Interspersed with the lessons were exercise periods and what were called "meditation periods". The exercises weren't difficult. There were the typical aerobics and some more traditional exercises, usually in a room equipped with sun lamps in the ceiling lights. Cathy looked forward to the exercise periods because they invariably got some free rest time afterwards. Since they were never allowed outside the exercises helped to keep muscle tone and the lights helped to maintain vitamin levels from the skin.

What were euphemistically called meditation periods Cathy did not enjoy at all and dreaded each one. They were placed in a long narrow room in a line, kneeling on a cushion facing mirrors. For however long the period lasted they must remain immobile, in a submissive posture, looking at themselves in the mirror. Behind them Wardens would walk back and forth, watching them closely for any mistakes. The pacing behind her made Cathy very nervous and difficult for her to concentrate. After the first session, she had asked Paula why they were forced to practice their posture in such an odd way.

"That's not what it's about," Paula had told her. "They deliberately make it unpleasant. You aren't supposed to be enjoying your stay here, remember? Aside from that, there is another purpose. It's a type of training exercise, no, not on how well you present yourself, but on how well you handle orders you don't like. It's easy to submit when you are told to do what you want to do anyway. When it really counts is how well you obey when it isn't fun. When you are required to kneel in front of a mirror with some stranger staring at you, something you would never do normally. That image you see in the mirror? You are being forced to confront your own nature, the core of who you are. No pretense, nothing concealed. You begin to realize just how truly dependent you are on your master. Give it some time Cathy, after a while you start to see a change. Who knows, you may even start to like it," Paula laughed. Cathy thought about it. Paula was right in one respect, the meditation periods were not pleasant interludes.

One particular lesson had fascinated Cathy. Like many others it started with a teacher entering the classroom, in this case Sarah again, but for this one lesson Sarah's master also attended. At the start, he had sat down at the front of the class. When everyone was ready, he nodded to Sarah for her to begin.

"I'm sure you have all read the countless books and essays on what it means to be submissive, how we should behave, what makes us the way we are. But did you ever wonder what it is that goes on inside your master's head? What is it that drives him to dominate you? In this lesson we will look at those questions and more. Now this may surprise many of you, but I am not the most qualified to talk about this subject." Everyone laughed at Sarah's joke. "So I will join you for a while and we shall all listen to my Master describe the innermost dark secrets of that most feared and loved, by us at least, species of man, our masters the dominant males. Afterwards we will discuss how we can use that knowledge to better serve." Sarah went to a cushion to one side of the rest of the class and knelt facing her master.

"Why am I a master? Why do I want to own someone like Sarah? What is it that makes me want to control her entire life, dictating rules, overseeing and approving her every action? Well, here's the secret: men want to dominate, to master, because they are insecure. They want to control their environment. They want to control anything and everything that affects their lives. They want to be sure that what they have today they will also have tomorrow.

"Wait a minute you say, isn't it about sex? Don't men want to have a willing woman available any time, day or night? Sure, any man who denies it is lying, but there's more to it. Yes he does want to find you there whenever he rolls over in bed in the middle of the night, but he also wants to know you will be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. He wants you to be the friend who's always there, the one he can share his secrets with, the one he can trust. Yes, trust, surprised? You hear so much about how a good submissive builds trust in her master, but you don't think about the rest of it. He has to trust you as well, trust that you will keep his secrets, trust that you will be there for him, trust that you won't walk out or turn on him."

"It goes back to that basic insecurity. He wants a woman he can spend a lifetime with, but he has that craving for control, to make sure everything is done his way. Who can best answer that need? Someone who loves him, is devoted to him, wants to serve him, take care of him, but also someone who will obey him, defer to his judgment, be it right or wrong, someone who can allow herself to become dependent on him. What type of woman would best be suited to a role like that?"

He stopped and looked around at the class. Cathy had never thought in those terms before. She couldn't visualize her master as being insecure.

"The answer is obvious to all of you here: a deeply submissive woman," he continued. "Each one of you has chosen to submit to your master. Why you choose to submit is another topic, but you submit knowing that it means you accept his unrestricted authority over your lives. Is it what he really wants? Yes, and don't ever doubt it. Your submission is like a powerful narcotic drug to him. The more he gets from you, the more he wants. It draws him to you, an attraction more powerful than you can imagine.

"As a submissive it must seem that you take all the risks. You give him everything, yet he could abandon you on a whim. Reality is far different. The more you draw him in, the more power you give to him through your submission, the more he will desire you. Can you walk away from him on a whim? No? Well, he can't either. You are fulfilling dreams he has had since childhood. He would no more abandon you than he would cut off his arm. Remember this: just as his dominance holds you to him, so your submission holds him to you.

"To me, domination is not about what I actually do, but the potentials, what I could do if I wished. If I were so inclined I could order Sarah to crawl on the floor barking like a dog. Am I going to do that? No, it would be silly. But I know I have the ability to make her do that if I wanted it. See the distinction? That's why your master isn't some kind of abusive monster. He doesn't need to prove he's in charge by issuing a constant stream of orders and rules, to put you through some degrading or humiliating scene. Rather he sees, from how you obey him, that his power over you is there anytime he wants it."

"We'll take a short break now, then Sarah will continue the lesson. Sarah? Come to the front." He concluded his lecture and left by the teacher's entrance. Sarah stood after he had left the room and took her place at the front of the class.

"As my Master said, there will be a break, you can stand and talk quietly. Afterward I'll speak of my own experience and how it fits with what you've just heard." She gestured for everyone to stand.

After the break Sarah called the class to order again. "You have heard from my Master about what motivates a dominant male to seek our submission, to be our masters. Now, how do we use that information to better serve them?

"Remember what he said about insecurity, and that drive to control to overcome it? We attract a master in part by offering our submission, but it doesn't stop there. We have a duty to make him see his control over us in tangible ways. Let's take an example to illustrate the point.

"I'm sure every one of you has certain rules imposed on you by your master. Some may be practical, some for your own good, but there are always a few he dictates just for his own personal enjoyment. For instance, my Master insists that I always put on my left shoe first and take off my right shoe first. Sounds sort of ridiculous, doesn't it? How could it matter to anyone which shoe you put on first? It's a rule, so of course you follow it, but more than likely you will think it silly. It isn't. There is an excellent reason for rules like that, if you know how to look at it."

Cathy thought about some of her own rules. One oddity was that her master insisted that she always wear a skirt and blouse when they ate dinner together. She hadn't thought much about it, perhaps he liked to look at her legs, but she never understood why it had to be a skirt and not a dress. A few times she had forgotten, so he had told her to go change before they sat down at the table. After that she had gotten into the habit of changing clothes just before he got home from work. She listened as Sarah continued.

"Does my Master care which shoe I put on first? Not really. Does he care if I follow the rule or not? Absolutely, if I forget even once he's on me immediately about it. After a few, umm, let's say painful reminders I don't ever put on the right shoe first." There were several laughs at Sarah's comment, everyone there knew what she meant by a reminder. She continued with her example. "Why does he care? Because it's a way to control me, to see that I obey him. It's a reassurance that he's in charge and our roles are not subject to change. He can see his dominance over me on a daily basis. It's important to me as well, because I know I'm doing something special for him.

"That's the key point to this lesson. Why are all of you here? In some way or another you disobeyed your master, broke one of his rules or challenged him in some way. Do you see what happens when you do that? You strike at the core of his insecurity. For those of you who think being sent here is unfair and an overreaction to what you did, think about it a moment. It wasn't what you did, but what it represented, which brought you here. Remember my master's comment about potential? When you defied your master, you took away that same potential from him. He no longer had the certainty that you would be there for him. He doesn't want to lose what he has, so here you all are."

That ended the lesson for the day. Cathy thought about it as they were taken out of the classroom and back to their cells. In retrospect she could see what she had done. It wasn't so much that she had walked out, but that she had deliberately disobeyed his direct order. She had intended to get his attention, but not to push their relationship to the brink. She had not understood the impact of what she had done to him. If she could turn back the clock now she would never have left that afternoon.

She and Paula had become close friends. Cathy enjoyed the long talks during their free time when she and Paula were assigned the same dormitory cell at night. She appreciated how Paula would listen to her, and sometimes offer helpful advice. Several times Paula had helped her understand the lessons. For one problem in particular, Cathy needed Paula's insight and experience.

Cathy had not felt her Master's touch in some time, it was becoming more difficult to sleep at night, her thoughts were filled with memories of her Master, the times she had been with him. More than once her hand had strayed to the metal strip between her legs. She had jerked it away as soon as she felt the shield, warmed by contact with her body. Her desire was becoming unbearable, satisfying that desire impossible with the belt on.

Once, late at night, unable to sleep, she had dared to leave her hand between her legs, knowing she risked punishment if a Warden saw her, but driven to recklessness by her need. She had tried pressing against the steel, then rubbing it, finally even trying to slip a finger underneath it. All her clandestine efforts were to no avail, the fit was too close and the metal unyielding. She could not seek release from her desire while the belt was fastened on her. In frustration and desperation she had tried to force the waistband over her hips, but the loop around her waist was too narrow to slip.

She asked Paula what to do. Paula had just smiled, "Cathy, there is no answer; all you can do is wait and hope your Master comes some day. This device from hell," Paula grimaced, tapping the shield between her own legs with one finger, "is to make sure you don't get used to the routine here. It isn't enough to just get by, you have to work at your lessons, earn a good report from the Wardens to your Master, so that he will come to visit you. That's the only way to solve your problem."

Paula's words had not helped much, but Cathy did put more effort into her lessons. And then one day her routine began to change. She had not seen Paula for several days, but that was not unusual as the Wardens constantly moved them around. Every day there was a changing mix of students and teachers in the classes. Each night had been with a different group too. Cathy had been asking Paula about visits by their masters, but Paula had been evasive, not going into detail. Cathy had hoped to find out more about it, but she hadn't had the opportunity yet. But she was sure she would see Paula in a few more days. Cathy really hadn't made any friends with the other girls, other than casual conversation, and didn't feel comfortable talking to them about intimate subjects.

The day had not seemed out of the ordinary, Cathy had gone through the usual routine and she had been placed in a cell for the night with three girls she only knew slightly. She had settled in for the night, but as usual was finding it difficult to sleep. She heard the steps of a patrolling Warden, slowly walking down the hallway, pausing at each cell door. The footsteps came near her cell, then stopped. She could see him standing at the door, looking in at them through the bars. She expected him to walk on, but he just stood there, looking right at her. She became uneasy, had she done something wrong? Did they know of her attempt to get around the belt? Probably, they seemed to know everything.

"Cathy, stand up, approach the door," he ordered. Immediately she pushed back her thin blanket, rose, and went to the door. She stood in front of him, close to the bars, back straight, head down, arms at her side, waiting for his orders. "Turn around, hands behind your back, feet slightly apart." Expecting just such orders, she turned, placed her hands behind her back, palms facing out, the backs of her wrists a few inches apart. She could see the other girls watching her from their sleeping pads. She heard the familiar click as the Warden closed the cuffs around her wrists, then her ankles. Her back to him, she heard the key in the lock, the opening door, and then his hand was around her upper arm, pulling her into the corridor. He locked the door behind her.

As she stood in the hallway, a shiver went through her. How would she be punished? The Warden led her down the hallway, past several cells. She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she went by, but of course no one said a word. She had to concentrate on walking, her guard set a fast pace making it difficult for her to keep up given the short chain hobbling her ankles, They went past the end of the sleeping cells, through a gate, and on past other rooms with closed, solid doors.