Chapter 10 #4
"Wider. And stick out your tongue. I want to see it."
She obeys, her face burning with humiliation so intense I can feel the heat radiating from her skin.
"Perfect. Now lean forward. Take just the head into your mouth. Nothing more yet. Just the tip. Just get used to the feel of it."
She leans in slowly, moving like she's approaching something that might explode.
Closing her lips around the head of my cock with exquisite care.
The heat of her mouth is incredible.
The wet slide of her tongue against me makes me groan despite myself.
"Good. Very good. Now use your tongue. Lick it like you would ice cream. Slow circles around the head. Explore it."
She does, her movements hesitant and unpracticed, but she’s trying.
Trying to follow my instructions.
Trying to do this right even though she’s afraid.
And fuck, it feels good anyway.
Better than it should with such inexperience.
"Perfect. You're doing so well. Now take a little more. Just a few inches. And hollow your cheeks. Create suction. Yes, just like that."
She takes more of me into her mouth.
Too fast. Too deep. Gags immediately.
Pulls back quickly, gasping and coughing.
"It's okay," I say quickly, stroking her hair soothingly. "You went too deep too fast. That's normal for your first time. We'll work up to taking more. Try again. Slower this time. Only take what's comfortable. What doesn't trigger your gag reflex."
She leans in again after catching her breath.
Takes me into her mouth more carefully this time.
Takes less depth.
Creates suction like I told her.
Fuck. Oh fuck.
"Good girl. Perfect. Now move your head. Up and down. Bob on it. Use your hand on the base for what doesn't fit in your mouth."
She starts moving, slow and awkward, but following instructions.
Trying so hard to do this right.
I put my hand in her hair gently.
Not forcing. Not pushing. Just guiding.
Showing her the rhythm I want.
"That's it. Just like that. You're doing so well, Eden. So fucking well."
She makes a small sound around my cock.
I can't tell if it's humiliation or something else.
Can't tell if she's starting to respond to this or if she just hates it.
"Use your tongue," I instruct, my voice rougher now as pleasure builds. "Swirl it around as you move. Yes, just like that. Perfect. Fuck, that feels incredible."
I watch her.
Watch her lips stretch around me.
Watch the way she's concentrating so hard, trying to remember all my instructions.
Watch the flush spreading down her neck.
Watch the way her thighs are pressed together tightly.
She's aroused.
Even doing this.
Even humiliated and frightened.
Her body is responding to the position, to pleasing me, to the dynamic we're establishing.
"You can go a little deeper," I encourage. "Just relax your throat. Don't fight the gag reflex. Just breathe through your nose and relax. Let it happen."
She tries. Takes me deeper. Gags again but doesn't pull away this time.
Just adjusts. Finds a depth that works. A rhythm that doesn't make her choke.
"Perfect. God, you're perfect. Such a good girl. Learning so fast. Keep going. Just like that."
I can feel the pressure building in my spine. The pleasure coiling tight and hot.
"I'm close," I warn her, needing her to know. "When I come, you're going to swallow it. All of it. Understand?"
She makes a sound of protest around my cock, trying to pull away.
I tighten my hand in her hair.
Not painful, but firm.
Holding her in place. "No. You'll swallow. This is part of the training. Part of learning to please me completely. You'll take everything I give you. Swallow it all. Eden, do you understand?"
She can't nod with my cock in her mouth.
But I feel her reluctant acceptance.
Feel her submitting to this final demand.
She keeps moving. Keeps sucking. Keeps trying even though I know she wants to stop.
And when I come—when the orgasm crashes through me in waves of intense pleasure—she swallows.
Gags slightly on the taste, on the texture, on the sheer volume.
Struggles with it, her throat working frantically.
But she swallows.
Every drop.
Like I commanded.
Like a good little girl.
I release her hair immediately.
She pulls back, gasping for air, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
There are tears on her cheeks.
From gagging, from the effort, from the humiliation of what she just did.
From something deeper that I can't quite name.
"Good girl," I say softly, pulling her up onto my lap before she can resist. "You did so well. So incredibly well. I'm so proud of you."
She's shaking.
Silent tears streaming down her face now, leaving tracks through the flush on her cheeks.
I hold her.
Stroke her hair.
Whisper praise I know she probably doesn't want to hear but needs to anyway.
"That was perfect. You're learning so fast. Faster than I expected. You're going to be incredible at the showcase. They're going to see exactly how well-trained you are. How obedient. How devoted."
"I hate you," she whispers brokenly.
"I know."
"I hate this. Hate what you're doing to me. Hate what I'm becoming."
"I know that too."
"Why—" Her voice breaks completely. "Why does my body respond to this? Why do I—why did I get wet from—from doing that?"
"Because pleasure and shame can exist together. Because your body wants what your mind says it shouldn't. Because you're discovering parts of yourself you didn't know existed. Parts the Sanctuary tried to bury and deny."
I slide my hand between her thighs without warning.
She's soaked through her underwear, the fabric damp against my fingers.
Proof that her body wants this even when her mind is screaming no.
"See?" I say quietly. "Your body knows what it wants even when you won't admit it."
"Don't—don't touch me there—"
"Why not? Don't you want to feel good? Don't you want to be rewarded for doing so well? For following instructions? For being such a good girl?"
"I don't—"
But her argument dies as I push her underwear aside and slide two fingers inside her easily, her body accepting the intrusion without resistance.
She gasps and clenches around me instinctively.
"You earned this," I say against her ear. "You followed my instructions. You did what I asked even though you hated it. Even though it terrified you. So, now I'm going to make you come. Make you understand that obedience brings pleasure. That submitting to me feels good."
I work my fingers inside her flawlessly, finding that spot deep inside that makes her breath catch.
Use my thumb on her clit in the exact rhythm I know she responds to.
She's already close.
Already wound impossibly tight from the humiliation and the arousal and the confusing mix of emotions flooding through her.
"Come for me," I command softly. "Right now. Give me what's mine."
And she does.
Like her body can't help but obey me now.
Cries out sharply.
Clenches around my fingers hard enough that I feel it.
Trembles in my arms as the orgasm tears through her with devastating intensity.
When she finally stills, when her breathing slows to something approaching normal, I withdraw my fingers slowly.
Bring them to her lips.
"Open."
She does, too overwhelmed to resist.
Letting me slide my fingers into her mouth.
Tastes herself on them.
"Good girl," I murmur. "You're learning exactly what I need you to learn. That your body belongs to me. That submission brings pleasure. That obeying me feels better than fighting."
She closes her eyes.
More tears slide down her cheeks, mixing with the ones already there.
"At the showcase," I say quietly, needing her to understand the full scope of what's coming, "you'll do this in front of others.
You'll kneel for me where people can see.
You'll present yourself while men watch.
You'll use your mouth on me while the Consortium observes and judges your technique.
And you'll be perfect. Because I'm going to train you to be perfect.
To perform flawlessly even with an audience. "
"I can't—" Her voice breaks completely. "I can't do that. I can't—not in front of people—"
"Yes, you can. You just did everything I asked. And you'll do it again tomorrow. And the day after. And every day until the showcase. Until it's second nature. Until you can perform these acts without hesitation, without shame, without fear. Until your body responds automatically to my commands."
"I'll hate myself."
"Probably. But you'll do it anyway."
She's quiet for a long moment, processing everything.
Processing what she just did.
What she just agreed to.
What's coming in the next three weeks.
"What if I can't?" she asks finally, her voice small and scared. "What if I freeze at the showcase? What if I can't perform with people watching? What if I—"
"You won't freeze. Because I'm going to prepare you. There's more than enough time to teach you everything you need to know. To break down every wall. To condition every response. To make you mine so completely that performing for the Consortium will feel natural. Expected. Right."
"It will never feel natural."
"We'll see."
I lift her off my lap gently and set her on her feet.
She stands there swaying slightly, overwhelmed and exhausted.
"Get dressed. We're done for today."
She scrambles for her clothes desperately.
Pulls them on with shaking hands that can barely work the fastenings.
"Same time tomorrow," I say, tucking myself back into my jeans.
"Ten a.m. in the library. And Eden—don't think about running again.
Because if you do, if you make me hunt you down a second time, the punishment won't be pleasure.
It will be something far worse. Something that will break you in ways you can't recover from. Understand?"
She nods frantically.
"Say it."
"I understand. I won't run. I won't try to escape."
"Good girl. Now go. Rest. Eat something. Take care of yourself. I'll see you at dinner."
She practically runs from the library, fleeing like prey that's been released by a predator.
I watch her go, already planning tomorrow's lesson.
Already thinking about how to push her further without breaking her completely.
Already anticipating the moment when she stops fighting entirely and accepts what she is.
Mine.
Completely and utterly mine.
And in three weeks, when I walk into that showcase with Eden at my side, when she kneels for me in front of the entire Consortium, when she performs every command flawlessly—
They'll all see it too.
They'll see exactly what I’m capable of.
They'll see that I've taken a terrified cult escapee and turned her into the perfect acquisition.
And Victor Hargrove and the rest of the inner circle will have no choice but to accept me as one of them.
Worth every second of the patience it took to get here.
Worth the two million dollars.
Worth everything.