The Training of Maya Matthews, Day Four

Maya walks in like she already knows how it ends. The cocky edge is gone; she keeps her eyes low and answers Mr. Davis without hesitation. He puts her on her knees first, hands bound behind her, ankles strapped wide. A thick dildo slides into her cunt while the cane stripes her ass in slow, deliberate stripes. Every correct word earns her another inch inside; every stumble earns another stripe. When she stammers on the report about her condition he jams a rubber cock down her throat until tears streak her makeup. She swallows around it, drool spilling, until he lets her speak again. He keeps her bent over the desk, caning her until the welts cross old bruises, fucking the dildo in time with each blow. She comes once, twice, shaking, but he doesn’t stop. He orders her to thank him through every orgasm until the begging starts. Then he makes her hold still while he turns her into furniture—knees spread, back flat, mouth open—used only when he feels like using her. When she stays silent and steady he finally gives her a real cock to suck, slow and deep, until she’s drooling around it like the good girl she’s learned to be. Last night before Sarge takes her back, he fucks her like the toy she is now: cunt, mouth, ass, no mercy, no breaks, until she’s wrecked and empty and grateful.