The Trainer He moans in pleasure, his eyes closing as he savors the experience. Another mouthful, laughing as a bit of sauce dribbles onto his chin. He smiles appreciatively at his host, drags a sleeve across his chin. "Enjoying yourself, I hope?" Andrew smiles, nods questioningly toward Dave's plate. Nodding, Andrew's dinner guest reaches into his lap, tangles his fingers into Adreinne's black hair, pulls her head down further, his head falling back as she gags, whimpers. His hips jerk, he utters a low groan as his balls tighten, his cock twitches in her protesting throat. Andrew watches, face impassive at the sound of choking, sputtering, desperate swallowing. "I'm glad," he gestures grandly, "what is mine is yours." Closing the door softly, Andrew returns to the dining room, his guest sent home with a smile. He crouches down to gaze into Adrienne's tear-filled eyes. "Enjoy your dinner, hole?" His hand snakes out violently, twists into her hair as he drags her from under the table. Growling, he throws her down, considering the biting bonds holding her elbows together behind her back, straps clasping her wrists together between her shoulder blades. He snarls, begins kicking her toward the basement stairs. "YOU DO NOT MAKE GUESTS WAIT," each word is punctuated with a vicious kick to her ass, legs as she crawls on her knees, "YOU DO NOT HESITATE TO SERVICE THEM COMPLETELY!" Fingers curling under the tight cord wrapped around her breasts, he yanks her down the stairs, his ire further raised by her shrill screams. "You will learn, hole," Andrew's voice is suddenly silken, dangerous, "I will teach you, even if the lesson kills you." Shoving her along, he hisses in frustration as the chain between her ankles trips her up, sends her sprawling. He steps over her to the wall, moves a stack of wooden crates to reveal a low metal door. Grabbing her hair, he bends low, drags her through, increasingly irritated as she thrashes, kicks wildly. Pulling her into the Room, he propels her backwards toward the chair. No ordinary chair, the seat is covered with small, rounded metal studs. Leather straps on either side, a shock collar linked to the back. Hinged on the top is a box, foam filled, designed to close over her head, imposing total sensory deprivation. Andrew pushes her down relentlessly, his hands like iron on her shoulders. Adrienne squirms, barking, raw cries ripping through her throat as the studs press into her soft flesh. Forcing her down completely, Andrew moves quickly, strapping her thighs tightly in place. Shoving her back hard against the chair, he applies the collar, affixing it snugly. Reaching behind her, he selects a ball gag, then rethinks, grabbing instead a large dildo shaped gag. He grasps her hair firmly, stills her whipping head to jam the gag into her throat, securing it tightly with heavy leather straps. Lowering the box, he closes it around her head, her choking whines and cries suddenly muffled. "You'll learn, hole," he murmurs softly, "make no mistake." Adrienne sobs, her hips wriggling painfully as her weight grinds her ass, thighs into the studs. There is no sound, she doesn't know if he's still there or no. Her eyes, open wide, see nothing. She strains helplessly against the thick straps, the collar tight around her delicate throat. Whining, she wonders what her family is thinking, remembers her last words to them . . . "I'll be right back!" Adrienne waved off her brother's thanks, winking at him as she skipped down the front stairs. Steve was sick-leukemia. It made it hard for him to collect for his paper route when the chemo was full steam. Receipt book in her pocket, she pedaled off down the street, enjoying the cool evening air. She rode up to the lovely grey slate home, her first stop. Knocking, she stepped back, admiring the large house. "Yes?" Andrew opened the door, expression friendly but questioning. "Hi," Adrienne smiled brightly, brushing her curly black hair from her face, "I'm Steve's sister-Steve, your paper carrier?" "Ahhh," Andrew's face opened, expression softening, "yes, how is Steve?" He opened the door wider, gestured for her to enter, eyes taking in her plump breasts, sweetly curved hips. "He's a little under the weather," Adrienne stepped in, her eyes widening at the opulence of decor, "but he's gonna be fine, I'm sure of it-he's tough." "Well, tell him I'm thinking of him." Andrew closed the door behind her, waved her into the sitting room. Adrienne sat carefully, hand stroking the fine leather sofa as he left the room, returning with his checkbook. He handed it to her, told her to fill it out. Ade looked up uncertainly, but his smile reassured her. "I suffered an injury," he held his hand up apologetically, angry red scars criss-crossing his palm, "writing is a chore for me." Sitting next to her, he leaned over, watched her fill the check out in a neat, prim script. Smiling, he told her that yes, he was English. Her dark eyes shone bright, a warm tingle spreading as his shoulder brushed hers. She struggled to keep the shake out of her hand, her 16-year-old mind filled with romantic images of life and love with this striking English gentleman. Surreptitiously he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. He watched her face carefully as she filled out the blank check, slowly raising his arm, snaking it around behind her. "You'll have to sign-" her words were cut off as the damp cloth was clapped firmly over her mouth and nose. She squealed, muffled, her hands flying to his arm, struggling to pull the handkerchief away. His grip was vise-like, she thrashed frantically, her eyes huge above the embroidered white cloth. Pressing her belly-down on the sofa, he savored her weakening struggles, her muted screams turned to whines as consciousness faded. Smiling triumphantly, he tucked the kerchief back into his pocket, lifted her prone body. "Your name is hole." Ade awakened slowly, confused. She moaned thickly, trying to move but finding herself cramped into a very small space, knees folded up against her chest. Eyes opening, she saw nothing-total darkness. She explored with trembling hands, began to scream thinly as she realized that she was in a small wooden box. Straining, sobbing, she pushed hard against the rough wood, her feet thumping as she struggled to escape. Andrew smiled at the muffled screams emanating from the small crate. Turning, he ducked through the low doorway, closed and locked the door behind him. Dragging the crates to hide the door, he emerged from the basement, locking that door, too. Her training had begun. Andrew sighs contentedly, settles into his chair, considering the fire as he sips his cognac. This girl was going to work out just fine, he was confident. Only a week-and-a-half into her education, and already she's nearly fit to serve guests. His client was very exacting in his requirements-it was sheer luck that she appeared when she did. Andrew smiles . . . he's always been a lucky one. Getting rid of the police had been easy-by the time her family realized anything was amiss, he'd already disposed of her bike, thrown her clothing, receipt book, and the unsigned check into the furnace. He'd frowned, expressed concern as he told the detectives that she'd never come to collect-in fact, he'd never seen the girl in his life, though he was very fond of Steve, certainly hoped nothing bad had happened to his sister. He slept soundly that night, smiling at the knowledge that she was cramped, terrified, alone. Adrienne moans, every breath a reminder of her position. Her bowels cramp, her limbs are leaden, each stud pressing into her flesh, sending agonizing jolts through her legs. She struggles to swallow, her throat clicking painfully. How long? How long will he leave her here this time? She whines, shivering in the cold basement air. Sobbing, she finds herself hoping for Andrew's return. If only he would come back, release her, she would do better. She would please him. Andrew checks his watch, nods to himself. Rising, he sets his glass aside, unlocks the cellar door and descends into the darkness. Adrienne sits motionless, unaware of his presence. Walking slowly to a low slung table near the wall, he retrieves a small remote, presses a button. Her body jumps, she gasps, then screams in the confines of the box over her head, the collar delivering a sharp jolt. It's been days since he's used the collar-she whines, trembling violently, awaiting the next shock. It doesn't come. Gently, Andrew removes the collar, lifts the box from her head. Ade whimpers as the light stabs her eyes. Freeing her legs, he lifts her, smiling approvingly as she whines. Setting her on her feet, he steadies her as she sways. Gaining her balance, Adrienne looks up at him, her eyes pleading above the gag. A slap, sharp, and she drops her gaze, reminds herself that she may not look unless told to do so. His hand is gentle on her shoulder, guiding her to the sawhorse, pressing her down so her hips rest on its padded surface. Reaching past her, he removes a quirt from a hook on the wall, steps behind her. "No noise." He raises the quirt, brings it down across her still dimpled ass. Her hips jump, she gasps, tears leaping to her eyes. Again and again, he smiles in satisfaction as her ass turns a deep, angry pink. Nodding, he hangs the quirt, pulls her to her feet, leading her to the center of the room. "Stand." Ade whimpers, bends forward, her sore cheeks to him, tightly bound breasts hanging below. Squatting, Andrew reaches between her legs, tapping her thighs lightly, signaling her to spread them further, give him access. Deftly, he unhooks the rings that have been holding her pussy shut. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the wide silver band, holding it in place with one hand as he secures it with the smaller rings. Her bald pussy is held open now, inviting. Standing, he unzips his trousers, pulls out his half-erect cock. Standing close, he slaps it against her ass, presses it into her crack, thumb pushing down as he moves his hips. He stiffens quickly, sighs as he pushes into her dry, sore pussy. Grasping her hips firmly, he moves slowly, his thrusts calculated, measured. Adrienne whines through her nose, her eyes staring at the floor as he uses her body. Andrew moans low, his balls pulling up tight as he shudders, fills her pussy with his hot cum. He keeps his cock buried in her a moment longer, eyes closed as he savors the pained spasms that milk him. Pulling out slowly, he leaves her bent over as he wipes his cock clean with a handkerchief. Tossing it into a bucket, he steps next to her, zips his trousers calmly. "Up." Ade rises painfully, her back aching. Grasping her arm, he pulls her to a steel bar wheel standing in the corner, pushes her against it. Adrienne begins to cry, twisting her torso away from the frame, head shaking violently. Andrew scowls, delivering a sharp punch to her belly. Ade grunts, retches dryly. Andrew pushes her back again, secures her to the frame with no further struggle. Rotating her upside down, he walks away, returns with a white plastic hose and nozzle. Inserting it in her vagina, he twists a small valve, sends scalding, soapy water rushing into her raw hole. Ade whines, hips working, toes curling above her. Closing the valve, Andrew retrieves a bottlebrush from the table, inserts it into her pussy, begins scouring cruelly as Ade screams, gags. Andrew climbs the stairs, checks his watch again-time to call the client. Punching the numbers in, he flips open a small notebook, reads over his notes. Adrienne, whimpers, stretches as much as possible in the box. A larger version of the first, this one allows for some movement, she can sit hunched if she wishes. Her arms ache, finally released from behind, bound at her sides now, strapped to a thick leather belt around her small waist. She stares into the darkness, shifts her hips to relieve pressure on her raw pussy, sore ass. Her tongue swipes her chapped lips, the cruel gag gone for now. She wonders when he will allow her to eat again. How long has it been? Two days? Three? It had been her only "meal" since being wrenched from her life. She is hungry-so hungry that even the humiliation feeding brings seems welcome. She closes her eyes, remembers. "Walk on your knees, hole" Andrew growled, leaning back against the kitchen counter, "if you want to eat, you walk on your knees, come to me." Adrienne struggled, her knees pulled up hard, ankles strapped to thighs, wrists strapped to ankles. Whimpering, jaws straining around the spreader, she teetered on bruised knees, falling forward. Groaning, she twisted, pitched, rose again, struggled to reach him. Andrew watched, eyes flat, considering as she reached him. Raising her head, she looked up at him, whimpering as the look elicited a cruel slap. "You do NOT look at a man unless he tells you to!" Another smack, Ade's head hung in exhausted submission. Reaching down, Andrew unzipped his pants, pulled his cock out, shaking it before her stricken face. "You may struggle and choke, or swallow it all, breathing through your nose. The choice is yours, one of the few choices left you-but either way, your throat will do what I demand." Grasping her hair, he pulled her face toward him, smiling as his cock pushed past her swollen lips, pressing against the back of her throat. Ade gagged violently, pulling desperately back as her throat constricted, resisted. Andrew pushed relentlessly, forcing her head to his belly, burying his full length in her puffy, bruised face. Moving slowly, deliberately, he fucked her face, smiling as her struggles slowed, then stopped. Ade closed her eyes, concentrated on breathing between strokes. Inhaling deeply, he sighed, his cock twitching in her throat. Ade gagged violently, sputtering, retching as his cum flooded her. She swallowed hard, reflexively, her belly tightening as his thick, sour spunk hit. Andrew withdrew, wiping his cock on her face before tucking it back, zipping his pants. Turning, he walked to the far counter, pulled a can from the cabinet. Ade knelt, head hanging, hair matted and sweaty. She raised her eyes at the whirring of the can opener, a sick, hungry hope lighting them. Andrew pulled a plastic dish from under the sink, began spooning the Ken-L-Ration into it, fluffing it exactingly. Placing the bowl on the floor, he nodded to her. "Come on girl, come and get it." Whining pathetically, Ade shuffled painfully to the bowl, sobbing in humiliation as she leaned forward, pushed her face into the bowl. Tongue straining, she struggled to scoop the foul tasting food into her trapped wide mouth. Andrew laughed, began toeing the bowl just out of her reach. "My dog's better than your dog . . ." he sang softly, smiling as she scrambled frantically after the bowl. "What are you?" Andrew stands before her, eyes measuring her up. He'd dragged her, half-asleep, from the box, intent upon continuing her training around the clock. He knows that allowing her sleep allows her emotional recovery. He denies her even that. Ade squirms, hands bound above her, standing on tip toes, cruel board between her legs. "A hole, sir." She whispers, shaking her head weakly. "No, NO!" The quirt cuts through the air, blows raining down on her large, upturned breasts. "You do NOT shake your head, you do NOT whisper-now ANSWER ME!" "A HOLE!" Ade cries, sobbing, "A hole, a hole!" "Excellent," the stinging blows stop, the quirt tracing the line of her chin, neck, "and what is a hole good for?" She whines, head hanging, "Fucking, sir." "And what does a hole eat?" "Cum, sir." Adrienne sobs, her legs trembling violently with the strain. "And does a hole like cum?" Andrew smiles slyly, drawing the quirt back, ready. "Yes, sir." "NO!" The quirt flies again, raining blows across her breasts again. "A hole LIKES that which her owner TELLS her she likes!" Ade squirms, whines, the board grinding viciously into her red, sore pussy. "Again," Andrew's voice is prim, patient, "does a hole like cum?" "I-" Ade's eyes are tortured, confused, "I don't know, sir." Andrew steps forward, kicks her feet from under her, bringing her full weight down on the board. "HOLE does not know. HOLE does not know what HOLE likes." Grabbing her legs roughly, he shackles her ankles, drags them up, attaching them to the board. Turning, he walks away, leaves her straddling the rough board, hips squirming. "Please, please, sit." Andrew gestures to his three guests, smiling expansively as he backs from the room. He returns seconds later, Ade on her knees behind him, leads attached to the freshly placed rings in her nipples. "This hole is yours for use during dinner-and after, if you wish. I keep it hungry, so please, feel free to fill its belly as you desire." Adrienne walks on her knees, elbows once again yanked cruelly behind, wrists bound between her shoulders. Her head is down, she stares blankly at the floor as she is led to the table. "Table!" Andrew points, detaching the leads. She moans low, ducking her head as she crawls under the table. "I must ask that you not mar it permanently," Andrew smiles apologetically, "it is not mine, I am merely training it for another." The men nod appreciatively, the sound of zippers lowering bringing a soft smile to Andrew's face. Ade's mouth is pulled down on the first cock, she whines, gagging, then begins to suck, her head bobbing up and down as the man's hips strain. Andrew serves dinner, an exquisite array that he knows is secondary in the minds of his guests. He looks away discretely at the sound of Adrienne sputtering, swallowing. He snaps his fingers under the table, ordering her to move to the next guest. He smiles approvingly as she complies. Andrew whistles, clearing the dishes from the table. He glances into the parlor, watches another of his guests climb onto Adrienne, pushing into her ass as she whines, body limp. He is pleased-she is progressing well, submitting as she should. The whining is a problem, but he feels confident he can break her of that. In all, she has exceeded his expectations tonight. He smiles as another pushes into her unprotesting mouth, readying himself for another go. Turning, he takes the dishes to the kitchen, leans back against the counter and waits for his guests to finish. Standing back, Andrew fingers his chin nervously as the client inspects Adrienne. The man's hands run appreciatively over her full breasts, cupping, squeezing. He tugs on the nipple rings, nods approvingly as she gasps silently. Pushing her forward, he frowns as she resists. "Stand." Andrew murmurs, smiling as she immediately bends forward, baring her ass, spreading her thighs apart. The client pushes a finger into her ass, then two into her pussy, probing, exploring. Ade is silent, her eyes staring dully at her manacled ankles as he tests the ring holding her vagina open. "What is your name?" The man barks, looking at Andrew. "Hole has no name, sir." Adrienne's voice is flat, tired. "Will you fuck animals?" He leans down pulls, her head up by the hair. "Hole will fuck what hole is told to fuck, sir." He drops her head, satisfied. "I'll need it branded. When can you deliver it?" Andrew puts his arm around the client's shoulder, takes him into the study to work out the details of the sale. Ade remains bent over, blinking back tears. She will never go home again. She stifles a sob. She will never go home. ===================================================== Andrew pulls his Mercedes smoothly up to the curb, passenger side window dropping silently, headlights illuminating the night's driving rain. "Can I give you a ride, dear?" Melissa jumps back, then relaxes, the car and its driver's melodic voice alleviating her fears. "I-my boyfriend dumped me out here, c-can you take me home?" She begins to cry, great, braying sobs. Andrew climbs out of the car, puts his arm around her bedraggled form, opens the passenger door. "Hush, hush now child, it's all right-your boyfriend is a fool." Melissa climbs in, shivering, her short skirt hiked high, revealing shapely legs, soft thighs. Her tight sweater is soaked, her C cup breasts clearly defined, nipples hard in the cold. Closing her door, Andrew slides in behind the wheel, offers her hot chocolate from his thermos. She takes it gratefully, clasping the cup between her hands, drinking deeply. "So where is home, my love?" "Landry, I live in Landry," Melissa looks up hopefully, "is that too far?" "Not at all," Andrew smiles reassuringly, "but I must ask-why didn't your parents come get you?" "They're gone for two weeks-the first time they've ever left me alone." She smiles shyly, her grey eyes taking in his handsome profile. She looks down, suddenly giddy, aroused. "Ahhh," Andrew turns toward the highway, expression calm, eyes calculating, "well I am very glad I came along when I did-it's not safe for a young girl to walk alone at night-especially not a girl of . . ?" "Eighteen," she glances away, hoping he'll believe her fib. Andrew smiles to himself, knowing she can't be a day over fifteen He pauses at the intersection, refills her cup. "Drink up now, let's get you warm." Melissa accepts the second cup, drinks it down quickly. Andrew reaches forward, turns on the stereo. "Do you like classical?" Melissa nods, eager to impress him, "I haven't heard a lot, but I like what I have heard." Andrew nods approvingly, "Then listen to this, I'm sure you'll like it." They drive, not speaking, the music rises, swells. Melissa begins to drift, a strange warmth spreading, her limbs becoming heavy. She blinks hard, shakes her head. "I-I feel funny," her voice is thick, speech slurred, "This" - she squints at the approaching road sign, "-this isn't the right way." Andrew's hand flashes, tangles in her wet, red hair, dragging her down to the floor of the car as she cries out softly, too weak to fight. "This is exactly the right way," Andrew drives on, smiling grimly, "hole."
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