The long-awaited sequel to the BEST-SELLING `The Slave Training Academy` brings us back to the same place. Anya is still in charge and with the help of her Board of Directors they decide this intake will be all girls.
The nightly spanking and caning sessions are as tough as ever, as are the inevitable day time punishments for every misdemeanour made by the young girls as they learn what is required of an ASTA sex slave. Pusssy whipping, tit torture and much more awaits the merry group of learners.
But, there are some shocks in store both for the young girls and the mainly male Instructors before they ever get to the end of year competitions and the sex slave auction.
Ed: This is a compelling read with a well-written and properly thought out plot and the graphic descriptions and sex content are some of the best we`ve read this year.
EXTRACT
Tara and Nadia glanced at each other and grimaced at the tediousness
of it all. The boring ‘Meet and Greet’ with their fellow trainees, the
too long speeches from the owners and now the Headmistress, and the
fact there were no seats anywhere for them to sprawl in, were too
much. Tara yawned theatrically, ostentatiously patting her mouth with
her hand, for Nadia’s amusement. Nadia grinned in reply -- until
Lucia’s harsh voice broke the party’s ambience.
“YOU!” Lucia yelled from the podium, “What’s your name?” Her
accusing eyes and pointing finger bored into Tara’s shocked soul.
“Tara Montgomery,” Tara responded, once she’d recovered from
her surprise at being caught out.
“Well, Tara,” Lucia said with a grim smile, “you will be the one
who breaks the ice this time. Congratulations.” She motioned to one of
the Instructors standing against the wall to bring Tara forward.
“What have I done?” Tara cried, as the Instructor grabbed her
arm.
Lucia waited till Tara and the Instructor were both on the podium
beside her before replying.
“You chose to advertise your boredom to the world,” Lucia said.
“That isn’t the kind of behaviour we want in our trainees. In fact,
it’s the opposite of what we expect. Our trainees will go everywhere
with their Masters and many of the functions they attend will be even
longer than this. A bad mannered slave will reflect badly on their
Master and, ultimately, on ASTA. We won’t let that happen.” She swept
her gaze across the upturned faces, many looking guilty as well,
picking out Tara’s friend Nadia who stared back blankly, showing no
discernible emotion.
“Have you anything to say in your defence, Tara?” Lucia asked,
with enough menace in her voice to preclude all but the most iron-clad
excuse being offered.
Tara blushed and hated herself for blushing. She shook her head in
reply.
“I’m afraid we didn’t all catch that, Tara,” Lucia said
sweetly.
“No,” Tara muttered.
“Or that,” Lucia persisted. “We like good clear answers here in
the Academy so let’s try again. Do you have anything to say?”
“No,” Tara replied.
“No, what?”
Tara hesitated. She wished she’d been paying more attention to
the earlier speeches because she was sure there was something she was
supposed to be doing or saying but couldn’t quite remember what it
was.
“No, Ma’am,” she ventured at last.
“That will do for a start,” Lucia said. “You can make your
apologies after.”
After what, Tara thought briefly, very briefly because at that
moment the Instructor was turning her round to face the back wall.
“Bend over and touch your toes,” he said, in a voice that could
be heard all over the room.
“What!” cried Tara, staring at him in disbelief. This was the
‘meet and greet’ for God’s sake. Training wasn’t on the agenda till
tomorrow.
“You heard,” the man said.
Tara looked back at the crowd and looked quickly away again. She
couldn’t do it, not in front of everyone.
“We’re waiting, Tara,” Lucia said, “but our patience is very
limited.” Her icy smile was triumphant. A vindication of her belief,
after meeting the lazy, stuck-up young madam at the interview, that a
sound whipping every day for a month would be a just reward. And the
same went for the friend, Nadia. In Lucia’s view they were just the
sort of useless people who should be slaves -- but sadly, in our
screwed up world, were everywhere idolised as celebrities.
Very conscious of the brevity of her thong underwear and the
shortness of her tennis skirt uniform, Tara bent forward, dipping her
knees as she went.
“Legs straight,” the Instructor growled, patting her knee with a
thick leather strap he appeared to have had hidden somewhere until
this moment.
Tara, blushing hotly, did her best to obey but years of
indulgence had left her unable to touch her toes that way, despite the
fortune her parents had spent on ballet classes and private gyms. As
she strove to maintain the position, her worst fears were realised. He
flipped back her skirt and she was bare-bottomed in front of the
class. She could only hope it would be over quickly.
“The life of a slave is one of fortitude,” Lucia said to the
class. “This young lady imagines she will live the rest of her life
exchanging sexual favours for a life of luxury, and of course she may,
as may all of you. However, there is a price to be paid and sexual
favours are only part of the price. Tara volunteered just now to give
you all a demonstration of the other part of that price.” She nodded
to the waiting Instructor who was tapping Tara’s bottom with the
strap, measuring the distance and weight. “As this is a party, just
six will be enough,” she said, adding, “but make sure the message is
understood.”
The Instructor grinned, patted the strap on Tara’s quivering
cheeks, and then swung his arm back in a wide arc before delivering a
full-blooded swat that left a broad red band across the white skin.
Tara shrieked and leapt upright, clutching her posterior as if
it was on fire. Waves of stinging pain radiated from her scorched
behind setting her feet dancing and her hips shaking to throw off the
hurt. She glared at The Instructor angrily until, slowly, his cold
impassive expression brought her to her senses. She was supposed to be
bent over awaiting the next lash. Well, she wouldn’t. She’d rather
work in Daddy’s boring business than this.
“We’d all like to get back to the party, Tara,” Lucia said
sternly. “We can’t wait all night for one little girl who can’t take
her licks.”
Tara bent over and grasped her ankles tightly. She was
determined to show she was tough. She’d been thrown from horses often
enough to know that -- and in the next few minutes, they’d learn it
too.
The Instructor patted the upturned bum, aiming for a spot an
inch lower than the red stripe, and whipped Tara again. He was a bit
surprised when she stayed in place and he was able to repeat the dose
four more times without interruption.
“That’s better,” Lucia said, when the Instructor stepped back
and gave the audience a good view of the fiery buttocks glowing before
them. “Nobody likes a cry baby. You may return to the floor now, Tara,
but mind your manners when you get back there. I can see everything
from this spot.”
Blinking back tears that she was determined not to shed, Tara
straightened up and walked stiffly, head held high to stop anyone
sneering, back to her place beside Nadia. The audience silently parted
to let her through, unwilling to be next. It was what they’d signed up
for but now they’d seen it for themselves it wasn’t something they’d
choose to earn lightly.
Nadia and Tara exchanged glances but kept their faces
expressionless, knowing from schooldays that Lucia, like any teacher,
would be looking for an excuse to punish the wrongdoer’s partner as
well. When the two had wound each other up into applying to ASTA,
they’d both agreed it couldn’t be worse than the strict, expensive
school they’d both attended. It seemed they were wrong. Their old
school still used corporal punishment, that was true, but the teachers
were women and the application private, away from the prying eyes of
the rest of the class. Only the wait outside the office was public
and, if you did it right, it earned you admiration from your fellows
rather than shame.
“Now,” Lucia continued, when she was sure the two friends were
not going to give her any further trouble, “to continue. Where was I
before I was so rudely interrupted? Oh, yes. I remember. For the rest
of this evening, you and the staff will mingle. You can ask questions
and, as promised, if you don’t like what you hear, see or experience
this weekend, you can leave. However, if you turn up for your first
class Monday morning, you must stay for the whole training so be sure
you learn all you can and quickly. To aid your learning, tonight as
every night at ASTA, you will be spanked soundly before bedtime. The
floor, and the bar, is open. You have chosen an interesting and
rewarding future, good luck in it.” She nodded dismissal and stepped
away from the podium.
For a few seconds, the room remained motionless. The trainees were
too, still shocked by their first inkling of what lay in store for
them all, then, slowly, they came to life.
“That didn’t look funny,” Nadia commented to Tara.
“It wasn’t,” Tara replied grimacing. “It hurt like hell, much
worse than school.”
“She said, ‘only six’ so we can expect more in future,” Nadia
continued. “Shouldn’t we get the fuck out of here while we can?”
Tara didn’t reply at once. “Let’s get a drink and talk about it,” she
said, setting off for the bar. “We’ve never turned down free drinks
before, let’s not start now.”
“Okay,” Nadia replied hesitantly. Tara seemed fine but Nadia
hadn’t liked what she’d seen. She felt getting out before bedtime
would be the best solution and drinking too much would prevent that.
“It was okay,” Tara said brightly, realising her friend was
genuinely worried. “Really, it hurt but not so much I want to leave.
It was the shock of what happened more than anything. You’ll see. It’s
okay.”
Nadia doubted she would take it so well but grinned confidently
in reply. Just let them try and wallop her and they’d get more than
they bargained for.
