Sitting among several search results an advert the Wilson Institute; a training academy teaching the art of submission, find your inner self and be the best you can be, the ad read like a health farm promotion. I was intrigued, clicking on it i was greeted with a fairly standard corporate web site, plastered with photos of both the exterior and interior of the academy promoting their unique Institute. It was clear their areas of training was in submission and full sexual service. They referred often to the words refinement, submit and serve.

After a somewhat in depth read and flick through of the sites many offerings i proceeded to click a fairly subtle, in comparison to the rest of the site, apply button. A form popped up and loaded very quickly, it was several pages long and at first read like a simple school or college application. Until, on the second page, a brief disclaimer paragraph stated that although the institute recognises that enjoyment can be had by the sub and their Dominant they prohibit their students from indicating or selecting their preference, subs serve the wishes of their Owner and can not choose otherwise. Directly below the statement was a selection of tick boxes next to activities associated with BDSM, i was asked to only tick what i have experience with. I perused the list and made my choices, next. The final page requested four image uploads, the first a valid national ID card, a full frontal nude, full back nude and a full face image. After my upload had finished the form had disappeared and i was returned to the site. I closed it.

8:00:00
I woke to an annoying man on the radio, he was yelling about something inferior. Inferior to what i was about to commit to. I stumbled out of my single bed, trying to avoid the morning sun as the daze worked it’s way from eyes. Pulling back the curtains, a smile crept up my face as i thought about a reply i might have sent, it faded when i realised i had only submitted the application sixteen hours ago. I booted up the PC whilst i attended to my morning needs in the morning; brushing my teeth, a shower etc.

Fresh from a hot shower with hair smelling of citrus and skin still glistening from the shower gel i sat at my computer, launched my web mail. I couldn’t believe it. A quick response.

I opened the message and flicked through the contents, i had been offered a place. The message proceeded to inform me of the induction process, i would have to print the contract, sign it and then contact the number just above my signature, a car would be arranged and would pick me up. Before the car arrived i was instructed to bring nothing but the clothes i would be wearing and the signed contract. Anything else i would have to leave, the contract was sent immediately to the printer and printed within a couple of seconds. I read through it, it was a fairly standard contract with it’s educated words and grammar but the gist was i am property of the institute upon acceptance of a place until graduation. I signed the form, contacted the number and arranged my pick up for four pm that very evening.

16:00:00
I was by the door, holding only my contract as a black car pulled up, there was a driver and a passenger seated next to him, the male passenger stepped out as i approached the vehicle, he opened the back door for me and allowed me to enter the car, he closed it behind me then walking around he opened the opposite door and sat in the back next to me pulling the door behind him, the car began to set off, the doors locked audibly and could not be opened from the inside. There was a large privacy screen between the driver and the back of the car, we were alone. The gentleman who greeted me turned to me and requested the contract i handed it him. He folded it once and placed in his inner pocket of his jacket.

He told me, i was now a student of the institute, i was property, an object, i could be traded, sold and used like a cheap object, i was worth only amusement to others. You will earn your limited privileges, you will earn your food, you will earn the right to serve, he continued. His hand began fumbling with my belt, eventually he removed it, his hand slid beneath the waist line and he squeeze, i literally came out of my seat, he continued squeezing harder as i rose up the back of the seat. This is mine, its his (pointing to the driver), it’s anyones but yours. He released his grip and retreated to his corner of the seat. The rest of the journey was silent…