"I am the instructor for this class. You will address me as Miss Cathy. Learn what I teach you, and you will be able to leave this place." For emphasis she tapped the pointer on the floor.

"Nice touch, but be sure you look around the room. Try to make eye contact with everyone." Robert sat on the couch while Cathy rehearsed her first class, only two days away. "Remember, when you come in they'll all be watching you. You'll be an unknown quantity; they don't know what to expect. Don't rush, slow and deliberate till you get to your spot at the head of the class. Make sure they wait for you. Don't look down, and don't look away from them. Keep telling yourself that you're in charge. You can do whatever you want, so by definition you can't make a mistake."

Cathy shook her head, unsure she could remember it all. "I'm really nervous. Do you think I can do this, Robert? It isn't as easy as I thought it would be." She twirled the pointer stick, working off excess energy.

"You will do fine. You know your outline?" She nodded. "Then you go in there, tell them who you are, and start talking. Speak with authority and confidence. You know your subject, show it." He leaned forward. "Think back to when you were one of the students, the first class you were in."

She remembered that first day too well. "I was scared. I'd been yanked out of a normal life and thrown into an environment where everything was upside down. The only thing I was sure of was I'd get in trouble if I made a mistake. The teacher for that very first class, Miss Sarah was her name, she sure got my attention."

Cathy Kincaid and her husband Robert were temporarily serving on the staff of the school at the invitation of the Director. Robert was filling in as a warden while Cathy prepared to be an instructor. After a week of orientation and training on school policy she was ready to start. Robert was helping her with her presentation.

"See?" he told her. "She made an impression. You have to do the same. Grab and hold on to their attention. Then teach them what they need to know. You've been there; they want to hear how you made it out."

That was an understatement. Cathy knew all too well the hardships those women were facing. She had experienced it firsthand, twice.

"And what about you? Ready to be the big, mean prison guard?" She had seen him in his new uniform for the first time earlier that evening.

"Trainee wardens can only be brutal three days a week. I figured I'd practice on you the rest of the time." He leered at her.

Cathy didn't take his remark seriously. She knew Robert had never been mean or abusive. He was strict, and he had not hesitated to send her to the school when she had tried to run away, but he was fair and basically a gentle man. That and his self-assurance and determination were the qualities that made him so attractive. He listened to her, asked her opinion, even encouraged her to speak up but once he decided the matter ended. No effort on her part could persuade him to change his mind. She expected no less from him. That was their agreement; her life to be placed in his hands, his duty to provide for her. She willingly gave him her unconditional obedience, and in return he drew the boundaries that made her feel safe, loved and secure.

Despite Robert's protests to the contrary she often suspected she got the better of the deal. Her worries didn't extend past a concern she might disappoint him in some way or inadvertently disobey him. He had the burden of planning both their futures while trying to allow for the unexpected, and at the same time struggling to balance her sometimes conflicting moods while never losing his cool, and on top of all that he supervised her every single day. How he did it she didn't begin to comprehend. About the results she had no complaints. She was devoted to him and would never give up what she had.

"Will I see you over there in the secure area?" That was the section of the school set aside for the students, the term they used for the unwilling attendees usually kidnapped and brought in on orders from their masters, husbands, and boyfriends. Cathy had been forcibly enrolled after being seized in an underground hotel garage the night she had ran away. She had subsequently discovered that once in the school the only way to leave was to complete the training. That included demonstrating an attitude acceptable to both the staff and the man who was responsible for her. She had earned her way out; now she had the job of teaching others how to accomplish the same thing.

"Yes, there's no regulation about staff mixing. You are subject to all the same policies and regulations as the students while there, don't forget that. You aren't allowed to use my name, or address any other warden you might know by name either. If you break a rule or get in trouble over there I can't help you."

Cathy nodded in agreement. "We covered that in the orientation yesterday. I have to be escorted everywhere, same lack of dress code, but between assignments I can wait in the break room. I can't be released from the secure area without your permission either. Either you or someone you designate has to bring me back to this side." At least she wouldn't have to stay there at night. Curling up in a nice big warm bed with Robert next to her was far better than sleeping on the floor of a cell.

"Most of the time we'll have the same hours. I'll make arrangements if there's a schedule problem. If I run late you'll have to wait for me." Robert was concerned about that particular situation, since the warden manpower shortage often required some overtime.

He continued. "We don't have to spend all our time inside the complex. The weather's cooling off, so we can go outside once in a while. One of the other wardens goes for a walk in the desert every morning. If we get a free weekend we can go to Las Vegas or Phoenix, or even Los Angeles if you like." The school was isolated, hidden somewhere in the barren wasteland of the Mojave Desert. It had originally been a mine site, then a secret underground military installation, and later sold to a privately held consortium when it was declared surplus at the end of the Cold War. The few existing records of its existence had been systematically removed from public sources through the power and influence of the individuals who comprised the holding syndicate.

"Las Vegas? Could we go see a show? Can I play one of those poker machines? You can get in a round of golf while I get a tan by the pool!"

"Slow down." He held up his hands to rein in her excitement. "We'll have to check schedules. Besides, I didn't bring my clubs. And if you think I'm going to let you lounge around in a bikini by yourself, think again."

She liked the way he was so protective but he could overdo it. "Oh, Robert! You know I wouldn't give anyone else the time of day."

He looked thoughtful, staring up at ceiling. "I can be reasonable. We'll compromise. You can go to the pool by yourself, but you have to wear this bikini," he put a hand on the box sitting on the couch next to him, "instead of that tiny thing you got last year."

Cathy shook her head, giving up on the pool. She knew what was in the box. It wasn't a swimsuit, and it certainly wasn't appropriate for poolside. It would turn plenty of heads though, if she did wear it out to a hotel pool. "You win. No tan, I'll go shopping instead."

Robert frowned, "I think I was set up. Anyway, it looks like we can go in a few weeks. Once I find out the dates I'll get us reservations." She watched as he opened the box. "You need to try this on to make sure it fits."

"Yes, sir." Cathy knew she didn't need to try it on. Up until a few weeks ago she had been wearing it every day. It had been her only item of clothing, day and night, during her last incarceration as a student. It would fit.

Robert stood up, facing Cathy. "You know the routine. Strip, stand with your legs spread, hands behind your back." While she quickly undressed he went to the closet by the front door. She didn't have to watch him to know what he was after.

A moment later the handcuffs closed around her wrists, locking her hands behind her back. They were his handcuffs, one of the two pairs he carried on his belt as part of his warden's uniform. She could see the open box on the couch in front of her, knowing in moments she would wear its contents as well. He looked back at her as he pulled open the cardboard flaps and took out the belt.

She did know the routine. The chastity belt was a familiar companion by now. Each time she was forced to wear it her emotions ran the full spectrum, from erotic excitement to fearful anxiety. Robert had never asked if she would be willing to put it on; instead he had exercised his right as her master and simply ordered it. Given a choice she had no idea if she would agree, but when it was demanded of her she found she could not muster a protest.

He took the key from a chain around his neck and opened the lock on the front of the waistband. The one time she had held that key in her hand was the end of her first stay, when she had handed it Robert. In fact she didn't even know if there was a second key, though she assumed that he had another one somewhere. Turning toward her he stood close, lifting up her chin so he could stare into her eyes as he slipped the waistband around her waist.

The familiar weight of the belt worked its magic on Cathy. When he reached between her legs, pulling up the cover over her sex and locking the shield to the waistband, she wanted to throw herself on Robert and beg him to take her. In a sense he did take her; he took possession of her body in a most intimate way.

Robert wrapped one arm around her waist, grabbing the chain between her cuffs, and pulled her close. With his other hand he took hold of her hair and pulled her head back, leaning in till he was no more than an inch away from her face. "Never forget," he whispered as his eyes locked on hers, "never forget you are mine and mine alone." Then he kissed her, hard and demanding, taking what was his due.

Cathy didn't think about the strip of metal between her legs, or the handcuffs locked on her wrists. Her world narrowed to his few words and the way they sunk into the depths of her mind. She belonged to him. It was no more a matter of choice than eating or breathing. If he chose to impose control over her body it would be with her enthusiastic cooperation, no matter what hardship it might cause.

Letting go of her Robert backed up and surveyed his handiwork. Cathy, mindful of what he expected, stood straight and proud during his inspection. "Any pinching? Too tight on the sides? Walk around a bit and see if it's okay."

"Yes sir," she answered. Her body was accustomed to the much too personal grasp of the belt by now. She walked in a circle around the front room, stopping to bend down a few times. "No problems, master. At least no problems with the fit."

He tilted his head to one side. "And what would be the other problem?"

Cathy stopped and turned to face him. "As if you didn't know. The problem is how do I come up with some way to convince you to take this thing off, without asking?"

Robert scratched his chin, apparently lost in thought. "Why don't you demonstrate some of your ideas? Maybe between the two of us we can come up with an answer."

Giggling like a little girl she ran into his arms. "I have some ideas, but it may take all night."