The Training of Nikki Darling, Day One

I strip her dress away with one pull of the blade. The shower room smells like wet tile and fear. I hand her the dildo, tell her to make it come before she gets warm water. Her fist works fast, cum and soap swirling down the drain. Then the chains. Ankles, wrists, neck. Cold links bite skin. The bucket waits, full to the rim with ice water. Rules first. I ask what she is. She stutters, so the water takes her. She comes up coughing. Next question, same answer, same dunk. We go until her lungs burn and she finally says the words: owned slut, pain toy, fuck meat for four days. She gets the flogger across her tits for that. I spread her on the bench, legs cuffed wide, cunt already slick. The flogger lands fifty times, wet leather smacking swollen lips. She howls, thighs shaking, but the sound turns wet and needy. She’s learning. Next I make her dance. Naked, chained, hips rolling to the beat. It’s clumsy. She knows it. Sweat beads on her collarbones. The fuck block is next. She mounts the dildo bolted to the low post, sinks down, and rides. Thighs burn after five minutes. I crop the soft skin above her knees every time she slows. Twenty long minutes later her legs tremble so hard she can barely stay upright. Last, the crop itself. She flinches when she sees it, yet seconds later she’s grinding on the leather, cunt pulsing, slick running down the handle. When she finishes she lifts the crop to her mouth and kisses it, tongue flicking the taste of her own come from the keeper.