Tough Girl Ch. 01

Jake went on, "Groceries come at ten. Meat-15 here gets 'Upstairs Privilege' to take delivery and tip the Door Dash guy. Guests start checking after two. That means, all whores on deck for house-cleaning, maid service and turn-downs in the guest rooms. Full house tonight"

What is this, Bree wondered, a Slave-Training House or a country inn? ... Or both? A BDSM B&B? She wondered, Is there a reward points program? ... Oh, I guess we're it.

"New meat's morning is: Orientation, grooming, walkies and training in the Woodshed."

"That's you and me, sweetheart," Vic whispered in her ear. He tightened his arm on her chest, fondled and squeezed her tit, and teased her nipple.

Damn. She felt owned. Which felt confusing, but otherwise... fucking awesome.

His hand moved off her tit and slithered down her front to her pussy. Lightly, his fingertips diddled her lips, and he breathed in her ear, "Tell me, whose is this, slave?"

Ugh. Voice-discipline, direct question. She cleared her throat. "This slave-cunt is yours, Sir."

She knew a way-fancier formal reply, but she thought brevity was the vibe here. "If it pleases my Master."

"It pleases your Master," he sharply pinched her labia, "to correct you. This slave-cunt belongs to any man who wants it."

"Haa-aaaah," she exhaled a tortured moan, half from the pussy-pinch, half from the degrading words, and wanting to believe they were true.

Meanwhile, Jake pulled out of V-215's face and moved on. At the last cage, he unsnapped the muzzle panel off the ginger's gag. Underneath, she saw the strap was still in place, a fat plug caae out of her mouth, but there was a ring-gag.

The Whore-Keeper inserted himself into the open slot at V-218.

"Nghh!" she squealed.

To Bree's ear, she sounded distressed. He wondered if it was the ring-gag, or if her throat wasn't well trained. Judging by her number, '218,' it could be she was a new girl.

Or better yet, her imagination flared, a real unwilling captive. Yummm...

Jake went on with the daily briefing: "News flash, cunts, tonight we're hosting a bachelor party."

Bree thought she heard a collective gasp sweeping down the row of cages.

"It should be a real rowdy group. Which means Meat-19 better get up to speed quick, 'cause it'll be Full-Service Friday upstairs. You trained slave-whores know the routine ..."

He shot a sadistic grin back over his shoulder. "The new meat, not so much."

Bree flinched, looking back over her shoulder at Vic, who was still behind her stroking her pussy. Her eyes wondered, Bachelor party??

"The 'terms of service' warn that you might be 'pressed into service' before you're properly broken in," Vic answered the unspoken question. "Occupational hazard. Did I not mention that?"

She narrowed her eyes. Grrr.

"Sorry."

But based on his sly smirk, he wasn't.

Neither was she. Bring it on, then. She turned her face forward.

Meanwhile, Jake wrapped up, "Big day, lots to do. That means once we're done caging the new meat, you slaves are gonna get a couple more hours shut-eye 'til it's light out. You'll need it."

As if, Bree grunted.

"One last thing, though, before power-nap time ..."

Jake turned to Bree, his engorged penis poking through his fly and leading the way.

Eagerly she opened her mouth, licked her lips all around, and as trained, lolled out her tongue like a cheap whore ...

Then her world turned upside down.

#_#

"Huhhh!"

Suddenly, her cuffed wrists flew up behind her, her legs unfolded and everything was upended in a blinding rush.

*SWACK!*

The broad leather strap cracked across her ass, and the shock of that pain amped up her disorientation.

*Fuck!* she mouthed, holding voice-discipline.

She was up on the balls of her feet, head bowed in front of her, arms high behind her in a strict strappado. Without her noticing, Vic had hooked a rope to her manacles that led up to an overhead pulley, and at Jake's signal, hoisted her up.

She felt a hand in her hair, lifting her face level, and saw the bulging crotch of a pair of black jeans.

Vic's.

Now she was oriented. That meant Jake was behind her --

*SWACK!* Her ass caught fire.

*Ughhh!* she exhaled.

"Bitch, spread!"

She obeyed, widening her stance as far as the hobble chain would allow, wide enough for the upstroke: *CRACK!*

*Nghhh!*

Her pussy sizzled and smoked.

She gasped ecstatically, breathed out a silent scream, and wished she could spread her legs wider, goddam hobble! If not for her voice-discipline, she'd have begged for another. She craved it, too, but the trained part of her mind warned her that any more cunt-whipping, followed by cock, might plow her right over the edge.

And I don't want that, not yet. They have to give me permission first. Or take it from me.

Jake's calloused hand fell on her flank and his boot descended on her hobble chain. "Last order of business, bitches -- gotta tenderize the new meat."

*SWAK-SWAK-SWAK!*

He rained a hard volley of strap wallops across both cheeks, then one more brutal underhand swat square on her pussy --

*CRACK!*

*Nghhh!*

With that pain still scalding her lips, the Whore-Keeper's hands parted her cheeks and his incoming cock split her sheath.

"GAAAH--!"

The exhale huffed from deep in her gut at the brutal collision of cock and cunt. Waves of pleasure flowed up from her hips and made her arch her spine, throw back her head --

Straight into Vic's hands. "Huhh?" He caught her face on the upswing, steadied it --

-- and with his other hand, he fed her a mouthful of hot, juicy, hard Black cock.

"GLG! HKK!"

Oh fuck oh fuck, there's no way I won't cum now! The Struggler she was before, the SAM, would have climaxed by now, or soon enough, just to piss them off and draw punishment. But her OSW knew it was her job to cum on command only. Show discipline. And stay, best as she could, quiet.

"Hmm-hm-hm!" she whimpered around the meat in her mouth.

"Come on, whore!" Jake cackled from behind, drilling her.

Fuck! Spit-roasted, ugh! Raped at two ends AND tied up? This is gonna be tough ...

She tried calming her breath to match with the tempo of the assault. She hoped her trained and talented twat could deal with the dick inside it by relaxing its resistance, moving with the thrusts to ease the friction ...

But Jake seemed to sense her game, it pissed him off, and he countered.

"Ooh, tricky cunt!"

He hammered her captive cunt, ramping up the speed and violence of his thrusts, pure malice and punishment now. The feelings of violation and disgrace took over. Fuck, I'm losing! Jake's penis was mercifully slender but shockingly long. She tried concentrating on how the shape of it repulsed her. That helped, but only a little.

"Master Vic, ah-ah-ah," Jake panted, his voice screwed up with lust and rage. "Do the honors --ugh!"

"Sure," Vic picked up the hint, "I'll give her 'The Speech.'"

His hips eased up their thrusts, set a new tempo -- an almost mesmerizing sliding in and out.

"Breanna Barber," he began, his voice breathy with arousal. "The girl with that name who lived in the outside world, had choices, ate and slept and went to the toilet when she wanted.... wore clothes ..."

Reaching around, his hand slid across her chest over the slave-number freshly written on it, and groped her left boob.

"... That girl ceased to exist today. You are a naked, collared and owned body called Voluntary Slave-Whore No. 219. That number is a 'stock-keeping unit' for live female merchandise -- a sex-toy, a plaything, a free whore for the free use of men."

Plaything, free whore, Bree moaned, merchandise!

'The Speech' was driving her wild. So was what was going on in her pussy -- but that was secondary, and she was dealing with it. It didn't help either, that Vic's glorious face-fucking assault had eased -- because his words were even hotter.

"Men, your natural superiors, will decide your fate, and your body exists only to please, serve and obey them. For the rest of your days, V-219, ahhh..." his voice hummed with pleasure, "you will never know the bodily autonomy of refusing a man anything he wants to do to you."

Fuck! Yes! Please!

A riot of sounds leaked out of her mouth. Her gurgling, huffing, moaning voice did triple-duty responding to the hate-fucking from behind, the pulsing cock in her mouth, and Vic's cruelly objectifying, existentially hopeless words.

And not one of those words, she realized with mounting desperation, was his permission for her to cum, fuck it.

She was losing. And she knew what was coming. She'd said it many times, there wasn't a Master on earth who could train her not to scream her way through a Big O; the best they could do was put a plug in it. This was going to be no exception ...

Update: she'd already lost. She knew her discipline was about to fail her, they were going to take it from her, and the Masters would win ... and the thought of that was another thing that got her off.

That, and what Vic said next: "Any disobedience, even the smallest hesitation to surrender your body to any man's use, will be severely, ahhh ... punished."

Punished, ughh, severely! He had to say it!

And if those two words weren't enough to pitch her over into the orgasmic abyss ...

... or the stifled sounds of her own tortured, defiled, restrained and strappadoed, spit-roasted ecstasy ...

... it was the sight of Vic's bloated, glistening Black cockhead before her eyes, his fist fapping it to climax.

Fuck fuck fuck me, here it comes!

"AGGHHHH--" the scream began.

The wildfire tore through V-219's enslaved and broken belly. Her hips bucked spasmodically, she wailed loudly and helplessly in defeat ... and her vision went milky white.

>> Continued.