The Making of a Perfect Little Slut, Day One

She's tall, blonde, with a face that could get her out of traffic tickets and tits that could cause them. Her ass is round, perfect for gripping, and she's a filthy little thing even if she hasn't figured out how to use it yet. She says she wants to be a perfect slut. That's cute. The material's there. The technique needs work. I check my dick and grab the rope. Her tits get tied tight, rope slung around that sweet ass like it owes me money. She thinks she's going to bat her lashes and slide right through this like every other guy who's ever wanted her. I pinch her nipples hard enough to make her wince. She gets it now. What makes a perfect slut? I ask. Blank stare. Like the question never occurred to her. So I crop her and vibe her until she finds words. She squirms, squeals, gives me half-answers while the rope cuts into her skin. I'm not mad. Just persistent. I string her up in a suspension that leaves her pussy hanging out for the world to see. Two fingers buried deep, working that spongy spot until she sweats like a pig in heat. She comes when I tell her to. She tells me what she wants when I make her. That's how training works. Later I bend her open and clamp her cunt wide. The clamps bite. She gasps. Now she's listening. Now she's learning what a sadistic bastard with a hard dick can do when a girl says she wants to be perfect.