Training of the Pretty Girl, Final Day

Pretty girl claims she never felt pretty, yet she looks like pure fuckable trouble. Four days in those heels, calves burning, ass lifted high. That red mouth I trained her to wear hangs open like she's waiting for orders. The corset cuts her waist to twenty-three inches of cinched slave meat, shoving her tits forward and swelling her ass like some twisted dolly. Watching her stagger across the floor makes my cock jump. She needs one last thing. I All Collars Must Be Earned I strike only when the words stop. Bent over the leather, she works the oil deep with shaking fingers while rope spreads her asshole and cunt wide. A vibe hums against the soaked clit, knotted tight so she cannot pull away. The thick ass-hook sinks straight into her greedy hole, the puckered ring sucking steel. I tie the hook to her hair, arching her back hard. Clamps bite her nipples, stretched down to her ankles. I crank the vibe and lash her ass with the belt. Time to earn that collar. II Positions: All Slaves Must Know Their Place I bark in her face until she jumps, squats, drops, kneels, begs. By the end she knows exactly where she belongs. III All Slaves Must Suck Cock Cage scene. I grip her head and drill the lesson home. Her painted lips stretch and slide over thick shaft again and again, cheeks hollowing, jaw aching. I twist her neck so the head bulges against the thin wall of her cheek, then slap until she gags and drools. IV The Pile Driver: All Slaves Must Take It in the Ass I fold her knees to her ears, ass tilted skyward, already gaping. The gimp’s cock rams straight down into that stretched hole. Cane snaps across her cunt while fingers slap and pinch. She screams through one orgasm, then another, until she scrambles up, kneels, and begs for the load. Good girl, Calvert. Tell us what you learned.