The Training of Amber Rayne, Day Three

This masochistic fuck slut claims she's here to serve. Time to test that claim and hammer home her training goals: shred what remains of her self-worth, strip away every shred of control, and teach her to get wet from the pain. They bend her tight over a bench, wrists and ankles locked so her ass stays spread and helpless. Whip and crop mark that offered flesh, stroke after stroke, until every welt makes her shake and drip. When she's slick enough, a hard cock sinks straight into her ass, working her slow and deep, pushing her right to the edge. Then it's gone. She’s ordered upright, spine rigid, knees locked, chin lifted—the first taste of military posture training. A thick plug fills her slave asshole and the drill begins. Crop across her thighs, whip across her tits, every time her posture slips. She holds it until her legs tremble. Finally they let her kneel, plug still buried, and fuck herself with a dildo while she recites exactly why she’s here: to be used, broken, and remade. They stretch her on her back across the table, ropes biting into wrists and ankles. One cock pounds her ass while another slams her cunt, every thrust timed with fresh stripes from the whip and sharp pinches from the clips. Between sobs she recites chapter one of Story of O, voice cracking as the cocks keep driving. When they’re finished they paint her face with hot come, then send her crawling to the slave quarters with new assignments waiting for day four.