You have been here many times, but the excitement and anticipation has never lessened. There is nothing that distinguishes this building from the others on the block. The area is not seedy or rundown. It is not a warehouse or a red light district. The buildings along the street are relatively identical in style and façade. Simple signs hang from eaves or on placards posted beside dark oak doors: Walthers and Pitchard, CPAs; Stevenson’s Rare Books; Roberto’s Art Gallery; and Miss Sinclair’s School of Etiquette.
The cars that fill the parking lots between the buildings are all foreign and expensive. The streets are litter-free. The curved green streetlamps have no burned out bulbs. There are no shady characters hanging around, no derelicts or prostitutes. The men and women who are walking along the block at night belong there, as Miss Sinclair’s School of Etiquette is an exclusive school open from 5:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m.
The dark oak door to Miss Sinclair’s is heavy and leads to a utilitarian reception area with beige walls, beige carpeting, and beige furniture. A beige wood door with a gold door handle is on the opposite side of the room. A stern-looking woman in a severe beige suit sits tall behind a beige partition. She does not ask for a name. There is a subtle buzz of a lock being released, and the beige door with the gold handle swings inward with a gentle push.
A short hall in the same beige of the reception area leads past a coat check window to a curtain of black velvet strips. The dark thrum of gothic classical music seeps beneath the curtain into the hall.
The round, heavy tones of a cello and a bassoon increase in volume as He and you pass the velvet curtain into the school proper. The main room resembles a nightclub. Set is sconces hanging on the walls are orange-gold lights that flicker like candles. Round black tables with two black armless chairs each are scattered around the dark cheery oak paneled room and surrounding a small stage that juts out ten-feet from the back wall. Brighter light shines down on the stage, glinting off the metal shackles affixed to the cross board standing vertical center-stage. In the middle of each table is a black whicker basket of foil wrapped condoms and a pump bottle of lubricant. A black dispenser of surgical gloves and a second dispenser of dental dams sit beside the basket. Red plastic peeks from beneath the lid of a small black metal bucket and caps off the centerpiece. Women dressed in black and white maid uniforms, their hair tucked beneath white caps, keep the black asphalt tile of the flooring clean. Men dressed as butlers bring drinks to the tables from the bar window.
Another curtain of black velvet strips separates the school proper from the individual lesson rooms. There are twenty lesson rooms in total, eight on the main floor and twelve upstairs. Unisex restrooms are located on both levels and a door leading to an enclosed, grassy courtyard is at the end of the first floor hall. The lesson rooms are numbered and a uniformed attendant is seated at a desk just past the curtain. He is slender, waspish, and wears gold spectacles as he consults a large ledger on the desk in front of him. A telephone, clock, and box with twenty-one numbered switches on it are the only other items on the desk. He looks at the clock, flicks a switch, and soon after, the corresponding room empties. He uses the twenty-first switch and an uninformed janitor comes to clean the room. The janitor pushes a cart filled with hermetically sealed replacement items. The school uses surgical cleaning equipment for sanitation of all learning implements.
Behind the attendant is a door that leads to a unisex locker room with showers. Benches run down every row. All students have their own gleaming black locker. The lockers are tall and wide enough to hold an assortment of clothing and props. It is here that you assume the role He desires.
Tonight, He wishes you to be a puppy dog. Obedience is the lesson. He informs you that you may no longer speak and instructs you to remove your clothing. Your street clothes are put into a plastic grocery bag and set in the locker. You are given hard plastic kneepads. Your socks and workboots are put back on under order. Surgical gloves cover your hands.
From the locker, He removes a pair of dog-ears on a headband. The ears are brown and stick up from the headband. The tips are rounded and flop over. The headband is snug on your skull, hooking behind your ears, but you must be careful not to knock it off.
The tail is next. Ten centimeter-wide, ten-inch strips of brown leather are attached to a handle. The bulbous, hard plastic handle is thin near the top and wide at the bottom. He puts on a surgical glove and pumps lubricant onto his gloved hand. He coats the tail handle and tells you to turn around.
The lube is cold, the handle an almost painful stretch as its pushed past the tight ring of your sphincter. The bulbous end anchors the tail inside you. Your ass feels full. He wiggles the tail, making sure it will not slip out. Your penis begins to harden. He combs his ungloved fingers through the tail ‘hair’, neatening it. He discards the glove in a nearby receptacle and has you face Him again.
A collar is next. It is made of brown nylon and fastens at any length. Two fingers are slipped between the collar and your neck to ensure it doesn’t hamper your breathing and swallowing. The chain leash hooks onto a ring attached to the collar.
He grabs between your legs, massaging your semi-aroused member into full erection. Your cock is average and juts out from your body. It curves slight to the left. The mushroom head pokes out of the hood. Your balls are heavy and lightly furred. The same color hair that surrounds your genitals dusts your legs and arms. You have no chest hair, your coral-colored nipples sticking out from the coolness of the locker room.
He looks you over from head to toe, kisses you briefly on the lips, and tells you to get on your knees. You stop thinking and fall into the role given to you. The kneepads click on the tiled floor as you drop. He pats your head, closes the locker, picks up the looped end of the leash, and you crawl after Him as He leaves the locker room.
He stops at the desk and the attendant gives Him a time and room number before continuing on, past the velvet curtain into the main room. He chooses a table near the front of the stage. You kneel at His feet. He orders a drink from a passing butler. On the stage sitting on a chair, a woman dressed as a man is spanking a man dressed as a little girl in pink frills, lying across her lap. The little girl’s ass is dark purple. The show is almost finished.
The drink comes, and He absently pets you as He sips the hard liquor. The show on the stage ends. You watch as the woMan leads the little girl off stage. A gentleman dressed in a green suit sitting at one of the tables beckons the pair over. Money exchanges hands and the man in the green suit leads off the little girl to the lesson rooms. The woMan sits at the table and orders a drink using the money sHe’d just been paid.
The school proper is filled with patrons in various modes of dress: men as women, women as men; pony slaves; puppy dogs; leather dominatrixes and subs; and men and women in regular suits and dresses. There are people in chastity belts, corsets, diapers, full latex, or nothing at all. Many are participating in sexual activity of some sort. In one corner, a sub is being gang banged as her Mistress watches. At another table, a man is being finger-fucked by another man. A table of women is sitting on their pantyboys while they chat.
The stage is not empty for long. A young woman with upswept blond hair, wearing white gloves and an ankle-length Victorian dress in powder blue with hundreds of tiny pearl buttons running down the corset in back, leads her dog onto the raised dais by the leash. The dog is a bitch, her tits swaying as she crawls to the front of the stage. Surgical gloves cover her hands and her knees are protected by hard black plastic kneepads. Her black tail is short, solid, and curved upward. Her ears are long and floppy, like a beagle, emerging from her chin-length raven hair. She is also muzzled, the leather straps and gleaming silver buckles visible over her hair.
The Victorian woman asks the audience if there is a dog willing to fuck her bitch. You are volunteered. You look at Him as He unclips your leash. He tells you that you may come before sheathing your erection with a condom and shooing you to the stage.
You crawl between the tables, up the steps, and onto the stage. The Victorian woman unhooks the bitch’s leash and nods her permission to you. Your kneepads click on the stage as you move behind the bitch. She glances back at you, her brown eyes bright with anticipation above her muzzle. You mount her without hesitation, your covered cock sliding into her cunt after a few false pokes, her tail bending under you.
Your chest is flush to her back and your arms are on either side of hers. You press your cheek to the meaty part of her shoulder. You can see people watching: the woMan, the finger-fuckers, Him. You hump the bitch like the dog you are, your pelvis slapping against the curve of her bare ass. Her cunt is hot, but loose. The Victorian woman urges you faster, harder. You don’t really enjoy it, but inevitably come anyway.
You hold the condom – a human allowance in the dog role – and pull out. The Victorian woman calls her bitch to her. You look to Him and He beckons you back to his side.
Down stairs is difficult on all fours. You crawl to Him between the tables of patrons near the stage. He parts His legs and pats the inside of His thigh when you reach Him. You kneel up and rub your cheek against His inner leg. He unzips His pants, pulls His hard cock free, and rolls a condom on. He cups the back of your head and tugs.
You bow your head and lap at the condom-covered shaft. The condom has no taste, but you are used to it. You open your mouth wide, cover your teeth with your lips, and take Him in. You suck and release, inching closer to the base with each bob of your head. You feel the veins and blood pulsing in His cock under your tongue. You relax your throat when the covered cockhead hits your gag reflex. You swallow Him completely, nose pressing to the prongs of the zipper track. You drool as your throat muscles massage Him. He bucks up against your face. You’re proud to cause that reaction from Him.
He holds the back of your skull, taking control and thrusting into your mouth. You close your eyes, time your breaths, and enjoy the bump and slide of His shaft down your gullet. He comes deep in your throat, though the condom catches the bitter fluid and you’re denied the taste. You wait until He rubs your head to release His softening member from your mouth. He disposes of His condom and yours in the metal bucket lined with red plastic on the table. He glances at His watch and orders another drink.
On stage, a woman is chained facing the cross. A full hood is over her head, but she is otherwise nude. A cat-o-nine-tails curls around her bare thighs with an audible crack, with each flick of her Master’s wrist. Deep cherry lines criss-cross her pale skin where the whip hits. She does not scream. She is well-trained.
Your paw at His ankle, and when He looks down at you, you whine and shift on your haunches. You need to urinate. He understands, clips the leash onto your collar, leaves His drink on the table, and leads you through the curtain to the lesson rooms, down the hall, and to the door leading out into the courtyard.
The courtyard is walled in on three sides for privacy. The janitor clears the neatly cut grass of feces on an hourly basis. Two wrought iron benches sit in opposite corners of the courtyard. Heavy rings, chains, and shackles are set into the brick wall at varying intervals. In one corner, a man is tied up, kneeling on the ground with his backside in the air. The nozzle from the water hose is deep in his asshole.
He gives you lead on the leash and you’re careful as you crawl through the grass. You choose a spot near one of the benches, lift your leg, and urinate. He watches with a curve of His lips.
He glances at His watch, leads you to one of the benches, and ties the end of your leash to the leg. He goes back inside, but returns shortly with a red rubber ball. It is the size of a tennis ball and has teeth marks.
He sits on the bench, unties your leash and unclips it from your collar, and throws the ball across the courtyard. You scramble after it, your kneepads slipping on the grass in your rush. You are still careful where you crawl. You lower your head, pick up the ball between your teeth, and return to Him. He pets your head, takes the ball from you, and throws it again.
You continue the game for a while, your muscles in your arms and legs tiring from crawling so much. Eventually, He looks at his watch, calls you to Him, clips on the leash, and leads you back inside. With the ball in your mouth, you follow Him upstairs to the second floor lesson rooms. You are taken to room eleven.
The lesson rooms are simple and smell like sex and bleach. There is a tall metal bed with a plastic mattress covered by a plain white sheet. Beneath the bed are shelves with lidless plastic containers of condoms, gloves, dental dams, sealed catheter covers, alcohol wipes, bandages, paper towels, and water-soluble lubricant. Hooks and chains are secured in the ceiling, walls, and floor throughout the room and at varying heights. A metal sink with running water is in one corner. Near it is a toilet seat supported by metal on three sides with space underneath. A wall of open shelves are filled with sealed bags of sex implements of every sort: dildos, anal plugs, whips and crops, paddles, cuffs, ropes, bars, gags and o-rings, cock rings, clothespins and alligator clips, catheters, adjustable voltage batteries and wires, hose, lighters, candles, razor blades, branding irons, and acupuncture needles. A trash bin lined with a red biohazard bag, changed with each room cleaning, is by the door. Beside it is a small, empty table.
In the room, He removes the leash and hangs it from the door handle. He puts the red rubber ball on the empty table. He goes over to the shelf and chooses a seven-inch, flexible, penis-shaped dildo. He unwraps the safety plastic, puts the plastic in the trash bin, sets the dildo on the clean mattress, and undresses. His clothing is neatly hung on the hook on the back of the door.
He unwraps a condom, crouches beside you, and fondles your cock. You harden under His touch. He rolls the condom onto your erection, straightens, and moves to the bed. He hops onto the bed and lays back, the dildo resting beside him. He reaches under the table to the shelf for the lube. He squirts some on his fingers, sets the bottle aside, and spreads his legs, and reaches between them.
You watch hungrily as He fingers Himself. Your cock pulses, your arousal spiking. He tells you He wants to be fucked by you and you pant in anticipation. His fingers twist and scissor and slide in and out of His body. The area around His wrinkled hole reddens and glistens from the lube. When He is ready, He beckons you to join Him on the bed. He puts His ankles on your shoulders as you climb between his legs. Your hands are on either side of His head, gloved palms flat on the mattress. He uses the lube to grease your condom-covered cock. He drops the lube off the side of the bed, wipes His hand on your bare flank, and positions your cockhead against His anus. He nods His permission.
You watch as His eyes go hazy as you enter Him. He says your name on a breath of air as you steadily push forward until you are fully inside, your coarse curls pressed flush to His ass. He is tight and hot, His inner muscles spasming around you, adjusting to the intrusion. You are in heaven.
You begin to move, pulling out and pushing back in. His sphincter grabs at your cock with constant pressure. You whimper softly and His gaze focuses on you. He brushes His fingers against your lips and your mouth opens reflexively.
He picks up the dildo from beside Him and rests the tip against your lower lip. Slowly, He feeds it into your mouth. You taste plastic, the hard cockhead of the dildo rubbing against the roof of your mouth. Your tongue feels the fake veins and ridges. You gag and drool around the edges of the dildo as it is forced into your throat. He watches intently, sliding the dildo in and out between your lips, setting up a rhythm in sync with your thrusts.
Your balls tighten, signaling an impending orgasm, and you whimper. He pushes the dildo down your throat as far as He is able. You cannot breathe. Your climax hits hard the instant He gives you permission. Your teeth cut into the plastic and you shout with the last of your breath but are muffled by the dildo. Black spots swim in front of your eyes and you sway above Him.
He pulls the dildo free and you gulp in air. You blink the blur of tears from your vision and look down at Him. The corner of His mouth tilts up in a pleased smile. He tells you to kneel back and you do. He pulls off and wraps your expended condom in a paper towel for later disposal, dropping it and the dildo to the floor. You have caught your breath by now and the ringing in your ears has stopped.
He reaches beneath the bed for a dental dam and places it against His anus. He instructs you to rim Him, and you scoot down without hesitation. Your tongue bathes the area, wetting both His skin and the dental dam. His heels rest between your shoulder blades, His knees spread wide, giving you access.
Your tongue slips and skims over the dam around His anus. You poke the tip of your tongue past the loosened ring of muscle and He moans in pleasure. You raise your eyes and see Him take His turgid cock in hand. He jacks Himself to your rimming. The bare flesh of His shaft is flushed dark pink and slides up and down with every stroke. He reaches down and pets your head with His other hand, encouraging you.
You tongue-fuck Him enthusiastically, careful not to break the dam when you nip at His asscheeks. Your face is wet where it has rubbed against Him, from His sweat and your own saliva. The smell of male sex is strong and heady. His hand moves faster over His erection and He crushes your face against His ass when He comes.
He lays still for a short while, panting softly. He caresses your head, loosing His hold so you may breathe easily. He eventually lowers His legs and pushes you away. He tells you to get on the floor.
He cleans Himself up using the sink and paper towels, as you kneel on the floor out of the way. He tosses the trash in the trash bin, leaves the used dildo on the bed, and redresses just as the buzzer sounds, indicating the lesson room is to be cleared. He clips your leash on, gives you the red rubber ball, and leads you out of the room, down the stairs, and to the locker room. He nods at the attendant as He passes.
In the locker room, He makes you heel by the locker as He opens it. You look up at Him, ball in your mouth, ears still in perfect place, and wag your tail. He tells you that you are a good puppy dog, takes the bag with your street clothes out of the locker, and sets it on the bench. He says the lesson is over and that you may get up and speak now.
You stand, your knees creaking as they straighten for the first time in hours. You dispose of the gloves first before removing the red rubber ball from your mouth. It is placed into a second plastic bag, along with the kneepads, dog ears, and dog tail, all of which you will sterilize at home and bring back another night. You will shower at home, so you dress, return the clothing bag to the locker, and close the locker door. You indicate to Him that you are ready.
He smiles, kisses you on the lips, and together you leave Miss Sinclair’s School of Etiquette for home.