Chapter 10
Some mornings, Kenny wakes before the alarm.
This wasn’t one of those mornings.
He lifted his phone, turned the alarm off, pulled the sheet off Willow, and popped her on the ass.
“Up you go. Get my shower started for me. I’ll be along shortly.”
His shower was digital, so she only had to tell it the right temperature.
He’d sent her the same instructions he’d given the past twenty or so submissives who’d washed him and blown him in the mornings. He’d refined the directions every time someone had a question, and none had been asked for a while.
He’d see how she did this first morning.
He took a piss and then noted her standing out of the spray, waiting in inspection pose.
It seemed she could follow instructions, but he hadn’t expected her to fuck it up. Willow was bright.
She’d absorbed the household structure fast, and that boded well. He’d test her limits more over the next few days — add complexity, introduce edge cases, see how she adapted under pressure.
She’d responded positively to Silas calling her some rough names. It wasn’t Kenny’s style, and yet, some of the terms had their appeal for a certain kind of scene.
She went into a perfect kneel up once he was in the water and motioned for her to, and she followed the instructions to the letter, licking his balls, working her way from the base to the top of his shaft before taking him into her mouth, all the way to the root, and waited for him to fuck her mouth.
Which he did, with vigor — until he came down her throat and emptied his motherfucking balls down the heat of her throat.
Cumdump.
Silas wasn’t wrong last night, and yet, it was different this morning. Her attention to detail. Her service.
No single nickname was going to work for her. Labels were tools, and she’d earn the names that fit. The ones that made her a better pet, slave, or whatever she ended up being, though he was leaning hard towards fucktoy at the moment.
He paused and looked at her form, kneeling with her elbows grasped behind her back, her lips loose around his spent dick, looking up at him, awaiting the next step — not abandoning this one until he signaled it was time. He was impressed.
He’d give her precision tasks in the coming days, use compliance as a metric before deciding on specific training.
Though he already knew one specific behavioral protocol she’d be trained for.
She’d sealed her fate during that first negotiation when she made orgasm denial a hard limit.
What better way to make his point that he’s in control and she has none?
And he already had the beginnings of a plan for how to train her to his form of orgasm denial.
He’d go past teasing, right up to the edge, and then send her off on another task while aching with need — setting the table, or going for a three-mile run.
Before Christmas arrived, she’d be going days at a time without being allowed release.
She waited for him to step back, and then stood and washed him exactly as she was supposed to, starting at his shoulders and working down, cleaning everything — the crack of his ass, his balls, between his toes — and finished by rinsing him with the proper settings on the handheld unit.
“Good girl.” He helped her stand, gave her a peck on the lips. “I’ll ask how you’re holding up at breakfast. You woke up with me, instead of before, so you didn’t have a chance to see to yourself. Go see to Boone next, then take a few minutes to brush your teeth and hair.”
He wasn’t going to punish her for not having her alarm set this first morning. She’d probably intended to do it later, not realizing there wouldn’t be an opportunity. If she didn’t get up early tomorrow; however, there’d be consequences.
* * * *
Boone woke, took a piss, and opened his door to see if Willow had arrived. As instructed, she was standing to the side of his door, facing the wall in inspection pose.
“Inside, fucktoy.”
She stepped in, and he jerked his chin toward the bed. “Face up, ass hanging off the side. Hold your ankles.”
She climbed onto the mattress, lying back so her hips rested just at the edge. He reached between her thighs, plucked the egg free, and tossed it to the side before lining himself up.
There was no warning, no foreplay — just the hard slam of his cock into her, stretching her in one long thrust, his cock suddenly engulfed in her heat, squeezed by muscles struggling to accept him.
Her breath hitched at the sudden fullness, and she bent her legs, pulling them toward her body.
She didn’t let go of her ankles, but he glared at her anyway, and she straightened them, spread them wide.
Boone’s gaze stayed locked on her face as he reached down, pinched one nipple hard, rolling it between his fingers before giving the other the same treatment. He pulled until her back arched, watching how she absorbed the pain, the helplessness of being splayed open for him, of being hurt.
Watched her breathing. The fight to be still, to accept the pain.
Watched her decide to submit.
They hadn’t turned the plug on the night before, but he reached to the side and turned it on with his phone, and then he groaned, feeling it through the inner wall.
Only when he’d had his fill of watching did his thrusts turn purposeful — deep, driving strokes meant to get him off. No longer just fucking around.
Heh. Sometimes he cracked himself up.
“Vibrating cunt,” he growled, pounding into her harder.
She gritted her teeth, the double stimulation making her pulse race, but she kept her ankles tight in her grip until he finally stiffened, pulling out to spill across her stomach.
“Open your mouth, fucktoy.” He scooped the mess onto his finger and wiped her tongue with it.
Over and over, back and forth, like she was a little bird, opening, accepting, swallowing. Her gaze on him the entire time.
“Good girl.” He slid the egg back into her, turned the plug off, and bent to give her a kiss, all tongue and dominance, the kind that signals possession more than tenderness, and then headed for the bathroom with a casual, “Dismissed.”
He hadn’t been sure about that order, dismissed, but Kenny was right — it was an easy way to let her know he was finished with her and needed to get ready for work now.
* * * *
Willow brushed her teeth until the mint taste drowned out the tang of both Kenny and Boone’s jizz, brushed her hair and put it into a ponytail, and washed her face.
She stopped in the hallway to put the same dress on, since she had no idea where her duffel was.
Someone, probably Kenny, had set out what she’d need in the kitchen. A wide mixing bowl for eggs, a pan for bacon, another for the scrambled eggs, a sharp paring knife laid neatly beside the bag of potatoes. No rummaging through drawers, no hunting for pans.
It’d been incredibly thoughtful.
She pulled what she needed from the refrigerator and went to work. Bacon first, potatoes diced and ready to fry in the leftover grease, eggs whisked with milk until frothy. The rich, comfortable scent of breakfast filled the kitchen.
By the time Kenny and Boone came down, plates were ready and coffee poured. She served them first, then took her own seat.
Gently, because damn she was sore — and the egg and plug inside her weren’t helping.
Kenny cut into his eggs. “How are you holding up?”
He wasn’t asking it as a social question, so she considered the honest answer.
“It’s a lot, but your instructions are clear, Sir.
It isn’t impossible, it’s just overwhelming.
” She smiled. “I’m not ready to run screaming, though the reality of it is…
I’ve already said it’s a lot, and it is, but I’m looking forward to surviving to the end of the trial period before I decide what I might want in my life moving forward, Sir. ”
“Any changes we need to talk about before the end of the trial period?” Kenny asked.
“Can I have permission to go to hawk during my free time today, please Sir?” Because taking it up the ass again tonight was going to fucking hurt.
“Denied.” He grinned at Boone and looked back to her. “I kind of like making you sore, and it feels like we should keep you that way for at least another day or two.”
“Little fucktoys are supposed to be sore,” Boone said. “Every ache should remind you exactly where you are and why.”
Kenny met her gaze. “Exactly what you are. Tell me, in a complete sentence back, how you felt about being called a cumdump last night, and use those words in your sentence.”
She ran his order through in her head and realized what she was going to have to say. Her face went hot, and she stared at her plate. “I enjoyed being your cumdump last night, Sir.”
“Eye contact, little cumdump. Since you didn’t, you’ll write fifty lines during your free time today. I enjoy being a cumdump to my three Sirs. Repeat it back to me.”
She wasn’t going to make the same mistake, so she met his gaze and said, “I enjoy being a cumdump to my three Sirs, Sir.”
“How many times?”
“Fifty, Sir.”
Her stomach flipped, half from nerves and half from the realization this was her first punishment. More of a reprimand, she figured, but still.
She stood to retrieve the coffee pot, refilled their mugs, and sat back down to her breakfast.
Gently.
* * * *
Silas reached for his phone and checked the news, scanned his emails, double-checked the day’s weather forecast, and then went to his assigned bedroom, where he found Willow standing in the hallway, facing the wall beside his door in inspection pose.
He’d rolled his eyes at Kenny’s extensive schedule, but now that she was here, waiting for him to hurt her and fuck her, he appreciated Kenny’s attention to detail.
“Inside and bend over the bed, Girly. Did you lube your asshole?”
“I did, Sir.”
He may as well start out harsh this first week rather than give her a false sense of him being a moderate sadist, so he grabbed a cane and made three diagonal lines, moved to her other side and made three more, crossing the first to put perfect diamonds on her ass.