*Day One*
Well, I’m here at last in the Abbey! Arrived around nine this morning – one of the Abbey’s instructrixes brought me here. I left Master Halyard’s house only wearing a simple translucent slip and a pair of soft shoes and nothing else – no stockings, knickers or bra. I wore no bracelets or anklets, nor rings on my fingers, let alone on my toes. Before leaving, I was also commanded to remove my nose ring, earrings and nipple rings, and I was told not to put on makeup and leave my hair hanging loose and unadorned. The instructrix led me through the streets by a cord tied around my wrists. Though the locals are certainly familiar with such sights, it didn’t mean I wasn’t myself feeling self-conscious – I’d even go as far as saying I was feeling as timid as a wee mousie. Those who saw me in the street smiled, but I couldn’t bring myself to look them in the eye. Thankfully, there weren’t that many folks about this morning to see me.
After my escort led me under the great arch of the Abbey’s gateway with all its outlandish carvings of dolphins and tentacled sea monsters, she untied me and made me take off my slip and shoes. In the lobby, I met my fellow novices – six lasses and seven lads – all naked like myself. The lasses are all buxom with big, bouncing breasts and well-rounded backsides – very typical Follywell lasses I’d say. The lads are tall, lean but muscular – again, quite typical for town lads in the north-western shires.
We didn’t speak – only looked each other up and down a little. Personally, I was too embarrassed to say anything myself – I admit that doesn’t sound like me, but this wasn’t like your usual get together with a bunch of naked strangers in the bushes. I’m sure the others felt the same too unless I was missing something. If I wasn’t too timid to speak, I would’ve asked them some of the myriad questions that were now filling my head – I’d imagine as locals, they have a better idea of what to expect.
The lobby lass, or receptionist, as she called herself, told us to stand in the middle of the lobby, and she informed us that our instructrixes would soon collect us. She tried to keep a cold eye on us as we waited, but various visitors kept distracting her with their enquiries. It then occurred to me that if I wanted out, then this probably would be my last chance to make a run for it. I confess I did consider it, but in the end, the better part of me won out – I had already made my vows the day before so there’s no going back now. Yes, I’m devoted to service – in body, mind and soul – for five years at least – how long exactly, only the Council knows. I know it’s going to be challenging, but no matter what happens, I’ll have to keep believing it’s for my own good and the good of my adopted town.
Two instructrixes arrived and told us our inductions would happen in an hour. There was enough time for them to give us a quick tour of the grounds while we still retained some of the dignity befitting regular citizens – afterwards, we’d be classed as mere lap dollies and treated as such. The Abby, the instructrixes informed us, is Follywell’s oldest and largest house of instruction, and as we got to see for ourselves, it’s much more than just a house – behind its facade on Queen’s Street is a whole complex of courts, cloisters and yards. In the first of these yards, we saw dozens of men and women, all naked like ourselves. Their limbs were cuffed and chained, giving them only freedom to crawl on their hands and knees. We were told that these lap lads and lap lasses were nearing the end of their six months of training. Standing over them, several vermilion-clad guards brandished whips and paddles. The lap dollies were crawling in a great circle around an ornate fountain carved from pink translucent marble, while some lass, sporting a short emerald green tunic, sat on the edge of the fountain’s basin, holding a golden chalice in her hand. While we watched, one of the lap dollies broke ranks with the others and crawled up to this lass. She lowered the chalice and he took several sips from it.
We saw more trainee lap dollies in the next courtyard, but most of these lads and lasses were contained in small four-foot square cages. Others, though, were bound to whipping posts or to low benches. As we passed through the yard, one of the lads hanging from the posts was receiving a series of savage thrashes from a crimson-clad flagellatrix. Deep red marks criss-crossed his limbs, back and buttocks. The sight was chilling. I really hope he had committed a particularly serious misdemeanour to deserve such a birching.
After being taken through a further, smaller yard, we ended up in a large oak-panelled hall, where we were presented to the directors of the Abbey and several local dignitaries. One after another, we were bid to crawl forward to be collared. I was one of the first to go. When I was in the middle of the chamber and surrounded on all sides by witnesses, they made me repeat some of my vows. I vowed again to devote myself to pleasure and put the pleasure of others before my own. I vowed again that I allow free use of my mouth, cunny and anus. And I also repeated my vow to dedicate myself in service to the town, its citizens and its gods.
Then Lady Lucia, who I understand is the patron of the Abby, stepped up to me brandishing a pair of scissors and set about lopping off my beautiful, long, flowing auburn locks! Then someone handed her a collar and she fixed it around my neck. A fierce-looking instructor barked at me, telling me to thank the lady. I didn’t hesitate to thank her. I’m aware this collar will be my only adornment for the foreseeable future – and I understand that it and my constant nakedness will tell everyone who sees me that I’m a dedicated lap dolly.
Later, we were told we will soon get used to our collars. I still find mine a little uncomfortable – it isn’t tight – it’s actually quite loose – but I’m constantly aware of the weight of its brass rings. There’s one of these at the front and another at the back, so at least they balance each other out. It’s a bit like a maid’s collar, though certainly not as dainty. It also has a little brass tag attached to it with small writing stamped on it. One side says ‘Property of Temple Parish, Follywell,’ and the other side says ‘If found, please return to Queen’s Street Abbey.’
After our collaring, we were led through a further suite of chambers in which rows upon rows of naked lap dollies were fornicating with clothed fellows. The latter, who I presume by their dress, are ordinary gallant lads off the street, were all making full use of the naked men and women – or lap boys and lap girls, as our instructrixes called them. In some of the chambers, the lap boys were buggered and the lap girls were fucked and buggered. I also saw some lap girls taking cocks in both holes at the same time. In other rooms rows of clothed fellows were having the lap dollies, both male and female, suck their cocks. All this fornication was being watched over by guards, instructrixes and others. No one was speaking in any of these rooms – the only sounds were grunts and moans, and the slapping of flesh against flesh and sounds of cocks thrusting inside well-lubricated orifices. I consider myself an experienced lass, but I’ve never seen so many folks fornicating together like this – nor have I ever seen it done in such a controlled and regimented manner – it was all so impersonal, like automatons in a factory. I have to add, though, that there was an extremely charged atmosphere of passion and excitement – but of a strange, fascinating and troubling kind. I even admit that though these sights were repulsive to my mind, my cunny felt otherwise, and I couldn’t help but put my hand to it and finger myself. I think some of my fellow novices were also pleasuring themselves.
After witnessing these fornication rooms, our instructrixes took us to another yard. Only about fifty feet square, this one is somewhat smaller than the ones we’ve already seen, though like the others it’s enclosed by walls on each of its fours sides, with access gained via several lockable gates. Much of this yard is taken up by a lawn of thick, lush grass. Along one wall is a long single-storied building which the instructrixes called the stables. Opposite to this building as a small, three-storied tower with a high conical roof like a witch’s hat. The taller of the two instructrixes – I don’t know either of their names – told us that this yard will be our home for the following months.
The other instructrix told us to go to the middle of the lawn and get down on our hands and knees. She then informed us that from now on we were forbidden to stand up unless instructed to do so. This rule, she continued, was not to be forgotten – not ever – if any one of us broke it then it’s likely that all fourteen of us will have to be punished.
She then told us we can piss anywhere on the lawn, and when we need to defecate, there’s an open latrine in one of the corner’s of the yard for our use. In the opposite corner is a water trough for us to drink from.
After she mentioned a few other things, she instructed us to pair off and fornicate. I partnered up with one of the buxom lasses. We kissed, sucked each other’s nipples, caressed, and went down on each other. At the start I still was self-conscious – our two instructrixes were looking down at us – having not lived for long in Follywell, I’m still not accustomed to being watched.
An hour or so later, they told us to stop and rest. Lying arm in arm with my lass on the grass, we whispered to each other. Our instructrixes didn’t stop us – whispering to each other it seems, at least for now, is something we are allowed to do.
Half an hour later, we had to resume fornicating. This time the taller instructrix stood directly over my partner and me and told us she wanted to see us penetrate each other’s orifices with our fingers. In her frank, matter-of-fact manner, she made it clear that we had to do both our cunnies and our anuses. First, we did each other’s cunnies. I then invited my lass to put her fingers in my arsehole. Though I was not hugely experienced with anal, she still got two fingers up my rear end quite easily. Her wriggling fingers felt pleasant, but with the big burly instructrix standing over us, I couldn’t say I was really enjoying myself. My partner’s own anus was quite tight when I tried it. She whispered that she wasn’t used to anal – something which seems surprising for a Follywell native to admit. I still slowly worked a finger in – carefully and taking my time. Though she said it felt strange, she didn’t object to me keeping it inside, though with our stern instructrixes standing over us brandishing their paddles, the poor lass probably didn’t dare. A little later she whispered in my ear, saying that she was worried about being so tight, considering all the buggery she would be subjected to during her service. It turns out her dedicated term is even longer than mine – seven years at least. I reassured her, saying she’ll soon loosen up with practice. I went down on her, but this time with my mouth on her arsehole. For a while, I bathed it with my saliva while applying my tongue to it. I tried it again with my forefinger, and this time it went in with more ease and I was able to move it more freely – I even managed to get two fingers inside. I couldn’t tell if she enjoyed it, but she thanked me afterwards. She then went behind me and fingered again both my cunny and my arsehole.
At dusk, we retired to the stable block, where we were fed and watered by the Abbey’s servants. There’s a row of caged cells running along the length of the room, and currently, we have been locked in these cells for the night – one lass or lad per cell. Only iron bars separate us so we can still see each other. We can touch each other through the bars. The lad in the cell to my left has already groped me a couple of times – because of my vows, though, I can’t really object, can I? Anyway, I think it was just a friendly grope – just being neighbourly. I can, of course, do the same to him and probably will in time. And the lass to my right – if she comes near enough to the bars separating us, I might give her a good grope too.
I found a pencil and this notebook under my bedsheet. A note on a loose slip of paper inside says I can use it how I like, though it suggests I keep a journal of what happens each day – which is what I’m doing now! The note also says the book will be taken away after I’m issued to my first household, but it will be returned to me once I’ve completed my service. There’s enough light at the front of the cell to write by…
The taller instructrix has just returned and told us about what to expect tomorrow – there’s a lot to take in at once, but I certainly remember her mentioning anal training and something called the ‘Kiss of Obedience’.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lva55r/taras_training_diary_day_one_by_callovan_fantasy