Learning to Yield (Power Exchange Academy - Submissive Center/Master's School)

Life Lessons

BDSM for Beginners

Meet and Greet

Positions and Protocol 101

Inspection Day

Practical Exam

“A
nd he opened the curtain, pressed me face first up against the mirror, shoved his hand up my skirt, and... well, you know. Damn... it was hot.”

“Holy shit. In the changing room?”

“Uh huh.” Rebecca sat, swiveling playfully on her bar stool, ankles crossed above her shiny six-inch heels. She chewed the fingernail on her index finger, a habit that on Becca looked flirtatious rather than nervous.

Ashley paused for a moment, thoughtful. “I hope you ended up buying the skirt.”

The two women erupted into laughter, drawing glances from people around them. When they had both calmed down, Ashley sighed and turned back to her drink. It was hard not to be envious of her friend's adventures with the opposite sex.

It seemed to come so easy to her, and she was oblivious to how hard it could be for others. Even now, Rebecca didn't even seem to notice the several pairs of male eyes directed her way.

“So how's it going with -”

Ashley held out a hand, cutting her off. “It's over. I ended it.”

“Really?” Becca feigned surprise, but she couldn't have been really – not after all the time Ashley had spent complaining about her relationship. “When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Wow, on your birthday?”

“Yeah.” Ashley rolled her eyes. The best fucking birthday present she could have given herself.

Becca leaned forward to pat Ashley on the hand. The look of pity on her face was almost insulting - but she meant well. “Sooo,” she said, “you on the prowl again?”

“No... no, I think I need to be single for a while.” Ash laughed bitterly. “A
long
while.”

“Doesn't mean you can't have some fun.”

“Fun? Like your sales assistant adventure?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Why not, indeed. A serial monogamist, Ashley had spent her young adult life embroiled in lengthy go-nowhere relationships. Mark had taken her for granted for over three years before she'd finally had enough.

And Rebecca was right. Somewhere deep inside, wasn't she sorry she'd missed out on those adventures – like bringing home hot guys from bars, and nailing the guy she'd been flirting with in a clothing store?

If she looked even deeper... wasn't there something darker, something wicked, that longed to be treated like a sexual being – to be pushed up against a wall; to be
taken
in a fit of passion?

It was the part of her she'd tried to make Mark see, in a last ditch effort to revive their flagging sex life and grab herself some happiness.

The new lingerie and the brazilian had been ineffectual; the whispered dirty talk and suggestions of acting out their fantasies confused him, arousing nothing but suspicion. It was the last straw. She would be happier alone.

“I think being single for a while is a really good idea,” said Rebecca.

"I don't think I could do it," said Ashley, still lost in her own train of thought.

"Do what?"

Ashley looked her friend up and down pointedly. "Dress like you do. Act like you."

Her own clothes were plain and no-nonsense; in fact she was still dressed in the white blouse and black trousers she'd worn to work that day, over sensible shoes.

Ashley wasn't built for button-up shirts and she could never get them to fit right. This one was tight, stretched across her ample breasts. She usually covered up with a vest or jacket at work, even if she ended up feeling too hot.

The trousers did a decent job of disguising her hips and round ass, of which Ashley was exceedingly self-conscious.

"Well no one said you had to act like me. But you could stand to loosen up a bit, Ash."

Ashley nodded into her drink.

"Besides, you're totally hot," said Rebecca. "Just-" she leaned forward on her stool and put her hands on Ashley's shoulders. She turned Ashley to face her. Then she reached for the buttons of her shirt and started undoing them.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ashley started, trying to shield herself and glancing around to see if anyone was watching. She ended in a laugh as Becca slapped her hand away.

Rebecca undid two buttons, revealing Ashley's cleavage.

Ash looked down at her chest, then raised an eyebrow at her friend.

Becca looked at her critically. "One more."

"Really?"

Rebecca nodded sternly.

Ashley sighed and obeyed, unfastening one final button and revealing an uncomfortable amount of cleavage, and a glimpse of her plain white bra.

"Not bad." Said Becca, nodding. "You should show off your curves, Ash, not try to hide them."

Ashley made a small scoffing sound. It went against all of her inner logic. Trying to hide them was what she'd been doing ever since she'd been the first one in her class to wear a bra.

"Some heels, a short skirt and you'll be a real eye-opener." Rebecca judged.

"Well... it
would
be nice to open eyes for a change." Ash admitted.

"Then promise me you'll take my advice."

.

She took the train to work the next day, the same as usual. Standing among the jostling crowd, unable to get a seat, Ashley tugged at the hem of her skirt, trying to make it behave.

She'd dressed in the black lingerie she'd bought for Mark, and pulled out clothes she hadn't worn in years. While she hadn't changed that much in size she
had
been much more daring back then. Everything felt too tight or too short. Too revealing.

But she didn't miss the man who sat nearby, eying her over the top of his magazine. He wore an expensive-looking suit and watch and carried a leather briefcase. His gaze trailed up and down her body, then lingered on her legs - until he caught her looking and went back to reading.

It gave her enough of a confidence boost that she resolved to walk proudly and, at least for today, flaunt her body instead of hiding it.

Surprisingly, it wasn't only men who noticed her more.

There were plenty of skinny, mostly blonde women in the office, and Ashley had always been vaguely intimidated by them. It wasn't that they were mean - it was just that everything seemed so easy for them.

They all seemed to know each other and hang out together outside work. They talked about their fiances or husbands (and sometimes their affairs), their kids. The houses they were buying, the dinner parties - as they breezed around doing whatever it was they did in the office.

Ashley just didn't fit in. Maybe it was just that she was the lowest on the office totem-pole, being a receptionist, but she was rarely included in a conversation or even addressed directly. She doubted most of them knew she existed. And even if they'd deigned to speak to her, she had nothing in common with any of them.

Today, she saw an almost comical amount of double-takes, as they registered her presence for perhaps the first time. Ashley kept her head down as she went about her work, hoping her burning blush didn't show too badly.

After lunch she handed a stack of work in to her boss, pushing it shyly across his desk as always while he was talking on his cellphone. As she moved to turn away, he gestured at her to wait. While he finished on the phone he thumbed through the pages she'd put in front of him.

He put down the phone then looked at her and smiled.

"Ashley, right?"

She nodded.

"You're new here."

"Uh... sort of, yeah." She answered diplomatically.  If you counted eight months as new.

"Nice work." He chewed on the end of his pen, looking at her as though he'd never seen her before.

She left his office with a smile on her face, though she wasn't sure whether to be flattered or insulted. The work was the same as always - hadn't he just noticed it more because her boobs were pushed up a little higher and her hair and makeup were done?

.

Exhausted as usual by the end of the day, and with blisters forming from her new shoes, Ashley boarded another crowded train.

Being rush-hour on a Friday there was barely room to stand. She put her ear-buds in and zoned out as she listened to music, lulled by the rock and sway of the carriage.

At each stop more and more people crowded on. She was squeezed among anonymous bodies, uncomfortably twisting to guard herself from elbows and stomping feet.

She snapped back to reality when she felt a hand come to rest on her hip. A familiar gesture, like one between lovers. She half expected to hear Mark's voice.

But it wasn't him. It was some stranger, standing extra close, leaning up against her and bending as though to speak in her ear.

“Hey!” She said, trying to turn. But she was hindered by the press of bodies – especially his, pushing up against her back. She could only catch a glimpse of him. He was a tall man with dark stubble on his jaw, wearing a charcoal suit and stylish wire-rimmed glasses.

He put his other hand on her waist, holding her firm; nuzzled his face against the top of her head as though they were lovers. “Shh,” he said, close to her ear.

His hand crept lower, caressing the curve of her ass through her skirt. He grabbed her hard, filling his palm with her flesh and squeezing until it almost hurt.

“I've seen you around before.” His voice was low and husky, and cut through the hum of background conversation. "And I've always wondered..."

Ashley was speechless; she only gasped as he ran his hand down her leg, passing over the hem of her skirt and sending an unexpected thrill through her body.

He pushed his hand up under her skirt, bunching the fabric high and revealing the lacy tops of her stay-up stockings. Then he trailed his fingers around to her inner thigh.

One of her ear-buds had fallen out, but she could still hear the music in one ear. A loud, frantic song was playing, adding to the surrealism of the situation.

She could smell the man's clean soapy scent, and the hint of aftershave. Feel his fingers seeking between her legs.

She squeezed her thighs together tightly, gritting her teeth and looking around to see if anyone was watching – if anyone could see what was happening to her.

“What do you think you're doing?” She hissed, grabbing his wrist and trying to force it away.

Adrenaline coursed through her, but also something else. Something deep down. A wicked, forbidden thrill. She gasped as he pulled her roughly against him, holding her fast so that she could feel the hard bulge of his arousal pressing against her ass.

“I have something to show you.” He said, and she gasped as his insistent fingers found their way up under the leg of her lacy panties.

His body was solid and strong, and she felt his muscles shift as he moved his hand, ignoring her attempts to fight him off.

She began to tremble as his fingers slid over her bare mound and traced her slit. And she closed her eyes and bit her lip, knowing he would find wetness there. Proof of her wickedness - her perverse arousal.

“Mmm.” He murmured, as he began to slowly, teasingly rub, finding her clit and circling it.

Ashley gasped, her traitorous body arching slightly under the stranger's touch.

She felt paralyzed, inwardly frantic. Her heart pounded in her chest. There were people all around her, oblivious. Why didn't she shout, yell for help - make a fuss?

But her legs opened bit by bit, with a will of their own. Her lips parted and she let her head fall back, resting against the man's strong shoulder.

“That's it,” the stranger purred. His voice was resonant, low and sexy. He shifted, grinding himself against her. She could feel his hard shaft sliding along the cleft of her ass, restrained by the fabric of his trousers.

She was panting, trembling. Ashley darted a glance around. She was shielded by standing, swaying bodies - people staring at their phones or listening to music. No one had noticed - or if they had, were deliberately ignoring it.

The stranger teased her with his fingers, circling and rubbing in a hypnotic rhythm. He sped up, until Ashley gasped with the intense pleasure of it. Then he slowed down.

He dipped lower, pushing fingers into her folds. She was swollen and wet, and she heard his heavy breath and hum of approval as he slid one long finger inside her. His palm cupped her sex as he moved first one, then two fingers in what became a tortuously slow, exquisitely pleasurable rhythm.

Ashley clutched at the hand on her waist. She writhed her hips along with his movements, unable to help herself. Willing him to go faster. Her nipples were hard and straining against her shirt, and for a moment she ran a hand over one breast, squeezing it hard - heedless of any onlookers.