Breaking Laura

Breaking Laura

A Hollybourne School for Slaves Story

By J.A. Bailey

Copyright 2013 ©J. A. Bailey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Breaking Laura

Laura watched the taxi leave, the long gravel drive crunching as it sped away. She shook her head. Back to school at the age of twenty-eight. Who’d have thought it? She eyed the intimidating building with its gothic architecture and huge windows. So this was Hollybourne School.

Don’t forget the slaves part
. Hollybourne School for Slaves
. She snorted. Under its guise of respectability the grand mansion hid a world of sex and depravity. Her stomach churned as she made her way up the stairs, small suitcase in hand. What had she let herself in for? This had to be the most outrageous assignment she’d ever done.

Before she could knock, the door swung open and she stepped inside, stealing one last glimpse of the outside world.

Blinking, Laura took in her surroundings and the stern woman that stood in front of her.  Well lit and surprisingly modern, the hall reeked of wealth and glamour. Muted shades of gold and bronze mingled with blacks and creams. Two large, sensual sculptures framed the grand staircase and the marble floor gleamed underfoot.

“Laura Montgomery?” The woman peered at her, a good several inches taller.

Roughly middle-aged and attractive, her thick black hair was pulled back into a chignon. Dark make-up accentuated her brown eyes and full lips. Her tight black dress made Laura feel underdressed in her jeans and fitted t-shirt.

The woman thrust out a hand and Laura shook it, surprised by the grip.

“I’m Victoria Pembroke, the headmistress here at Hollybourne,” she greeted in a clipped, efficient tone.

“Nice to meet you.”

Victoria flicked a look at the clipboard in her hand. “We have all your paperwork and your medical test results came back last week so all I need to do is show you around and then I’ll take you to your room and introduce you to the other pupils.”

“Are there many others?” Laura asked, clutching her suitcase to her chest.

Victoria motioned for her to put it to one side and when she clicked her fingers, a butler came hurrying out of a room and took the suitcase upstairs.

“Two other girls.”

“Oh, I thought there would be more of us. Like a normal school, you know?”

A black eyebrow arched as Victoria eyed her. “This is no normal school. We run a very intensive course here and everything we do is customised for each and every sub. It requires time and patience. We could hardly do what we do if we had a rowdy class of girls to deal with. That, my dear, is why Hollybourne School is the best training school in England, if not the world.”

Laura’s cheeks heated. “Of course. No, I know it is. I didn’t mean to imply…” She clamped her mouth shut as Victoria spun on her heels and led her through the house.

“This is the main reception room. You may use this room to relax in the evening. You will have one day off a week – Sunday – and you are very welcome to use any of the facilities here during down time. We have a pool, tennis courts and a spa. You are also welcome to leave the school on Sundays but NOT during the week, is that clear?”

“Of course. No worries.” Laura resisted the urge to glare back as Victoria eyed her coolly. What a bitch.

While Laura was shown much of the house, several of the rooms remained out of bounds, peaking her curiosity. From the discrete brochures she’d been sent – ones that were only sent out after they’d run a security check on her – she knew some of those rooms were for training.

Victoria finally led her upstairs, ushering her into a large room. The dorm. Laura gulped as the heads of two other women snapped in her direction from their beds. Both sized her up before offering her a smile.

The dark-haired woman’s grin widened and she jumped up. “Hi! I’m Simone. So you’re the last of us, eh?”

Laura studied Simone, managing a tight smile. Somewhere in her forties, Simone’s skin was a deep caramel shade, matching her long, dark hair and chocolate eyes. Simone looped an arm around her shoulder and Laura stiffened instinctively. She didn’t do physical contact well.

Victoria nodded curtly. “Right. You have an hour to unpack and get to know one another.  Be downstairs for orientation at 6 p.m. Do not be late,” she warned.

Nodding hastily, Laura allowed Simone to lead her over to the spare bed. Luxurious silk fabrics to match the elegance of the room covered the double beds. The same shades had been used here and the whole place had a sexy vibe.

“You’re Laura?” the other woman said from the bed.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m Charlotte.” She released a small smile. Maybe she was nervous too. Laura’s heart still hammered at a rate of knots.

Sneaking glimpses of Charlotte as Laura unpacked, she concluded she was closer to her own age. Charlotte had a bookish appearance to her but was quite stunning with curling auburn hair and a willowy figure. A stab of guilt pierced through her. These poor women didn’t deserve to be lied to.

Simone threw herself on her bed and observed as she finished unpacking. “What do you make of Victoria then? Think she’ll be a bitch?”

Charlotte barely smothered a giggle as Laura nodded. “Oh yeah, definitely. She has bitch written all over her.”

Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s pretty intimidating, but I suppose it’s her job…to keep us in line.”

“It’ll take more than a bitch to keep me in line,” Simone exclaimed. “That’s why I’m here though. Hopefully I’ll find someone who can.” The woman’s dark eyes roved over Charlotte. “So why are you here?”

“My boyfriend sent me here.” Charlotte’s cheeks heated as she noted the arch of Simone’s eyebrow. “He wants to be my Master,” she added quietly, “and I want to be his slave. I can’t wait…” She sighed.

“Lucky cow,” Simone muttered with a chuckle. “What about you, Laura? You’ve not said much yet.”

Laura shifted on her bed. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said hastily. “I just wanted to…to give it a try, you know?”

“Haven’t you subbed before?” Charlotte asked with a gasp.

Laura sniffed. “A little spanking. I’m not scared.”

“I am,” Charlotte admitted. “If I don’t graduate, I’ll never be the perfect slave.”

“Perfectionist, huh?” Simone injected.

“Maybe.”

Quickly wiping the astonished expression from her face, Laura set about unpacking. The perfect slave? Why the hell would someone want to be a sex slave? Seriously, what the fuck had she got herself into?

***

Orientation took place in one of the reception rooms. They filed in and sat on the three chairs, lined up and facing one wall. Laura finally felt as if she was in school again when Victoria cast her cool gaze over them and stood confidently at the front. A man followed, his large stature catching Laura’s eye.

Dressed in an expensive suit, his arms stretched the fabric to its limit. Easily over six feet tall, his shoulders were wider than any other man she’d seen. His tousled brown hair and stubbled chin along with his glower made Laura nervous. Deep brown eyes locked on to hers and she gulped, wings of trepidation beating in her stomach.

“Right, ladies,” Victoria said sharply. “From this point onwards you are to address me as only Ms. Pembroke or ‘Mistress’. This is the deputy head, Mr Hunter. Address him only as ‘Sir.’” Her brows rose as if daring them to argue. “This course in submission will test you mentally and physically. We are experts at what we do and you will find yourself pushed. We have one main rule here – if you safe-word, you fail. You each chose your safe-words and they are noted in your documentation. Every teacher here is aware of them but I promise you will never need them. Use your safe-word and there will be no graduation.”

Laura gulped and gripped on to the arm of her chair. She needed to graduate. She needed to see this through. If she didn’t she’d be out of a job. Problem was, a bloody sex school was completely the wrong place for someone like her. She sneaked a glance at Mr Hunter and shuddered as his gaze lingered on her.

Hunter.

That sounded about right.

Ms. Pembroke continued, “Lessons will consist of individual and group classes. You will have a mentor assigned to each of you but you will also spend time with each teacher. While we encourage you to bond with your mentor, we do not allow relationships between staff and pupils. Once in class, you do not speak unless instructed and disobedience will be disciplined.”

A thrill trickled down Laura’s spine and her cunt pulsed. It must have been the sexy atmosphere or something as she sure as hell didn’t like the idea of being punished. All that spanking and stuff… no way, not for her. She squirmed, feeling the dampness in her knickers. Why her pussy thought otherwise, she didn’t know.

“Your uniforms are waiting for you in the dorm. You are to wear them between the hours of 9am and 9pm. Dinner will be served in the dining hall in a moment and I expect you to be washed and ready for your first class in an hour. You will also visit the spa every morning for an enema. This is not a request,” Ms. Pembroke added, “but a requirement.”

Sneaking a sideways glance at the two other women, Laura expected to see the same anguished expression. Simone, however, looked as eager as Charlotte to begin. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted with excitement and she wriggled in her chair.

“Your lessons will begin tonight. We will form every part of you, mentally and physically into the perfect sub. Etiquette, discipline, orgasm control will all be covered. Before we start, do you have any questions? Once you start your first class, I will assume that you are happy to continue and this is your last chance to speak freely.”

Laura shook her head as Ms. Pembroke eyed them closely.

“When do we meet our mentors?” Simone asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“And what if we don’t like them?”

“You will,” Ms. Pembroke answered curtly. “Our teachers are highly trained, highly experienced Doms. They have been chosen according to your psychological evaluation. And, quite frankly, you will have no choice but to like them.”

Simone sniggered. “Well that told me.”

“Simone, while you may speak freely now, I suggest you try and behave as a sub should. Then you may not find it so difficult to hold your tongue during class.”

“Yes, Ms. Pembroke,” she muttered.

“Right, anything else? No. Eat and be in west wing reception room at 8pm sharp.”

“Yes, Ms. Pembroke,” they chorused as Mr Hunter cast his severe gaze over them.

Laura gulped. She hoped he didn’t do any mentoring. He scared the hell out of her.

***

Simone whirled into the room, smoothing her hands over her uniform. “Well, ladies, what do you think?”

Laura studied her with a heavy swallow. Simone’s big breasts filled the soft black lace bra perfectly and a strip of lace dipped below her short black skirt. Laura knew that the strip would follow the line of Simone’s pussy, before splitting over her lips and up her arse.

“You look amazing,” Charlotte breathed. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to carry it off as well as you do.”

Laura snorted as she wiggled into hers. “I don’t know if I can get used to being half naked in front of a load of strange men.” Nudity didn’t bother her particularly, but in front of men she didn’t know…or…or Hunter. Christ, what a thought.

“Sweetheart, before long you’ll be dying to be naked in front of all these strange men. From what I hear, these guys are that good that they can make you come just by using their voice.” Simone grinned.

“Wow.” Charlotte breathed.

Come on command? She’d need a miracle worker for that!

As she pulled on her ‘uniform’, her nipples pebbled. She positioned the strips of lace either side of her pussy lips and traced them around her hips, making sure the lace wasn’t twisted before wriggling into her short skirt. They hadn’t been provided heels so Laura assumed they’d remain barefoot. She studied herself in the full length mirror. Well at least her legs and toned stomach looked great in the ensemble. With her long blonde hair and blue eyes, Laura always thought of herself as bit of a
Barbie
doll,
just without the tan and plastic features. She didn’t mind – men liked her appearance.

All three of them made their way to the west wing well before eight and waited patiently. The nerves fluttered in her stomach as Hunter approached, looking as sombre as ever. He barely glanced at their uniforms but Laura still had to fight the urge to smooth her skirt. He held a crop in one hand.

Fuck.

He pressed past them, opening a door and indicating inside with his crop. “Hands behind your backs. Eyes lowered,” he said in gruff tones.