I can’t help a silent scoff. I’ve already had manners beaten into me. My mother used to say I’d be grateful for every spanking someday. I hate that she was right.
As his hand leaves my pussy, I whimper, subconsciously angling my hips to get just a little more friction.
The trainer laughs. “Needy little thing. I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing the detachable shower wand, he switches it to a single, strong stream and aims it at my inner thigh. Knowing what’s coming, I hold my breath, but nothing can prepare me for the warm stream of water hitting my pussy. Moaning, I simultaneously try to wriggle away from the too strong sensation and tilt my hips so that the water hits my clit better, as if my brain couldn’t decide what it wants.
I don’t get to decide anything, though, because the trainer pins me against his chest and shoves one leg between mine, forcing me to open them. “You’re not allowed to come without permission,” he reminds me as the water pelts my clit.
Pathetic moans and whimpers escape me as I try to figure out how to stop myself from coming. “Please, Master? I can’t…” He moves the stream away from my clit, robbing me of that last push I need to shatter. “No, please. Please, Master, let me come.”
“Not yet.”
Before I can protest further, he sets the shower wand aside and walks me toward the wall. There are loops and anchor points sticking out from between the tiles, and I shudder as I imagine what they’re used for. Does he use these to tie people up, to torment them with hot and cold water? “Please, Master, I’ll be good,” I whisper, terrified that the short period of grace is over and he’ll switch back to torturing me.
Guiding my palms to rest against the cold tiles, the trainer nudges my legs apart. “I know you will be, little Doll. Relax. If you follow the rules, there will be no more pain tonight.”
Tonight. There will be no more paintonight, which means there will be more pain tomorrow. I should be terrified, yet all I feel is relief. “I remember the rules,” I say, both to him and to myself. I can do this. The way he’s positioned me, he’s probably going to have sex with me. Put that thick, long cock I saw outlined underneath his sweatpants inside of me.
I didn’t look as he undressed. I probably should have, if only to know what I’m in for, but shame held me back, which is ridiculous because he’s seen and touched my entire body and he’s no doubt going to make me touch his, too. I don’t want to think about any of it, so I press my forehead to the cold tiles and let my mind go blank. He said there would be no more pain tonight, but I have no clue how he plans to get that massive erection that’s been pressed against my lower back inside of my pussy without pain. Even Terry Matthew’s cock hurt when he entered me, and it was decidedly smaller.
“You’re such a good girl for me,” he all but purrs into my ear. It’s wrong—I know it—but his words still send a shiver through me. Why does my body react like that? “Relax now.”
I hear a squirt of more shower gel, and then his soaped-up hands start massaging my ass. It’s not what I expected but his gentle ministrations make it easy to relax into his touch. Atleast until his fingers venture down my crack and start washing the rim of my asshole. Somehow, it feels more intimate than his fingers on my pussy. Maybe it feels that way because it’s wrong, forbidden, filthy. Something only bad people do, like my mother would surely say if ever such a horrific situation occurred that I’d be forced to talk about anal with her. God, it’s almost better to have a stranger’s finger in my ass than imagine that conversation, especially since said finger feels oddly…good? Strange, yes, but not entirely unpleasant, perhaps due to my already ramped-up arousal.
“Relax for me, Doll,” the trainer urges as his finger retreats and another one joins it. I tense up reflexively, wincing as his grip on my hip tightens. “What did I say?”
“Relax,” I repeat in an embarrassed whisper. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“Stop apologizing and do what I said, Doll,” the trainer replies, his tone suggesting he’s losing patience. Not wanting to earn some painful punishment, I stop apologizing and do what he said, which is to relax my asshole. It’s not something I ever thought I’d need to do, but I’m not about to argue with the muscular man a foot taller than me. He pushes two fingers inside me, thrusting them in and out, the soap making his intrusion smooth and easy. It doesn’t hurt, which surprises me. He promised no more pain tonight—maybe he actually keeps his word.
The pressure grows as he scissors his fingers and there’s a slight burn, but it’s still not painful, just embarrassing. “That’s right. We’ll continue tomorrow, and I want you to remember to relax. The more you clench, the more it will hurt. Hurt you, of course. Whoever will be fucking your ass won’t be complaining about an extra tight hole. Now, since you’ve been such a good little Doll for me…” He trails off, no more words necessary as he moves his other hand from my hip to my pussy again.
There are still fingers in my ass but it’s easy to ignore them as he rubs slow circles around my clit, pushing me closer to the edge once again. If he doesn’t let me come this time, I think I might actually have a heart attack. “Master? Please…” It’s humiliating how fast he can reduce me to a whimpering mess, especially as he’s still finger-fucking my ass while teasing my pussy. I shouldn’t want this, but I do.
“What is it, Doll? Is there something you want?”
He’s not stopping, stroking my clit faster and harder now, my muscles clenching with the telltale signs of an incoming orgasm. Except I can’t come, can I? The annoying computer voice clearly stated that Dolls aren’t allowed to come without permission. It was one of the many things warranting a “severe punishment”. How can I not come, though, when my body has been primed for an orgasm for hours? Both my pussy and ass are so damned sensitive after the endless round of electro-torture that even his fingers in that very wrong hole are arousing, let alone the way he rubs my clit just the way I like it. “Please, Master?”
His chuckle is dark. “You’re gonna have to say it, Doll. Loud and clear. Beg nicely, and I might just give you the permission you’re after.”
My desperate whimper turns into a sob halfway. I can’t beg the man who kidnapped and tortured me to let me come. Can I? It’s so wrong but what’s my other option? He’s going to make me come. With how much I struggled to achieve a weak, stealthy orgasm here and there back home, I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but this man will make me come whether I want it or not. And I want it. I want it so much. My entire being craves that sweet release, especially because I know it will be stronger than any I’ve ever achieved before. That need wins over the embarrassment.
“Please, Master, may I come? Please?” When he doesn’t reply, I scramble for more words. “Please. I’ve been good. I rememberthe rules, and I will follow them. I will be a good Doll for you, I promise.”
He groans, the iron bar of his erection pulsating against my side as something hot splatters on my skin. “Fuck, Doll. You’ll be the fucking death of me. Come. Shatter for me.” Picking up his pace, his fingers slide inside my pussy and curl to reach a sensitive spot inside while he rubs my clit with his palm, applying just the right pressure.
Letting out a low, keening cry, my body clamps down on his intruding digits, my ass burning with the unfamiliar sensation, but that burn is insignificant compared to the strength of the orgasm wracking through my body. Any pleasure I’ve felt before seems shallow by comparison, like a drizzle beside a storm. How did I not know it could feel like this? Oh my god, now I understand why people are so obsessed with sex. It never made sense, but it’s obvious now, and how pathetic am I that I had to get kidnapped to truly learn what pleasure is?
Chapter 10
Grace
As I come down from my orgasm, my legs threaten to give out, and it’s only the trainer’s hands between my legs keeping me upright until I regain my balance. The thought that he’s using his fingers in my pussy and ass like hooks to hold me upright shouldn’t be hot, but it is, setting off further ripples of pleasure through my body. His praise is just the cherry on top.
“Such a good girl. You did well, Doll.”
It’s a heady feeling, knowing I pleased him and wanting to do it again just to hear his praise once more.
With one arm wrapped around my chest, probably to keep me from slipping, the trainer guides us under the rain shower head. “Tilt your head back,” he instructs and rinses my hair again. Imust look confused, because he chuckles. “I need to rinse out the hair conditioner.”
