The Training of Madison Young, Day One

Madison Young wants the contract. She stands in front of James, already aching. He takes the right to touch away on day one. Her fingers are greedy, always reaching for her cunt, so he cuffs her wrists behind her back before she even settles into the room. When she slips and rubs against the edge of a table he bends her over, spreads her, and canes the swollen lips until they throb. The lesson is simple: correction teaches, punishment hurts. She learns the difference with every stripe. He questions her while she kneels, thighs spread wide on a narrow beam. The beam bites. Sweat runs down her ribs. If her answer drags or wanders he adds time; if it’s short and clear he lets her shift an inch. She stays quiet after that. James wants her mouth tidy. He puts her on her knees, cock thick against her tongue, and makes her swallow without a spill. Drool still escapes; he wipes it on her face and starts again until the shaft shines clean. Later he has her crawl onto all fours, presents his cock to her cunt, and orders her to fuck herself back onto it without using her hands. She learns the angle, the grip, the pace that keeps him hard and leaves her empty when he pulls away. Cleanliness is next. Shackled under a freezing spray, she scrubs until her skin burns and her nipples stand raw. He watches, then dries her just enough to walk. At her quarters the door locks. Curfew starts now. Her journal waits. Her cunt waits. She writes with shaking hands and wonders how many days it will take before service feels hotter than her own greedy need.