Page 48 of Shamefully Trained

They… those knowing digits… they found my need at once. The first stroke over my clit made my whole body jolt so hard that under the pressure of his thumb the plug nudged deeper inside me. I cried out.

“There,” he said quietly. “Feel that.”

I did. God, I did. The pressure in my ass, the humiliating little fullness of the toy opening me, and at the same time his hand on my pussy, making sense of it for my body before my mind could reject it.

“No,” I whispered, but it had no force in it at all.

“No?” His fingers moved again, slow and exact. “No, you’re not the kind of girl who responds this way to having her bottom trained?”

I made a broken sound, a dying, surrendering kind of whimper.

The answer was in my body already. Wetness flooded me afresh. My thighs trembled. I tried to hold still because movement only made everything worse, but that too became part of it: the effort not to writhe while he touched me, the certainty that he could feel every involuntary reaction.

He eased the plug another little bit inward.

The stretch made me whimper and push back despite myself, and I immediately hated myself for that too.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Take it. Let your sponsor open this little ass properly.”

His left hand stayed on my back, broad and anchoring, keeping me where he wanted me. His right hand worked me with a patient, devastating rhythm. I felt split in two—my mind full of resistance, of horror, of every ugly little phrase I had ever associated with women who allowed this, while my body melted around the evidence that he had been right from the start.

“It doesn’t mean what you think it means,” he said, as if he had reached directly into my thoughts. “It means your body wants to be trained carefully. It means you were made to enjoy being filled here, when a man knows what he’s doing.”

His fingers circled me. I dropped my forehead nearly into the water and moaned.

“Soon,” he said, “you’ll stop fighting the truth of it. Soon you’ll beg me to put my cock in your bottom.”

I shook my head at once, violently, because that was impossible, disgusting, unthinkable.

At exactly the same moment, my pussy clenched so hard under his hand that he gave a soft sound of satisfaction.

“Your body disagrees.”

He pushed the plug deeper.

This time the wider part entered me with a hot, frightening stretch that made me cry out and try to crawl forward. His hand on my back held me in place effortlessly, without force and without cruelty; rather, with the assurance of a man who had already decided what was going to happen to me and meant to see it through.

“Hold still,” he said. “I’m training you, and you’re going to be trained. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Training.

That word again. I knew, somewhere, that it should have made me furious. Instead it went through me low and hot, because it named so exactly what this was. I was on all fours in his bath, naked and spread and being taught by touch and pressure and pleasure what I was meant to accept from him. What I was meant, hideously, to learn to want.

He seated the plug all the way. I let out a tiny scream, rearing back like a wild animal, then hung my head as I felt the flare of it settle against me with a final intimate certainty, and then I was simply full. Not with a man, not yet, but with something belonging to him, put into me by him for the purpose of changing me… of making me more pleasurable for his use.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered.

“No,” he said softly behind me. “Sir.”

“Sir,” I said at once, voice shaking.

His fingers never stopped. He rubbed me through the aftershock of the plug going in, making my body translate violation into arousal with such ruthless efficiency that I wanted to sob. Every pulse of pleasure seemed to wrap itself around that fullness in my bottom and tighten there. I could feel the toy inside me every time he touched my clit. I could feel my own body beginning to accept it.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “You feel how the two belong together for you. Your pussy and your ass. Your body knows exactly what I’m preparing you for.”

My body knew… and I knew too.

It didn’t represent an abstraction any longer. The man who had for all intents and purposes bought my body for the sake of my ass meant to fuck me there. He meant to teach me to take his cock in my anus and to make me understand that doing so did not degrade me accidentally but precisely, purposefully, in a way that would bind me more completely to him. A woman who let her sponsor have her that way whenever he wanted. A woman valuable enough to be used so thoroughly. A woman made to prove her devotion and her worth by accepting even that discomfort for his pleasure.