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Writers note: This is the first of the series to really depict the Cunt School. I would be gratified if the full story were reviewed and/or commented on at this stage by those who are new to it or who have awaited new sections.
Cunt School, Part III
By Victor Mann
We had all fallen asleep when the van slowed, backed up and came to a halt. Us five women, naked, shivering and uncomfortable in the back of the van saw a small door
open in the front by the driver, above our line of vision. Tossing blindfolds for us
into the back, a younger man’s voice said, “OK, cunts, put on the blindfolds.”
We all knew our Masters were no ordinary D/s “players.” Our lives with them was
not “play,” but real in every sense. This can be all jazzed up and made into some kind
of esoteric thing. Whips and chains and such. But for us slaves in this van it was very clear: our Masters were not afraid to be Men and they knew how to make god damn sure that we acted like women. But this was far beyond the old school sexism which any of us women in that van could understand, but would not embrace. Most old school sexists get the words to the song, but they don’t know the music. For them fealty in a woman is just a given. It is easy enough for a man to know that a woman is a cunt. But the difference between the average dolt and our Masters is that They know how to make Their understanding our understanding. Where the simple sexist is happy to fuck a woman’s
body as is his whim, a real Master fucks her mind even more deeply so that she will learn. If He does this with art, her soul becomes His, as He should deign.
We walked in our blindfolds on a cold concrete floor that lead to a large thick-carpeted
room. There began the “program” designed by the “True Masters” of California. Intense, rigorous and demanding it was a school not merely of the body but of the soul.
I can say for myself that I became for my Master a much more well-developed piece of property for Him than if I had not been sent there. No doubt the “True Masters of California” are a special group whose desires and needs as proud Men had clear characteristics that would most certainly distinguish them. They are “true-believers” of a certain sort with very, very well-defined specifics. I am so honored that My Master and Owner is One of this group. I can say now freely, as My Master does allow freedom to please Him, that that I believe that the training given at Their school every woman should have. I was before Master took His rights with Me a rather conventional, white middle-class woman. That said, I was also known as a very independent minded, I am very well-educated and, until my return from Cunt School, worked aggressively as a lawyer in a very competitive “male” oriented employment environment. But here I am speaking of the contours of the soul. I had deep unexamined yearnings and needs as a FEMALE that modern society completely ignored. Master was not only training me before I went to Cunt School, but he was detraining me, excising the “bullshit” as He liked to call it, to get to the core of me.
But more exactly the True Masters of California believe that a woman
must and should be absolutely obedient to the WISE Man. I believe this. The Masters
believe that a woman must and should hurt for a Man as a matter of habit and course.
I believe this. More controversially they believe in a deep, uncompromising Masculinity that must be greeted by the most complete, ultra-submissive femininity, enforced by norms and requirements that most men in the outside culture might very much admire, but which do give a distinctive look and feel to every “cuntdoll” who belongs to a True Master of California. I will say here that all of these norms and requirements speak to my soul and being at the deepest level and I am most thankful that these norms and requirements are enforced in my relationship with Master so that I can truly be all that I was meant to be. If I were a free cunt or if I were not being trained, I know that I would
want to avoid many of the elements of these realities.
The “cuntdoll” course:
The philosophy of the cuntdoll is deeply important for the True Masters of California
(henceforth TMC). They believe absolutely in a woman as a sex-object above all.
Where mindless sexist rhetoric blathers about women being good for, “Only one thing,”
the TMC Cunt School entrains a deep and full understanding of this as a daily, inviolable
truth---- but most importantly, she must look the part within very strict parameters.
Our cohort of five had a Full Master as our main teacher, One of the Founders and creators of the school. The literature stated that He was a retired stockbroker, Who now
devoted Himself to “training cunt and making the world better for Men.” He was in his
late 50’s it seemed and what I noticed immediately was His fiery brown eyes, “riveting eyes,” I call them, like my Master’s. He had an attractive face, a smooth dark brown, showing his Latino heritage. He was about 6 feet tall, physically firm, though not deeply muscled and of average build for His height. He wore a black turtleneck, a expensive looking shiny black leather vest, polished black leather pants highlighted by a black belt studded in what looked like real silver studs and perfectly shined black leather boots. We cunts, all having bathed and dried ourselves on our own in the adjoining shower room, sat, per instructions, naked in plush high backed chairs put into a half-circle around the fireplace which blazed behind Him. He had casually pointed to the glasses of wine on the small tables on the right side of the chairs and we all had reflexively and obediently picked them up and begun drinking. Master Tharn, as we were to call Him, had that air of confident superiority around Him that we all knew well from our own Men. We were, most surely, like expectant school girls coming into a course we knew would be especially difficult. We were all eager to be successful here and to make our Masters proud. But we all too had real fear at the pit of our stomachs worrying what would be expected of us--- and whether we could measure up.
As He began to speak, sipping casually Himself from a crystal wine glass, He
said, “Legs splay, cunt-place forward.” We all shifted so that we sat directly facing Him,
with our legs in the most “unladylike” position, exposing ourselves to His gaze. Though I did not dare to look on either side of me, I am sure that we all sat in with pursed lip, eyes downward, with “face soft” expressions, as we all were already quite well trained. He said:
“I trained My first fucking cuntdoll when I was 26 years old. The bitch was 10 years My senior, the wife of My next door neighbor. She had flirted mercilessly with Me when I was a teenager and I had jacked-off many times thinking of fucking her. I was doing My MBA and my parents were having a backyard barbecue. She got a little drunk and I started getting her tits against My back and rubbing against My arm like she used to like to do. She went so far as to invite Me next door away from the party to look in the garage at her new car. This was a very special moment for Me because she was the first woman I took command of. I kissed her very roughly, called her a cock-teasing bitch and shoved her down on her fucking knees to suck My prick. She took it all in like she had waited forever for this day and My rudeness and crudeness, far from turning her off, seemed to be what she was secretly looking for. The next day I went over to the house and fucked her without saying a word to her. I came in, took her hand, pushed her on the bed, and, without even kissing her, fucked her for about an hour. As I went out the door, I stopped and said to her, ‘I’m here for another week. I’m coming over here every day at 2:30 to fuck you and use you. But next time I come to the door I want you dressed in your Sunday church clothes. I want you dressed and made-up perfectly just the way you were when I was sixteen and you shoved your tits in My face at My parents’ Christmas party. You are going to get what’s coming to you from Me bitch! I guess that was the moment that I learned that with most women it is better to tell than to ask. That cunt was a knock-out dressed up and I could smell her perfume half way to her house the next day. She told Me after that week that she was My ‘little cuntdoll’ anytime I wanted her. This relationship lasted 20 years, sporadically, until she divorced her husband and moved in with a Master she had met through a friend.”
Master Tharn, finished His drink and lit a cigar, exhaling the smoke with the air of self-satisfaction and relish that only a Man Who is sure of His command can project.
He had obviously recounted this tale many times in His teaching and took great pleasure in each detail of it. Master Tharn snapped His fingers without any obvious object and
from a door to the side of the fireplace emerged two immaculately dressed and accoutered women, each of whom took a place kneeling, bowing to a boot of Master Tharn, her perfect fingers wrapped around the boot back, her lips kissing with true fealty the black boots of His Mastery. “Cunts! These are the two I own. They will aid Me in guiding you in the details of cuntdoll presentation and attitude. They are ‘teaching assistants,’ you might say.”
When His two cunts had finished their deep, lingering act of obeisance, Master Tharn took each by a hand and had them rise to stand for a moment at His side. As impressed (and jealous) all of us cunts sitting there were with the externals of these women, who both were dressed and made-up like very chic, expensive whores, we were more impressed by their studied submissiveness and femininity in movement and demeanor. Certainly they did seem like obedient “dolls” in that there was no sense of any motivation but to punctiliosly obey and please their Master. But their responses and actions were not mechanical or robotic at all but seemed so very natural, clearly inspired by a deep pride in their service to their strong Master and a deep devotion to the principles He had instilled in them.
Looking more closely we could see that the cunt on the right was short and stocky and of medium attractiveness under her thick make-up and well designed outfit. Her tits were large enough but not especially impressive and what figure she showed was obviously due to a tight corset that managed to bring in a rather too ample waist so she showed some curve. She was fiftyish, but clearly her hair had been kept very black to please her Master. We came to learn later that this was Master Tharn’s wife of 30 years. The cunt who stood placidly at Master Tharn’s right was in the category of “blonde bombshell.” (Though it was clear that her hair had been bleached platinum.) A later acquisition of the Master, she was in her late twenties and had a very ample bosom set off by a nice waist that was made truly wasp-like by an obviously tight corset. She must have stood 5’5” without her tall high heels which brought her up a few inches shorter than the Master. She had vivid blue eyes and very beautiful features. This was a prize for any Man.
Us five cunts had all learned lessons in presentation. We did not need a lot of time together to learn that we were all peas from the same pod and that our Masters were astonishingly alike. And we all could see clearly that Ay and Bee, as they were called,
showed an eviable polish and perfection of dress, make-up and accouterment. It was of a sort we knew our Masters sought in us. This, combined with the deep purity and completeness of their submission, presented us with feminine examples that we who had been trained in such isolation found inspiring to sit before. Ay and Bee did not at all, in person, belie the slick perfection of the trained cunts we had seen depicted in the shocking brochure of the Cunt School. In my case, I can say that the force of Master Tharn and its obvious fruition in the sight of His two owned cunts coming before us with all their submissive beauty hit me very deeply sexually. I was wet in the cunt and ready to take lessons from Him. But I wasn’t the only bitch there who sat there enthralled.
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