TRAINING:
Prologue

Kathryn Taylor Duke, or just `Kat' to her friends, was relaxing on the roof of the main lodge.  Try as she might, she couldn't get comfortable on the picnic blanket.  She laid this way or that, on her back, stomach, up on one elbow, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, but she couldn't find any position she felt comfortable in to have her portrait done.  
Raul, the artist, humming to himself as he watched her, waited patiently as she fidgeted.  Ms. Duke was wearing a tiny, dark green bikini bottom that hid only the tiniest part of her, and he liked to watch it as it moved back and forth.  Painting was the only thing he was good at, and the Club offered a good living, including room and board, as long as he kept his mouth shut.  Getting frustrated with the continuous movement, he glanced out over the grounds and looked at one of the nearby lakes, wishing to get out of the direct sun and maybe go skinny dipping, already feeling the cool water against him.  He was jerked out of his daydream by an impatient `AHEM' behind him.  
Turning back, he saw that she was finally ready.  She had taken up a classical pose on her side, with her head being supported by one hand, and the other draped over her waist.  Her breasts were soft, yet perky and firm, providing him with a starting place for the painting.  
Smiling at her apologetically, he readied his brush and began.

Kat let her mind wander as she laid there, thinking back along the past.  She had been allowed to join the Club a little over a year ago, and since then, she had a made it a point to take part in the activities provided at every opportunity.  
She had been at a little sidewalk café in her hometown, enjoying a coffee, when she saw something that struck her as odd.  She had lazily watched a man parallel park his car against the curb a little ways up the road, get out, and enter the post office, but as he entered the building, his car had started rolling down the slight inclination of the road, directly towards a woman balancing a large bag of groceries, completely unaware of the danger heading towards her.  
Without thinking, Kat leaped out of her chair and tore across the street towards the woman, waving her hands and yelling.  The woman just stopped still, looking at the wild woman running at her, yelling like a Zulu.  Knocking the groceries away, Kat grabbed the woman by the collar and dragged her to the side as the car coasted by down the road until finally it ran into a fire hydrant, knocking it over and coming to a stop under an artificial rain of water from the hydrant.  
Being slightly dizzy and breathing hard, the woman looked at the now stopped car, then over to Kat.  
"You ok?," asked Kat, trying to catch her breath herself.  
"Yes...Thank you," the woman replied, then, nearly fainting from the close call, she collapsed into a sitting position in the middle of the street, panting and holding her head in her hands.  
Helping each other, they walked themselves over to the café that Kat had been sitting at, and ordered more coffee to calm themselves.  Soon, a police car swung around the corner and surveyed the damage.  Checking to see that no one was hurt, he interviewed the pair, and then left the scene to the wreckers and the city workmen.
The woman introduced herself as Susan Page, and the two got to talking.  Becoming fast friends, they started to hang out with each other, shopping, movies, eating out, until, two weeks later, they happened to share a secret.  
As it turns out, both women were invited to the same 'special' private party that was hosted by a local businessman, and both were hired as 'Mistresses' for the evening.  It was a hobby that both women had, but didn't know how the other would feel about it.
Revealing this fact led to a deepening of their relationship.  They started sharing details and different scenarios that the other could try, and they even paired up for a couple of occasions.
Then it came.
A tall man dressed in a black suit showed up at Kat's apartment one evening.  Susan was coming over, and Kat had just gotten ready when there was a knock at the door.  There he was, this huge guy a couple of inches over six feet, with a shaved head and a closely cropped goatee.  He had a slightly bulging stomach, but he wasn't fat.  He had broad shoulders and was almost scary looking, but he had a soft, deep voice, with puppy brown eyes behind black wire framed glasses, and he was extremely polite.  What he most resembled was a proper butler from the old, upper class estates.
	"Ms. Duke," he asked, holding his hand out to shake.  In his other hand, he held a black, leather bound folder.  Kat looked behind him and saw Susan standing there, silently but with a huge smile on her face.  Behind them both, in the parking lot, was a long, black stretch limo, the driver waiting patiently.  
	"Yes, I am," she replied cautiously, taking his hand.  The man bent over and raised her hand up to his lips, expertly pursing them but not quite brushing the back of her hand.  Inviting them in, they sat down the sitting area, the strange gentleman taking up a seat in the middle of the couch and laying his folder on the glass topped coffee table.  Kat and Susan took up the armchairs on the sides of the couch, and Susan was smiling so widely that she was almost bouncing up and down in her chair.  The gentleman sat stiffly and silently, looking Kat up and down in an appraising glance.  Kat offered some coffee, and all three sat silently, looking at each other.  
Finally, the man spoke.
"Ms. Duke, allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Mr. Nielson.  I have come  at the request of your friend, Ms. Page, and I wish to ask you a few questions.  If, at the end of my questions, if you are found acceptable, I would like to extend to you an offer.  I must ask for all of your own questions to be held until the end, but I assure you, any answers given by you will be held in the utmost confidence."
Reaching out, he picked up his folder and opened it in his lap, then withdrew an old fashioned fountain pen.  This made Kat think more of the old money butlers.  Unscrewing the top, he carefully placed it on the table, and then returning to his folder, he pulled out a small stapled bundle of paper.  Glancing over them, he then looked at Kat, smiling slightly.
"Ms. Duke, could you please, in your own words, describe what occurred three weeks and four days ago, on the afternoon of the ninth?"
Kay looked over at Susan, but she just sat there, beaming.  Looking back at the gentleman, she began to tell about the day she met Susan.  Trying to remember everything, she went step by step, from the point at which she ordered her coffee, to the time when she and Susan left each other after dinner.  Afterwards, the gentleman inquired as to her relationship with Susan.  Describing it as best she could, she paused at the point at which their more private lives entered into it.  Looking up, Susan nodded at her to continue.  Kay started up again, explaining, in detail, the way they both found out about each other's hobby, then elaborating into the different activities they both had enjoyed.  
Throughout the entire interview, the gentleman made notes, ticked off some items, and generally paid great attention to her answers.  Finally, when she had finished up to the point of Susan and her meeting that day, he smiled at her.
"Thank you very much, Ms. Duke.  That is very helpful."  He signed the bottom of the bundle of papers, neatly rearranged them, and replaced them in the left side of his folder.  Finally, he pulled out a single sheet of thick paper out of the right side, placing it on the coffee table and sliding it over in front of Kat, along with his pen.
"This is a confidentiality agreement.  It is legally binding, has no loopholes, no escape clauses, and is unbreakable in any way.  It is, however, a two way street.  Anything you say, hear, or experience in any way, from this point on, is absolutely secret.  No one will talk about it outside of our group, and you will not talk about it outside of our group.  The rules are very strict, but I assure you, very necessary.  In order to enjoy themselves fully, all of our members and staff are bound by this ironclad agreement.  No one, and I mean NO ONE," his voice got firm for a moment, then calmed, "has ever violated it, and no one ever will.  You must sign it in order for the offer to be made, however, if you refuse the offer, you must remain silent about it, and no reprisal will be made.  Rest assured, if you say no, I will disappear and you will never hear about us again."
Kat was almost frightened to look at the paper.  It basically stated, in no uncertain terms, that she was to keep her mouth shut about anything she knew about their organization, called the Club.  Looking at the bottom of the page, she saw lines for three signatures.  On the middle line, Susan's signature stood out, along with her printed name and today's date.  Underneath her name was the label, 'Referring Member.'
Above was a blank line labeled, 'New Member," and underneath was another labeled, 'Official Witness.'  Looking back up at Susan, Kat saw her eyes wide, as Susan nodded enthusiastically, almost bouncing again.  Taking a deep breath, Kat held it as she picked up the large pen and signed, then printed her name and the date.  
Retrieving the paper and pen, Mr. Nielson signed as a witness, screwed the cap back on, replaced it in his jacket, then, slowly and patiently, pulled a small tool out of one of his other pockets and stamped a notary seal on the paper.  Putting the stamper back in his pocket, and the agreement back in his folder, he put the entire thing back onto the table, took a sip of his coffee, and looked towards Kat.
"The Club is the most well kept secret in the world today.  Our members range from every level of society, from young to old, rich to poor, and covering all cultures and colors of the rainbow.  The confidentiality agreement allows for this secrecy, and all members and staff remain silent."  
"The Club is situated at an undisclosed location, on a private compound about twenty miles to a side.  It has any features you desire, with multiple, varied locations throughout.  You will understand more at the orientation, given upon your arrival.  All travel is through a series of private jets owned and operated by Club personnel, and may be called upon for travel to and from the Club by any members at any time.  As a full member in good standing, you will be allotted a small monthly amount, sufficient to pay any expenses you have in your everyday life outside the Club, like rent, or everyday bills.  Everything is payed for, and financially you owe nothing.  You pay by your discretion, which is all important."
The gentleman took another sip of his coffee and looked back at Kat. 
"Any questions?" he asked.
Kat was stunned for a moment, then, thinking, she asked the first thing that popped inside her mind.
"What is this 'Club' about.  Who are you?  What do you do?  Is it illegal in any way?  Who pays for it?  Why are you asking me to join?  Are you serious?  What's the catch?"
If the man reacted, neither woman saw it.  He looked kindly over to Kat and calmly answered all her questions.
"First question.  What is it all about?  The answer is simple.  The Club is a place where people go to enjoy themselves.  It is a private campus in which any and all fantasies are fulfilled, from a pleasant stroll through a forest, to a sensual back massage, to wandering through a city nude, to dominance and submission scenarios, to other, more colorful activities.  Any and all things are included, and are of a fully consensual nature.  You do what you want, when you want it, how you want it, with full openness, acceptance, and most importantly, secrecy.  That is where the confidentiality comes in.  In order for all members to enjoy themselves, everyone is silent about the Club."
"As to your second and third questions, I am merely one of the general caretakers of the Club.  I work for the Club, organizing activities, running errands, and generally making sure all things run smoothly.  The only one above my level is the Owners, and nobody knows anything about them.  I get email from them and receive packages through a pneumatic delivery system, but other then that, I am unaware of anything about them.  I do not even know how many they are.  There are rumors that they sometimes travel through the Club as staff or members, but that is just scuttlebutt."
"Next, it is perfectly legal.  Everything is purely consensual, just private.  It is payed for privately by donations of our more well-to-do members, as well as a top secret government fund set up by President Kennedy.  I do not think any of the other Presidents were members, but the funding comes in confidentially and clean, with no ties to any federal origins whatsoever."
"As to why you were chosen, there are only two ways to get in.  In both instances, you must be sponsored by a member of the Club, and then be approved by the board of caretakers.  In the end, the final request is sent to the Owners, and word comes back either yeah or nay.  If allowed, one of the caretakers, like myself, is sent out to extend an invitation."  
"One way a member is allowed to be reviewed is to be a direct descendant of a member.  There is nothing intimately involved in this, just a father wanting his son to get the advantages involved, or a mother thinking that it is a good way for her daughter to broaden her horizons."
"The second way is for someone to save the live of a member.  This is what happened to you.  Ms. Page here is a member in good standing, and has petitioned the Club to grant you admission.  After reviewing your file, looking over your personality, tastes, and general trustworthiness, I was dispatched to you."
"Finally, yes, we are extremely serious, and the only 'catch', as you say, is your silence.  Now, the final question comes down to you.    Yes or no, the answer is yours.  No one can make this decision for you, and if you decline, you will never hear from me again."
"Do you agree to become a member of our Club?"
Kat thought about it for about three seconds before a smile broke through her calm exterior.  Beaming as wide as Susan, she replied.
"Yes."
Mr. Nielson nodded, then reached into the inside pocket of his coat.  Producing a small black ring box, he handed it to Susan.  
Susan stood up, walked over to Kat, and, holding the box out reverently, spoke.
"Welcome to the Club."
The ring was silver, with a small oval emblem on it that looked like two C's supporting an F in the center.  It fit the ring finger of her right hand perfectly, not too tight to cut off circulation, not too loose to slip off accidentally. Hidden inside the engraving was a small button, barely visible.  She was about to press it when the gentleman spoke up.
"That is the personal alert button.  It is only to be pushed when the need of assistance arrives.  It is a safety feature, and policy that you wear that ring at all times unless otherwise allowed.  Further explanation will be given during your orientation.  Now," he stood up and collected his things, "A car is waiting outside for your trip.  We took the liberty of informing your employer that you would be taking some personal time, and paid off any incidental bills that were due to arrive in the next week.  Also, your cat will be fed twice a day, and played with for two hours in the afternoon.  Everything is taken care of, and all of your needs will be filled at the Club, including toiletries, food, and clothing.  If you will, your chariot awaits," and with a low bow and a gesture of the arm, he motioned the two women towards the front door.
The trip was fun, with Susan explaining some of what to expect along the way.  The limo took them to a small airport outside of town, where a private jet whisked them away.  Landing in an abandoned strip in the middle of nowhere, they were led into a black SUV with tinted windows that ensured absolute privacy.  They pulled up to the hidden front gates, and Kat was led through to her new life.

Orientation was brief, and she was shown how to put in requests of what she desired.  That evening was her first major event, which was a masquerade ball.  Everyone was dressed elegantly in Victorian style, but when the bells tolled midnight, instead of unmasking, a different call came out.
"UNDRESS," and everyone removed their clothes and handed them over to the stewards along the walls.  Everyone was completely nude except their masks, elegantly done hair, and shoes.  Kat was a little taken aback, uncomfortable in her new found nakedness, but with the mask's help, she relaxed soon enough.  The night was wonderful, with dancing and merrymaking, being topped off by being taken to her room by two strong men.  She rode them all night, trading one for the other as they each rested in turn, sometimes taking both inside of her, in every conceivable combination.  Because of their masks, she never found out who they were, and never cared to try.  They were there for her pleasure.  That was the whole purpose of the Club.

Over the next year, she came and went as she pleased, enjoying all the Club had to offer.  She would go swimming, sunbathe topless, walk around the shops, enjoy the parties, participating in her whims and fantasies, helping out with some of the guests as a dominant Mistress on occasion.  Occasionally, she would meet up with Susan and exchange stories, sometimes taking two or more men to bed and switching partners throughout the night.  Their friendship held strong throughout, and they enjoyed the Club completely.  But one thing started to grab their attention.
Occasionally, the call would come up that a guest had an event planned that needed volunteers for dominant and submissive roles.  These could be filled by any of the guests, and any empty spaces were filled by staff members.  Kat took part in some, but soon noticed that on the more intense activities, like some involving orange dots, or those involving red, or black dots, the Dom positions were restricted.  When Kat asked about the restrictions, she found out that some guests were specially trained and approved by the Club, and held the ranks of 'Master Dominants'.  These were the only ones allowed to become Dom's in these scenarios, and as a symbol of their rank, guy or girl, each had their left nipple pierced with a silver ring and a bead that was half black, half white.  
Susan was satisfied, but Kat was intrigued.  Kat inquired about the training, but couldn't get an answer.  No one would talk about it.  It was almost as secret as the Club itself, and this intrigued Kat more.  After about nine months of being a member, she finally got up the nerve and applied for training.  The steward took her name, and that was the last she heard of it.

Back on the roof of the lodge, Raul was finishing up the painting.  Kat had been laying for about an hour, and was relaxing to the point of almost nodding off.
"It's done, Ms. Duke," said Raul, as he spun the canvas around and showing her the elegant artistry.  She looked it over and was amazed.  It was perfect, showing off all of her beautiful qualities and accentuating her assets wonderfully.  It would be displayed in the Club's gallery for the next week.  After that, she would be able to take it home with her and to with it what she wanted.  
She was torn out of her admiration as she heard her name being spoken.
"Ms. Duke," said Mr. Nielson, still in his suit, leaning over her reclined person.  "Ms. Duke, may I see you in my office please?" He asked, then turned back towards the sitting house and to the elevators.
Donning her kimono and tying the belt, she hurried to follow the gentleman into the elevator doors, and they stood in silence as it traveled down to the first floor.  They departed and walked through the halls of the main lodge towards Mr. Nielson's office.  
Upon entering, Mr. Nielson walked around his desk and motioned for Kat to sit.  Polite as always, he waited for her to take her seat before lowering himself in his own, making sure she was comfortable and offering her a beverage before they began.
He picked up the single piece of paper off of his desk and reviewed it. 
"I see here that you have applied for 'Master Dominant' training, is that correct?" he asked calmly.
"Yes, I did a while ago," she replied.
"Are you still interested?"
"Yes, I am."
"You are aware that there is a little over five days of training involved?"
"I was not aware of the time involved, but I did know that there was training," she answered.  
Mr. Nielson replaced the paper on the desk.  
"The training is quite intense.  You would have to be versed in all of the possible occurrences that could arise.  Once you began, it would not be finished until the end of the period in question.  You would have no choice in the matter, no free will in quitting.  If you start, then you will finish.  Do you understand?"  Kat nodded.  
"Also, finishing the required training does not automatically grant you 'MD' rank.  Do you understand?" Kat nodded again and swallowed, hard.
"Now," Mr. Nielson said as he reached into his desk and pulled out another piece of paper.  He slid the paper over to Kat, along with his fountain pen.  "Do you still want to participate?"
Kat thought for a long while.  Mr. Nielson patiently waited, silently, until finally, Kat spoke.
"Yes."
She signed her name on the bottom, then slid the paper back across the desk.  Mr. Nielson again signed his name to it also, then stamped it.  He reached under his desk and pushed a small button.  
"The job of Dominant," he stated, "requires, above all else, understanding.  You must understand what your subjects are going through, and you must be in control, with the knowledge of what a person can take.  To know what someone is capable of enduring is to know what you yourself can survive."
With that, two pairs of hands gripped her arms, pinning them to her sides.  Lifting her up, they slammed her onto the empty desk and held her there.  She watched in shock as Mr. Nielson calmly pulled a ball out of his desk, then, while one of the hands that held her down forced her mouth open, he slipped the ball into it, then strapped it in place with a leather harness.  He then reached over and took her right hand.  
"As to the agreement," he said, "You no longer have the right to stop this."  He slowly slipped the Club ring off her finger, and she watched him as he placed it into a box that matched the one she was given with it.  He then turned around, locked the box up in a safe he revealed behind the painting above his desk.  Turning back, he nodded to the unknown owners of the iron grips that held her, and they proceeded to hog tie her on the desk, with her wrists bound behind her back, lashed to her ankles, which were also brought up and tied together.  The last thing she saw as she was roughly carried out was Mr. Nielson calmly returning to his paperwork at his desk.  An instant later, the world went dark as a blindfold was placed over her eyes.