The Training of Hollie Stevens Day One

She drops onto her knees the second the door clicks shut. No hesitation. Hollie knows what's coming. Her black hair falls in front of her eyes, and she leaves it there like a shield that won't work. He's already hard. Thick. The kind of cock that makes her second-guess how much she thought she could take. He doesn't ask. Just grabs a fistful of that hair and feeds it to her slow, then faster, pushing until her throat tightens and her eyes water. She gags once, twice, but stays down. He likes that. She likes that he likes it. The bench comes next. Cold metal against her stomach. He cuffs her wrists behind her back, spreads her legs until her ass is open and waiting. Lube drips cold between her cheeks. One finger first, working her open, then two, twisting deep. She pushes back without thinking. He slaps her thigh hard enough to sting. Then the plug. Not small. She bites her lip when it presses in, stretching her wider than she's ready for. It stays there while he walks around her, watching. When he pulls it out, the emptiness makes her whimper. He replaces it with his cock, inch by inch, until she's full and shaking. No warm-up. Just pressure and heat and the sound of skin hitting skin. She takes it. Every thrust. Sweat runs down her back. Her wrists pull against the cuffs. He leans over her ear. "Good girl." She comes without being touched. Hard. Her whole body locks up around him. He doesn't stop. Just keeps driving into her until he's finished too, deep inside, breathing heavy against her shoulder. Day one. And she's already marked.