Chapter 17 #2
Her heart clenched. It wasn’t just piss, it was Kenny’s piss, and that broke something deeper.
She swallowed quickly, desperately, the taste fouling her tongue, terrified of the shock, but the shame of this scraped her raw.
Kenny’s casual defilement managed to strip another layer of her humanity until only function remained.
Silas laughed low and cruel. “Oh, look at her face. It cuts worse when it’s Kenny, doesn’t it? Little whore thought she was special to him. Thought she was more than a hole and a toilet. That’s the beauty of it, pet — no one here thinks you’re more than what you are.”
Her tears ran faster. She forced herself to keep swallowing, even as the shame chewed at her insides, eating her little by little.
Kenny finished, tucked himself away, and said, “Good job. That’s the rule now. Toilet means open and swallow. Good toilets flush the filth away without drama. Bad toilets get the defiance shocked out of them.”
The words landed like shackles. She bowed her head again, silent obedience burning through her chest.
They moved her to the living room and unclipped the leash, but the heavy webbed collar remained snug at her throat. A thick rug stretched wide, giving her knees some reprieve, but not much.
Kenny pulled a set of glossy photos from the table and dropped them onto the rug in front of her. “Pictures first. You’ll learn your numbers. Fast.”
The first showed a spread-kneel with a big numeral one in the corner.
“Position one.”
She shuffled into place, the backs of her wrists on her thighs, knees wide, back straight.
The second picture — kneeling up, her hands clasped behind her head. “Position two.”
She adjusted, touched the bottoms of her mitts together behind her head, and the collar stayed quiet.
The third picture — on all fours, spine curved, ass high.
“Position three.”
He cycled her back through them, voice flat and cold. “One. Two. Three. One. Hold. Two. Three.”
She obeyed, frantic to get it right. The collar stayed silent.
Then Kenny switched the order. “Three. One. Three. One. Two.” She hesitated, brain scrambling, and dropped into the wrong one.
The collar lit her thigh on fire, then lightning blazed up her body, her spine, and detonated in her clit and nipples.
Her body seized and collapsed, buckling her to the floor in a silent, shaking heap.
“Wrong.” His tone didn’t change. “Try again.”
Shaking, she crawled upright into the correct pose.
“Good. Three. One. Two.”
The faster he called, the more her panic mounted.
Sweat ran down her back, her breath ragged and too fast. Every hesitation, every wrong guess, the collar lit her up again, and this time the current didn’t just burn.
It ripped through her, clit and nipples blazing like they’d been doused in gasoline and struck by lightning.
Her limbs convulsed. She hit the tile with a grunt, pain branding the lesson into every nerve.
“You’ll learn the numbers like your own name,” Kenny said flatly. “Pain makes memory permanent.”
Boone sat heavily on the bench, watching. “Push harder. She’s sloppy, and half-assing a pose should be punished. Maybe try shocking a little gracefulness into her.”
Silas chuckled darkly. “By the end of the night, she’ll snap into place before her brain even catches up.”
Another wrong pose. Another shock. Her body twitched, mouth opening on a silent scream, tears streaming down her face. She scrambled into the right position, trembling.
Kenny only said, “Again. Faster.”
Another wrong pose. Another shock. This one arced like a whip through her spine and exploded through her most sensitive places. Her mouth opened in a voiceless scream, her body twitching on the floor before she clawed her way upright and forced herself into the right position.
Kenny didn’t even pause. “Again. Faster. One. Three. One. Two. One. Three. Two. Three. One.”
When she finally felt as if she’d mastered one through three, Kenny laid three more photos down.
“Position four.” Inspection pose — standing straight, hands behind her head, legs apart.
“Position five.” Chest pressed to the ground, ass high, arms stretched forward. Knees and chest, but with her arms over her head rather than along her body.
“Position six.” Knees tucked under, head bowed, arms stretched forward. At least he’d left child’s pose alone.
He drilled her through them, voice sharp, unyielding. “One. Four. Six. Two. Three. Five.”
Every stumble lit the collar again, shocks so fierce her vision went blurry, muscles locking tight before collapsing. She scrambled to keep up, but her limbs shook, movements jerky and frantic, each pose slower than the last. She was raw. Shaking. And still, he kept going.
Then came a different command. Kenny pointed across the room. “Crawl to the table.”
Her heart stuttered. Three tables in that direction — coffee table, end table, small desk. No way to ask which. No way to communicate. She froze for half a second, then chose the coffee table before he hit the remote to shock her again.
The collar lit her nerves with a jolt that ripped her body taut, a silent scream clawing from her throat.
She staggered forward and tried the end table instead. This time, silence. Obedience.
“Good pet,” Kenny said. “Return.”
Her tears blurred the room, but she crawled back to the rug, kneeled at his feet, chest heaving, waiting for the next order.
Boone sat back in a chair like he was settling in to watch a game, all casual and relaxed. He unzipped and said, “I need a toilet.”
Her entire body went rigid. The rug beneath her knees felt like quicksand, dragging her down and anchoring her to this moment.
“Crawl,” Kenny ordered, hand moving towards the remote.
She did, knees sliding forward, mitts thumping dully on the rug. Her mouth opened without hesitation, obedience eclipsing shame. No matter that her stomach churned with humiliation, the collar enforced obedience above everything.
Feelings were mere background noise.
“Let’s see if she can manage without one of us holding her head,” Kenny said, voice clinical. “If she forgets her place, the collar will remind her.”
Boone rested the flat part of his head on her lower lip, and his stream hit her tongue a heartbeat later, hot and bitter. She swallowed hard, then again, throat working frantically, desperate not to earn another shock while the foul taste coated her mouth.
“Efficient,” Silas said with a dark chuckle. “Piss without leaving your chair. Pet training has its perks.”
Her tears burned as she forced down swallow after swallow, humiliation etching deeper, shredding what was left of her humanity, her identity. She was no longer someone being broken, but a toilet providing function.
Boone finished. No words. No pat on the head. Just tucked himself away like he’d used a urinal.
And she kneeled there, voiceless, stripped to utility, remade as less than human, waiting for her next order. Waiting to obey.
Kenny’s voice came from behind her. “Good pet. Back to the rug.”
She crawled back, stomach roiling, throat raw, body shaking, but the collar stayed quiet.
For now.
Boone snapped the leash to her collar and tugged her toward the door. “Outside. Let’s see if she remembers how to piss.”
The cold night air hit her bare skin like knives. The frozen ground cold on her burning knees.
Kenny took the shock collar off and said, “Go.”
With tears stinging her eyes, she squatted low and pissed like an animal.
No grace, no way to control it, just piss steaming in the winter air, splattering messily down both thighs before it streamed down her right one and pooled beneath her before sinking into the earth.
Humiliation lanced through her like fresh pain, burning hotter than the wind.
“Good little creature,” Silas said mockingly. “Knows enough to piss in the yard.”
“Pisses all over itself, though,” Boone said.
“Better the leg than the carpets,” Kenny responded, and he stooped behind her to clean her pussy and legs with baby wipes before he buckled the shock collar onto her other thigh.
She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. She couldn’t. Kenny wasn’t angry, just thorough, wiping her like she was a filthy animal who’d had an accident.
They walked her a few yards away from the mess, leash gently tugging when she didn’t realize Kenny was making a turn. “Position 4,” Kenny ordered, and she went into it as fast as she could manage.
Once again, he went through them over and over at random, her skin raw from the cold, thighs shaking, body twitching every time she faltered. The collar lit her up over and over, sharp, searing bursts that carved renewed agony into fresh skin with no mercy and no escape.
Her nerves were frayed, and every jolt staggered her more, pushing her limbs out of sync, her screams echoing silent in her head as she twitched and burned. Pain blurred into cold until there was no room left for thought. Only obedience.
When she was finally following orders without fucking up, pose after pose, Boone said, “Back inside,” and lifted her, carrying her in rather than making her navigate the steps again.
He gently settled her on the hardwood inside the door, and the warmth of the house hit like a taunt — relief paired with fresh dread. When she made it back to the living room rug, Kenny crouched in front of her, one more page in his hand.
“This is seven.”
The photo showed her with her lips wrapped around a cock.
“You’ll learn this number, too. When I say seven, you crawl over, open your mouth, and suck until we tell you to stop. No hesitation.”
Silas grinned, and his chuckle made her stomach twist. “Now the training gets interesting.”