What it means to be a Slut Part I

Gia pins Lydia Black with a look. The schoolgirl stands where she’s told, arms loose at her sides, mouth already wet. Gia doesn’t ask. She drops, takes the cock in one wet swallow, throat working like she’s proving a point. Every bob is measured. Lydia watches the bulge in Gia’s neck, hears the little choke and click when it hits bottom. Notes, the hard way. Next, Gia swings a leg over, sinks down hard, rides like she owns the seat. Hips snap, grind, then slow so the squeeze shows. Her cunt grips, releases, grips again. She leans in, breath hot. “See how I take it?” Lydia nods once. That’s enough. Gia stands, brings rope, winds it tight around Lydia’s wrists, cinches elbows close. She stuffs the red ball between Lydia’s teeth, buckles it snug at the nape. Drool starts at once, runs down the chin. Clothespins snap on nipples, one, two, three down the belly. Each pinch lands sharp. Lydia jerks; the rope holds. Cane in hand, Gia lines up. First strike cracks across the ass, then the thighs. Stripes rise pink. Lydia’s knees buckle but she stays upright, moaning around the gag. Spit strings from the corner of her mouth. Another stroke, harder, and the clothespins jump with her. Gia keeps swinging, heat blooming on skin, counting out loud so Lydia learns the rhythm by feel. When the cane rests, Gia drops back to her knees, shows the finishing move: throat open, eyes steady, taking the load deep while Lydia watches, wrists bound, body marked, learning exactly what it costs to be this kind of slut.