The Training of Sarah Jane Ceylon, Day One

Sarah Jane Ceylon shows up already twitchy. She holds the stare but her fingers keep working at nothing. The kind of woman who wants this so bad the want itself makes her shake. Cyd Black takes one look and decides the first lesson will be dirt. He hands her a bucket and a brush and points to the concrete floor. No explanation, just scrub until the skin on her knees burns and the water turns black. When she is finally finished he makes her stand, legs spread, so he can look at her like he would look at livestock. He runs the cold hose over every inch, then fingers her open, checks her cunt the way a buyer checks a purchase. He slips one finger into her ass next, testing how tight she is and how she takes it, then makes her thank him for the attention. The gag comes out after that. Ball gag, thick, forcing her jaw wide. Spit runs down her chin and pools on her tits while he trains her to kneel, to present, to hold still even when the crop kisses the backs of her thighs. Every time her mind drifts he snaps her back with a slap or a command. When she earns clothes back it is only a collar. When she earns a bed it is a mat on the floor with her wrists cuffed to the wall ring above her head. He fucks her mouth first, slow, using the gag as a handle until tears streak her mascara. Then he pulls the gag, bends her over, and works his cock into her cunt, checking how wet she gets from being used like this. Later, when the lights are out, he unlocks the door, steps inside, and takes her ass while she is still half-asleep. She comes with her face pressed to the concrete, the collar biting her throat, the taste of him still on her tongue. Day one ends with her locked up again, sore, dripping, and already wondering how much more she will have to give before she is allowed to come without permission.