Page 135 of Brie's Submission
“Don’t tell me—you’re just getting to the good part.”
She sighed. “Well, yes…” Unfortunately, her imagination was too prolific.
“As in the past, I am sure the Dom will be able to work with what you’ve written.”
Her curiosity was killing her, so she asked, “Mr. Gallant, since we aren’t having another auction, who will be playing out our fantasies?”
He stood up and took the journal from her. “It is a standing tradition that your last entry is used as a training exercise.”
Brie squelched a smile, wondering if she would be seeing Greg again, the first Dom she had ever been partnered with. He would make an excellent Thomas. But who would play the part of the priest? The possibilities were fun to entertain.
“You will proceed to room five, where Master Coen is waiting for you.”
She got up to leave and was almost out of the door when she spontaneously turned around. “Mr. Gallant?”
“Yes, Miss Bennett.”
“You are an extraordinary teacher. Thank you for everything.” She scooted out of the room, afraid she might cry if she stayed. She hated to think of not sitting in his class next week.
As she walked down the hall, she saw Lea entering room nine. She gave her friend an enthusiastic wave and smiled when Lea waved back before disappearing into the room. Brie’s six-inch heels clicked pleasantly down the hallway. It was good to be a submissive.
Brie was curious what Master Coen had in store for her when she opened the door and noticed a fire going in a small brazier next to a thin wooden table in the middle of the room.
She stopped at the door and untied her corset, then laid it on the floor before kneeling in front of Master Coen, her arms behind her back to display her breasts in the pose assigned to her as part of her ritual. She kept her head bowed until he came to her and placed his hand on her head. “You may serve me. Stand.”
Brie gracefully got to her feet and faced him, intrigued by the fire. She had a hard time not staring at it.
“This is the last week of training. We have a rite for all graduating submissives. It is not a requirement, but it speaks volumes to your dedication.”
That fire suddenly looked far more sinister. “I understand, Master Coen.”
He picked up an iron rod from the fire. “Do you know what this is?”
She shook her head, although she was certain what it was.
“This is a branding iron, Miss Bennett. Our school emblem will be branded on your inner right thigh. Think of it as our seal of approval.”
Brie’s eyes widened in terror. The idea of having her flesh burned in the most sensitive of places was horrifying.
“Rest assured, we take this seriously and will use the safest measures. Your health is not in danger; however, I will not perform the branding without your approval as it is a permanent mark.”
Brie looked at the bright red end of the branding iron. The school crest looked to be about a square inch and a half. Not huge, but it would be noticeable if she wore a bikini. She swallowed hard. Was she willing to be marked like this? She closed her eyes to focus and had a long conversation with herself.
Brie finally came to the conclusion that she was proud to be a graduate of the Submissive Training Center. There were so few in the world that it made her exceptional and worthy of a tattoo—even if it was in the form of a branding. “I’ll do it.”
She noticed a gleam in Master Coen’s eye at her choice. “Very well. Remove all your clothing and lie on the table while I ready things.”
She watched him thrust the iron back into the coals. She shuddered, but started to undress. It seemed surreal, but he was busy taking out rubbing alcohol and rubber gloves. Then he rolled up his sleeves in preparation.
This is really happening…
When she was naked, she went to the table and put her hands on it as support. She hesitated before getting onto the hard, unforgiving piece of furniture.You can do this, Brie.
Master Coen said nothing as he watched. He was extremely patient, apparently understanding how difficult this was for her. She finally pushed herself onto the table and lay down. “Put the soles of your feet together,” he ordered.
She did, and it naturally spread her thighs out, giving him easy access. He put on the rubber gloves and soaked a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol. He spread it liberally over her right inner thigh. The coolness of the liquid made her nipples tighten into hard nubs—of course, her fear also helped. Brie looked up at the ceiling and commanded herself to breathe slowly.Thank goodness for Tono’s training.
“We need to let the alcohol dry fully and allow the iron to heat up,” he commented.
