Page 22
It’s you!
J ust like that, Mr. Onassis has my undivided attention, and I get ready to take down some serious notes. I don’t want to fail this assignment.
“There are those outside the BDSM community who believe that submission is simply a sexual act. But submission goes far deeper than that. It is an act of surrender and respect. Every movement, every word, and even your gaze should convey respect for your Dominant. For teaching purposes, you will be expected to keep your gaze cast downward tonight unless you are being directed to do so by the partner you are paired with.
“That means that when you leave my classroom, you will make no eye contact in the presence of the trainers or any other person you happen to meet in the hallways. However, you are still expected to turn your head towards the Dominant or trainer if they are addressing you, so they know you are actively listening.”
He walks down the aisle between the tables. “It’s important to note that every Dominant has their personal preference. Although this may be a common expectation of submissives, outside this school setting, the only thing that matters is the rules you and your Dominant agree upon. Is that understood?”
We reply in unison, “Yes, Mr. Onassis.”
“Your first session tonight will center on practicing body language. Every part of your body should express submission to your Dom. Not just your eyes, but something as simple as the placement of your hands.”
Velvet Eyes raises her hand and waits to be called on. “Why is that important?”
Mr. Onassis folds his arms and stares at her. “What is my body language telling you right now?”
“You’re not happy with my question?”
He chuckles. “Far from it, Miss Robinson. You correctly picked up on the signal that I was projecting.”
I smile to myself, figuring that I’ll be an expert at this. I’m good at reading body language because of my lifelong habit of people watching. There’s just so much you can tell about a person, based on signals they give away that they are not even aware of.
Returning to the front of the class, Mr. Onassis tells us, “You must remain acutely aware of your stance, your hands, your lips, and even the tilt of your head. Ask yourself if your body language is communicating openness, respect, and willingness to please. If not, make the necessary adjustments.”
Taking his words to heart, I sit up straighter in my chair and relax my brow, which tends to crinkle whenever I’m concentrating hard on something.
“In addition, every movement you make should be thoughtful and alluring—whether you are kneeling before your Dom or simply cleaning off a table after a scene.”
If I want to be successful with this, I’ll have to imagine that I am in a movie where everything I do is being watched and recorded.
“You also need to avoid making movements and gestures to attract the attention of other Dominants,” he continues. “It is considered a sign of disrespect, unless you have been directed to do so by your Dom.”
Michelle raises her hand.
“Yes, Mrs. Adams.”
“What kind of movements, specifically?”
“In the novels you read, what does the heroine do when she flirts with a conquest?”
Michelle grins. “She might catch his gaze from across the room or play with a lock of her hair. If she’s really serious, she’ll stick out her chest and lick her lips suggestively.”
“There. You have your answer.”
Michelle glances at the others, looking pleased with herself.
“Controlling your movements signifies to your Dominant and others that you value their governance. But the words you choose are equally important. When answering your Dominant, it is common to answer in a positive manner, even if you are indicating a ‘no’. Like many cultures around the world, the word ‘no’ is considered impolite. So, rather than saying ‘no’, you would answer with, ‘Only if it pleases you’. That will indicate your preference but will also allow your Dominant to make the final decision.
“If your answer is ‘yes’, you answer with a simple ‘yes’ or the more polite version, ‘If it pleases you’.”
“What if you don’t care?” Russo asks, remembering to raise his hand first.
“If you are neutral about the matter, saying ‘As you say’ would be an acceptable answer.
I diligently write down all three answers and chuckle to myself, imagining people on the streets of New York speaking that way to each other.
When the bell sounds, Mr. Onassis stands at the door. “Head to Room 1042 and be aware that you will be judged on how well you adhere to what you’ve learned.”
Heeding his advice, I immediately lower my eyes. I’m afraid this may be particularly challenging for me, because I’m a natural-born observer. Looking at people is the only way I know how to navigate social interactions.
When we reach Room 1042, Headmaster Wallace is standing outside the door and orders, “Remove your shoes whenever you enter this room and leave them near the door before entering.”
The atmosphere among the students is more subdued and respectful than it was last night. I quietly slip off my heels and join the others in line, struggling not to look directly at the trainers sitting at the table.
It’s disconcerting for me not to be able to read their facial expressions.
To calm myself, I covertly glance about the room with my eyes lowered and notice that this room is well-lit and has mirrored walls much like the elevator. It makes me wonder if the ceiling might be mirrored, too.
This should be fun…
I hear Pixie Girl enter the room and say in a teary voice to our headmaster, “Mr. Onassis instructed me to apologize for disrupting this class. I won’t let it happen again.”
“See that you don’t, Ms. Foster,” Headmaster Wallace replies, ignoring her tears. “Take off your shoes and join the others.”
Unlike earlier, she is quick to obey and hurries to get in line.
I wonder what Mr. Onassis said to her?
“Today, we will be covering movement. You will learn to kneel, present, and rest.”
I perk up when I hear the word “present” and wonder what that means in this context. However, I’m far too shy to ask and remind myself that I’ll find out soon enough.
“To gauge your level of understanding, kneel on the floor now,” Dono Marcelo commands.
The two students on either side of me immediately kneel on the floor. Needing to keep my eyes down, I can’t actually see what everyone else is doing, so I kneel in the classic subservient pose I’ve seen in movies. Pressing my forehead against the floor, I stretch out my arms in front of me.
I hear the movement of the chair as Headmaster Wallace stands up and walks to our line. “Mr. Nash, that is an acceptable pose. Mrs. Adams, do not giggle and lower your chin.”
I smile. Michelle’s enthusiasm is adorable.
“Ms. Foster, close your legs when you are in a public setting. Miss Diaz, straighten your back.”
When he reaches me and remains silent, I get nervous. “Miss Lane, that is an extreme pose.”
I hear Beefcake snicker down the line. Headmaster Wallace leaves me to walk over to him. “Your commentary is not appreciated, nor will it be tolerated. Remain here after this practicum.”
“Yes, Headmaster,” he answers humbly, but I can feel his ire radiating toward me from here.
Headmaster Wallace returns to me and continues as if nothing happened. “Sit up on your heels with your knees together, and your hands behind your back.”
I lift my head off the floor, feeling like an idiot as I reposition myself.
“Perfect,” he states and moves on to the next student.
It’s amazing how that one word from him instantly removes my feelings of embarrassment. I sit there in this pose, feeling oddly empowered, as he continues down the line critiquing each student.
Once he’s finished, he orders, “Turn toward the mirrors and experiment with different kneeling positions until you find one that looks sensual but feels comfortable for you. This will be your resting pose.”
I turn around to face my reflection. After experimenting with a few different positions, I return to the pose that the headmaster suggested. Although I like how having my hands clasped behind my back emphasizes my chest, it isn’t a pose I could hold for a long time.
Instead, I rest my hands at my sides. Staring in the mirror, I remember Mr. Onassis saying that every part of my body should reflect openness. Keeping my arms close to my sides, I lift my forearms slightly and turn my palms upward. Consciously relaxing the muscles of my face, I stare forward and like what I see. It’s an inviting pose that is still modest and comfortable.
Lord Murray commands, “Decide on a position and take it now.”
I remain exactly as I am.
“You will stay in this position until we return.”
Michelle giggles excitedly.
He barks, “No one is allowed to utter a sound until our return!”
I watch in the mirror as all four trainers exit the class, and we hear the door shut. The room is full of nervous energy as we patiently wait for the four to come back. But the excitement of this challenge quickly wanes as the ten of us kneel in silence.
I hear someone sneeze and notice others having to adjust their positions as the minutes draw out. My knees start to ache, but I refuse to change my resting position.
Choosing not to listen to my complaining body, I think about food instead. One of my favorite desserts is May Day Mille-feuille. When I was a kid, we had an old woman across the street who would give out a slice of it to any child who brought her flowers on the first day of May.
Her dessert was a delicious piece of art…
Made with layers of the lightest puff pastry I’ve ever had, she crammed each delicate layer with waves of vanilla whipped cream and topped it with billows of even more cream and a line of freshly sliced strawberries.
My stomach growls loudly just thinking about it, and that causes several people to chuckle quietly. “Sorry,” I automatically respond.
I shake my head afterward, quietly dying of embarrassment.
What seems like eons later, the four trainers return and sit down. Mistress Kim instructs us to rise and get back in line.
“Miss Lane, is there something you want to tell the panel?”
I close my eyes, groaning inside. Fortunately, I remember not to look up when I turn my head in her direction. “I spoke while you were out of the room.”
“Why did you defy a direct order?” she demands.
“I…didn’t mean to.”
“Explain yourself.”
I can taste the humiliation of that moment when I share, “I was thinking about food and my stomach growled, so I blurted ‘sorry’ out loud.”
No one dares utter a peep, but I can only imagine the looks on their faces.
“You must have a vivid imagination,” Lord Murray comments. Because I can’t see his expression, I’m unable to tell if he is teasing me or being serious.
But Beefcake can’t contain himself and bursts out in a strangled laugh.
“Your attendance in this course is in question, Mr. Nash,” Lord Murray states.
It’s amazing how quickly the weenie falls silent when he hears that.
Thankfully, Headmaster Wallace steers the discussion away from me. “Overall, we were impressed by the dedication shown by each of you. While we noticed a few struggling to keep their kneeling position, you did an adequate job following our instructions.”
His observation makes it obvious that there are hidden cameras set up in this room, and it makes me wonder if every room has them.
Unsure if I will be facing punishment for failing their test, I let out a nervous breath when Dono Marcelo speaks. “Now that you have practiced your resting position, your Doms for this practicum will instruct you on the other basic positions. We will be observing how well you take instructions. Now, return to your resting position and wait.”
I’m quick to obey his command, and listen breathlessly when he claps once and our new partners enter the room. Forcing myself to keep my gaze downward, I’m curious what new surprise the trainers have planned for us.
With my limited line of vision, I can see someone standing in front of me. He’s wearing expensive brown leather dress shoes and khaki dress pants. Placing a finger under my chin, he tilts my head up. Time stops when we look into each other’s eyes.
He chuckles. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”
I cry out. “It’s you!”
Memories of our two brief encounters involving taxis come rushing back. I’d always wondered if I would recognize him if we met again. But tonight, I have the luxury of studying his face in detail.
His brown wavy hair is pulled back, exposing his strong jawline and full lips. This beautiful man has a clean-shaven face, the perfect nose, and I see that his eyes are the color of sea glass. He looks incredibly handsome dressed in a white dress shirt with a leather belt that matches the color of his shoes.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
The masculine energy pouring from him short-circuits my brain just like the first time. Mute, I gaze up at him and shake my head slightly.
The playful smirk on his lips sends pleasurable shivers down my spine. “Should I give you one?”
I smile and nod.
He tilts his head to the side as he studies me thoughtfully. “Jewel.”
I feel butterflies in my stomach when I hear the name he’s chosen.
Holding out his hand, he helps me to my feet. Guiding me to an area away from everyone else, he says, “You may call me Leōn.”
“Leōn,” I repeat, his name rolling off my tongue like poetry.
“Are you ready to learn my preferences, jewel?”
Thoroughly captivated by him, I answer in a playful tone, “If it pleases you…”