The Training of Raina Verene

Day Four. Raina knelt with her wrists cuffed behind her back, naked except for the leather collar. Her blonde hair fell across her face. A brunette man circled her slowly, boots scuffing the concrete floor. He pushed two fingers into her mouth, then pulled them out wet and shoved them between her ass cheeks, working them into her tight hole without warning. She gasped, hips jerking forward, but the cuffs held her in place. He pulled his hand away and wiped it across her lips. Then he grabbed a length of rope, wound it around her breasts until they stood out tight and red, and clipped the ends to a ceiling ring so she had to stay upright on her knees. Every breath made the rope bite deeper. He opened his belt, pulled out his cock, and pressed the head against her asshole. No spit. He pushed in slow and steady until his hips met her ass, then stayed buried while she shook. When he started fucking her, each thrust dragged a low sound out of her throat. The rope creaked above them. Her knees slid on the concrete. He reached around, found her clit, and rubbed it hard while he kept driving into her ass, never letting up until she came with her whole body locked and straining against every restraint he’d put on her.