The Making of a Perfect Little Slut, Day Two

I push the thick cock down her throat until her eyes water. Say it, I tell her. Say what a nasty little whore you are. She chokes and spits, words tumbling out wet around the shaft. Her blonde hair sticks to her cheeks. The ropes bite into her wrists where they’re cinched behind the weight bench. I pull her off, slap her face with the slick head, then feed her my balls. She licks them like she was born to do it. I yank her up, bend her over the padded bench, and work lube into her tight ass with two fingers. She pushes back, begging me to stretch it, to own it. When I slide the plug in she moans louder than before. I make her narrate every inch. I’m your perfect little anal slut, she gasps. My holes belong to you. I stand her up, ankles still locked to the bench legs, and line my cock with her dripping cunt. One thrust and I’m buried to the root. She keeps talking while I pound her—filthy promises, filthy gratitude—until her voice cracks and her pussy flutters around me. Sweat rolls down the valley of her spine, and I can feel every muscle in her athletic body trembling. I haven’t even started the real training yet.