The Training of a Party Girl, Day Two

She claims she works out. I want proof. I want to watch sweat roll down her skin, want her filthy and shaking. Stress positions do the job fast. A few barked commands, a few impossible angles, and her body gives up the lie. She’s not fit for this. Nipple training is conditioning, pure and simple. The reward is orgasm after orgasm, and she learns to take pleasure where I decide. Day two and the responses are already sharper, her tits twitching at the lightest touch, chasing the next release like she’s starving for it. She hangs upside down in rope, spinning slow. Blindfold on. I tell her to find my cock with her mouth and nothing else. Every wrong turn earns another twist of the ropes. Every success earns another inch down her throat. Bent over the post, wrists lashed to ankles, her ass is high and helpless. I slap it until the skin burns red and she’s begging for dick. Then I fuck her there until she’s shaking. When I’m done I paint her cheeks with cum and make her repeat every lesson out loud.