The College: Receiving An Education


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The College: Receiving An Education by S.M. Ackerman

A doorway into the life of the submissive and a guide into the world of the dominant. The subjection and torment will be both exquisite and unpredictable. A recently married couple; he a confirmed and experienced submissive, she a vanilla novice, who is initially shocked by his desires but determined to understand, yet believes that she is failing to satisfy her new husband.
A corporate run training college for Subs and Mistresses, a college designed to further the aims of its owner. By offering training in domination and subjection, to those that require education or clarification. The newly married couple learn to come to terms with exactly what and who they are, within the strict control of the college and its experienced staff of dominatrix, under the guidance of the corporation’s Madam.

With world domination being the only possible desire of both sisters, which sister will achieve her aim and by what method, which madam will rule which will lose everything.
S.M. Ackerman, author of Madam in Attendance, A New Life and Chloe & Me, strikes at us with mental confusion (both sexual and physical); hidden agendas, with both concealed and obvious plots and sub plots. All encompassing educative depravity of all types.

The story details the experiences of the main characters in an erotic, highly deviant, entertaining and thought provoking set of scenarios in The College: Receiving An Education.

Includes: Female domination, male submission, female worship, oral sex, BDSM, humiliation and so much more!

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Weight 0.99 lbs
Artist Credit

Cover Art © AlexAnnaButs –

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Around the door-edge I could vaguely see the straight almost drawn crack through which light from a dingy bulb passed, there to vaguely illuminate my misery. I am nearly naked, bound hand and foot to a cold, metal framed and thin mattress covered bed. Locked in a stall, captive within a stable held and secured against any desire I might have to obtain my freedom. I am alone, accompanied only by my flitting thoughts, and the rattle of my bonds, as I ease my tired muscles. My day has been exerting to say the least.

My name is Ellie and my back still bears witness to the lightening fire gifted to me by the long dressage whip, which had been used to encourage perfection of motion. Done with I am pushed from sight, relegated to memory, held securely whilst my captors enjoy peace and relaxation somewhere else. A forgotten toy left to my own very limited devices, until the time to play with me arrives again. Probably that time will be when the daylight returns and night has passed. Then I will be required, used and trained, in the search for human slave perfection.

The dim light vanishes as though at the click of a switch, deep bleakness swarms into my thoughts; the light without me knowing it had illuminated my mood, granted me by its meagre presence a feeling of existence. Even with my eyes wide open I was now blind; the black of night has grasped hold of my cell and swamped away any little reassurance. How, I wonder, have I got myself into this situation? How has my pleasant life been traded away for this captivity and torment?

The ‘how’ I realise is quite easy to explain. I had been recognised by experts for what I am and I had been manipulated into the groove in which my life now resides. Gone is all that once had seemed so important to me. Gone is my submissive husband and gone, I hope, but not forever, is my pleasant vanilla lifestyle. All have been replaced by these leather cuffs, with which I am bound, and the caress of the whip.

My lovely clothes, which when I had first been given them had seemed excessively generous and had pleased me so immensely, all have been taken away from me, as easily as they had been provided. Only to be replaced with a slaves costume at best and degrading nakedness mostly.

I discover that being isolated in both the black of night, and a silence akin to the dead, only stimulates my brain to think; all that I have ever been floods my thoughts, tumbling like wind blown papers in a hurricane, filling me up and driving order away. I have to sort things out for myself; place a little order back into my life. I begin to picture the events which led to this my relegation into slavery.

My wedding had gone exactly as planned. We had been married in a Registry Office Service. My husband, I liked the sound of that both then and now, my husband had been previously married which ruled out a church wedding. At that point of our relationship I didn’t really know a lot about his ex, he wasn’t exactly secretive about her, just non-communicative. Thinking back I realise that I know little of his previous life. I had gotten caught up by my naivety. Amidst the whirlwind which had been our short relationship, now is the time I remember thinking, to learn and grow, to develop our joint lives and interests to enjoy the ties of my love and marriage.

We had met without fanfare; I had just ended my one and only previous relationship, which regretfully had lasted less than a single month. Roger, my ex. I smiled at the thought of him seeing me now, a captive. He would love my predicament I am sure, he had been just too much the domineering demanding male for me to like, or for that matter cope with at that time. Everything had to be done his way, and that just wasn’t me, then.

Peter on the other hand had seemed refreshingly quiet and refreshingly amicable. He had wined and dined me, entertained me and generally shown genuine respect for me. His proposal had been a bit of a shock, but I said ‘yes’, so there I was, alone in a hotel bathroom, aged twenty-three, just married, and in a foreign country, fixing my makeup whilst wearing an ivory three quarter length night dress and no knickers.

I had left Peter in the bedroom, saying that I would not be overly long. Probably, I thought, he would be sitting or lying on the bed waiting my return. Taking a deep breath, I opened the bathroom door, and feigning confidence I walked into our bedroom. Peter was over by the wardrobe his back to me, fiddling with his jacket. Hastily he closed the door and turned with a huge smile on his face and an even more evident bulge in his shorts. Clearly he was very excited.

Our wedding night had been a bit of a disappointment, no sooner had he rather clumsily entered me; than his excitement had taken over, quickly he had spurted, thus ending our first copulation. For the following few minutes he had apologised time after time, despite my attempts at calming reassurance. I must have told him thirty times that it didn’t matter, but he still kept on apologising. Finally, he had fallen asleep leaving me feeling wet and if I am honest very frustrated. I remember slipping from the bed and going into the bathroom again, primarily so as not to disturb him.

I sat on the toilet with my nightdress hitched up waiting for my urine flow to come, thinking it would be the only thing that would tonight. I could still feel the heat off his seed as it settled within me, what goes up must come down, as the urine flow finally arrived to splash into the toilet bowl. Questions flooded my mind; why was he so excited? It’s your wedding night you idiot, I chided. After all he had not been lying naked on the bed with a huge erection, had he? No, he had been standing by the wardrobe fumbling in his jacket, like some naughty boy caught out playing with himself and trying to hide the fact.

One thing led to another and curiosity overwhelmed me. I decided to investigate, but quietly so as not to disturb him. Some chance, he was flat out on his back snoring gently. The covers were by his feet I noticed, my eyes wandered to his deflated cock, nestling on his balls, deeply surrounded by dark male hair. Next time you are going to please me, I remember telling myself, before turning away towards the now closed wardrobe.

The door creaked as I eased it open, but as I had thought, he didn’t stir. I reached inside and took out his jacket then returned to the bathroom. Once again sitting on the toilet, I rifled the side pockets, nothing. What’s this in the inside pocket? I had found a book. Pulling it out I was more than a little shocked to see that the front cover was plain black, the title was even more shocking, ‘Domination’ the title blazed out at me in thick gold script.

For a second or two anger swelled, clearly I realised from the worn pages, he had read this book a few times; what I wondered did it bode for our relationship. Was this the reason that his previous marriage had lasted so little time? Was he violent, perhaps a sadist or worse? The questions piled up in my mind, my best source for answers was of course Peter himself, but that wasn’t my only option. Perhaps I should read the book and find out more, reading it would offer an insight into what I had gotten myself into.

Life could be quite comical, I thought, if it wasn’t so damned worrying. What a picture I painted should Peter find me. I was sitting knickers less on the toilet, and on my wedding night, with my new husband sound asleep, I believe, with his deflated cock on show, reading his tatty erotic paperback book which I had removed from his jacket pocket. By the second page, the book had opened up a completely new world of strange and odd ideas. I noted that certain pages had been marked with an ink line between chapters. A quick flick showed that Peter had picked out the beginning and end of certain chapters. I decided that it would be best to start at the beginning rather than at the marked pages, so turning again to page one, I began to read.

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