The Training of Harmony Rose, Day One

Harmony Rose steps in at five-foot-five, twenty-four, a Libra who lists herself as a cock slut. She’s logged years in front of the lens, taken a fair share on her back, yet she still carries an itch for the edge. Today they hood her the moment the door shuts. Blindfold cinched tight, the black cloth blots the room to nothing. A hand locks around her wrist and leads her blind down the hall, each bootstep tapping metal shelves, the air sharp with oil and leather. They steer her onto a cold exam table, strap wrists, ankles, and thighs so she can’t close anything. The first questions come flat and hard. Why are you here? The vibe lands on her clit without warning, buzzing at full tilt, stopping the second her breath breaks. A leather crop snaps across the top of her thigh. She jerks, cunt clenching around empty air. Fingers slide in next, two, then three, pumping until her hips buck against the straps. She’s soaked, dripping down the crack of her ass, but the hand pulls free the moment her walls start to flutter. Another stripe of the crop lands across her nipples. She yelps, then bites the sound back. They teach her the rules between each denied peak: knees apart on the floor, eyes down, address every dominant as Sir. When she slips, the crop reminds her. They tug her forward by the cunt, fingers hooked inside, walking her on wobbly legs. On command she drops, opens her mouth, takes a cock to the root until spit strings from her chin. Every time her tongue curls for more, they yank her off by the hair and slap her face with the wet shaft. Later she’s buckled again to the same table, thighs spread wide in cold steel. A wand dances over her clit while a second cock taps her nipples, tracing wet circles. Every rush toward the edge is cut short by a sharp palm across her tits or a bite on the inner thigh. By the fifth ruined climb she’s shaking, begging in a hoarse whisper. The day ends in the slave quarters. They push her to her knees, fuck her throat until tears streak from under the blindfold, then pull out and stripe her tits with thick ropes of come. She’s still panting when they shove her into the narrow closet, door latched. Come cooling on her skin, cunt throbbing untouched. A sheet of rules and a pen are slid under the door: homework before tomorrow, and no fingers on that slick, swollen pussy until the next session starts.