Finn Ch. 07: Lesson

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Finn’s arms were still weak when he threw the saddle onto his horse. He glanced over his shoulder at his friends saddling their horses in silence. The introduction had gone as he imagined it would, with the exception of the vibration that had kept his mind clouded throughout the majority of the conversation.

He didn’t normally work on Saturdays, but one of the bulls had escaped into a neighboring field. Since his mistress had informed him during breakfast that he would be on his own for the day and not to expect her home before midnight, he had agreed to help push the bull back to the right side of the fence.

“What is it you like so much about this girl?” Trevor asked, finally breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” he replied, buying time so he could think up reasons that didn’t include the way she chained him to whatever she fancied, whipped him, spanked him, and flogged him. Or the way she kissed him, stroked him, violated him and teased him until he was begging and pleading for permission to come.

“I get that she’s hot, but she ain’t like the girls you normally fuck around with,” Trevor said, adjusting his belt as he sauntered towards him.

“Maybe that’s what I like about her.” It was a cliché response, but he still hadn’t been able to pull his mind far enough from her darkness to come up with a vanilla answer.

“He didn’t mean that in a good way,” Ryan butted in, twisting sideways in his saddle to look down at him. “She don’t fit in with us.”

He ran his hand over his neck then continued looping the latigo through his cinch.

“You act like a dog around her,” Trevor prodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And girls with degrees always think they’re somethin’ special,” Conner pointed out.

“You don’t like her because she’s smart and successful?” He knew his friends preferred easier targets, but he had assumed it was only because they never planned on sticking around after they got what they wanted.

“What made you decide this girl’s pussy’s so much better than other girls’ pussies?” Trevor continued. “It ain’t a fuckin’ treasure. It’s just another pussy.”

He pulled his cinch tight then went to grab his bridle out of his truck, ignoring the crass comment.

“If you’re going to insist on continuing this bullshit, she needs to learn how to get along with us,” Trevor said, following behind him.

“You need to learn how to get along with her,” he said, turning around to face him. “You were the one who disrespected her.”

Trevor stared at him for a minute, blocking his path back to his horse. Then he smiled and stepped to the side, glancing momentarily at the other men. “How about I treat you and her to dinner tonight? As an apology,” he offered. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.”

“She has some work to do and won’t be home until late,” he declined.

“Then why don’t we all go to dinner? Finally, a boy’s night!” Johnny chimed in.

“I dunno…” he hesitated, rubbing his hand over his neck.

“You gotta eat!” Johnny pushed.

“We’ll pick you up at seven. Be ready,” Trevor said.


He watched Trevor’s beat up brown Chevy sluggishly make its way up the gravel driveway. Ryan was in the front seat so he climbed into the back. The screen on his phone read seven thirty-eight. “You’re late.”

“Since when did you become obsessed with the time?” Trevor replied, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“I’m not,” he said, running his hand over his neck before glancing at his phone again.

Johnny and Conner were already seated in the booth when they arrived at the restaurant. He slid in next to them and ordered a beer, then waited for the conversation to go south. The other men sat laughing and sipping on their drinks, nobody mentioning his mistress. When the bill came Trevor graciously picked it up and paid for everyone, then they headed out.

“Where are we going?” he questioned when Trevor turned the wrong direction out of the parking lot.

“Andrea invited us to her place for dessert. Be rude to decline,” Trevor replied.

“Drop me off at home first. I’m full and not in the mood for dessert,” he said, touching his neck again while he checked the time on his phone. It was almost nine-thirty.

“You said your girl’s workin’ late so what the fuck’s wrong with goin’ and grabbin’ dessert at a friend’s? We won’t be longer than an hour then you can go home,” Trevor argued.

He sat back against the seat, sighing in defeat. “Where does she live?”

“Just outside of town. She’s renting the second house on the old Murray dairy,” Ryan replied. “And Conner said she has two very fuckable roommates. But you wouldn’t be interested in that piece of information given that you’re currently…attached.”

“Nope,” he replied, looking at his phone again and wondering if she would text him to check in on him even though she never did. He had memorized her number but still hadn’t saved it in his phone because he was undecided what name to put it under. The more time Betturkey he spent with her the more terrified of her name he became. He didn’t like to even think it, and doubted he could force his lips to ever speak it. It was only a safeword for when they played, but he couldn’t get past the fear that somehow if it escaped his lips at any point in time everything including her would evaporate and disappear like it had never happened. And even though it was a ridiculous thought, everything was ridiculous now.

When they pulled up to the old brick milking barn that had been converted into a small house he looked at his phone again before getting out of the truck. Even if it did take a little more than an hour he would still be home before her.

“Hi, boys,” Andrea greeted them when they walked in the house. “Come on,” she said, leading them into the kitchen where Johnny and Conner were already seated with two girls.

He glanced around the small area, noticing the décor included strings of beads as doors and random furniture. Though he had assumed Andrea was younger than them, he hadn’t cared how much younger as long as her age wouldn’t get any of them thrown in jail.

“Try some of my special punch,” Andrea said, shoving a glass in his hand. He sat down at the table and took a small sip of the red drink. It tasted sweet and from what he could tell didn’t contain much alcohol. Like most girly drinks it didn’t even have an after kick.

“You might want to slow down,” Andrea said, grabbing Conner’s arm and pulling the drink away from his mouth.

Conner laughed and jerked his arm out of her grasp, then put the cup back to his lips and gulped down the remainder. “I think I can handle it. What is it, anyway? Hawaiian Punch?” he asked, grabbing the pitcher and pouring himself a refill.

He took a few more sips of his own drink before pulling his phone out of his pocket and setting it down on the table. It was nine-fifty.

At ten-thirty Andrea replaced the empty glass in front of him with a full one. He picked it up then subconsciously touched his neck, only realizing what he was doing when his fingers hit bare skin instead of leather. He had never felt depressed before, but it was the only word he could think of to describe the heaviness weighing down his body.

Logic had been telling him since the day he met her to run away and never look back. But lust, want and wonder all wanted him to run back, back to her house and to her feet. Why did logic always have to contradict the others? What did logic want from him? Was he supposed to be like his friends? He glanced around the table at the alcohol induced grins and drooping eyelids. He took another sip of his drink then rubbed the skin where his collar should be.

What would his friends say if they knew? How would they react if he told them he sat at her feet to eat his meals and she tied him up and put him to bed at a bedtime which was determined by her? What if they saw the marks she made with her flogger or strap? Or worse yet, what if they found out the way she violated him whenever she felt like it, not only with her fingers but now with other objects as well?

He took another sip of the drink, realizing his thoughts were causing a familiar tightness in the crotch of his jeans. How could she have so much self control when he had none? It was unfair.

“I need to go home,” he leaned over and said to Trevor.

Trevor laughed and buried his face in the chest of the girl sitting next to him.

He stood up to go find the bathroom and the whole room moved around him. He stumbled down the hallway, realizing he was more drunk than he had thought. When he stumbled back towards the table Johnny, Ryan and one girl were the only ones still there.

“Where’d everyone go?” he slurred.

“To fuck, as should we,” Ryan laughed, trying to bite the girl’s neck.

She shoved him away and shook her head, then got up to leave the room.

“I need to go home. What time is it?” he replied, searching the table for his phone. “Where the fuck is my phone?” he asked, frantically shoving the glasses and snack plates out of the way.

Ryan shrugged then smiled.

“Where the fuck is my phone?” he shouted, his vision blurring.

“I think Conner maybe took it on accident…” Ryan said, starting to laugh.

“Where the fuck is he?” he yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

They pointed to the hallway and he started stumbling down it, pounding on all the doors. When he reached the last one it was partially open and he stepped inside.

“He’s passed out. I warned him about the punch,” Andrea said, giggling from the bed.

“Need my phone,” he slurred, trying to make the room stop blurring.

“Sorry, I don’t know where it is,” she replied, holding her hands palms up in front of her.

He held onto the wall to try and keep his balance as he staggered back towards the door. Before he reached it his vision started to go black.

“Not you, too. Can anyone around here hold their liquor?” Her giggling Betturkey Giriş was the last sound he heard before he passed out.


“Everyone is here so let’s get started,” Lexa said from her seat on the red throne-like chair. The room went silent at the sound of her voice, not even a swaying chain could be heard.

Morgan pulled the laptop onto her thighs, waiting to begin.

“We’ll start with you,” Lexa said, her eyes on the naked man kneeling at Dany’s feet. “What life have you chosen for yourself?”

“Submissive,” he replied.

She typed his words under the corresponding box on the screen, then waited.

“What are your hard limits?” Lexa asked.

“Male-to-male anal penetration and watersports. And I like cock and ball torture and most other types of pain play, but I’ll use my safeword if I’m reaching my limit,” he replied.

She continued typing, careful not to miss any of his words. It was important to know a submissive’s limitations, though this particular submissive didn’t appear to have very many. But she assumed his list would grow the more he played in the lifestyle. It was impossible to discover all limits in the short amount of time dedicated to training, so most dommes just tried to uncover the main ones.

“What is your safeword?” Lexa asked.

“Red,” he replied.

She typed the common safeword into the laptop, then looked back to the man on his knees.

“Mistress Dante, is there anything you feel we need to know about your trainee before he enters the community as a submissive?” Lexa asked.

“No, Madame Lexi. He’s well behaved, has been properly trained in how to please, and will be an asset to our community,” Dany replied.

“Thank you, Mistress Dante,” Lexa said, then looked down at their new submissive. “Stand up,” she directed.

Dany undid the play collar from his neck and he got up from his knees and walked to the center of the room, then stood before Lexa.

“You have made the decision to be a submissive. As long as you continue to abide by the rules of our community, you will be allowed to participate in community activities. Though during play you have chosen to be the submissive, you will maintain control of who you allow to top you, when you will participate, and what scenes you will participate in. Saying ‘Red’ will put an immediate end to whatever discomfort is being inflicted on you, and the scene will not resume until you say ‘Green.’” Lexa paused her speech, giving the man an opportunity to digest her words.

“Yes, Madame. I understand,” he said, nodding his head.

“All dominants within our community will abide by these rules. However, if you choose to go outside our community, we cannot guarantee that whoever you allow to top you will,” Lexa warned.

She could have given Lexa’s speech herself. All the dominants of the community knew the rules by heart, and it was strongly discouraged by all of them for submissives to participate in activities outside of the community. The outside world was out of their control, and as dominants, control was sacred.

“I have no intention of participating in activities outside of the community, Madame” he replied.

“That is your decision to make,” Lexa reminded him. “Do you have any questions?”

“No, Madame,” he replied.

“Then you are free to go, and always welcome to come back,” Lexa said.

“Thank you, Madame.” He got to his knees and crawled to where she sat. He kissed the top of her boot, then made his way around the room to show the same respect for the other dommes who were present. After he had circled the room, he followed Dany out the door.

Lexa looked to the other man on his knees, sitting patiently at Rachel’s feet. “What life have you chosen for yourself?” she asked.

“Slave, Madame,” he replied confidently.

“Community or personal?” Lexa asked.

“Personal,” he replied.

“Mistress Rain, who will you be giving your trainee to? Or will you be keeping him in your service?” Lexa asked.

“He has requested an opportunity to serve a different domme, so he will be given to Mistress Sophia,” Rachel replied.

Of course he did. Most male slaves were always in search of new experiences and heavier chains. In her experience they were only loyal to their collar, it didn’t matter who’s initials were on it. It was why she didn’t even own a slave collar. She typed his answers onto the screen then paused, waiting for the next question.

“Have you and Mistress Sophia discussed this transaction?” Lexa asked, her eyes moving to Sofie.

“Yes, Madame,” Sofie and Rachel replied in unison.

Her eyes moved away from the screen to Lexa’s husband, sitting quietly at his wife’s feet. He may or may not have been an exception to the rules. Lexa had collared him in private, which was allowed as long as it was consensual and no change in owner was occurring. Lexa had refused to give him up because she had fallen in love with him, even though she knew better. When she asked Lexa why she had Betturkey Güncel Giriş allowed herself to fall in love with a trainee, Lexa asked her what other choice she had when she craved having him inside of her as much as she craved being inside of him.

“What are his limits?” Lexa asked, looking to Rachel.

“Piercing, burning, or any other activity that would permanently mark his skin, autoerotic asphyxiation or any other activities that involve breath control, any gear that covers his entire head, and extreme bondage or mummification. He has issues with hyperventilation and claustrophobia,” Rachel said.

“Is it a medical issue or a mental issue?” she cut in before Lexa could ask another question. She needed to make sure if he had a medical condition it was in his chart. They weren’t in the business of killing slaves.

“Mental,” Rachel said.

She typed the answer into the laptop, then highlighted it in bold red ink. Mental pain could be more devastating than physical pain, and there were many ways to kill a person without actually stopping their heart.

“What is his safeword?” Lexa asked.

“Freedom,” Rachel replied.

She smiled at the irony. His freedom was in his slavery. It was a concept those on the outside would never understand, but those on the inside knew the only time this man felt truly at peace was in his chains. Consensual slavery was a liberating place for those who felt safer on their knees.

“Come, slave,” Lexa commanded.

Rachel unbuckled the collar from his neck and he crawled to the middle of the room, then sat back on his heels and waited.

“You have made the decision to become a slave,” Lexa said, then paused as if to give him an opportunity to take it back.

She looked past the screen to him seated patiently on the floor. He remained silent, his hands folded quietly in his lap while he waited for her to continue. It was difficult for a man to find acceptance in a place of submission. Almost as difficult as it was for a woman to find acceptance in a place of power. But how beautiful he looked, finally agreeing to give up the control he had been taught his entire life to maintain. He was almost as beautiful as a woman who had finally found her place and accepted the control she had been denied so many times in her life.

“This is the last decision you will ever make for yourself, other than if you choose to use your safeword and leave this lifestyle,” Lexa’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You are now living under the rules of consensual non-consent. You will be owned by Mistress Sophia, until a time when she decides to give you to another mistress or master, if that time ever comes.”

“Yes, Madame,” he said, nodding. His appeal to the lifestyle was hardening at her words.

“You no longer have autonomy over your body,” Lexa continued. “Mistress Sophia will decide what is done to it, when, and by who. You will wear a slave collar when deemed appropriate by your new owner, but you will wear a twenty-four/seven collar at all times while you choose to remain a slave. What have you chosen as your twenty-four/seven collar?”

“A shock collar, Madame,” he replied.

She looked at the black band wrapped around the top of his sack, then typed his answer onto the laptop.

“Mistress Sophia,” Lexa started, looking at the redhead, “do you agree to take this slave?”

“Yes, Madame,” Sofie replied.

“Then you agree to abide by all the rules set forth by the community with regard to owning a slave,” Lexa said, then subconsciously began rubbing her fingertips over the back of her own slave’s collar. “You are now responsible for his care and wellbeing. You are responsible for keeping him safe from harm, which includes always showing respect for the hard limits he has expressed today, as well as any he may discover in the future,” Lexa said, sitting up straighter in her seat to drive home her point.

Sofie nodded along with Lexa’s words, already well versed in the regulations surrounding keeping a slave. She currently owned one other, as well as a husband.

“You will not prevent him from making contact with family or spending time with family,” Lexa continued. “His mental health is just as important as his physical health, and you are now accepting responsibility for both. If at any time he says his safeword, you will no longer be in a position of power over him. If at any time you feel you can no longer meet his needs, or no longer feel you are the best owner for him, you will keep him under your care until a new owner is found.”

“Of course, Madame,” Sofie agreed.

“If you break any of these rules, you will be blacklisted from our community, and we will do everything in our power to ensure you never have an opportunity to hold power over another individual again. Do you understand?” Lexa’s final words were harsh, as always. But they were the most important, and also the most feared.

“Yes, Madame,” Sofie replied.


It was just after midnight when she crunched through her gravel driveway past his truck. The moisture dripping down the inside of her thigh reminded her of the benefits of having a man at her service. Too many hours spent tormenting him was leaving her wanting more, and the ache was begging her to let him inside.

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