A Bellemisère Academy Story

Content Warnings: BDSM Fantasy, dubiously consensual, non-consensual, M/f, maledom, some F/f, lesdom, bondage slavery, sexual slavery, kidnapped, slave training, lingerie, fetish outfits, gags, oral sex, Bellemisère Academy 

This story takes place a short time after Neil’s First Academy Visit and just over a year before Bus Ride and Santa Duty. 

Bellemisère Academy belongs to Cotinusa

My second sex slave was delivered straight to my door, not too long after I “adopted” her from Bellemisère Academy. Okay, maybe the wait was a shade too long for me. I was a little annoyed to be made to sit on my hands for another week after all the time I’d already waited and still had to wait for Slave Number One to be acquired, trained to readiness, and delivered to me. It would have been so much more convenient if I could just take Number Two straight home. But in the long run a single week of waiting wasn’t that big a deal, so I wasn’t that upset about it. And even if I was, I knew better than to complain. 

All that said, the eventual knock at my apartment door got my heart pumping every bit as hard as it had when I met my first toy. The Bellemisère people were right on time, as expected. I didn’t try to keep the grin off my face as I went to answer it.  

Slave Number Two stood beside her escort. Unbound, save for the straightforward leather collar around her throat. She was short, maybe a couple of inches more than five feet when barefoot. Her hair was straight and fell just past her shoulders. Taking in the sight of her in person for the first time since the adoption event where I’d met and bought her, my eyes were naturally drawn to her chest. Even beneath the form-fitting white overcoat she wore, her sizable breasts had a gravitational pull. A pair of fishnet stockings criss-crossed down her legs beneath that coat, ending at a pair of shiny white high heels. 

She was a study in contrast to the first student I “sponsored,” and not just because of the different hair color or the fact that her tits were at least one full cup size bigger. Two’s entire body was softer than the more physically fit Number One. She had less muscle and more curves, though I wouldn't say she had a true hourglass figure. 

But the biggest difference had to be the simple fact that my newer property was smiling at me.

“Hello Master,” She said in a bright, accented voice after I’d had a few seconds to look her over. Her minder, a sharp-eyed redhead delivering her from Bellemisère, shot her a look. I guess Bellemisère girls were supposed to be seen and not heard. Maybe some owners would be annoyed by their property taking the initiative to speak first, but I thought it was cute. I grinned back at her.

“Hey there sexy, come on in.” 

There was no hesitation. My new toy was still smiling as she waltzed over the threshold of my door and straight away pressed herself up against my side. I laughed and threw my arm over her shoulders in response before turning my attention to the staffer. 

“I take it she wasn’t any trouble on the way over?” 

“No sir, Domino’s behavior has been exemplary since your purchase of her.” She tried to keep her expression neutral, but she couldn’t quite stop herself from pursing her lips. I could tell she thought my property–the Academy currently called her Domino, but I wouldn't be sticking to the name–was working some kind of angle on me. I’d even been warned when I bought her that part of the reason she hadn’t sold yet, despite “graduating” over half a year earlier, was that other prospective buyers thought she was trying too hard to impress them. 

Truth be told, I thought the same thing. I spent a decent amount of time with my new sex slave at the adoption event before deciding to buy her. In that time she’d grown visibly more willing and eager to be around me. It didn’t take a genius to see that she was trying to butter me up, but I figured she just wanted an easy-going Master and I seemed to fit the bill. So I wasn’t worried. Sure, I knew it was possible she was looking for a chance to make a break for it, but I was more on the ball than she, her handler, or the Academy rep who sold her to me were giving me credit for. 

Besides, my apartment building was perfectly secure. I was paying good money to live in a place that knew what was up and would put a stop to any escape attempt. 

“Glad to hear it!” I smiled at the redheaded handler. “Is there anything else I need to be aware of?” I’d been through a pre-delivery briefing, to say nothing of everything I had to learn when I bought Number One, but I thought I should ask. 

She took a breath and straightened up a bit before replying, giving me enough time to get in a couple of good squeezes of my property’s ample chest. 

“No sir. If you have any questions I’ll be happy to answer them now. But we at Bellemisère Academy know how excited you must be to enjoy your property in the privacy of your own home. If you would rather get right to it, we will contact you tomorrow for a follow-up.” 

“Sounds good to me, I’ll be waiting for that call.” 

She bowed her head. “Very good sir. I’ll leave you to your purchase.” 

“Thanks,” I moved to close the door, then paused. “Oh, and give my regards to my other student. I’m looking forward to having both of my toys at home with me.” 

I felt the blonde stiffen. Apparently she didn’t know she was Slave Number Two. 

The Bellemisère woman smirked. “With pleasure, Mr. Caldwell-Voss.” 

“Okay!” I turned to my property when the door was closed. “First things first, let’s get that coat out of the way.” 

She smiled up at me and purred, apparently having already recovered from the surprise of learning she wouldn't be alone. “Of course, Master.” 

I let go of her so she could take a step back. There was a brief pause while I took in the sight of that fine white coat wrapped so well around her figure, then she reached up to unwrap herself and let it fall to the floor in one smooth motion. 

I hadn’t asked for her to be delivered in any kind of specific outfit, so I didn’t know what to expect. Underneath that coat was a tight, white, long sleeved sweater that matched the shoes and a black leather pencil skirt that matched the fishnets. There was a resemblance to the custom Academy uniform I chose for my first slave. It all hugged Slave Number Two’s figure even more tightly than the overcoat had, and I was very satisfied by the effect. 

“Does this please you, Master/” She asked with a coy smile in that Eastern European accent of hers. She was originally from Belarus. “Or should I lose another layer?” 

“You really are a forward one, aren’t you?” I laughed. 

She shrugged and struck a pose with her hands on her hips, never losing that sexy little smirk. “Is that not what you like about me?” 

I did like that about her. And her outfit did please me. But instead of saying so, I decided to demonstrate my satisfaction in a more direct way. 

She did end up losing another layer of her outfit. The sweater, shoes, and skirt were on the floor of the living room in minutes. My slave and I fell onto my luxurious leather couch seconds later. I took my time to savor the experience when I visited Number One for the first time, but now I wanted to get right into it. Before long I was on my back, enjoying a glimpse of my blonde property’s cleavage inside her lacy black lingerie right before her golden head descended upon my upright cock. 

Just a few weeks ago I learned how much better and more intense it is when the woman taking me in her mouth was my property. Now I was learning the difference between the skills of a Bellemisère graduate compared to a first semester student. Slave Number One was amazing, but Number Two really knew what she was doing. 

And she was mine. I could have her whenever I wanted. 

It didn't take long for my new toy to finish this first round of work. 

Oh yes, she pleased me very much. 

Half a year, or close to it, had passed since my Aunt Morgan first introduced me to Bellemisère Academy. And it had been a lot longer since she introduced me to the hidden world of kinky bondage slavery in the first place. Now, after all that time, I FINALLY had my very own personal slave with me in the comfort of my very own home. There was no time limit and no limits or rules about what I could do. She was all mine. 

I spent a few minutes after that first blowjob just… basking. Lying there. Enjoying the simple fact of what just happened, what was happening, and what would continue to happen for as long as I wanted. Her mouth stayed right where it was, gently licking and sucking and riding out my orgasm until my cock went flaccid. Or at least as flaccid as a post-orgasm cock can get when it’s still being serviced. Then she ever so carefully lifted her mouth off of me and moved forward to rest her body against mine, her head at the crook of my shoulder. In that time she didn’t speak a word, waiting patiently for me to say or do something. 

“They really know what they’re doing at that school, don’t they?” I breathed out. 

“Oh, yes sir,” she propped herself up on one elbow. “I wasn’t nearly so good when I got there. I had a lot to learn. My English is much better too.” 

“And you were only there for two years, right? Not four?” 

“Most of the students without owners are trained for two years before they are sold. I did not sell right away, so they started giving me a third year of classes. And then you bought me!” Her tone was bright, as if we weren’t talking about how she was forcibly trained to be my sexy, obedient plaything. 

“It was money well spent.” I sat up next to her and looked at the clock I had up on the wall. The night was just getting started. She once again pressed herself up against my side and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Now, I have some things for you to try on. Stuff I ordered as soon as I got home last week. So get ready to put on a show.” 

“Of course, Master,” she purred. 

What followed was an absolute marathon of sexy fun. 

And believe you me, she was ready for it! 

First I ordered her to shed the lingerie she was still wearing. I honestly only meant for her to slip it all off without a fuss. She gave me a full on strip tease instead. Before I could even blink, she was shimmying her panties down her legs, jutting out her ass as she went. I saw no reason to put a stop to it. She took her time in unwrapping the silky smooth underbust corset from around her gut, and in rolling her stockings aaall the way down her legs one at a time. Her bra wasn’t unhooked until it was the only thing left, and instead of just pulling it off with her hands she used her biceps to carefully press it off her breasts and down her arms. And just like that, all that was left was her collar. She stood there with her hands on her bare hips and wearing a cocky little smirk. 

My dick, having had plenty of time to recover, was standing at full mast again. But I held off on doing anything with it just yet. At least until I had her in the first of her new outfits. 

The Bellemisère people gave me all her measurements when I bought her, and I’d wasted no time before using them to express order a bunch of sexy outfits for her to wear. So far all I got her was fetish stuff. Costumes, latex, more lingerie, that sort of thing. I’d be ordering her other clothes–dresses, tops, pants, skirts, and so on–once I had a better feel for what kinds of outfits I'd want to see her in. 

I took her from the living room area of my condo into what I was calling my playroom. It was originally a bedroom until I converted it into the kind of place I like to have fun in. There was still a bed, but now it was one of those huge circular things that could fit plenty of people at once. I might end up moving a bed like that into my actual bedroom, but for now I wanted this setup separate. There were also a couple of cages, an X-shaped cross, a comfy chair for me to sit to be serviced in, and a rack and a chest of bondage equipment were all there too. 

And since it used to be a bedroom, it had a nice closet. Number Two’s wardrobe was in there, on the opposite wall from the stuff that was waiting for Number One. I sent her in that closet with orders to surprise me. She shot me a smile as she strutted inside. 

Several minutes later she marched back out in a sexed-up police uniform. Tight blue top, a shiny black vinyl skirt, thigh high boots, that kickass hat, a fake silver badge on her chest… and a set of handcuffs hanging from her waist. On a whim, I decided to pause the fashion show I’d intended to see and try out those handcuffs instead. Along with a nice fat red ball gag from the rack of bondage stuff. 

“Yes Sir!” She barked when I told her to gag herself. It almost sounded like we were actual cops. She even gave me a salute (the British kind, with her palm out) before happily taking the gag from my hands, lodging it in her mouth, and strapping it in even tighter than I would have. Then came the shiny metal handcuffs, locking her eagerly offered wrists behind her back just above her enthusiastically offered ass. From there my hands wandered all over her body. 

I kept her like that for a little while. Had her march back and forth a bit across the room, then spent a few minutes playfully chasing her around the apartment. When I ‘caught’ her I dragged her by the arm back into the playroom to bend her over the side of one of the cages for a quick spanking and paddling. She was playfully squealing and struggling the whole time, with the occasional wink thrown in for good measure. 

The ball gag stayed in her mouth for the next two outfits. A classic crimson bunny girl outfit and a white and gold cheerleader uniform. 

I spent time feeling her up with each sexy costume she put on. I would run my hands up and down her boot, nylon, or sock covered legs. I’d squeeze and knead at her breasts before groping and smacking her ass, eating up every inch of her body in every fetishistic outfit I had for her. And every so often, when my self-control ran low and usually when she was wearing a skirt, I’d give my frequently erect cock another workout. 

Don’t worry. I didn’t forget about the arsenal of bondage equipment I had ready to go. The armbinder came out when she was in the bunny girl costume, which is also when I switched out her ball gag for a panel gag. I strapped her to the X-cross when she was being a cheerleader, taking a few minutes to take a flogger to her bare belly and, when I pulled her top up, a crop to her magnificent tits. 

Her enthusiasm finally wavered when I landed a particularly good hit on her bare left nipple. As well-trained as she was, Number Two was not a natural masochist. Her teachers had given me a heads up about that. She made all the right sounds at the right times, but the way she screeched when I got that hit in was a hell of a lot more real than anything I’d heard so far. 

She recovered fast. I didn’t get anything as loud as that first screech for the rest of the night, just a grunt or a grimace here and there. Not that I was trying too hard. I’m not that kind of sadistic. I know how important it was to demonstrate to slaves what would happen if they misbehaved, and I like to have fun spending a few minutes at a time working my property over with a flogger, crop, my open hand, etc. But, outside of actually punishing a naughty slave, that’s as far as I personally need to go. 

So that was the pattern. A new outfit for me to see her in and feel from every angle, followed by some fun tying her up and showing her who the boss was. This went on for hours. 

I put her in one of those X-strap leather cuff sets to hogtie her while she wore the black leather bustier, gloves, and pants. 

She got on her knees and gave me the second blowjob of the night when I chained up her ankles and wrists in the sexy nun costume. That was a highlight. 

The third blowjob happened not too long after that when she was dressed up like an Arabian Nights harem girl. She even kept the face veil on to hide my cock from view while she worked it over. 

She spent time in one of those tight Chinese dresses I can never remember the name of, a spandex catsuit with boots and gloves, and a classic bikini swimsuit. Sometimes I would let her go ungagged for a while, then have her stuff something new into her mouth for just as long. There were plenty of unused gags for her to try out. A bit gag, a penis gag, a ring gag. Later on a couple of vibrators got to see some use when I let her orgasm with me. She earned it. 

The last outfit she squeezed into for me was a nurse outfit, complete with white fishnets, red knee high boots, latex gloves, and a tight white dress with a bright red cross emblazoned at the center of her breasts. I think she was in that one for a full hour before I peeled the dress off her. And even after everything else, it was a hell of an hour. 

Eventually things slowed down and we ended up huddled over the stone-topped island in my kitchen, munching on a pizza I’d ordered. It was around two-thirty in the morning. My slave wasn’t wearing anything on her feet anymore, but she still had on the white fishnets, panties, and bra. She was leaning forward a bit, still showing off her cleavage. 

And she was enjoying herself, moaning almost as loudly as I had when my cock was in her mouth. Part of that was obviously that she was still trying to be seductive–pretty unnecessary, since sharing a table with my half-naked, busty blonde sex slave who just spent hours trying on sexy costumes and pleasuring me was seductive enough on its own–but it was equally obvious that she really did like the pizza. I didn’t know what the students at Bellemisère Academy usually ate, but I doubted the faculty cared much about how good it tasted. If anything, I bet they went out of their way to make it taste bad. 

“After this we can get some sleep. Maybe after another round of fun, but I’m getting pretty tired.” I yawned. “You can clean everything up in the morning, and then we can shop around for some more clothes. I don’t only want to see you in costumes, no matter how sexy they are.” 

“That is very generous of you, Sir. Thank you.” 

I snorted. “Did you think I’d keep you in your birthday suit all the time?” 

Her face scrunched up. “I’m… sorry, Sir. I don’t know what a birthday suit is. Do you mean this?” She gestured to the white bra she was now wearing, pushing her chest out a little more as she did. 

“No, your birthday suit is when you’re naked.” 

“Ah! Then yes, I did wonder if I would ever wear clothes with you.”

I chuckled and took another bite of pizza. “I’ll keep you naked sometimes. But it’d get boring if that’s all I ever saw, so you get a wardrobe too. And one with more colors than just black and white. I swear, in all the pictures of you at the Academy they showed me you were always wearing–oh. Your name was Domino there. Right. That makes sense now.” 

She froze, unsure of how exactly to react to that. It was the first time I’d seen her look nervous since I met her at the adoption event. A girlfriend would probably start teasing me if I suddenly realized something obvious like that in front of her, but a sex slave would only expect to get punished for mocking her owner. Or for saying anything that could possibly be taken as mocking. 

Eventually she figured out something to say. “It took me more time to understand it, Sir. Months after I learned what a domino was. Until then I thought they were making me into a maid.” 

I chuckled and nodded, but was too focused on my pizza to say anything else. She herself took another few bites, smaller than mine, before speaking up again. 

“May I ask you a question, Master?” 

“Sure.” 

“What is your other slave called?” 

She was trying to be casual about it, and mostly succeeding. But I could see the little ways she tensed up. Her tone was more hesitant and cautious than I’d heard so far. Fair enough. The future presence of another slave concerned her.

“I’m calling her Number One,” I answered. 

The implications of my words sunk in immediately. Real dismay spread across her features for the first time. 

“I… see. And… what will my name be?” 

“You’re Number Two.” 

There was a lot going on in her head, judging by the way her face twitched at my words. I got the distinct sense that she didn’t like it very much, but she made a valiant effort to keep smiling that pleasantly blank smile of hers before she spoke again. 

“And… what can I do to earn the Number One name?” 

I finished the last of the crust in my hand before answering. “You can’t. She’s Number One because she’s the first slave I bought. You’re Number Two because you’re the second slave I bought. The third will be Number Three, and so on. It’s a pretty simple system.” 

I looked her right in the eye. 

“Does that bother you?” 

It took her a couple of tries, but she managed another smile. It did not look as real as the earlier ones. 

“Of course not, Master. My name is for you to choose, and me to use. One of my classmates was only called ‘Whore.’ Number Two is better than that. Why would I be bothered?” 

She’d put her food down and readjusted her arms to push out her tits even more. I was impressed, considering how far out they already were. It wasn't hard to see that she was trying to distract me. 

“I don’t know,” I straightened up. “If it were me and I’d been kidnapped…” 

I took a step away from my seat, towards her. 

“... held against my will…” 

I took another step, then a third. 

“...and forced to be someone’s property…” 

I was right behind her now, leaning over her shoulder and trapping her between my arms as I held on to the edge of the island. 

“...I think I’d rather have a real name than a number.” 

She was holding as still as she possibly could, her back ramrod straight. But it was impossible for her not to squirm. And, touching her as I was, my chest against her back, my arms atop her’s, my cheek almost pressing up against her own. I felt every little shiver. 

“Having a number instead of a name, no matter how bad that name is… I guess it would make me feel a little bit more like a… toy. Or a thing.” 

She took a deep breath. 

“I… I am a thing, Master. That was made very clear to me. To all of us students. I am not a person, I am an object. I am your property. I understand.” 

The words hung in the air. Her easy, eager demeanor was gone now, replaced by this frightened doe of a kidnapped sex slave. I took the time to feel her body once again, allowing my hands to find her sides and her stomach before I got a good, solid grasp of both her breasts. I squeezed hard, and she sucked in another breath. 

“You thought I was pretty stupid, didn’t you Number Two?” 

“What? No!” She jerked lightly against me, having almost jumped in place. “No Master, I promise you I did not think that!” 

Her Belarusian accent, always present, was thicker than I’d ever heard it. 

“Don’t lie to me, Number Two. I could tell how much effort you put into keeping my attention last week, and how you tried to avoid the other buyers. You thought you were going to wrap me around your finger, didn’t you? Then you could have the easiest, most comfortable life a sex slave could have.” 

“I–Master, I swear to you–” 

“The funny thing,” I interrupted, “Is that you were half-right.” 

That stopped her short. “What?” 

“Oh yeah. I am a pretty laid back Master. Just wait till my aunt gets her hands on you. You’ll see exactly how easy going I am by comparison.” 

“Your… aunt?” 

“That’s right. You met her, remember? She was at the adoption event with me. Made you squeal a bit, as I recall. When she gave your nipples those little pinches.” 

I remembered those pinches being a lot more than ‘little.’ Aunt Morgan had jabbed her nails so deeply into my future property’s skin that I was amazed she hadn’t drawn blood. Back in the present I dug under the bra she was wearing and caught one of Two’s nipples myself, the right one, taking a moment to give it a harsh pinch of my own. She whimpered. 

“Yes, I remember. I… did not know she was with you.” 

“Oh yes. My aunt is the one who introduced me to the Academy in the first place. You have her to thank for ending up with me. And you will be giving her that thanks sooner or later. She lets me borrow her slaves sometimes, just like I’ll let her borrow mine. It’s only fair, you know? You’ll see for yourself that she’s a lot more strict than I am.”

I lifted one hand, slowly, carefully, to touch at the collar around her neck. “But I’m not stupid.” 

“Master, please–

“And I’m not soft either, no matter what Aunt Morgan thinks. I won’t hesitate to give you what you deserve when you’re a bad girl, or when you disrespect me. And I think it’s disrespectful for you to think I would be an easy mark for you to manipulate.” 

“You are not my first Master!” 

Now it was my turn to stop short. “What?” 

The words came rushing out. “I had a Master before you first, before even the school! He was the one who sent me there to learn to begin with!” 

Not only was her accent stronger than ever, her English was actively degrading. She was talking fast enough that I almost couldn’t understand her at all. 

“He was… I forget the English word. Žorstki. Bad. Mean. Cruel! That is the word! He was very very cruel, Master. More than you or your aunt, I think. And he threated me with things I do not think you will. He had me for only months before he sent me to school, and I would pick to go school for two years more before I pick to spend a single more day with him!” 

I didn’t say anything, and was quiet long enough for her ragged breathing to slow down as she collected herself. Her English was better when she spoke again, though her accent remained just as thick. 

“I did not want you to buy me because I thought you were stupid, Master. I only thought you would not be as cruel as him. And I was right! He would not have… I do not know a word for the way you are scaring me now, but it is better than the things he did for no reason! Even when you hit me in the room, it was not as bad as what he would do!” 

I wasn’t sure how to respond. This was not how I’d spent the last week picturing this conversation would play out. 

“Why isn’t he your owner anymore?” I finally asked. 

“He is dead.” She spat out the words. Literally. I felt some spittle on my hand, both then and as she continued to snarl out an explanation. “I do not know exactly how. They did not tell me that part. I only know that he is dead, not long after I started at school, and that he had many enemies at home. And very dangerous friends. Criminals. Corrupt government people. Russians. One of them must have killed him, but I do not know for sure!” 

Silence reigned for… I honestly don’t know how long. A minute? Five? I really wasn’t sure how to respond to this situation. I’d been ramping up to a punishment session, but even though she’d pretty thoroughly derailed my speech she hadn’t actually misbehaved or disobeyed me at all. I could just dole out the punishment I’d be planning to give her anyway, but she’d see that I was doing it for no real reason. Did that matter? Aunt Morgan said the important part was to show your slaves that pain was an inevitable part of their lives but… damn it! 

Was punishing her even the right move at this point? She was basically telling me that she’d be willing and eager to be my slave as long as I wasn’t as cruel as her first owner. Maybe punishing her now would make me associate me with him in her mind. Would it encourage disobedience if she thought I’d do something like that for no reason? No… no that wasn’t right. I had to do something, otherwise I’d be teaching her that she could just whine a bit if she ever wanted to get out of being punished in the future. I obviously couldn’t have that. 

By this point the problem was that I was hesitating! Too long without saying anything at all, and whatever I ended up doing would just look transparent. I couldn’t do nothing, but the longer I waited the weaker I looked. Auntie was going to read me the riot act if she ever found out how badly I botched this moment. I wanted to not tell her, but taking my lumps and accepting the lecture might be worth it for the advice. Maybe I could figure out how to ask in a way that didn’t give away what I’d done? No, she would see through that…

Just then, without any real warning or reason, Number Two’s hand moved. It was a jerky motion that knocked her glass of water over, off the table, and crashing to the floor below. Predictably, it shattered into pieces. 

I almost snarled. Not because of the broken glass, but because I could see what she was doing. She didn’t knock the glass over out of clumsiness, she was giving me an excuse to follow through on my plans and punish her. 

“I am sorry, Master! Please, let me clean it up and then–” 

“Shut up,” I stepped back, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her off the stool towards my bedroom. “Punishment first, and then you can clean up the mess.” 

“Yes, Master. I’m sorry Master,” she kept at it for a bit, but it was half-hearted at best, but there was too much relief in her voice. By the time we made it to my room, she was quiet, giving it up way too soon for it to be real. We both knew what was actually going on here. Without even trying to, she’d gotten the better of me. 

Damn it. 

I really had underestimated her.