The Training of Princess Donna, Day Four

She moves like she knows the rules, but her body still has holes in it. Bruises blooming, skin raw, and still that look that says she thinks she’s figured it all out. The look is wrong. Pacing’s tighter, but she’s hungry where the cane doesn’t reach. Her cunt’s been empty too long and it shows. Cock first. Every morning, every break. She learns the weight, the taste, the way a man shifts when she gets the rhythm right. She learns the lines of muscle, where to press, where to linger. Humility comes next, drilled in with sweat and spit. No jokes unless they land. No slack in the leash. Leash her by the nipples and the cunt lips, clover clamps biting deep. Lorelei walks her through the Theater of Pain while Donna’s screams bounce off the walls. Strip her senses after that, then lock her in the Houdini Tank, body held and breath measured. Both girls laced tight in corsets, gags wedged between their teeth, paraded for whoever walks through the door. Lorelei becomes the living lesson. Her wet cunt serves as the prize Donna earns by getting it right. When Donna’s mouth falters, the mistake is corrected with a hand on the back of her head and a cock shoved deeper. They’re worked, ordered, stretched between hard cocks and sharper voices until three loads are pulled from aching balls. The girls trade the come between their tongues before they swallow. When it’s over, Donna gets the taste she’s been missing, Lorelei’s mouth locked between her thighs while the final questions are asked. The answers come broken, wet, honest.