Fifty.
The chalk scraped slower now, deliberate.
Fifty-one.
Fifty-two.
Fifty-three.
She’d lost count long ago. But Kenny hadn’t.
The room went quiet, save for the harsh pant of her breath and the whisper of the chalk making marks and being set down.
She collapsed in Kenny’s lap, whimpering, the clamps still tugging at her tits, her body used and fucked and dripping with failure.
Kenny ordered her to knees and chest before cramming his dick in her ass with brutal force. No pause, no time to adjust before he pounded her hard and fast, finally emptying into her with a feral growl.
She didn’t know what they’d do to her next, but she knew she’d earned it, and the weight of her failure settled heavier than the clamps, heavier than the chalk dust on the board.
Her men went to the playroom, and she stood on the red medallion in the most graceful inspection pose she could manage.
She was going to do better.
That was the promise she made herself while she waited, and then once she was given permission to step into the playroom.
Shehadto. She was theirs, and being theirs meant pleasing them, all of them, even when there were three cocks, three sets of expectations, and three very different men demanding she meet their needs at the same time.
She’d failed. Hands shaking, mouth gagging, hips stuttering when she was told to fuck back, not just take.
It wasn’t just her muscles that needed training. It was her coordination. Her ability to stay present when every hole was filled and every sense overloaded.
She could do this. Shewoulddo this. No thoughts. No fears. Just obedience.
When told to enter, she stepped under the winch and offered her hands up to them. Whatever was about to happen, she deserved.
Suspension cuffs clicked shut around her wrists, locking her into place. The chain creaked as it lifted her arms, higher and higher, until her toes barely brushed the floor, weight pulling down on every joint.
Silas bent down to situate a heavy metal spreader bar between her ankles, and she winced at the intense stretch. This wasn’t just a position; it was the warning before the punishment. She was vulnerable, helpless.
They’d bound her so she’d be obedient whether she wanted to be or not. Whether she fucked up or not.
Her heart pounded in her throat, chest rising too fast to get a full breath. She’d failed, and she was about to experience the consequences.
She was grateful for owners who cared enough to enforce their rules, but shame still crawled through her belly like acid, thick and hot.
But she accepted it because this was about letting them shape her into something better. Something worthy.
Terror still gripped her, but that didn’t stop her pussy from clenching reflexively, an involuntary plea for friction even as her mind scrambled to retreat.
Boone stepped in front of her, holding a small bottle of oil and a plug. They didn’t usually let her see what they put into her.This one was thick, and she knew she’d scream when it spread her too much. Too wide.
And it was ribbed.
She breathed through her nose, tried to hold still, but her thighs quivered from the stretch.
He opened the oil and she smelled something… not quite pine. Sharper, colder. A dark metallic layered under the evergreen.
Her whole body tensed when Boone stepped behind her, spread her open, pressed the plug against her rim, and pushed.
