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The Manor

The Manor : Volume 1

By: Sally Ferla
Published By: Sally Ferla
Copyright: Published by Sally Ferla
35 chapters / 129,000 words
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Jennifer and her mistress, a wealthy businesswoman, have committed to living the mistress/slave lifestyle, which has suffered lately due to Jennifer’s willful disobedience. In an effort to save their relationship, her mistress takes her to an etiquette academy called the Manor. 

Under extreme emotional pain and pressured from all sides Jennifer finally signs the admission form in a desperate bid to save her relationship but unbeknown to her the suggestively clad figures and strange women in the office, are actually lawyers and the cold hearted woman behind the desk a psychiatrist who runs the Manor as a medical asylum, Jennifer has just been committed!

Thrust into a life of etiquette training, Jennifer finds herself imprisoned with dozens of other women, failures leading to harsh corrections by the “intendants” the house overseers who have perfected the means over years of legally holding them indefinitely. Learning how to be a proper life slave suddenly becomes a daunting quest for survival…

Chapter 6


Miss Goodspank

 

“Miss Goodspank! Again,” she instructed from the front of the room.

 

“Yes, Miss Goodspank.” The reply came back from all the women sitting chained to their desks.

 

The morning had gone well, the routine over the last four days becoming familiar already. It began at seven each morning, the women gently woken by music filtered softly to their rooms, already having been instructed by the intendants what was expected and to be enforced.

 

At seven, they were expected to rise and stay quiet; no talking was permitted, most women finding this difficult and unnatural, but helped to obey by the nightly examples of this rule-breaking still being present in the morning and restrained to their beds. Left restrained as, at five past seven, an intendant would arrive sharply, the women to remain still as she walked the line, her sharp booted footsteps broken by pauses at each bed. The sound of gentle steel being uncuffed heralded the freeing of each woman, their nightly jewelry carried off with the intendant as she left. On her leaving, the women rose, with glancing smiles and darting eyes watched over carefully by the intendants through the camera above, their behavior monitored from the room at the end of their wing. Monitored for signs of friendship, signs of camaraderie between slaves, notes made and quickly written down, filed into reports for the Mistress to see later.

 

This, of course, was part of a larger strategy for achieving the best results from each woman, for the Manor itself was not just some dungeon that used force to achieve what was desired. No – any fool could affect change by using brute force and fear, but that result would be found temporary, the slaves’ natural wills returning, their behavior following their desire once this pressure was removed.

 

The slaves brought here were expected to return with much more than this amateur effect, the Manor’s reputation outstanding in this area and justifying the high price paid by their owners.

 

How, then, was this achieved? Step one was, of course, dominance shown to the women over the first few days, the skill of pressure and release of guidance and escape bringing submission and acceptance, but this was only the beginning. The human mind eventually becomes used to any pressure, and as such, with the pressure handled, then begins to have free time to think and find interests, desires for the future, and so there lie’s the key… desire.

 

Just as in any modern society, the people are controlled by having the majority of their energy taken from them by toil. By this labor, they tire, and any questioning of its importance or their happiness is sporadic, the daily weight on their backs from the pressures of life keeping any these thoughts at a minimum. The slave is not pushed too hard, so it does not drop the weight from its back, this holding it down over eight hours, the human mind only capable of so much processing. So involved with the toil and with no more processing power left, the happiness of the soul, or work’s effect on its life, is not considered over time, the mind being involved with the weight on its back.

 

Unnoticed by most, as they do not realize that they spend most of their waking life at their work, and if they therefore hate their work, then they spend most of their life hating their life!

 

This, though, changes at the end of said day, the weight lifted from their backs, the slaves returning home, heralding a very dangerous time for society – their minds able to think with that time. This time, then, must be taken away, but not by force, for resistance would surely result, but by stealth from within, the slave believing that they made the choices themselves. Choices to use their free time in the manner that THEY chose and in the manner that fulfilled THEIR DESIRES.

 

Desires provided by televisions, radios, magazines, and cell phones, the Masters and Mistresses of this world having their will pumped directly into the homes and hands of their slaves, their choices – though their own – based on the options provided by their jailers, their prison unseen all around them.

 

So, too, the Manor operated with such sophistication; with authority accepted, the women were then monitored, their secret looks at each other recorded, reports made and analyzed over the course of each day. Unnoticed behind the scenes, the intendants devised strategies based on requests made by owners and the personalities of each slave. For a single rigid procedure would not work for all, as some were naturally more submissive, some wayward, and still others unsure. With each strategy, progress reports on successes or failures were submitted regularly to the Mistress, her will and direction ever present in the Manor and reaching down from her office unseen behind the curtains.

 

This particular morning, Jennifer’s group had been assigned to the Academy again, where slaves were taught learning and etiquette, which was actually quite fun as compared to their first time in class. That time, they had been left aware of their legal obligations, and in no uncertain terms shown their actual legal contracts, under which they now were conscripted, having signed them on entry.

 

That had been a hard and boring morning, and at times quite shocking, when after being shackled to their desks by their left ankles, with the same nightly jewelry they were held in at dark, they were left by their intendants to the care of Miss Goodspank.

 

Miss Goodspank, as she insisted on being addressed, was an ex-lawyer from Canada who taught the class. Miss Goodspank had a soft caring face, and a similar demeanor to her soft voice, being in her forties with a long middle-aged teacher’s haircut, which flowed dark blond to just beneath her shoulders. After introducing herself and instructing the class in how to address her, the two amply spaced rows of ten desks spread horizontally across the room, five behind five, got to view her shapely form hinted at from under her teacher’s-style tan knee-length skirt and white blouse, showing that forty was no obstacle to a shapely figure. Her soft perfume, mixed with the fabric of her clothes, passed with her light blue soft silk neck scarf as she moved between each row of the two desks, one behind the other, as she placed a five page copy of a document neatly in the center of each desk, her practiced legal hand a shadow from her past. On completion, her soft low-heeled tan shoes made sounds far softer on the laminate floor than the intendants’ sharp-booted footfalls as she made her way to her commanding large desk, of a wooden and aptly maple. At the front of the class, its four sturdy legs housing a broad top with a drawer at the rear, but leaving a clear view underneath to the seated Miss Goodspank, who sat affront a large clear white board. Behind her, it meant her head was just in the middle and at the bottom of it, the women having to attempt to look through her when reading their instructions in class. Around the room, the now familiar cream walls and ornate cornicing persisted, and looked lovely in the streaming sunlight as it entered from the left through the four large windows, the rear grounds outside in view.

 

In soft Canadian assertiveness, Miss Goodspank seated a pair of neat reading glasses upon her nose and instructed that the document in front of them was a copy of what they had signed on entry, or been tricked into signing in her case, Jennifer thought. Miss Goodspank explained that it was in fact a legal contract witnessed by two lawyers, their signatures there, and one doctor, the Mistress, which in effect meant that they had been judged mentally unfit and had been legally committed or sectioned under the mental health act to the care of the Manor.

 

It left the readers scared, laying down in no uncertain terms that they were in fact confined. What was more alarming was that they would continue to be confined until judged well by the facility’s staff, and that their care had been entrusted to them.

 

On reading this, the feeling of their cool steel ankle chains securing them to their desks no longer had any sexual connotation to them, and felt more and more threatening as Miss Goodspank read through the contract with them. On page three, the chains felt even tighter as the contract confirmed in legal terms that they had agreed to the facility’s behavioral therapies, and that the house staff were in fact exempt from any responsibility for the implementation and results of said therapies; in effect, the intendants could do what they wanted!

 

As the reading continued, eyes widened as the gravity of their situation sunk in, audible gasps being heard at times in the room as the pages were turned, occasionally drawing Miss Goodspank’s eye. As she continued, line by line, her legal training seemed to kick in, her eye soon noticing a lack of attention in one of the women, this being offensive to her legal persona, as she gave her time to address this before suddenly calling, “Linda!” The shriek was sudden, the women all sitting bolt upright with the word, their attention caught on what a second ago had been a calm soft little woman and who was now a glaring source of anger behind her glasses. “Would you like to tell me what I’ve just said?”

 

No answer.

 

“Linda…..” the voice growled.

 

Linda looked around, a little embarrassed at being singled out, a small smile appearing and quickly disappearing as she realized its offering wouldn’t do any good.

 

“Right!” the voice was curt, Miss Goodspank rising quickly and opening her desk drawer behind her, and coming around the left side of it with a pair of silver handcuffs, and a set of matching keys, her stony face now shrewd. Marching straight over to Linda at the back right desk nearest the window, she didn’t even look at her as she came around her desk, between her and the window, taking her left hand behind her. The women watched as she roughly grabbed her other arm by the bicep, slipping her hand down its length to the wrist, the sharp sound of snapping handcuffs leaving the women’s impressions of a soft docile lady in tatters.

 

“Well,” she uttered as she began kneeling down to Linda’s ankle chain with the set of keys she’d brought. “It seems someone isn’t paying attention and I am not going through this contract twice,” she assured them, unlocking Linda. “Come this way,” she instructed, grabbing Linda by her secured cuffed left arm and maneuvering her as a doorman would move a troublemaker. For Linda’s part, she was embarrassed and surprised, the two emotions etched on her face as they all watched this previously nice and warm teacher push Linda across the class in front of them before spinning her around to have her standing against the right side of her desk, facing the window. An embarrassed Linda sent a look across the faces in front of her, now her audience, before turning away sheepishly as Miss Goodspank brought her hand back from her desk drawer with lengths of leather cord in her hand… short ties.

 

“Spread your legs,” she ordered from behind Linda as she bent down, her teacher’s skirt straining to hold her curves as she balanced on her heels. “Spread them!” A sharp slap to the back of Linda’s calf bringing a shuffling as she spread them apart. Her audience watched as Miss Goodspank effortlessly secured both her ankles, one to each leg of the desk with the leather ties, before rising and firmly pushing Linda, still handcuffed, over the desk.

 

“Stay still!” She ordered, her voice obviously irritated as she reached into her desk drawer once more for a black rectangular paddle, produced in front of Linda’s widening eyes. “Face forward!” she ordered with a sharp spank on Linda’s ass encouraging this as shock now descended on the class. “When I speak, you listen!” She shouted, the first snap of the paddle landing across Linda’s buttocks.

 

“Yes, Mistress!” A shocked Linda shouted out.

 

“Silence!!!” A resounding snap echoed around the class as it seared across both Linda’s cheeks. “In this class, you do not speak unless asked for an answer!” Miss Goodspank half-shrieked, clearly appalled at such insolence. “And my name is Miss Goodspank; what is my name?” She demanded as another searing sting landed across Linda’s cheeks, interrupting her answer.

 

“What!!!?” Miss Goodspank demanded, having only gotten half an answer.

 

“Miss Goodspank!!!” Linda forced out completely as the leather stung her ass, making her scream as she caught her breath and involuntarily tried to rise up off the desk.

 

“Down!” Miss Goodspank roughly pushed Linda back down, interrupting her paddling for a moment, though not for long. A shocked audience got to watch a soft calming woman turn into an angry rage in front of them, a screaming Linda’s ass beginning to redden, the paddling relentless, snap by snap bringing Linda to call out louder and louder, the strikes expert and painful. Stopping only for an instant, Miss Goodspank began to aim and strike down and sideways, just catching the skin with the paddle as it passed each cheek, making the sting that much more painful, Linda growing louder with each strike, her cheeks reddening before the class.

 

“Such noise!!!” exclaimed Miss Goodspank at Linda’s struggles. “That simply won’t do in class!” She exclaimed, removing her light scarf from around her neck and bending over Linda, stuffing it into her mouth! Gagging, Linda half-shrieked through the cotton.

 

“Don’t you dare spit that out!!!” Miss Goodspank shrieked from behind her, still bent over her and forcing it further into her panicked mouth. Satisfied she was muffled, she straightened, and they watched her rise up and continue to paddle Linda, who was groaning through the silk, biting down, not daring to spit it out. Groaning continuing, a shocked Linda had her ass reddened all the more, a lesson for the rest of the class that in these lessons the teacher would have respect!

 

After what could only be described as a sound punishment, a tearful Linda was left tied to the desk, bent over and gagged as Miss GoodSpank retook her seat, Linda spread face-down over her desk in front of her. Taking the contract back up, all eyes gave her their full attention as Miss Goodspank cleared her throat, a crying groan from Linda drawing her teacher’s attention.

 

“Linda…” Miss Goodspank growled through gritted teeth, her eyes dropping to the helpless form beneath her for a second. Silence ensued, the class getting to watch the tears running down the cheeks of a shaking Linda as she held back the sound of her crying, biting into the scarf instead.

 

And so the learning continued, the women instructed completely on their confinement. There were, as Miss Goodspank instructed, only two ways out of the Manor. One: the house management had to agree their behavior had been cured and that they were mentally fit to leave, this conclusion having to be signed off on by at least two doctors, there being only the Mistress and two others. The other two doctors were to be found in the medical section of the Manor, in the east wing of the ground level, one in the infirmary and one in the psychiatrist office, both medically qualified and able to sign off in this manner.

 

The second way known in the Manor as “The way home” came in the procedure of the slave herself making a request to the in-house psychiatrist to consider her for release on the grounds she was no longer fit to continue. The psychiatrist had to consider after evaluation that the psychological well-being of the patient was being put at risk by continuing her treatment. It seemed medically sound, and the women did in fact feel some relief on hearing that there was someone watching over their mental health, but what they couldn’t know and what became clear in the coming weeks was that the in-house psychiatrist was informed on patients’ states by none other than the intendants, and very rarely was allowed to visit them in person.

 

In such times as it was legally necessary for the in-house psychiatrist to do her regular checks on patient welfare, the intendants would choose the time and ready them, making them calm and relaxed, and delaying them as long as was necessary to achieve this. In other times, when they were brought to the psychiatrist’s office because she herself had become concerned as she did her rounds throughout the day, watching over the activities, the patient would be escorted by two intendants. Throughout the visit, they would then remain in the office under the guise of security for the psychiatrist, making any reporting by the patient against the intendants simply a bad idea.  In short, the intendants would have their way!

 

The contract was thoroughly gone through, the women left in shock with the realization that they were trapped sinking in, the golden sun wafting through the windows no longer as calming. 

 

“Okay, class dismissed,” announced Miss Goodspank, the intendants having already arrived and unshackled them. “Linda won’t be joining you,” she addressed the questioning looks as they filed past her, out the door, watching her open the desk drawer and produce a wooden ruler, Linda’s eyes widening, the scarf still stuffed in her mouth. “Now…” Miss GoodSpank addressed her, having risen to her feet. “We’re going to do something about that noise in class,” she assured Linda, the door closing on the scene behind them.

 

 

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