The Training of Amber Keen, Day Two

She walks in, tight body still sore from yesterday. He watches her strip without a word. When her shirt hits the floor he already has the restraints in his fist. She climbs onto the table, face down, ass up. He oils her first, then works two fingers in slow circles until her hole starts to give. The plug replaces his fingers—thick, cold steel, forced in until it locks. She breathes through it. He slaps her cheek once, hard, just to watch the mark bloom. When the plug comes out he doesn’t wait; he lines up and pushes the head of his cock past the tight ring. She clenches, but he keeps driving until his balls rest against her. He fucks her steady, deep, one hand gripping her hip, the other pressing her lower back flat. Sweat beads on her spine. He leans in close, teeth grazing her ear. “Don’t fight it.” She answers with a low moan that turns into a cry when he picks up speed. The table creaks. He doesn’t stop until he empties inside her, holding her open so the cum leaks down her thigh. Only then does he step back. She stays there, breathing hard, hole twitching, marked and used. Day two. Same rules.