heard the footsteps and the turn of the doorknob. All at once, she was back at the Orientation, and she turned red as a beet as she wondered if she could get her gown in order before the door swung open. "You must never touch yourself" she recalled the rules saying, but she hadn't done that yet, fortunately. Mistress Fiona walked in slowly, almost as if she didn't care to see what might have been going on. Laura's eyes were still red from the tears, but, even in her slightly disheveled state, she at least looked more composed than she did when she was taken from the office. For a few awkward moments, no one said a word. Eventually, Mistress Fiona broke the silence and asked, "Do you need to use the toilet?" Laura thought about it and realized that she did, rather badly, in fact. "Yes, Mistress Fiona." She was so nervous she had trouble speaking. "Come with me, then." As they walked down the hall, all Laura could think about was the odd contrast with this woman, who as far as she knew was about to beat her senseless, showing concern for her comfort first by asking her if she needed to use the toilet. Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable while we beat you, right? In Laura's nervous state, it seemed impossibly funny. When they reached the bathroom, she had to dig her nails into the palms of her hands to keep from bursting out into laughter. "Go ahead," Mistress Fiona said. She remained in the bathroom while Laura urinated, not allowing her the dignity of privately taking care of her own bodily functions. Laura's sense of her loss of privacy heightened, and her giddy near-laughter was replaced by a more somber, controlled composure. They did not return to Laura's room, going instead to a room in another residential-looking hallway. The room was marked "Discipline - 3", the reading of which caused Laura's stomach to jump. As Mistress Fiona opened the door, Laura expected to see some kind of torture chamber. She felt uneasy relief when she saw that the room was empty but for a bed, three chairs, a desk, and the only odd looking article in the room, which resembled a padded exercise bench. The room was similar in size to her own, though even more sparsely furnished and without a window. "Remove your gown," Mistress Fiona ordered, with the same calm, easy voice that Laura now understood as deceptively inviting. All of a sudden, it seemed very real. As she lifted the gown over her head and felt the fabric pull over her bottom, she felt more vulnerable, more exposed, than ever. She handed the gown to Mistress Fiona and assumed her usual standing pose. "Since this is the first time you're being disciplined, I'll have to explain certain things to you. Most of the time, if you have to be disciplined for some minor thing, it will be taken care of at once by whoever is working with you at the time. For more serious breaches of the rules, where you simply should have known better yet choose to violate the rules anyway, you'll be punished in a formal session such as this one. In the future, when one of these sessions becomes necessary, you'll be sent here, usually at bedtime, but sometimes before dinner. You'll be told which room to go to and should report directly there. All the rooms are on this hallway, which is around the corner from your room. Most of the time, I'll be your disciplinarian, though Lord Scott, who you have not met yet, might take care of you some of the time. Anyway, when you reach the room, you remove your gown and fold it neatly, placing it on the desk. Remain standing, facing the door, until the Lord Scott or I arrives. When your session is finished and you're released, it's considered appropriate for you to thank your disciplinarian. I'm sure you can understand the reason for that courtesy, given that this is a difficult thing for everyone involved and is for your benefit. Now, bend over here." She tapped the top of the bench. Slowly, Laura bent over the bench, trying to concentrate on the words and ignore the situation. "You'll need to follow instructions more quickly than that, or things will be much harder for you." Laura searched for the courage to accept what was coming. "Since you've not been trained to do without them yet, I'll have to restrain you." Mistress Fiona opened the closet and got a number of items that Laura couldn't quite see. She put some sort of cuffs around Laura's ankles and fastened them to the base of the bench, about three or four feet apart. It was a bit hard to balance. Then she did the same with Laura's hands, connecting them to the base of the other side of the bench so that Laura's cheeks were exposed up in the air, just like Lydia was over the couch in the office. Laura offered no resistance, almost paralyzed by fear. "For most infractions requiring prompt correction, we use corporeal punishment, usually on the cheeks of the buttocks, but sometimes elsewhere, using a cane or strap. This time, I'm going to use the strap." Mistress Fiona dangled the strap next to the bench so Laura could see it. It was made of thick, brown leather, about 3 inches wide and 2 or 3 feet long with a split down the middle for the last foot or so. It looked sort of like a belt, or those straps found on old fashioned barber chairs. It also looked like it would hurt quite a bit. Laura wanted very much to get this over with. "Now, you are here because you underestimated the importance of following instructions." Her tone changed from being friendly and informative to one more harsh and disapproving. "It's actually quite unusual for a new trainee to need to come here so soon. Perhaps you were 'testing' us, the way a teenager tests her parents. Perhaps you didn't understand what was expected of you, and you thought that you would be permitted leeway in interpreting your orders. Perhaps you were simply inattentive, and forgot for a moment what your orders were. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you failed to follow instructions. Now I almost thought about letting you off with a warning this time, but I think this will help you more. It's critical that you recognize your mistakes, learn to avoid repeating them, and this will help you do that. I hope that when your Lord Marc gives you an instruction, you carry it out with more attention than you showed us this evening. Without attention to every detail, without greater self control than you've demonstrated so far, you will not succeed." That got her. Her anxiety about the whipping was briefly replaced by guilt and anxiety about her ability to please Marc. "Do you even remember what you did? I'll bet you thought nothing of it. I'll remind you. First, you failed to remain with your hands at your sides, despite being reminded just a few minutes before. It was in the bath, you covered your breasts. Don't try to excuse it by saying it was a reflex. There's no such thing! You must control yourself. Until you learn, you can never relax. For this, you are to receive ten strokes." Laura gasped. "And that's not even all you did. You were left standing in your room but when I returned, I found that you had taken it upon yourself to lie in your bed. Now, perhaps you thought this was a reasonable assumption to make. After all, no one was looking. You're training doesn't stop when no one is looking, though, and you must learn that you belong to us, body and mind, 100 percent of the time. That little `assumption` earns you another fifteen strokes, for a total of twenty five. Normally, we wouldn't be nearly so permissive, but you're new and this should be enough to serve as a warning. In the future, you could expect this sort of behavior to earn you a full half hour with the cane. " Twenty five strokes, and with that thing! Laura knew this would be hard to take, but her resolve was strengthened by that little lecture about learning to please Lord Marc. It was as if Mistress Fiona were an expert saleswoman, and she had just sold Laura a whipping. It may be worse than she'd like it to be, but, she'll have to keep telling herself, it will teach her something. "Keep your noise down. One of the the things you are here to learn is how to accept what you have coming to you with decorum. If you make too much noise, I'll have to discipline you for that as well." Laura remembered that when Marc spanked her, he'd make her count the strokes and if she missed, he'd start all over again. Sometimes she enjoyed those spankings so much she'd deliberately miss count. But that was a game. This is real, and she's not going to enjoy it. No cute rules about counting here. Out of the corner of her eye, Laura saw Mistress Fiona raise her arm and she could hear her draw in a breath. Laura closed her eyes and tried to brace herself. It seemed to take a long time for the stroke to land, and when it finally did, it made a very loud cracking noise that she could hear just before she felt it. The pain was even worse than she expected. It was a stinging burn, concentrated in the area of the blow, but quickly spreading without any loss of intensity. Not as sharp as the crop, but Laura thought it just as bad. She wanted to jump, but her restraints proved effective in preventing that. All she could do was move her rear end a little to the side. She let out a dull moan despite her best efforts to control herself. Just as the pain was beginning to subside, the second blow came, and it seemed worse than the first. It was as if it were timed to arrive at the worst possible moment. Laura wondered if she could take 23 more of these without begging for her to stop. She knew that would mean the end of the Orientation, and she put that thought out of her mind. Unlike Laura with Lydia, Mistress Fiona was not shy about hitting the same spot more than once. In fact, she concentrated her efforts on just three spots that hurt more and more as the beating continued. To Laura, she was an expert at causing pain, avoiding enough regularity that would allow Laura to predict the next spot or the precise moment that the blow would arrive. She seemed oblivious to Laura's cries (which she was unable to contain at all after the third stroke), never allowing them to influence the strap. Laura desperately wanted to move her legs; having them spread apart like that made the pain much worse. The twenty five strokes seemed to last for hours, although, in fact, it probably took less than three or four minutes. Finally, she stopped. Laura was gasping for breath, and she couldn't move for a little while even after the restraints were detached. She was a bit disoriented, and her rear was on fire. Her hands free, she started to rub her cheeks. "What are you doing? Get your hands off yourself. Have you completely forgotten the rules? Get back over the bench." Oh, no, Laura thought. She did it again already. "I'm going to give you just three more strokes, as a reminder. Grasp the base of the bench." The three strokes weren't quite as bad, physically, as the last ones, mostly landing on new spots. Mistress Fiona took her time delivering them, however, and they almost pushed Laura over the edge of bursting into tears. "All right. Now get yourself up." This time, Laura remembered not to try to rub herself, as badly as she wanted to. She also remembered what she was told before the whipping, and said, as best she could in her weakened state, "Thank you, Mistress Fiona." "You're welcome, Marc's Laura. Now come with me." She took Laura, who was still naked, back toward her room, supporting her as she occasionally faltered. As they returned to the other hallway, Laura saw Lydia standing, also naked, in front of one of the rooms, facing one of the doors. Her cheeks were covered with even more welts than when Laura had finished with her, and although she felt sympathy for her, mostly the sight made Laura wonder what her own rear must look like. Mistress Fiona explained that in the future, she would be expected to return by herself to her room after punishment and wait, as Lydia was, for someone to let her in. Laura guessed that this was a form of public humiliation. Back in Laura's room, Mistress Fiona put a leather collar around Laura's neck. Then she attached cuffs, similar to the ones used in her beating, to Laura's wrists and attached them to the collar with cords that were each about a foot long. She explained that this was to keep her from touching herself while she was sleeping, as most trainees do out of habit, and that eventually she wouldn't need it. She put Laura in bed. "Sleep well, Marc's Laura-- your examination starts tomorrow, and you'll need your rest." She kissed Laura on the forehead and left the room. The lights went out after she closed the door; there was no light switch in the room. Her rear end ached so much it was too uncomfortable to rest on her back, which was her preferred sleeping position. Laura tried to go over the events of the evening in her mind, but was too tired, overwhelmed by it all. She had been there for about six hours (or so she guessed, not having her watch anymore), and so much had happened to her she didn't know where to begin. It didn't take long for her to drift off to sleep, despite the constant burn that seemed almost as severe as it was during the whipping. When morning came, she was awakened by a gentle tapping on her shoulder. "Marc's Laura, wake up. Time to get out of bed." It was a man's voice, which startled her enough that she had no trouble waking up. As she opened her eyes, he repeated his command that she get out of bed. She jumped up and assumed her standing position. "I'm Lord Scott. Did you sleep well?" He looked young to Laura, maybe younger than herself. He looked rather ordinary, but despite his youthful appearance he had a commanding demeanor. As he spoke, he examined her still-aching bottom. "Yes, Lord Scott," Laura answered, still sleepy. She was successful in fighting the urge to cover herself. He removed her collar and cuffs. "You may stretch if you like." She was grateful for that. "You have a very full schedule ahead of you today, Marc's Laura. First, let's get you cleaned up." They went back to the same bathroom, where she was allowed to use the toilet and then given another bath. The hot water hurt her bottom, but she managed to avoid complaining. Lord Scott and a woman, who did not speak, washed her as she was washed the previous day, not permitting Laura to be an active participant. As Lord Scott washed her breasts, she found herself slightly aroused, but that was soon replaced by an oddly guilty feeling as she recalled the showers she and Marc would take. She knew she would have to fight any attraction she might develop for Lord Scott. Lord Scott seemed almost bashfully respectful of Laura's person and his manner was slightly halting as he rubbed the soapy water around her crotch and sore bottom. This small, perhaps unintentional, deference to Laura's body somehow only made her more aware of her dependence, her bondage. She didn't know what to feel, but she knew she was grateful for his gentleness. As they dried her, she was able to get a glance at her wounds in the mirror. She was bruised in several places, and she wondered how long it would take to heal. Finally, she was given a clean gown and led back to her room, where a breakfast tray was waiting for her. She was left alone in her room to eat and she was grateful for the private solitude this afforded her. It was her first real chance to reflect, unencumbered by the myriad immediate concerns that consumed her for most of last night. She reviewed last night in her mind over and over, as if rewinding a video tape. Mostly, she thought about the way she reacted rather than the events themselves, and she wondered if she'd be able to learn the sort of self-control that was demanded of her. Whether she wanted to continue wasn't even a question in her mind, and when she recalled Mistress Elizabeth telling her how she was free to go whenever she chooses it made her that much more determined to stay. Anne did it. She wondered if they whipped Anne the way they whipped her and if her determination ever faltered. She wondered about Lydia. Would she see her again? Would she forgive her for the whipping? The question seemed less urgent than it did yesterday, more a point of detached curiosity than anything else. Shortly after she finished eating, Lord Scott returned. "It's time to start your examination. The others are ready for you, and there's a lot to do. Come with me, please." Please. It was the first time since she started that someone had used that word with her. Although it had been less than 24 hours since her arrival, she had almost forgotten what being treated with even the most superficial politeness was like. She smiled as she got up and followed him down the hall and toward the stairs. Chapter 4 Lord Scott brought Laura to one of the rooms with frosted glass doors in the hallway that had all the classrooms. He told her to wait in the hall, and as he went in, she could see that the room was a small lecture hall, with rows of chairs and a little stage about two feet off the ground. There were a number of people in the room, although Laura only got a few moments to look at them before the door was shut in front of her. Once again, she could hear only muffled talking, though it did sound like quite a bit of discussion was going on. Eventually, the door was opened and she was told to come to the front of the room. The first two rows of chairs were filled with about 20 people, including Mistresses Elizabeth, Fiona, and Rita and Lords Gregory and Scott. Everyone was sitting down, quietly, as if waiting for a lecture or concert to begin. She was led to the front of the room and told to sit in a chair up on the stage. For several minutes, everybody just sat and looked up at Laura, as if expecting her to say something. It made her uncomfortable, and she wondered what she was supposed to do. She decided that since they hadn't told her otherwise, she should just sit there quietly. Eventually, Mistress Elizabeth spoke. "I think we've all had the chance to read through your journal, Marc's Laura, and now we'd like the chance to learn more about you. This will help us to determine how best to train you, if in fact you are suitable for training at all. Now, I'll ask the first question and get things started. In your journal, you wrote that last Wednesday you ate dinner at a restaurant across the street from your apartment. Did you eat alone?" What kind of question was this, Laura wondered. Well, at least she could answer it. "Yes, Mistress Elizabeth." "We can be informal here -- you need not address us by name. You may answer simply with 'sir' or 'ma'am,' in the interests of moving along quickly. Now, what did you do when you were waiting for the food?" "I brought a book to read, ma'am" "I see. Are you uncomfortable being alone, in public?" "No, I mean-- what do you mean, ma'am?" "Does it make you uncomfortable to sit alone in a restaurant with nothing to do?" "Yes, a little, ma'am." Doesn't this make everyone uncomfortable, for god's sake? "Your training will sometimes make you feel the same way, only a hundred times more so. I am, frankly, concerned about this need for privacy of yours. It suggests selfishness." Laura didn't know if she was supposed to try to defend herself or what. It was as if she was being psychoanalyzed in front of an audience. All this insight from the way she eats? Again, there was uneasy silence, and Laura did feel just like she was sitting in a restaurant, alone, with everyone watching her, thinking about her, judging her. But no one speaking to her. A man spoke next. He was unfamiliar to Laura, and he looked like he was in his late 30's. He looked a little like and old school teacher of hers, and that made him seem more intimidating than he otherwise would have been. "When you were young, what was the worst punishment your parents ever imposed on you?" Well, between his appearance and his question, this guy sure knows how to dredge up childhood anxiety, Laura thought. "I was grounded for three weeks, sir," she answered after a few moments. "That was the worst?" "Yes, sir." Laura was embarrassed that she couldn't do better. "How old were you?" "Thirteen, sir." "Why did they do this?" "I pushed my sister down the stairs. She broke her wrist, sir." Laura didn't enjoy remembering this; the awful shame of that incident came back to her all at once. "What were the conditions of being grounded." "It was in the summer, sir. I had to stay in my room all day except for meals, and there was no television or telephone. I was allowed to go outside, with my mother, for half an hour or so a day, sir." "Did they strike you?" "No, sir." Laura remembers wishing they had. "What did you do all day?" "I read, and also made up stories, sir" "Did they forgive you?" "Yes, sir." "Did you forgive them?" "For a week or so I felt really guilty, and felt that I deserved the grounding. After that I was angry, and I stayed angry for about a month, sir." Before she could add anything more, Lord Gregory asked another question. "Last night, when we asked you to help us discipline Kenneth's Lydia, you seemed hesitant. Why was that?" What was there to say? "I-- I don't know, sir." "Of course you do. What did you feel?" Laura said the first thing that popped into her head. "I felt like I was betraying her, sir." "Betrayal. Powerful idea. But you didn't betray her. You cannot betray anyone, since you belong to us. You don't seem to understand that. You belong to us. You are responsible to us and only us for your actions." Laura very much wanted to understand that. Again, there was a pause, with everyone just looking at her, although a few seemed to be writing notes. It was like being interrogated by a committee. The whole affair reminded Laura of her thesis defense. Defense. At least there she knew what it was she was defending. Here, they just seemed to be prodding and poking at everything that made her uncomfortable. Mistress Fiona stood up and approached the stage. "Remove your gown and hand it to me." Laura froze, and she wondered if this was going to be as hard as it was yesterday. This time there was an audience, and here she was, the whole show. But she did it before. At least there was only the gown this time. Laura almost surprised herself when she stood up and pulled the gown over her head. She smiled, proud of herself for this accomplishment. "Why are you smiling?" "I-- I guess-- I'm nervous, ma'am" This didn't satisfy Mistress Fiona. "First of all, I don't think you're telling me the whole truth. You're nervous, all right, but I think we all can see the pride in that face of yours. You're proud of yourself for doing something that was hard yesterday, aren't you?" Laura wondered if these people were mind readers. "Yes. ma'am. A little." "Well, it's nice that you're proud. But, and this is a big but, you look like you want us to pat you on the head or something. It makes the rest of us uncomfortable. You have to learn to control yourself. Follow orders, that's all you do for now. Understand?" "Yes, ma'am." Laura felt like she couldn't do anything right. If she makes a mistake, however small, they punish her. If she accomplishes something, she can't show her pride. Almost like it's not enough to act properly, she has to think properly, too. Maybe that was the whole point. Laura didn't like Mistress Fiona very much, at the moment. For about a minute, everyone just sat there, looking at her naked body up there on the stage. Again, Laura started to feel detached, as if she, too, were in the audience, wondering how she would react, what she would do, what she's feeling. She noticed a video camera set up at the back of the room, apparently recording the entire session. Maybe they'd show it to Marc. No time to think about that now, though. As she looked through the room, she saw Lord Scott thumbing through his notes. When he spoke, she was a bit startled, and that made her awkwardly aware of her nakedness again. "You wrote about masturbation in your journal. You said you only masturbated once during the isolation week, but that you ordinarily masturbate whenever you go to bed alone. Is that correct?" He's going to make her masturbate, right there in public. Great. "Yes, sir." "Have you ever been caught masturbating?" "Yes, sir, I think so." "Tell us about it." "I was about 15 years old, and I was on the couch in the living room. No one was home, and I was in my nightie. I was thinking about Derek, my boyfriend, and it was the first time I ever really connected the feeling you get when you masturbate with the idea of actually having sex with someone. Anyway, I must have kind of gotten lost, thinking about Derek, rubbing myself, you know, and the next thing you know, I saw my mom walk in to the living room. I think she saw me, but she made some noise and never said a word about it." It was a hard memory, and it made Laura blush, but at least as long as she was talking they couldn't ask her anything else. "I see," Lord Scott said after a pause. "You may put your gown back on." Mistress Fiona placed the gown behind Laura, so she had to bend over with her bruised rear end to the audience to pick it up. Laura was relieved, if a bit confused, that she wasn't going to have to masturbate on stage after all. At least not for now. "I'm concerned that you had to be punished last night," Mistress Elizabeth said. "Most new trainees try very hard to follow every instruction to the letter, and it is only after being here a while that they might become forgetful. You, on the other hand, are off to a poor start. Do you generally have trouble understanding simple instructions?" "No, ma'am" "So you're making a special effort for us?" The sarcasm was rather obvious from her tone. "I'll try harder. I guess I was nervous, ma'am." "You'll be made more nervous than that, I can assure you. No matter. Now, I'm interested in knowing the thing you've done in your life for which you harbor the most guilt." Laura had no idea what to say. An eternity of silence passed. "We're waiting. Let me help out - stealing, betrayal, cheating, immorality, murder?" "I lied to my father about using the car when I was 17." It was the first thing that popped into her head. "Could you be holding something back, Marc's Laura? Either you have led a very dull life or you're being less than honest with us." After a moment, Laura admitted what she was unable to remember before. She almost hyperventilated as she got the words out. "I once cheated on Marc. Two years ago, with someone I met in school." "Excellent." It seemed to be exactly what they were looking for. They couldn't have known, could they? The questions went on and on. Various members of the audience asked what seemed to Laura a stream of unrelated, but deeply probing, questions about her inner feelings, her dreams, her sexuality. Although her gown remained on for all but that brief period at the beginning of the session, she soon felt more naked than ever before. She tried to figure out what they were doing, what they were trying to find out, but she had to concentrate so hard all she could do was defer such thoughts until later. One thing was for sure: they knew her, and they knew just where to look to find areas of her mind she'd rather not talk about. Oddly, though, they never asked her anything more about her infidelity. After about three hours, it was finally over. Everyone filed out of the room, leaving just Lord Scott and Laura. "You did well, but you have to learn to do two things that will seem contradictory. First, you have to learn not to think so much before answering, unless it's thinking that you've been asked to do. Second, you must learn to answer forthrightly and coherently, as if you had all the time in the world to construct your answers. Do you understand what I'm saying?" "Yes, sir." "No. First of all that's `Yes, Lord Scott' now, and second, I don't think you do understand yet. It's a costly mistake to claim that you understand when you don't. Well, anyway, what you have to do is turn off part of your mind. Specifically, the part of your mind that filters out what you don't want others to hear and see. We are that part of your mind now and one of the things you have to learn is to get out of the way. At the same time, you must accept our training, so that what you automatically say and do is exactly what we need you to say and do - always. It's hard, but we're all here to help you learn. If you really want to learn, you'll probably be able to, but only if you really want to. "Now, it's time to get a bit of lunch. Do you need to use the toilet?" "Yes, sir." "No, no, no. What did I just tell you? `Yes, Lord Scott.' Was this an honest slip, or were you testing me? "Oh! Sorry! I'm sorry. It was a mistake. I'm sorry, Lord Scott, honestly." Laura couldn't believe how she could have been so stupid or inattentive. "Never, ever, tell me you're sorry as if that somehow forgives you. I asked a direct question, so a simple answer will do. As for your slip, I'll accept that as an honest mistake, but you'll need a reminder so it won't be repeated. Come with me." Another whipping. Laura followed Lord Scott to the bathroom, and again, he stayed with her as she relieved herself. After she got up, they stayed in the room. "To remind you to be more careful when addressing me, I'm going to wash your mouth out with soap. Now, come here." He motioned her toward the sink. Mouth washed out with soap? He's got to be kidding, Laura thought. Well, it's got to be better than last night's beating. Lord Scott took a small bar of brown soap, a bit smaller than those soap bars in airplane bathrooms, and lathered it up under the warm water while Laura watched. "Now, open your mouth and stick out your tongue." Reluctantly, but without visible hesitation, Laura did as he said. Lord Scott gently grasped her jaw and slid the soap back and forth across her tongue with his fingers, finally tucking it behind her left cheek. Laura's first thought was of how remarkably sensual this experience would be if the bar of soap were, say, a chocolate truffle. He had the right touch for the job, at least. Instead, though, it was just humiliating, being punished just like a little child who used naughty words. "Close your mouth. Stay here until I come back." He left the room, leaving the door open with Laura standing there, soap suds and saliva dripping from her mouth. The soap tasted awful; Laura wondered if it was specially selected for this purpose. The bitter taste seemed to build up, and Laura had to fight to keep from swallowing. Somehow, in her debased state, Laura managed to find pride in the fact that she didn't fight Lord Scott or try to reject the soap. After a few minutes, he returned, but he seemed not to notice that Laura was actually grinning. "You may spit out the soap - use the sink." Laura quickly complied, but the strong taste stayed with her. "I hope this little reminder helps you find more appropriate words in the future, Marc's Laura," he added. Laura hoped so, too. They returned to her room, where a lunch was waiting for her. It may have tasted of bitter soap, but Laura was glad to eat it. Lord Scott explained that once the evaluation was completed, she would eat in the common dining room. Laura didn't think much during lunch. She was finding it easiest not to try to reflect on her situation, and she didn't wonder what was going to happen next, or even, as she had promised herself she would, think about what they were trying to learn from all those questions.