Slave Training is What a Submissive Whore Like Me Needs

slave training

 

I knelt on the cold tile, shivering, my naked skin pebbled. He stood over me, the heavy leather paddle in his hand. I’d failed to keep my mouth shut during dinner, and now I was paying for it.

“Bend over, you useless piece of meat,” he spat.

I scrambled to obey, arching my back and shoving my ass high in the air. I heard the whistle of the paddle cutting through the air before it slammed into my right cheek. CRACK.

I screamed, my body jerking forward.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” he roared, the second strike landing harder, overlapping the first. CRACK. “You don’t get to make noise unless I tell you to, you pathetic bitch.”

He didn’t stop. He rained down blow after blow, the leather chewing into my flesh. My cheeks turned a violent shade of purple, swelling and stinging with a heat that felt like fire. Every time I tried to shift, he gripped my hair, yanking my head back to force me to look at my own trembling, ruined ass.

“Look at it,” he sneered, delivering a final, bone-jarring strike that left me sobbing. “This is where you belong. Under my boot, getting beaten like the mindless slut you are. You’re nothing but a toy for my amusement.”

I whimpered, pressing my forehead to the floor, completely broken.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

1 + 8 =