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The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine
Obedience Training
Getting Acquainted
Tested and Rewarded
Moving Day
Good Grooming
Learning To Serve
Training Continues
When The Bell Rings
The Evaluation
The Great Escape

The Stories of Yvonne Sinclair

Alice And Anna
On The Beach
The Bisley Boy
Silk Stockings On A Ladder
A Merry Ferry Christmas
Stella and Fanny

The Dominafuhrer

The New Recruit

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute


An Introduction

VO Stories

Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict


A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1


The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood




Chapter 1 - The Meeting

I was sitting at my desk completing some paperwork when the phone rang. I answered it, saying, “Archer Daniels here.”

“Mr. Daniels?” the voice on the line inquired.


“Is this the Mr. Daniels who is the quality control consultant?”

“Yes it is,” I replied. “What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Daniels, my name is Angela McBride, and I am with Stellar Cosmetics. You have been highly recommended to the head of our company, Ms. Smith, and she has asked me to contact you to inquire whether you might be able to provide some service to us. She wonders whether you might be able to meet with her tomorrow at our offices.”

After a brief pause to check my calendar, I replied, “Certainly, Ms. McBride. I have some time available tomorrow morning. What time would Ms. Smith like me to meet with her?”

“Nine AM, sharp.”

“Very good, Ms. McBride. I will be there promptly at nine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Daniels. Just ask for me when you arrive, please.”

“”I will be glad to do that, Ms. McBride. See you tomorrow.” I hung up and went back to my work.

The next morning I placed a note pad and some pencils in my briefcase along with my laptop computer and headed out in my car. I had never heard of Stellar Cosmetics, but , using my computer, I was able to find the exact location of their offices. I drove directly to the proper building on the outskirts of the city and parked my car. I picked up my brief case, entered the building, and presented my business card to the receptionist. “Where can I find Ms. Angela McBride, please? I have an appointment at nine.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Daniels. She is expecting you.” The receptionist then punched a button on her phone and said, “Ms. McBride, Mr. Daniels is in the lobby.” She hung up and said to me, “Ms. McBride will be here in just a moment. Do have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I replied and seated myself in a comfortable chair.

I had hardly seated myself when a quite pleasant looking young woman with long blonde hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and a nice figure approached me. “Mr. Daniels,” she said. It was not a question, but rather a very polite but authoritative statement.

“Ms McBride, I presume,” I said as I stood and smiled at her.

“Yes,” she replied as she shook hands with me. “Please follow me,” she said with a smile, but with the same authoritative tone.

We climbed a single flight of stairs and she ushered me into an office identified on the door only by a small emblem that I had never seen before. It was a gold five-pointed star surrounded by a gold circle. I assumed it was the company’s logo.

“Please be seated. Ms. Smith will see you momentarily,” Ms. McBride instructed. She then stepped through and inner door and closed it behind her.

I had waited only a minute or two when the door through which Ms. McBride had disappeared opened and a voice – not Ms. McBride’s – said, “Come in, Mr. Daniels.” This voice sounded pleasant but still more authoritative.

I picked up my briefcase and headed for the door. As I entered I saw, holding the door open for me, a well-dressed woman who was somewhat older than Ms. McBride, dark-haired, some what shorter than me, and a bit heavier than Ms. McBride, but with a distinctly feminine figure. Ms. McBride was nowhere in sight. As I passed through the door, she closed it behind me. “Good morning, Mr. Daniels. Welcome to Stellar Cosmetics. I am Stella Smith, and I require some services from you,” she said with a smile.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Ms. Smith,” I replied, smiling. “What kind of service may I provide for you?”

She gave me peculiar little knowing smile and said, “We’ll get to that in a little while, but first I need to introduce you to our facilities. Please leave your briefcase on the table there. You won’t need it right away, and when you do, I assure you, it will catch up with you. Now, please follow me.”

We exited her office through a different door, which lead to a barren hall with only four or five windowless doors, all closed. As we walked down the hall, Ms Smith explained to me, “I am taking you to our limited access facility. We call it our ‘isolation area'. It is maintained as a very clean and orderly facility, and it will be necessary for us to leave our street clothes and to dress in an entirely different manner.” As we stopped in front of a door marked ‘MEN’, she continued, “You may use the changing area inside here. When you get inside, please strip down and leave all the clothing you presently are wearing in one of the lockers. Lock it and take the key with you. The key is on a lanyard, so you may hang it around your neck. Then take a shower and wash yourself thoroughly. After you are finished showering, exit through the door oposite the ond through you entered. On the other side you will receive the appropriate attire for the remainder of you visit. Do you understand?”

“I understand quite well, Ms. Smith,” I responded.

This was turning out to be a very unusual introduction to a new client, and I thought about declining and leaving immediately. However, curiosity was overwhelming me, so I decided to go ahead and do as she asked. I entered the room marked ‘MEN’ and closed the door behind me.

I stripped and showered, as instructed, then, stark naked, I stood for a moment at the door on the other side of the room from the one through which I had entered. Except for the large towel whith which I had just dried myself, I had nothing with which to cover myself. In my present state of undress I was not going to step back out into the hallway from which I had come, so I had only two options. Either I could use the key hanging around my neck to open the locker, put my clothes back on, and leave the way I came; or I could open the door in front of me and see what was on the other side. As I thought about these choices, I concluded that I was probably being paranoid. After all, this was a cosmetics company and I knew full well that clean rooms, and sometimes even sterile rooms, are a common practice in this industry. Obviously, what I should expect on the other side of that door was to find either hospital-type scrubs or clean white trousers and shirts. I knew that both are commonly used in such facilities. I dropped the wet towel, opened the door, and stepped through.

The door closed noiselessly behind me and I found myself standing in complete darkness. I reached back to find a wall and a light switch. My hands felt nothing but soft drapes or curtains. I moved several steps, first one way then another, but I could find no solid wall. In fact, I could not even find the door through which I had just stepped. I could find nothing solid to touch. I stood, naked as the day I was born, in pitch-blackness, and tried to figure out what was happening to me. I felt a sense of panic coming over me, and I fought to suppress it.

I was becoming quite confused and disoriented, when I began to see some light on the other side of the room. It was very dim at first, but slowly it became brighter until I could just make out the figure of a person dressed in black and standing in a pool of light. As the light became brighter I realized that it was Ms. Smith. She no longer wore the well-tailored business suit she had on when I first met her. She was now dressed in a sheer black gown that hung in soft folds to half way between her knees and her ankles. The gown completely covered her arms but had a low, square neckline that left her creamy white neck and chest exposed from just above the nipples of her obviously ample breasts. It dipped slightly between them to present a seductive amount of cleavage. On her head she wore a tight black cap that dipped to a point at the center of her forehead. Just above the point was the same gold logo that I had seen on the door when I first arrived. From beneath the cap her dark hair hung just to her shoulders. In her hand she held a slender baton or wand about a foot long and perhaps a little less than a quarter inch in diameter. The only colors I could see were the gold of the logo and the bright red of her lips, which formed a mirthless smile. Her eyes were artfully outlined in black, and they glinted in the light in a way that clearly indicated she was enjoying herself and looking forward to what ever was to come next. Although I was still in the darkness, and I doubted she could see much of me, I instinctively tried to cover myself. The best I could do was to cover my genitals with my hands and stand staring at the vision before me.

“Good morning again, Mr. Archer Daniels. Welcome to my unique ‘isolation area'. I call it that because we are completely isolated from the outside world here, and no one leaves without my permission. I’m sure it is a bit different than you expected. Hence forth we will call you simply 'Arch'.” As she spoke the room began to become brighter. It never became brightly lighted, but it became lighted well enough that I could see we were in a room about twelve to fifteen feet square. There was no furniture of any kind. The ceiling and floor were black and the walls were heavy black drapes. I could see no exit of any kind. As the lighting became bright enough for her to see me, Ms. Smith laughed. “Did you forget your fig leaf, Arch?” I looked down instinctively at my hands covering my genitals. I felt a sense of warmth and realized I was blushing. She said, “No need to try to hide your manhood from me. You can’t do it successfully, and, henceforth, you have no privacy here. Let your hands hang loosely at your sides and relax.” When I did not move, she said quite sternly, “Do it NOW!”

Perceiving no choice, I did as I was told. I was trying to think of a way out of this situation, but, at present, I could think of nothing.

“Let me explain a few things to you." As she spoke she tapped the wand against the palm of her hand. "We will start with forms of address. You will address me as Mistress Stella, Mistress, or Ma’am. Nothing else is acceptable, and nothing else will be tolerated. As for you, there will be no more ‘Mr. Archer Daniels’. From now on you will be called slave Arch, Arch, or just slave…or anything else I choose to call you. When you are so summoned by me, you will respond immediately by saying ‘Yes, Mistress?’ or ‘Yes Ma’am?’ You will speak only when specifically asked a question or instructed to speak. If you feel you must speak to me, you must kneel and, following my acknowledgment, ask my permission. Without my permission, you shall keep your mouth shut. However, whenever I give you an instruction, you may have the last words. Those words are ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘Yes, Ma’am’. Do you understand?”

I was shocked and confused. For a long moment I said nothing, and Ms. Smith began to tap the palm of her hand with the little wand. “Yes,” I said in a whisper.

“Is that how you were instructed to respond?” she said quite sternly but without shouting.

“Yes, Ma’am. I mean no, Ma’am. I mean…yes, I understand, Ma’am,” I stuttered.

“Good, slave! It may take some time, but you will learn,” she said softly and with a knowing smile.

“Now, Arch, come here and kneel before me,” she said, pointing at the floor with her wand.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said softly. I knelt where she had pointed, my head tilted down and my mind racing, wondering what the hell was happening to me.

“Head up, back straight, knees spread,” she commanded, tapping me on the shoulder with the cane. As I did as instructed, she cleared her throat and said, “I’m waiting.”

“Oh!...Yes, Ma’am,” I said.

“Earlier, Arch, you asked me what services I wished you to perform for me. You are now beginning to find out. Rather than you teaching us, we are going to teach you. You are to be trained as a slave. A slave not only to me as your Mistress, but to all Mistresses who so well deserve to rule over you, to ‘The Sacred Feminine’. When we are finished you will know and appreciate your place in the greater scheme of things.”

I swallowed hard, and, because I was puzzled by what I had just heard, I said softly, “Yes, Ma’am. But, Ma’am, what is ‘The Sacred Feminine’?”

“That is what you are here to learn, Arch. It will take some time, but eventually all will become clear to you. Now, open your briefcase and hand me the things you brought me,” she said.

“But I don’t have my briefcase, Ma’am…and I know of nothing in it that I brought for you,” I said, puzzled.

“Look around, Arch!”

I looked down, and, to my astonishment, my briefcase was lying beside her feet. I had no idea how it got there. Slowly, I reached for it and gently popped the latch and opened it. My computer, note pad, and pencils were no longer there. In their place were a leather collar with a small padlock at the buckle and three small ‘D’ rings at intervals along its length; leather wrist and ankle straps with buckles and with a larger ‘D’ ring on each; and a short, narrow leather strap with a buckle. I had no idea what this last item was used for. “Yes, Ma’am,” I said as I handed these items to Mistress Stella (I was no longer thinking of her as Ms. Smith).

“Thank you, Arch…good boy. Now, take that key from around your neck and hand it to me.”

“But, Mistress…” Without it how can I get my clothes and leave, I was thinking.

She tapped me on the shoulder with the wand. “Do as you’re told, Arch,” she commanded gently.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Reluctantly, I slid the lanyard with the locker key over my head and handed it to her. Now, if I had not before, I felt completely trapped and vulnerable.

Mistress placed the leather collar around my neck, buckled it, and locked the little padlock. She made a show of putting its key on the lanyard with the locker key and putting the lanyard around her own neck. “Now you are MINE, Arch! Stand up and hold out your hands.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, as, again, reluctantly, I complied.

Around each wrist she buckled one of the leather wristbands. Then she handed the ankle straps to me and said, “Kneel down, Arch, and put these on.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I knelt down and fastened the straps around my ankles.

As I did so, she snapped a leash on the collar. “Stand up, Arch,” she said, tugging on the leash for me to follow her. She lead me through a split in the curtain behind her into another, larger room. It was equipped with many strange looking pieces of furniture, most of them padded with black leather or vinyl. Hanging from the ceiling was several chains and unusual devices. She led me to a blank wall and said, “Stand with your back to the wall, Arch.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

When I was in the position she had specified, she lifted my right arm and attached my wrist to a steel eye in the wall just above and to the right of my head. She attached the left wrist to a similar eye on the left side. “Spread your legs,” she commanded.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy, Arch. You’re learning already,” she said as she knelt down and attached my ankle straps to the opposite ends of a metal bar. “Do you know what that is called, Arch?” she asked.

“No, Ma’am,” I replied.

“It’s a spreader bar, my dear slave. You may encounter them frequently while you are here.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, as I swallowed hard.

Next she produced the short strap I had handed her earlier from my briefcase. “And do you know what that is for, Slave?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Ah, you have quite a lot to learn, don’t you,” she said, rhetorically. “Here is what it’s for.” She slipped the center of the strap under my balls and wrapped it around them and my limp cock. Then she buckled the strap so that it caused my cock and balls to project in a tight little bundle in front of me. “There, now I can get at them!” She stepped back and, before I had any idea what she meant, she delivered a sharp rap to the top of my cock with her little wand.

“AAAAAHHHHH,” I shouted, as much from surprise as from pain. I strained against the straps holding my wrists and tried, unsuccessfully, to bring my legs together and back away. “What was that for…Ma’am?”

“It is one of my training methods, one of the techniques I use to jog a slave’s memory, Arch. For example, you seem already to have forgotten one of the primary rules of conduct I told you about just a few minutes ago. Rules that you said you understood. What was it that you forgot, Slave?” Whack…this time on the balls.

“AAAHHHH. I don’t remember, Ma’am!”

Whack…on the end of the penis.

“AAAHHHH. Please remind me, Mistress.”

“I’m sure you will remember…eventually…Slave.” Whack






Each stroke of the wand was aimed at a slightly different target but always on the bundle of my genitals so neatly positioned by the little leather strap. Whack.

“AAAHHHH. I think I remember, Ma’am!”

“Tell me what you remember, Arch.” Whack.

“AAAHHHH. I remember that I am not to ask questions… not to speak without your permission, Mistress.”

“Correct, my slave. And from what position?” Whack.

“AAAHHHH. From a kneeling position, Ma’am.”

“Correct.” She smiled at me and dropped her hand holding the wand to her side. "Now...I'm going to give you some time, slave, to think about your current situation and to realize that you can do nothing to change it. To recognize that you are my slave, I dominate you, and you are completely under my control." Abruptly, she left the room.

Quite some time later, at least a half hour, she returned. She no longer had on the stark black dress nor the cap with the gold logo. She was now dressed in a short black skirt and a white blouse that buttons down the front. Her legs and feet were bare. Without speaking to me she unfastened my wrist and ankle straps from their binding points and lead me to a couch. She sat down, and, still without speaking, she indicated that I should lie on the couch beside her. She took my head in her arms. Her blouse was not buttoned and, as it hung open my head nestled against her soft white breasts. She stroked my head with one hand and cupped my cock and balls in the other, caressing gently. The little leather strap was still around them. “Oh dear, my poor slave Arch,” she purred. “His little manhood is tender and stinging. I’m afraid it may not be the last time. He has so much to learn, and my little cane focuses his attention so well. And I do so enjoy stimulating this little bundle of maleness. Although it is attached to him, it is really not his. It is all MINE! My phallus and my testicles! Whether my slave wants them to or not, they will respond to ME whenever I want them to.” She began to roll the head of my penis between her thumb and fingers…and it began to swell. “You see, Slave Arch, how my phallus responds to me?” She deftly removed the little leather strap and began, slowly and gently, to stroke ‘her phallus’.. It was becoming quite rigid.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, smiling to myself.

“You may suck one of my nipples, if you wish, my little slave,” she said as she continued stroking.

I moved my head to find a soft, warm nipple and sucked it into my mouth. As I sucked and tongued it, I could feel it getting hard, just like the cock that Mistress was stroking.

She pressed my face against her breast and moaned softly, “Mmmm.”

As Mistress continued stroking me, I began to feel warm. My breathing became deeper. All thoughts were erased from my mind. I was aware only of my rigid penis, which at that point felt like the largest part of my body. I was rapidly approaching an orgasm.

Suddenly, Mistress stopped what she was doing, pulled my head from her breast, and stood up. She let my head drop on the warm spot on the couch where she had been sitting. I moaned, “Oh, god…,” and started to reach for my crotch. Immediately, I felt a stinging blow on my ass. “OOOHHHH,” I cried out.

She was stand over me now, holding a riding crop and glaring at me. “Keep your hands off MY phallus and testicles, Slave!…Did you just speak to me?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“You said something. What was it?”

“I said, ‘Oh, god’, Ma’am”

Who did you say that to, Slave?”

“To myself. Ma’am.”

“Why did you say it, Arch?”

“Because I was frustrated, Ma’am.”

“What made you frustrated?”

“Because you stopped what you were doing, Ma’am.”

“Why did that frustrate you?”

“Because I was about to cum, Ma’am.”

“You were about to cum?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Do you want to cum, Slave?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You must be a slut, Arch…wanting to cum the first time you meet a lady.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said dejectedly.

“Well, you aren’t allowed to cum without my permission, slut, and I haven’t given it. And I won’t likely be giving it for some time. An orgasm by a slave is a great privledge. It must be earned, and you have done nothing to earn such a privledge. Do you understand that?” She smacked my ass again with the crop.

“AAHHH…Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good, Slave. Now, your training is about to begin!”

To continue this story, visit Obedience Training

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