What To Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection Part Two (140 page)

When Brie finished, she looked up and asked, “Mr. Gallant, can I ask you a personal question?”

He looked up from his book and replied, “You can ask, but I don’t guarantee I will answer.”

“Are you a Dominant?”

“Yes.”

I knew it!
“May I ask another question?”

“Same rule applies.”

“Understood.” Brie couldn’t help blushing when she spoke. “Why don’t you have training sessions with the students?”

Mr. Gallant put his fingertips together in a thoughtful pose, considering his reply before answering her. “I don’t normally share my personal life, Miss Bennett. However, I will as long as you keep it between us.” When she nodded, he continued, “I have a monogamous relationship with my submissive, who also happens to be my wife.”

His answer melted Brie’s heart. “Thank you, Mr. Gallant.”

“I take it you are finished with the packet.”

She held it up and smiled. “I am. It was quite eye-opening, to say the least. I’ve changed a lot.”

He returned her smile. “I quite agree, Miss Bennett. Please hand it to me and start on your journal.” He looked at the clock and added, “You only have twenty minutes. Use the time wisely.”

Brie grinned at his little reminder. Too many times, she had gotten too caught up in the backstory to fully describe her fantasy. That was
not
going to happen tonight.

She opened the luxurious book. Mr. Gallant had had them record many delightful fantasies onto those beautiful gold-lined pages over the past six weeks. Fantasies she would be able to share with her Master… The burglar and the helpless housewife. The pirate and the virgin. The big, bad wolf and Little Red Riding Hood. The sheik and the slave girl. And now she was about to add another—one with a little more bite. She picked up her special journaling pen and began to pour out her thoughts. She kept the backstory painfully short, not wanting to chance running out of time.

Backstory—16
^th
century King, innocent daughter of a destitute royal.

****

I am frightened. I know I have been sent to the King as a peace offering. This is my father’s desperate attempt to stave off the creditors. If the King accepts me, my family will continue to live at the manor. If not, we will be left homeless with no title and no means of support.

I pinch my cheeks one more time, hoping he will find the blush on my cream complexion appealing. I am escorted before the King, who is busy devouring a lavish meal. My stomach growls and a real blush creeps over my face.

My stately King looks up from his plate. “Is this the one?”

“She is, Sire.”

“Looks a little too young and untried. Not what I want tonight. Take her away.”

I blurt out, “I may be untried, my Lord, but I am willing.”

He gives me a second glance. “Willing? What does that really mean coming from a little girl? You know not what you propose.” He motions me away, but I am determined.

“I am yours, my Lord, to use as you please.” I bow before him in complete supplication.

“I will not be gentle or kind,” he warns.

“Let me please you, my King.”

He snorts in amusement. “So be it.” He points to the old servant holding the flask of wine beside him. “Pleasure him with your mouth while I watch.”

My heart beats fiercely as I approach the servant. I have never given oral pleasures before and have no idea how to go about it. My King takes the wine flask from the stunned man and laughs as he sets it down on the table. “Been a long time, has it, Thomas?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Good. Then this shouldn’t take long.” My King looks at me and says drolly, “Go on, girl. Please your King.”

I fumble at untying the man’s trousers and I hear my King chuckle unkindly. I pull down his pants, along with his undergarments, and am shocked at the largeness of his staff. I’ve never seen one before and find it intimidating.

“Go on, child,” my King commands, pushing me down on my knees before the old servant.

I open my mouth hesitantly and stick out my tongue, licking the end of his member. It twitches and I back away. I can hear the dissatisfied grunt of my King and quickly recover from my shock. I lick it again and a bitter taste fills my mouth. I do not retreat. Instead, I lick it more eagerly.

“Take him in your mouth.”

With my heart pounding, I open my lips and the old man’s shaft fills my mouth. My cry is muffled when he pushes himself in deeper.

“That’s it. Suck his staff with that virginal mouth until he comes.”

The old man grabs my head and starts thrusting his member harder and harder. I know my King is watching so I moan, holding the thick member with one hand. Suddenly, the rigid member begins pulsing in my mouth. The old man groans loudly as copious amounts of bitter fluid burst forth from his manhood.

“Swallow it all,” my King commands.

I swallow without question, distressed when some of the liquid escapes my lips. The servant pulls his shaft from my mouth with a satisfied sigh. I wipe the extra from my mouth, but my King growls, “I said swallow it all.”

I lick my hands, making sure to clean off all of the bitter liquid.

My King sits back in his chair and smiles wickedly at me. “That was entertaining, but I am not convinced you are worthy.”

While Thomas pulls up his trousers, I bow to my King. “How may I prove myself, Lord?”

“I assume you are a virgin.”

“Yes, my King.” I am completely prepared to sacrifice my virginity to my sovereign.

But he surprises me when he says, “You shall give your maidenhood to my priest. That would entertain me on so many levels.”

I gasp at his audaciousness, but dutifully answer, “It would be my pleasure, my Lord.”

He snaps his fingers. “Get young Father Christopher. Tell him… Tell him I have a special assignment only my priest can perform.”

I watch with frightened curiosity as the soldiers leave to retrieve the priest…

“Miss Bennett.”

Brie looked up from her journal and pouted.

“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.

She bit her lip and sighed.

“You are in good company, Miss Bennett. In the world there are less than five hundred submissives who wear this mark.”

Brie nodded. If almost five hundred women had survived this, she would too. “Master Coen, could you explain the crest? I want to know what I am being branded with.”

“Certainly. The two letter symbols are Alpha and Omega. The Alpha stands over the Omega. The collar represents submission and the heart-shaped lock is a reminder it is given in love. The words are Respect, Obey, Submit.”

“I like that,” she said.

“Good, as it will be burned into your skin.”

Master Coen was
not
helping. Brie remained silent, psyching herself up for the fearsome ordeal. But she was distracted as Master Coen began binding her feet, and then her thighs, moving up to her wrists last. “It is imperative that I prevent any movement.”

He picked up a blindfold. “This will make it easier. In the past it was done without, but submissives find it helpful.”

Brie willingly lifted her head and let him cover her eyes. Suddenly it felt more real. She was bound and blind, waiting for the brand to burn into her skin. Part of her wanted to scream out the safe word, but she knew she would not. She was in it to the end—fear would not win over her determination.

“I am marking your skin so that I get it in the right spot.” Her loins contracted in horror as a marker glided over her skin in a circular pattern. She bit on her lip harder, concentrating on the pain rather than what was about to occur.

“I must ask a final time. Do you want to be branded?”

‘Want’ is not the right word. ‘Willing but terrified’ is more like it.
She nodded.

“No, I must hear words.”

Brie’s voice trembled. “I want the branding.”

“It shall be done.”

She heard him messing with items on the table and then the sound of the iron rod as he hit it against the edge of the metal brazier, presumably to knock the ashes off. “When I am about to apply the brand, I will tell you to breathe out. Take a deep breath now and hold it.”

Brie inhaled deeply and held it in. Her rapidly beating heart protested, wanting her to let it out. She felt the heat of the brand next to her skin. Dangerously close and blistering hot.

“Breathe out.”

She let out the breath just as the intense heat seared her. She heard the sound of her sizzling skin and screamed, almost blacking out. Master Coen removed the brand and put it back in the fire. “How do you feel, Miss Bennett?”

She didn’t hold back the tears. “It hurts!”

“Would you like to see it?”

She nodded and felt him untying the blindfold. Master Coen helped her sit up. Brie took a deep breath before she looked.

The creamy skin of her right thigh was unmarked. She shook her head and looked at the left one. There was nothing on either. She looked up at Master Coen questioningly.

“The power of the mind.”

When he untied her wrists, Brie hesitantly caressed the skin of her thigh, not quite believing she hadn’t been branded because she could still feel the aftereffects of it on her skin.