Page 20 of Kristoff

“A twenty-two-year-old trying to get into the pants of a seventeen-year-old isn’t a man who respects women. He’s a man chasing tail and saying whatever he needs to get it. I bet you dated for two months, maybe three. He wouldn’t wait longer than that. He spanked you a little, maybe did some bedroom bondage with his ties? Then he realized the gates were sealed shut on that pretty pussy of yours, and he hightailed it out.” Her eyes widen more with every word I say, and I want to find this asshole and put my fist through his face.

“It- it wasn’t like that. He took a new job and needed to relocate.” She says it like she’s convincing herself I’m wrong. Except I’m never wrong. Not when it comes to men’s intentions.

“Hmmm.” I release her chin, noting my finger marks linger on her creamy skin before slowly fading away.

“It wasn’t,” she whispers to her lap.

“You’ve played then, with other men?” I go back to the insane line of questioning I began. It really doesn’t matter how much experience she’s had with impact play, or blood play, or anything else. Whatever her owner wants to do to her she’ll endure - because she won’t have a choice. There won’t be a safeword for her to cry out when it’s too much. And it will be too much.

I unclench my fists and take a step away from her. I need space, I need to remember that she’s not mine to protect. She can’t be. She’s mine to train, that’s it.

“Yes, mostly casual. Nothing serious.” She flicks her hair back over her shoulder.

“No more boyfriends?”

She shakes her head. “None that were serious.”

“Sexual experience? Other than actual sex. Have you sucked a cock before?” Just the idea of her sweet lips wrapped around my cock has it standing at attention. “I know you’ve had your pussy eaten - at least once.” I grin, remembering how easily she melted into my hands when I took her clit in my mouth. Fuck she tasted good. I won’t wait too much longer before having another serving.

“Yes. I’ve done that. I just told you I did other things,” she answers with her teeth gritted. I wonder if I touch her will her pussy be wet for me. Her pupils are already dilated, and her breathing is a bit shallower.

I clear my throat. “Good.”

“I don’t want this. You understand that, right? It’s wrong, what you’re doing. What your father does. It’s wrong.” Her voice is firm but low. If she’s trying to tap into my conscience, she’s wasting her time.

“So is child labor, forced work camps, poor health care, homelessness, child abuse, the list goes on.” I fist her hair and pull her head back, mostly because I like to see her in that position, on her knees, looking up at me with her neck elongated and waiting for me to lick it. Or better yet, bite it.

“That’s not—”

“There will always be bad things, bad people in the world, Magdalena. You will not change this.”

Her jaw clenches. “Maybe not, but Danuta can.” The conviction in her words almost has me convinced. Almost.

I force a laugh. “I don’t think you know your sister as well as you think you do.”

“She’s my sister. Of course, I do,” she protests, and I tighten my hold on her hair, enjoying the wince of pain cross her face.

“No. Magdalena. My innocent girl, you know very little about so many things.” I pat her cheek and release her. “Now, press your cheek to the floor and wait for me to step up to you. When I do, kiss my boot gently with your lips and wait for me to release you. This is how you’ll greet your new owner after the sale is finished.”

“I can’t.” She shakes her head.

“There is no room for ego when you become a slave to these men. They will not hesitate to hurt you.”

Her dark eyes meet mine. Resistance lingers there.

“Magdalena, I’m trying to make this easier on you. If you know what to do, what to expect, things will go better.” I almost laugh at my words. I know what I’m doing, and what I’m forcing her into. She’s not the first slave to be trained in my apartment, but she’s the first that makes me question it. She’s not just another sale. She’s become something more. Something I don’t deserve.

The nod is slow in coming, and when it does, she closes her eyes. Defeated again. My victories don’t taste as sweet with her. They are tainted sour by the pain she tries to mask from me - unsuccessfully.

She shifts her hands to the floor, sliding them out in front of her and presses her right cheek to the rug.

“Danuta will come,” she whispers to herself. No one’s coming for her, but I won’t break her thin veil of hope.

I step around her, looking at the bruises on her back and what I can see of her ass. Needing a better look, I hook my boot under her pussy and push her ass up in the air. She grumbles but doesn’t try to stop me. When I remove my boot, I see her juices have coated the tip.

The bruises are fine. Ugly and dark in a few spots, but they’ll fade enough for the auction in a few days. Stepping back around, I place my boot in front of her.

“After you’ve greeted me, lick off the mess your pussy made,” I instruct, folding my hands in front of me. I’m aware her body is reacting to the situation on autopilot and her mind hasn’t caught up to it, but the motions will eventually get her there.

---