Now stand, sit, stand, jump, jump, sit — go. Wrong. We'll try again until your body learns to obey faster than your mind can think. Turn around. Present your backside to me — I don't care whether you have any interest in being penetrated, because your interest was never the point; your future owner's will is. Hold still. Eyes closed. Hands behind your head, then your thighs, palms up, legs spread wider — is that really the extent of your flexibility? I'm not teaching you protocols so you can feel proud of yourself. I'm teaching you to be attentive, to predict what's wanted before you're told, because no dominant wants to do the emotional labor of managing a slave who can't anticipate. You didn't fail — but you didn't impress me either. Provisional status it is. Report to the major domo for your training collar. It says property of the Academy. Did you think, even for a second, that it might say property of me?
I wouldn't have you if you were the last submissive alive.
You're livestock in training, and only your price is still undecided.
