The First Wives Academy (bi:male domination, 42868 words)

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Sally Preston.

Sally Preston stepped out of the limo and glanced around. She held a small bag in her left hand containing the few items she was permitted—two sets of bras and panties, a toothbrush, and a box of tampons. She approached the imposing black oak door and hesitantly used the brass knocker. The door swung open, and Sally entered. The room she entered resembled an upscale hotel lobby or perhaps an opulent private hospital.

"Name?" The woman behind the desk barked.

Sally gulped, staring at the statuesque blonde's pneumatic breasts, thinking they were real or the best boob job she'd ever seen. The blonde's tits had to be an E-cup at the minimum, but their soft swell and gentle movement as she breathed showed they weren't filled with silicon. "Sally Preston," Sally squeaked.

"Ah, yes," the blonde grinned, her smile reminiscent of a barracuda. She flicked through her tablets until she found the one with Sally's name flashing on its screen, then opened it. "The full first wife treatment. You're in for an interesting month, Ms. Preston. But I'm sure that by its end, your husband-to-be will be very happy to become your husband."

"Month?" Sally squeaked. "I'm only here for the weekend spa."

The pneumatic-breasted blonde looked through the tablet and then compared the information on it to her computer screen. She shook her head. "No. Your fiancé paid for the full treatment. That's a month's worth of training and education."

"Training and education?" Sally gasped. "What does that mean?"

The blonde walked around her desk and confronted Sally. Sally's eyes were drawn to the woman's immense cleavage and then lower to where the woman's shaved pussy showed through a revealing split in her micro-miniskirt. Sally gasped again when she saw the woman's clit and clitoral hood were both pierced. The hood with a tiny bell that jingled as the woman walked. Her clit held a barbell that prevented it from fully retracting. Sally dragged her eyes up, briefly registering her name tag, Imogen Bailey. Property of Matthew Bailey.

"It means you've chosen to become the best wife you can possibly be for your husband. We're here to teach you how to become that."

"But I only wanted the weekend spa," Sally protested weakly.

"You can leave," Imogen said flatly, with a smile that didn't touch her predatory eyes. "But if you do, I can guarantee that Leo will call off the engagement as soon as we call to say that you've left."

"I'll talk to him," Sally stated. She looked for a phone, but did not see one. Her instructions included leaving her cell phone at home. "May I use a phone?"

"No, you may not," Imogen said, still smiling humourlessly. "However, you may leave. Exit through the door you entered, and the limo will take you back to your home. Still, I do not for one moment believe that your engagement will still be on when you get there."

Sally sighed, uncertain what to think. She glanced down at her tiny A-cups, slender waist, narrow hips, and shapeless thighs, comparing them to the statuesque blonde in front of her. Not a single feature Sally possessed came close to matching Imogen's. As a law student at Griffith University, Sally hadn't believed her luck when Leo Walters, the senior partner at the law firm where she interned, chose her for personal attention over the other four interns.

Initially, Sally feared that the forty-year-old senior partner wanted her for her youthful appearance and, consequently, for sex. However, Leo's interactions with her remained strictly professional until the end of the term. Then, on her last day of interning for him, Leo

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Mike writes Sat 13 Sep 2025 03:21:

Great story, thanks for writing it.

Mike

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