For a moment back there, when he fucked my face, I genuinely thought I’d throw up all over him. Fortunately, I held it back long enough for him to finish, though my stomach rebelled at thethought of swallowing more. It’s not like I had a choice, though, so I just sucked it up and swallowed.
The gag reflex is a stupid thing. I already dread how we’re going to “work” on mine, but if it helps me serve the trainer without feeling this miserable, I’m all for it, especially since he clearly wasn’t impressed with my performance. Since he fucked my mouth, he hasn’t praised me once, and the thought that I failed him gnaws at me more than the pain. Exhaustion doesn’t help, and I use all my strength to keep my eyes open, though my eyelids feel a ton each. Keeping my body straight is even more difficult, and I keep listing to the side, desperate to lean against the counter, even if it’s just for a second.
Once again, my mind feels stuffed with cotton. I know I should be thinking about something important, but it’s like trying to remember a dream. It slips away every time I reach for it. What could be more important than figuring out how to make my Master happy again? How to earn his praise, to let me lean against him as he washes me or touches me.
I need his touch so badly. Throughout the training, he’d touch my pussy here and there, enough to keep my arousal roaring but never anywhere close to giving me an orgasm. I don’t deserve it, I know that, but damn. I want it. Need it. If I thought it would help, I’d crawl and beg to be allowed to come, but unless the trainer changes his orders or speaks to me directly, I’m not allowed to move or say anything. All I can do is kneel here, bone-tired and aching in every way, and think about how I could do better.
Escape. You’re supposed to be thinking about escape, Grace!
The thought cuts the fog clouding my mind. Escape? My first thought is that it’s against the rules. I have to follow the rules, don’t I?Kneel. Keep your head down. Smile. Obey.The rules are there for my own good. To protect me. Yet…
My eyes keep getting pulled toward that door in the corner. The only way out of this place. I should…I should be trying to get there? I don’t see why, but the thought is pretty insistent. A part of me wants to walk through that door. To escape.All escape attempts will be severely punished.I don’t want to be punished. I want to be good for my Master. He said he likes it when I’m in pain, and I’m happy to serve him that way, but I have a feeling a “severe punishment” would hurt far worse than the spanking he gave me this morning. Why exactly should I be escaping again?
My mind has no answer to that. Abstract concepts like freedom mean nothing to my exhausted brain, which craves only sleep, or to my aching body, which longs for relief from the pain and the need between my legs.
“Tired, Doll?”
The trainer’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been slouching awkwardly. Scrambling to correct myself, I nod. “Yes, Master. But I’m ready to serve you.”
His sigh makes my heart race. What did I do wrong? Was I not supposed to say it? Probably not. I should have just answered his question and nothing more, but I do want to serve him.
You don’t want to serve anyone!
The thought brings a hint of clarity. What am I doing? I should hate this man. Shouldn't I? He hurt me. Except he did it because he likes it when I’m in pain, and if it pleases him, he has a right to do it, doesn’t he?
Damn. Something tells me the answer is no, even if I can’t focus on why. I can’t think about that right now. I need to know what I did wrong so I won’t repeat it. I can’t stand that sigh, like he’s suffering. I can’t be the reason for that.
“Oh, Doll.” He sighs again, and I have to clench my fists by my sides to stop myself from reaching for him. “You’re truly something,” he adds so softly I barely hear him.
I’m not sure if “being something” is a good thing or a bad thing. With my mother, it was always a bad thing, but the trainer doesn’t sound angry. Since he hasn’t asked me a question, I keep quiet, waiting for an order. Hopefully one that lets me off my knees because they’re starting to throb with the rest of my body.
“Crawl” is the only word he says before turning around and striding off.
The tiles are cold beneath my hands and knees as I follow him back to the living room area. My hopes of rest vanish when he flops back onto the couch where we spent the past few hours “training.” I suppose I should be grateful I get to serve him again. I did ask for that, didn’t I? I’m just so damned tired I might start crying. The plug shifts inside of me uncomfortably as I move to kneel between the trainer’s spread knees again.
Shaking his head, he pats the cushion next to him. “Sit here with me.”
A few tears roll down my cheeks as I sit on the couch, not even minding the plug pressing deeper, because after hours on the floor, it feels like I’m sitting on a cloud. It gets even better when Master wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “You’ve done well today, Doll,” he says, and I just about melt into him. “Normally, I’d keep you awake with passive training, probably on one of the fuck machines, but we’ve both earned a nap, wouldn’t you agree?”
A nap has never sounded so enticing in my life. “Yes, Master.” Then, because I just can’t help myself, I add, “You should rest too. You seem troubled.” I don’t gather the courage to ask if it’s because of me, too afraid of the answer.
This time he sighs into my hair, his breath whispering over my scalp. The room is cool, and I shiver in my nakedness.
“You’re a sweet little thing,” the trainer says. It sounds less like a compliment and more like a complaint. “You only need toworry about your training, Doll. About how you’re—how you’ll serve your future Master,” he finishes through gritted teeth.
“Oh.” Right. My future Master. Because I can’t stay here.
Because you’re being trafficked! Focus, you idiot!
“Yes, Master,” I say, because that’s what he expects, but something stirs deep inside me. It’s a slew of painful emotions, disappointment the most prominent. He doesn’t want me. Not really. He’s going to send me away. Why should I want to please him if he doesn’t want me?
You shouldn’t. You need to get your crap together and get out of here.
“Good girl,” the trainer says, but is the affection in his voice genuine? I bet he says that to all the Dolls before he sends them away. I don’t want to leave but if I have to, I want to get away from everything, not to be shipped to someone who can never measure up to my Master. I’ll focus on escaping, but later, after I’ve slept. I can’t concentrate on anything right now.
The trainer reaches for a bowl on the coffee table, stirs its contents, and smiles at me. “Let’s eat. I originally wanted to make pancakes but you need something more substantial. Open.”
It’s a risotto with lots of vegetables and meat. The trainer dutifully blows on the spoon before bringing it to my mouth. I can’t help but moan when the flavor bursts on my tongue. It’s so good, and he made it for me. How can he be a bad person when he’s so nice to me?
