Monday, July 22, 2013

Cayla's Training - Chapter One

Warning: The following story describes events that are illegal, immoral, and just generally a very, very bad idea. Nothing in this story should be emulated. Nothing in it is a good idea. Nothing in it actually happened, either -- it's a work of pure fiction. If you are underage, easily offended by things that probably should offend you, or unable to differentiate between fantasy and reality, you should probably piss off right now.

Cayla vaguely remembered when she had first arrived at the House of the Gray Sisters. She had been very young, so young that the details were hazy in her mind, but she remembered being happy and optimistic about the future. She’d have a roof over her head to keep her dry and food in her belly; things that she had sorely missed as an orphan. More importantly, there was the promise of power.

She knew that some men were very powerful, and that some creatures – dragons in the skies, giants in the earth, leviathans in the seas – were even more powerful still, so powerful that few had looked upon them and lived to tell the tale. All agreed, however, that none were more powerful than the gods. The gods could create and destroy at will, and though no mortal could control them they could be influenced – which was exactly what the Gray Sisters were for. They’d offer up praise and burn candles and incense to earn the favor of the gods, and use that favor to convince the gods to do their bidding. Cayla often fantasized about what it would be like to have the gods on her side – she’d reap vengeance against those who abused her when she was a powerless orphan and ensure that the world would be fair to all, and no one would dare oppose her. Things would be so much better.

Such power came at a cost, of course. The Gray Sisters had to keep themselves pure in every way if they were to earn the gods’ favor, and if Cayla hoped to become one of them and command divine power she would do the same. She would never marry, nor have children, nor even know the touch of a man. She’d dress only in a modest gray shroud, from whence the Gray Sisters got their name. She would eat only enough to sustain her life, and her food would always be bland and tasteless. She didn’t care, though – it was a small price to pay for the power she sought.

Sadly, her commitment waned with age. She still burned with desire for power, but she began to doubt that the Gray Sisters commanded what she wanted. They prayed for many things – bountiful harvests, the king’s victory over his enemies, the continued health of High Sister Alia. When the prayers were answered it was proclaimed a miracle, but when they were not it was simply forgotten. Cayla began to suspect that the prayers would be answered just as consistently if they were never offered up in the first place. She began to suspect that the Gray Sisters wielded no more power than the magicians who roamed the streets, performing their tricks for a spare coin – the only difference seemed to be that everyone knew the magicians’ tricks were nothing more than sleight of hand.

Additionally, she found that the legendary virtues of the Gray Sisters were not quite as pure as claimed. She might be beaten for any number of transgressions – eating too much, speaking out of turn, or even on the sole suspicion of vanity – but the rules didn’t seem to apply to all Sisters equally. She had personally witnessed some of the senior Sisters stuffing their fat faces with far more food than needed to survive, and that food was rarely the stale bread and cabbage that she was accustomed to. She had even heard rumors that High Sister Alia frequently knew men carnally, and had even been with child more than once when she had been younger. She could feel the corruption around her, but by that point knew better than to say anything.

Sitting on the back of the cart with Sister Dena, she wondered if things might have been a bit better for her if she had only been a bit more ignorant. She had still went through the faith’s motions, of course – even if the Gray Sisters didn’t command divine power they still provided food and shelter – but her spirit hadn’t been in it for some time. She suspected that others knew her faith was shattered, and believed that might have been why she was being sent away.

She had been an adult woman for less than a week when Great Sister Alia summoned her to her chambers that morning to inform her that she would never join their order. Cayla feigned disappointment so as not to offend the Great Sister, but she knew it was for the best. She simply didn’t believe, and had come to accept that she never would.

Her disappointment grew more sincere when Alia informed her that since she would not be joining the Gray Sisters, she would be moved to a house of pleasure own by a merchant by the name of Orthyn Grom. It wasn’t the name of the place that bothered Cayla – though she didn’t know what a house of pleasure was it certainly didn’t sound like something to be afraid of – but rather the tone of Alia’s voice. She almost sounded guilty, which was extremely unnerving. Cayla had known Alia to whip girls bloody for the most trivial of offenses without the slightest pity or remorse; if she felt bad about what she was doing than it was likely cause for concern. Still, Cayla forced herself to remain calm, telling herself that she was likely just imagining Alia’s troubled tone.

Glancing over at Sister Dena, Cayla found it increasingly difficult to tell herself that there was nothing to fear. The older sister watched her carefully; less like an escort sent to keep her safe and more like a guard sent to keep her from escaping. The thought had crossed Cayla’s mind more than once – Dena was an old crone and would be easy to outrun – but she thought better of it. Though she might be able to run, she had no idea what she’d do once she was free. Having spent nearly all of her life with the Gray Sisters, she didn’t think she’d have the skills necessary to find food or shelter. Repressing the voice in her head that begged her to flee while she could, she sat silently as the horse pulled their cart around a corner and down an alley behind the house of pleasure.

The cart stopped in front of a heavy oaken door, letting Cayla and Sister Dena out. The house of pleasure didn’t look anything like what Cayla had expected. She had expected bright colors and air filled with laughter, but saw only a plain door set in dark gray stone. It struck her as strange, but she said nothing; knowing that complaining that the building wasn’t pretty enough for her liking was unlikely to do anything but make her foolish. Holding her tongue, she followed Dena inside.

The older sister led Cayla down a hallway, around a corner, and into a small room. The room was decorated in a way far more congruent with what Cayla might have expected, with bright colors and plush soft furniture. Along the walls hung large paintings, most depicting women in states of undress that made Cayla blush. She considered saying something about that – she had always been taught that the naked body led to sin – but decided not to. Sister Dena didn’t voice any objection, so she figured that it was best to simply ignore them. Following Dena’s lead, she took a seat on an oversized purple couch that felt softer than anything she had ever touched before.

They had been seated for less than a minute when Orthyn Grom entered the room to join them. His presence shocked Cayla – after having spent most of her life with the Gray Sisters, he seemed almost alien. While the Sisters dressed in plain gray shrouds, he wore bright orange and green silks. The sisters were always quiet and dignified, yet he seemed boisterous and energetic. Even his gender felt strange to Cayla – few men ever set foot inside the House of the Gray Sisters, and she wasn’t accustomed to being around anyone but women and girls. For the first time, Cayla began to realize that her life was about to change drastically.

So good to see you again, Dena, he smiled as he took a seat facing them. I trust this is the one that we discussed?

It is, Sister Dena answered, a hint of disdain for the man evident in her voice. I trust you have the gold we discussed? I’d like to finish this quickly so that I can be rid of this place.

You wound me, Dena, he laughed in a way that implied he wasn’t wounded at all. Is there something so horrid about my house that you can’t bear to stay an extra minute? I suppose it doesn’t matter – I’ve no desire to hold you any longer than you wish. You’ll have your payment once I’ve made sure that no one took any liberties with the truth in describing her.

That’s not necessary, Orthyn, Dena growled. She is precisely as has been described to you. The Gray Sisters do not lie.

Of course they don’t, he chuckled, just as the Gray Sisters would never sin by doing business with a whore house. It’s certainly not my intention to insult your honor or that of your Sisters, Dena, but I’m not in the habit of paying large sums of coin for figures shrouded in gray and hoping for the best.

As for you, girl, he continued, turning his attention to Cayla, you can make this process go quicker so that your soon-to-be-former sister can vacate this place as she wishes. Lose the shroud – you’re no longer a Gray Sister, and need not wear their depressing uniform.

Cayla knew that she was no longer a Gray Sister – she had never really been one in the first place – but she couldn’t comply with his demand. She was naked beneath her shroud, and while nudity around other women was dangerous as it could lead to pride, she knew that nudity around a man could lead to far more damning sins. She assumed that he simply didn’t realize her state underneath the thick gray wool, and looked to Dena for help.

Best do as he says, child, Dena encouraged, her voice awash with regret and shame. You’ll hate this as much as I do, but it’s how it needs to be.

You wound me again, Orthyn interjected, still sounding anything but hurt. I assure you, my girls enjoy their lot far more than yours – even if they are so often shy when I first acquire them. Regardless, my time is valuable and you’re not the only one in this room that would like to speed things along – if she cannot undress herself, perhaps you should help her.

Cayla was still trying to make sense of the things that he had said when she felt Dena’s hands grasping her shroud at the shoulders. Before she had time to react, the older woman had yanked the shroud down hard, exposing her breasts. She struggled to pull the shroud back up to conceal her shame, but Dena was much stronger than she looked. Half naked and feeling extremely vulnerable, she barely even noticed as Orthyn poured a dark blue liquid into a brass chalice and brought it to them.

Drink this, girl, he encouraged, holding the cup to Cayla’s lips. It will make this much easier for you.

Cayla didn’t trust the man at all, but she didn’t see what choice she had. With Dena holding her arms steady and Orthyn immediately before her, running wasn’t an option. Telling herself that poisoning her wouldn’t make sense when there were much easier ways that they could kill her if they were inclined to do so, she reluctantly swallowed as he poured the blue fluid into her mouth. It tasted almost supernaturally sweet, yet somehow burned her throat as it went down.

She began to feel the effects of the drink within seconds. Her vision went hazy, her hearing blurred, and her very mind seemed to cloud. Most of her senses seemed dulled by the concoction, yet her sense of touch seemed intensified, almost as if it were making up for the others. She could suddenly feel everything – the coarse gray wool that made up her shroud, Dena’s wrinkled fingers against her skin, even the soft felt of the couch they sat on against the back of her ankles.

While Cayla tried to make sense of what was happening, she felt Dena’s bony fingers painfully digging deeper into her arms. Realizing that there was likely a reason she was being restrained, she looked up to see Orthyn reaching towards her breasts. Knowing that being touched in such a place was tremendously shameful, she tried to wrench her body away from him, but found it impossible to do so. It seemed as if the potion hadn’t just dulled some of her senses, but sapped her strength as well. Try as she might, she could only sit still as the older man cupper her breasts in his hands.

The touch was strange. His fingers seemed hotter than they ought to be, almost as if they were on fire, yet they did not hurt. They felt strangely good, in fact – as a finger brushed against her nipple she found herself stifling an inappropriate moan. As her nipples rapidly stiffened under his fingers she looked towards Sister Dena but found no help there. While Dena’s expression made it clear that she hated what she was doing, it also implied that she had no choice in the matter.

They’re smaller than I expected, he sighed, looking slightly disappointed. The nipples are nice and perky, but from what was described I had anticipated a bit more flesh behind them. Still, I suppose they’ll suffice.

I’m glad, Dena forced out, her voice dripping with disgust. If everything is in order, I’ll be taking our payment and leaving you now.

Not just yet, Orthyn replied before Dena had released her grip on Cayla’s arms. Her breasts matter, but my primary concern is the virginity that I was promised. Seeing as Alia was willing to take a few liberties in describing her bust, I think it would be quite foolish to take her at her word for the rest.

The words made no sense to Cayla. She assumed that the virginity he spoke of was her own, but she couldn’t imagine why he might doubt it. She hadn’t even spoken to a man since her first moon’s blood, much less touched one. Furthermore, she couldn’t understand why her virginity would concern him – though the Gray Sisters might have insisted on her purity to please the gods, he hardly seemed like the devout type.

While Cayla’s head swam with questions, Dena let out a heavy sigh and pulled the girl up to her feet. Briefly releasing her grip on her arms, she let the gray cloak fall to the floor before sitting her back down. Still feeling woozy from the drink, it took Cayla a second to realize that she was now completely naked. Remembering how bad that was she tried to reach down for her shroud, but Dena simply grabbed her again by the shoulders and held her steady.

Looking up at Orthyn, Cayla hoped that he might avert her eyes and spare her the shame of being seen in the nude. Unfortunately, he seemed to have the exact opposite intentions. His eyes fixed to her body and gravitating towards the parts she most wanted to hide, he squatted down in front of her and placed his hands on her knees. Gripping them gently, he pulled them apart and exposed Cayla’s sex to his vision.

Unable to free herself through struggle, Cayla let out a terrified whimper. She knew of all the places that a man might see her the absolute worst was between her legs, and Orthyn couldn’t have picked a worse time. Though she couldn’t understand why, his groping of her breasts had made her shamefully wet down there, a fact that she would have preferred to keep secret. She could feel her wetness seeping down her thighs, though she tried to tell herself it was simply the elevated sense of touch that the potion had bestowed upon her.

Cayla wondered how the situation could be any more shameful, but she didn’t have to wonder for long. Forcing his body between her legs in order to keep them spread, Orthyn released his grip on her knees and thrust a hand into her crotch. Pressing his thumb against her clit, he began to rub it in slow, gentle circles. Overwhelmed with an alien feeling of intense pleasure, Cayla accidentally let out another stifled moan of lust. She had never been touched there, not even by herself – at least, not for long. When she lived in the House of the Gray Sisters she was watched carefully like all of the other girls to make sure that her fingers never lingered in the wrong place.

Is that really necessary? Dena snapped. Just check her maidenhead and be done with it.

Trust me, I will, Orthyn smiled back, obviously unconcerned with Dena’s objections. I don’t want to hurt the poor thing, though – at least not yet. This will go so much easier for her if I make she’s wet enough first.

She’s wet enough already, Dena retorted, sounding just as disgusted with Cayla as she was with Orthyn. Even with my old eyes I can see how lustful the little harlot is.

Cayla felt her face growing beet red with shame. She hated the fact that the older sister knew her secret, and it didn’t help that she could hear the judgment and disgust in Dena’s voice. She wanted to explain that it really wasn’t her fault, that she truly was a good girl and that her state was entirely the fault of the foul potion that he had fed her, but she wasn’t even sure if that was true. Mostly, she wanted Dena to silence herself so that Orthyn could continue what he was doing – as humiliated as she was, she never wanted the feeling of physical bliss that he was inflicting on her to ever end.

Is that your professional opinion, Sister? Orthyn laughed back mockingly. Not that I would ever doubt the expertise of a woman who has renounced her womanly bits or anything, but you’ll understand if I trust in my own instincts on this matter. I wonder, though – why does it bother you to see the little slut being pleasured? Is it the knowledge that you’ll never know such bliss – at least, not officially?

You call it bliss, Dena spat back. I call it filth. All you’re doing is shaming yourself and proving that Alia was right – this harlot should never have even been considered by our order.

So you claim, he shrugged, removing his hand and holding it up so that both women could see how it glistened with Cayla’s juices. Still, I think you’re jealous. Look at this, Sister – look how much the little whore-to-be enjoys this. Would you like a taste?

Without giving Dena a chance to respond, Orthyn raised his hand to her face and attempted to force his fingers into it. Dena clenched her jaw shut to refuse him entry, but she maintained her grasp on Cayla’s arms. Unable to force her to taste Cayla’s wetness, Orthyn contented himself with smearing it over the older woman’s face. Cayla was mortified by what was happening, barely able to process the massive shame that she felt, and yet she couldn’t help thinking about how desperately she wanted him to finish what he was doing with Dena so that he could again place his hand between her legs.

Don’t be afraid, Orthyn taunted as he continued to spread Cayla’s juices across Dena’s lips. There’s no charge for this taste, and if you should decide you want more? You wouldn’t exactly be the first of the sisterhood to come to me as a customer. Even if you don’t like her specifically, I’m certain that I can still accommodate you. I stock a wide selection of girls – young, old, from here in Pyros and from foreign lands across the Sea of Reeds – I’m certain I can find something to your liking.

Vile lies, Dena insisted. No true Gray Sister would ever patronize your sinful den, and I’ll thank you not to pretend otherwise. If you’re quite done disgracing yourself with your falsehoods, I’d remind you that you’re supposed to be checking for her maidenhead right now.

It took all of Cayla’s willpower to refrain from shouting in agreement with Dena. It wasn’t that she cared one way or the other what Orthyn claimed about the Sisters – after the corruption that she had witnessed, Cayla felt it was entirely possible that Orthyn spoke the truth – but rather her own sinful desires. Her arousal had only grown since Orthyn had removed his hand, and her clit throbbed painfully for attention. She knew that she ought to be concerned with the exchange she was witnessing, but at that moment her only concern was her own satisfaction.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. Though Orthyn seemed to delight in tormenting Sister Dena, he still had work to do. Taking his hand away from Dena’s face, he placed it again between Cayla’s legs with his thumb on her clit. Rubbing it slightly harder than he had been earlier, he began to trace a single finger up and down Cayla’s slit. She felt like she ought to be fighting him – even in her naiveté she knew that it wouldn’t be long before he slipped a finger inside of her – but all she could seem to manage was to restrain herself from thrusting out her hips and forcing his finger into her.

I’ll say this much for Alia, he mused absentmindedly, his attention clearly on Cayla. She was right about the little slut’s wantonness. The wine that she drank earlier always makes the new ones a bit more pliable, but I can’t remember the last time a slut got so delightfully wet. It’s a pity you don’t want her, but if you should change your mind later and want a taste then you can always simply lick your own shroud – she’s leaving quite the puddle on it.

Glancing down, Cayla saw that Orthyn spoke the truth. Her wetness had run down her thighs, leaving a small dark spot on Dena’s gray shroud. She felt a bit of shame for that – especially knowing that her reaction was apparently abnormal if Orthyn was to be believed – but she still couldn’t seem to think of anything other than how badly she wanted satisfaction. Orthyn’s masterful rubbing of her clit was bringing her pleasures she couldn’t have previously imagined, but they seemed to only make her want more.

Tell me, girl, he smiled, turning his attention toward Cayla. Has your good sister Dena explained to you what I’m purchasing you for? Do you understand why I’m checking to make sure that you’re still a maiden?

Cayla had been far too distracted by what was happening between her thighs to focus on much of anything, but now that Orthyn had brought those questions to her mind they did seem important. She really didn’t know what her duties might be there, and it occurred to her that she should probably be concerned about that. Additionally, she didn’t know that she had been purchased – as Alia had told it, she was simply being sent there to live. She wanted to ask questions as to what was going on, but she didn’t trust herself to open her mouth and speak freely out of fear that she’d shame herself with further lustful moaning. Instead, she simply shook her head no and lowered her eyes, secretly hoping that Orthyn’s manipulation of her sensitive flesh might never end.

A pity, Orthyn sighed, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. For all their self-proclaimed piety, the Gray Sisters are remarkably craven when it comes to discussing matters of the flesh. I suppose I could explain it all to you, but I think it might be easier for you to accept your fate if you had someone that you trusted explaining exactly what your lot here will be. Would you care to do the honors, Sister Dena?

I most certainly would not, Dena hissed. This wasn’t part of the deal – I was simply to deliver her and take the payment back.

Fair enough, Orthyn shrugged. Though, if you want to discuss the deal, I believe that I have the right to refuse delivery if the girl isn’t as expected, and I expected her to have some knowledge of what you were selling her into. If you’d prefer to take her back to your sanctimonious house of gray and explain to Alia that you simply couldn’t bear the shame of offering an explanation to the poor girl then that’s fine – I understand she’s quite tolerant of sisters who fail her.

Cayla knew that wasn’t the case, and the expression that Dena wore implied that she knew it, too. High Sister Alia was known for being strict and unforgiving, and though Cayla didn’t know what she might do if Dena were to bring her back instead of the promised gold she knew that the older sister wouldn’t enjoy it. A part of Cayla actually felt bad for Dena – she clearly didn’t want to give the explanation that Orthyn had commanded – though she was more curious than empathetic, even if her mind was primarily between her legs at the moment.

This is a whorehouse, child, Dena explained, her voice awash in shame and disgust. You’ll be working here from now on.

Not good enough, Orthyn growled, briefly removing his hand from Cayla’s crotch in order to smear more of the girl’s wetness across Dena’s face. Working here? That tells her nothing – for all she knows she’ll be cleaning out my gutters and cooking my food. Tell her exactly what she is. Tell her what her work will consist of.

You’ll be a whore, Dena choked out. Vile men will pay this creature money for the right to fuck you.

But I can’t! Cayla protested. She might not have known what a house of pleasure was until a few minutes earlier, but she knew what a whore was. She had always been told that they were the lowest of all creatures, deserving neither respect nor kindness, and she couldn’t bear the thought that that would be her fate. I beg you, please take me back to High Sister Alia! She must have made some mistake; I’m a good girl!

I’m sorry child, Dena replied, regret evident in her tone. The Gray Sisters need coin more than they need recruits; there’s been no mistake. The gods might very well judge us harshly for this, but you’ll stay here in Orthyn’s keep – he owns you now, and will do with you as he sees fit.

It’s not as bad as she makes it out to be, Orthyn interjected with a smile. Dena speaks the truth – you will be a whore in every way – but she makes it sound so distasteful and unpleasant. Granted, your job will be to give pleasure to strange men, but you’ll get pleasure in return – much as you’re getting pleasure from me right now. Doesn’t this feel good, whore? Don’t you want to feel like this all of the time?

Cayla was torn. She knew that she should do everything possible to avoid becoming a whore – if she had learned anything from the Gray Sisters it had been how disgusting whores are in the eyes of the gods – yet she couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t making her feel better than she had ever felt in all her years with the Sisters. Unsure of whom to trust, she decided to believe Dena – though the Sisters might have been corrupt, she found it easier to put her faith in someone whom she had known nearly all of her life than a man whom she had only just met.

I can’t, she repeated, feeling undermined by the lust she heard in her on voice. I’m not a whore, I’m a Gray Sister! Please, release me!

See what happens when you fill their heads with nonsense? Orthyn sighed to Dena before turning his attention back to Cayla. Listen, girl, there’s nothing wrong with getting fucked – in fact, you seem to enjoy it quite a bit, if I’m to believe those moans you’re trying so hard to hide. Your Sisters are just jealous, is all. Dena here might not want to admit it, but she wants desperately to be in the position you’re in now, and if you were to run a hand up her shroud you’d likely find that her elderly fuck hole is every bit as sopping wet as yours – assuming it hasn’t rusted shut by now. If you can’t trust me, then surely you can trust your own body – doesn’t this feel good, whore?

I don’t care! Cayla insisted, trying to stay adamant but feeling her resolve melting away by the second. I’m not a whore and I never will be!

Orthyn looked her dead in the eyes and smiled warmly. His smile said that he knew what she was feeling and that she wasn’t fooling him for an instant. She knew that she was beaten, but couldn’t seem to bring herself to accept it.

As if to demonstrate the power that he wielded over her, Orthyn removed his hand from her legs and brought it up to her face. Cayla felt instant longing – his rubbing had felt so tremendously good and she truly believed that she was very close to the satisfaction she yearned for when he stopped. She wondered if he intended to make her beg him to continue rubbing her, and worried that it would likely work. If he didn’t continue what he had been doing soon, she could easily see herself saying whatever he commanded.

Thankfully, Orthyn didn’t force her to beg. He simply smeared her juices over her face, much as he had done earlier to Dena. Hoping that demonstrating physical cooperation might convince him to spare her the mercy of verbal submission, Cayla even opened her mouth when his fingers reached her lips. As her most intimate flavors washed over her tongue she felt the yearning between her legs growing more and more fierce, and wondered if her frustration was a punishment from the gods for how wanton she was acting.

Pleased by her cooperation, Orthyn brought his hand back between her thighs and continued rubbing, though by that point his thumb was moving quickly and forcefully. Jolts of pleasure radiating from her sensitive clit, Cayla found herself moaning in earnest. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she ought to be trying to hide the sounds of her lust a bit better, but she knew the task would be utterly futile.

It’s all moot, to be truthful, Orthyn smiled, enjoying the victory that he knew he’d soon hold. You won’t be going back to your Gray Sisters no matter what; you’ll be a whore whether you like it or not. Just the same, I’d like you to tell me the truth – do you want to be a Gray Sister and spend your days praying to gods that never answer, or would you like to be a whore and learn just how much power there really is in the pleasure between your legs?

A whore, Cayla admitted in moan. The answer shamed her, but she knew that a lie would be spotted easily. Besides, his comment about power had gripped her attention firmly – she couldn’t deny the power that he held over her with only his thumb, and found herself wondering what she might be able to do if she could wield similar power herself.

I thought so, Orthyn smiled before turning his attention to Dena. They always come around in time – maybe someday you will, too…

Dena didn’t appreciate his vulgar prediction, but Cayla was beyond caring about anything Dena felt. Orthyn had slipped the finger that he had been rubbing her slit with inside of her, and the feeling was indescribable. Cayla finally had the satisfaction that she knew she wanted, and it felt better than she had imagined anything could feel. Her entire body quaked with energy, her muscles convulsed violently, and she could barely remain conscious – much less make any effort to conceal her climax. She knew that she should be afraid and shouldn’t give in so easily, but at that moment she couldn’t care about anything other than the life-altering bliss that her body was experiencing.

She’s intact, Orthyn announced after Cayla had finally calmed down. You’ll get your gold, and remember – if you should ever want to come back for a taste, we’re quite affordable – and discreet.

Standing back up, Orthyn grabbed a small pouch and handed it to Dena. Avoiding eye contact, Dena snatched the pouch from his hand and was on her way before a word could be said. She was clearly uncomfortable around Orthyn, though Cayla wondered how much of it was his blasphemy and how much was a fear that Dena might give in to her desires much as Cayla just had.

Lying on the floor, Cayla felt utterly drained. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten on the floor, though she didn’t much care either. She hoped that she hadn’t made a mistake in giving in so easily, though she realized it was likely too late to do anything about it if she was. As she felt Orthyn arms wrapping around her body and lifting her up and over his shoulder, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Continue reading with chapter two.

Cayla's Training - Chapter Two

Warning: The following story describes events that are illegal, immoral, and just generally a very, very bad idea. Nothing in this story should be emulated. Nothing in it is a good idea. Nothing in it actually happened, either -- it's a work of pure fiction. If you are underage, easily offended by things that probably should offend you, or unable to differentiate between fantasy and reality, you should probably piss off right now.

This is part two of the story. If you haven't read part one yet, you should probably do that first.

Cayla awoke to cold water splashing over her skin. Shocked from her slumber, she sat up immediately and looked around to find herself in a cold, gray cell. The cell was a far cry from the opulent room in which she had met Orthyn the previous night – the walls were bare, the floor was covered in straw rather than rugs, and the only furniture to be seen was a bucket in the corner. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she was completely naked she might have assumed that she had been brought back to the House of the Gray Sisters, given how stark her surroundings were.

A strange man stood in the open wrought iron doorway with an empty pale at his feet, another pale in one hand, and a leather bag in the other. Immensely large, he had a brutal look to him. He wore plain brown linen pants and a leather vest that left his muscular chest exposed, showing countless scars that crisscrossed his skin. Cold, dark eyes that seemed set too close together followed Cayla’s movements, making her feel extremely nervous. Remembering her nudity, she crossed her arms over her body in a feeble attempt at modesty.

Rise and shine, whore, the man growled, his voice hard and rough. Lord Grom wants you presentable in a fortnight, which means we have a lot of work ahead of us.

I don’t understand, Cayla began before being cut off with an icy stare.

You don’t say I, the man interrupted, his voice fierce and intimidating. Or me either, for that matter. From now on, when you speak about yourself you’ll say this cunt. Is that understood?

Referring to herself in such a crude manner bothered Cayla, but she didn’t see what choice she had. The man’s enormous body blocked the doorway and prevented escape, and even if she had been able to flee the cell she wasn’t sure where she’d go next. More importantly, the man frightened her, and she didn’t want to make him angry. Still clutching her naked body in her arms, she timidly nodded her head in acceptance.

That’s a good whore, he praised. As for me, you’ll refer to me as Master Quilar, or just master when we’re alone. Let’s see if you understand – how will you be addressing me?

This cunt will address you as Master Quilar, Cayla choked out. She didn’t like the massive difference in respect that their titles conferred, but she was far too frightened to say anything about it.

A smart one, he grinned. That’s a good thing – with most whores I have to beat their lessons into their thick slut skulls, but maybe you’ll be smart enough that we can skip that. Of course, if you aren’t it won’t be problem – I’ve never been afraid to slap some sense into a slut. So, this is going to be real simple; so simple that even a whore like you can understand. If you do what I tell you without question, I’ll treat you nice. If you resist, I’ll treat you mean. Understand, whore?

This cunt understands, Cayla replied timidly.

So you claim, he said, but time will tell. Still, I’m a man of my word, and you’ve been behaved – so far, at least. Here’s your reward: breakfast. Eat quickly now, slut, we’ve a long day ahead of us.

Reaching into his leather sack, the man produced a heel of bread and a waterskin, then tossed them both to Cayla. Having not eaten since the previous morning, Cayla dug into the bread greedily. It was hard and stale, but no worse than what she had grown accustomed to in the House of the Gray Sisters. The drink was a bit more concerning, though – sickly sweet, it tasted similar to the potion she had drank the previous night, though much less strongly. She worried that she might lose control of herself again, though she figured she had no choice in the matter. She was thirsty and didn’t think that Quilar would appreciate her turning her nose up at his reward, so she drank down the entire skin while he watched on impatiently.

That’s a good slut, Quilar grinned once Cayla had finished her food and drink. Now, let’s see what we’ve got to work with here. Stand up straight and keep your feet apart. Stretch your arms straight out wide, so I can see that little whore body of yours.

Cayla didn’t want to anger him, but she didn’t see how she could comply with his orders. She was still completely naked, and the pose that he had commanded would have left her entire body visible to his eyes. She was already deeply disturbed by how she had behaved the night before, and had little desire to repeat her disgraceful performance.

This cunt cannot, she whimpered, hoping that he might take mercy on her. This cunt was taught that showing a man one’s naked body can tempt him into sin, and this cunt wouldn’t want to play a part in damning master’s soul.

Quilar entered the cell, shutting the door behind him. Sitting down immediately in front of Cayla, a disturbing smile crept across his face. It seemed to Cayla that he was unhappy that she had just defied her, but pleased just the same. She hoped that he was pleased by her concern for his virtue, but suspected that he might be pleased for darker reasons.

Damning my soul? Quilar chuckled. Don’t you worry about my soul, whore – if looking at a slut’s tits and cunt damned a man then I’d be roasting in hell right now, instead of suffering your insolent backtalk. I suppose this is for the best, though – I told you I’d be kind to you when you obeyed, and punish you when you didn’t. You’ve seen what happens when you’re good – I did just feed you, after all – now I think it’s time you see what happens when you’re not. Still, I’m a fair man, so I’ll give you a choice. I can either spank you or fuck you in your slut asshole. Which would you prefer?

Cayla had heard talk of men forcing their cocks into a woman’s ass when she had been in the House of the Gray Sisters, but she had always assumed that the talk was pure jest. She couldn’t imagine that such a feet could be possible – though she had never seen a man’s organ, from what she understood it they were far too large to actually fit. Unfortunately, the way that Quilar had spoken implied that he wasn’t kidding, and while Cayla didn’t think he’d actually succeed in forcing his manhood into her she suspected that it would hurt like hell if he tried. The prospect of being spanked wasn’t all too appealing either, but it seemed significantly better than the alternative.

This cunt prefers the spanking? she squeaked, keeping her eyes low in submission in the hopes that he might reconsider.

Disappointing, he sighed, though not too surprising. It’s okay, though – I’ll fuck you in your ass sooner or later, and your mouth, too. Have to save your cunt for later, of course – Lord Grom wouldn’t thank me for stealing your maidenhead from a paying customer – but someday I’ll fuck that as well, of that you have my word.

His threat terrified Cayla. There was nothing in his tone to suggest that he was just idly boasting; he sounded as though he truly believed he’d do the horrible things he spoke of to her. Furthermore, she realized that there wasn’t much she’d be able to do to stop him – he was easily three times her size, and there were no older Sisters in her cell to protect her. Strangely, a part of her seemed to enjoy thinking about the abuse she threatened. Just like the night before, she felt a subtle tingle between her legs. She wanted to believe that it was just the drink that he had given her, but she wasn’t so sure – she didn’t feel as woozy as she had the night before.

Before she could think about it too much, though, Quilar had grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to lay down on her front over his lap. This struck Cayla as extremely strange. She was no stranger to spankings – it seemed to be the favored punishment in the House of the Gray Sisters – but this wasn’t how they were typically administered. In her experience, the girl being punished was typically made to bend over an object, and the Sister punishing her would swat her with a paddle. She had never been forced to lie on her punisher’s lap before, and doing so made her feel strangely vulnerable. On the plus side, she saw no paddle in Quilar’s hand, though she wasn’t sure how much of a mercy that would be. She suspected that the large man would have little difficulty hitting her hard enough to hurt terribly, and even in her nudity she still felt quite bashful about having her body touched by a strange man. Regardless, she knew better than to correct him as to the right way to spank a girl.

Cayla had expected him to begin the spanking immediately as the Gray Sisters always had, but he didn’t do that either. He brought his hands to her ass, though he didn’t strike it. Instead, he crudely grabbed the flesh of her rump in his hands and spread them apart. In many ways this seemed far worse than the spanking Cayla had expected – though it wasn’t painful, she was disturbingly aware of how inappropriate his touch was. She wanted desperately to reach back and force his hands off of her, but she knew how unwise that would be.

So disappointing, he repeated, clearly unhappy with Cayla’s decision to take the spanking. You’ve got a great ass for fucking, whore – just enough meat to give some cushion, and that hole looks tight enough that I’m betting you’re a virgin back there, too. It’s a shame to think of what it’s going to look like in a few years once it’s been ruined by constant use, though that can’t be helped. Anyway, brace yourself, whore – this is going to sting.

No sooner had he finished speaking than she felt the first blow. He might not have been armed with a paddle, though he may as well have been for all the good that it did Cayla. His hand felt like it was crafted from solid rock, and he had struck her with far more force than any Gray Sister could ever have hoped to muster. Feeling as though her bottom had been literally set afire, Cayla let out an anguished cry and instinctively reached back to shield herself. Quilar had apparently expected that, though, and was able to easily catch her hands and pin them both to the small of her back before she was able to protect herself in any way.

You’re new, he allowed, so I’m showing you more mercy than I ought to. Just the same, you should know that in the future I’m not going to be so lenient with you. When it’s time for your spanking you’ll assume the position on your own accord, lie flat until I’m done, and thank me for correcting you when it’s over. You most certainly will not try to block me. Is that understood, slut?

Yes, master, she whimpered as he struck her again, her mind stuck on his implication that she’d be spanked frequently enough that it would be important for her to know how to behave. With this cunt be spanked often?

Of course, slut, Quilar laughed, again bringing his hand down hard across her ass and producing another pained cry from the girl. I have to be strict with you, if you’re to become a proper whore. I’ll be spanking you for every mistake you make; I’ll even likely spank you for no reason at all other than to remind you what you are. It’ll always hurt, of course, but I find that many of the whores come to love it in time.

If someone had told Cayla that a woman might come to love being spanked the day before she would have called that person mad, but at that point she wasn’t so sure. Her ass hurt terribly from where he had spanked her and yet a part of her didn’t seem to hate it as much as she knew she should have. Though she didn’t care for the pain, his forceful attacks had only seemed to intensify the twitching between her legs. She again told herself that it must have been the drink that he had given her earlier, but she couldn’t seem to force herself to believe it.

If the pain is too great, it’s not too late to change your mind, Quilar grinned as he struck her again. I’d be more than happy to shove my cock up that virgin asshole of yours, and trust me – many of the whores come to love that as well.

Cayla’s instinct was to point out how ridiculous such a claim was, but she held her tongue. She knew that talking back would earn her no mercy, and she wasn’t even sure if she was right. The thought of how much it would hurt to have him forcing his manhood up her virgin ass was terrifying to her – yet strangely appealing as well.

Quilar continued to spank her for several more minutes until her skin was an angry shade of pink. Cayla was grateful for the fact that he kept her hands pinned down the entire time – if he hadn’t, she was certain that she’d be unable to keep herself from fighting him, and she knew that would only end poorly. She worried about how it would be next time, when she’d have only her willpower to keep herself restrained.

There, that wasn’t so bad, now was it? he laughed, delivering one final blow to Cayla’s already bruised ass. Don’t forget your manners now, whore – what should you say?

This cunt thanks you for correcting her, master, she forced out. It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but she knew that speaking her mind would only hurt her.

A quick learner indeed, he smiled, roughly shoving her off of his lap. Now, let’s get back to your preparation. I believe that I instructed you to stand straight up with your legs apart and your arms out.

Cayla assumed the position quickly. It hurt her, of course – her body ached from the spanking, and her pride hurt even worse – but she was afraid that if she didn’t obey quickly then he might punish her again. As she stretched her arms out Quilar rose to his feet and slowly walked around her in a circle, his eyes crawling over every inch of her skin.

The pubic hair will have to go, he announced. We’ll shave that off first.

Please, master, no! she protested. She knew it was a strange battle to pick, but losing her hair seemed like a big deal to her. The Gray Sisters had spoken of how shameful it was for a woman to even trim her lower hairs, as it demonstrated pride and lust at the same time – shaving it clean off seemed unconscionable. She felt that if she were to lose it, she’d cease to be a woman and truly become just another whore.

Careful there, whore, he warned. You don’t want to be giving me orders, now do you? I’m only shaving your twat for now, but if you give me trouble I’ll shave your head as well so that everyone can see what a disobedient little bitch you are. Besides, this is for the best – not only will your bald cunny mark you as a whore, the hair I cut off would only be another place for cum to stick to.

His comment about her being marked as a whore echoed through Cayla’s head. She knew it shouldn’t bother her – she was alone in the cell and it would only really mark her that way to herself – yet it still did. Paradoxically, though the idea of being reminded of what she was every time she looked down disturbed her deeply, it also triggered a powerful reaction between her thighs. Between that and the spanking, she could actually feel her own wetness between her legs, yet she couldn’t understand why her body would respond in such a strange way.

Quilar turned and left the cell. Before Cayla could feel any relief in his absence, however, he promptly returned carrying a small pail, a razor, and a cloth. As he sat down immediately in front of her she wanted to close her legs and back away, but she feared she’d be punished harshly if she were to move from the pose he had commanded without permission. Humiliated and afraid, she forced herself to stay still and prayed that he might not notice her growing wetness.

You’re going to want to hold still for this, whore, he stated, dipping the cloth in the pail. This razor is as sharp as anything, and if you squirm at the wrong time I might just nick your flesh. I’m not all too worried about that – I’m sure it’ll heal before your cunt is ready for sale – but I’m betting it’ll hurt you something fierce.

Cayla let out an audible gulp, but managed to remain completely still as Quilar rubbed the damp cloth over her crotch and coating it with soapy water. He took liberties while he did so – more than once Cayla felt a finger accidentally slip inside of her – but she knew better to complain. It shamed her that he must have known how aroused she was, but it couldn’t be helped. He neglected to say anything about it, though the smirk on his face made it clear that he was aware.

Quilar took his time shaving her. He was nothing if not meticulous, carefully removing all hair and scraping away the stubble so as to leave Cayla with absolutely nothing. Thankfully, he was also careful, and managed to complete the task without drawing any blood. She knew that she should be happy about that at least, but between her inexplicable arousal and the blow to her self-esteem of being shaved in the first place she found it difficult to feel much joy.

Cayla looked down after he had finished and began to weep softly. Where once there had been a thick bush of auburn hair there was now only baldness. She felt as though she had been robbed of her dignity, and it didn’t help that she could now easily see her clit protruding forward angrily.

Much better, Quilar grinned. Now if there’s any question as to what you are, we can just look between your legs and know the truth. Still, we’re not quite done yet. We’re going to need to dress you in a proper uniform.

Cayla unintentionally began to smile as Quilar reached back into his sack. She was still unhappy about her shaving, but she figured it wouldn’t be too humiliating so long as she could conceal it beneath clothing. She wasn’t so naïve as to believe that she’d be dressed in a massive gray shroud that could hide her entire body as she had been in the House of the Gray Sisters, but she assumed that her uniform would have to at least cover her groin.

Unfortunately, what Quilar pulled out of his sack wasn’t pants, let alone a shroud. He produced a thick leather strap, jet black and roughly as thick as Cayla’s thumb. Intricate ironwork adorned the ends of the strap, though Cayla wasn’t sure what it was for. It was far too thin to cover her nudity, and she wasn’t clear as to how it would stay in place anyway.

Things began to make sense as Quilar approached her from behind and slipped the strap around her neck. Cinching it tightly, he pressed the ends together which resulted in a series of mechanical clicks. She realized that it was a collar, and suspected that the clicks were the sound of it locking shut; though she dared not reach back and find out for sure. The knowledge that she had been collared like a common dog made her cry harder, though she suspected that she was losing more moisture between her legs than she was through her eyes.

The collar is important, Quilar explained. Some of the whores who work in this establishment are free women, who seek a little extra thrill and a little extra coin for it. Because they’re here of their own free will, they have the right to refuse service – if a man is too ugly or wishes to do something too disgusting, they can always turn him down. This collar marks you as a slave, so that a man can look upon you and know that you can’t say no – provided he’s willing to pay the price, of course.

His explanation did nothing to soothe Cayla. Having grown up in a monastery she had no idea what kind of things a man might want to do to a woman that even a whore might refuse, but she was intelligent enough to realize that she probably wouldn’t like them. She hoped that she might be able to hide the collar behind her hair, though she wasn’t sure if that would be wise. She remembered Quilar talking about how he might shave her head to punish her, and didn’t think it would be a good idea to give him a legitimate reason to relieve her of what little hair she had left.

Ignoring her tears, Quilar returned to his sack. Cayla prayed in vain that he might pull out a heavy gray shroud that would cover her shaved crotch as well as her collar, though she knew that wasn’t likely. Still, she watched with bated breath as he dug through the bag, hoping for some form of mercy.

Quilar produced two slips of metal that looked vaguely like shoes. Like the collar, intricate metalwork adorned the straps around the ankles, implying that they too would be locked into place. It seemed terribly strange to her that she would be given shoes – her cell was tiny, and she couldn’t think of where she’d walk to. Just the same, she couldn’t think of anything else that the objects might be.

You’ve been standing there for a long time, Quilar mentioned, and I’ll wager your legs are getting tired. I feel bad for you, whore – those tears tell me you aren’t too happy at the moment, even if your weeping cunt calls says otherwise. I’ve got some good news for you, though – soon, you’ll never have to stand up again. Go ahead and take a seat, bitch, and we’ll get you shoed.

His words didn’t make much sense to Cayla, but she obeyed just the same. Once seated, he knelt down in front of her and placed the shoes on her feet, one at a time. Once in place, he forced the buckles shut, causing a mechanical clicking sound similar to what Cayla had heard earlier with the collar. Giving them a tug, he made sure that they were firmly in place while Cayla wondered why her footwear would be of any importance.

She didn’t have to wonder long. Holding her right foot steadily in one hand, Quilar pressed against the heel of the shoe with the other. Cayla let out a startled yelp as she felt a spike protruding through the sole of the shoe and into her foot. Suddenly his comment about her never standing again made sense – just his pressing against the heel had hurt tremendously, and she knew that putting her body’s weight on it would only hurt worse.

How is this cunt supposed to move around, master? she cried, the stress taking its toll on her.

Simple, whore, Quilar laughed. On your hands and knees – and trust me, you’ll be spending a lot of time like that even when you’re not moving. Now, what would a good whore say when receiving the gifts I’ve just bestowed upon her?

This cunt thanks you, she choked out. She felt no gratitude at all for the cruel mockery of a uniform that he had just locked her into, but she realized faking it would be in her best interest.

That’s a good slut, he grinned. You look the part, and you’re using the right words, but we still have a long way to go before you’re ready to sell. Tell me, bitch – have you ever sucked a man’s cock?

No, master, she replied quickly, shocked by the implication that it was even a question.

Well, that’s going to change soon enough, he smiled as he undid his belt. Get on your knees and get that mouth open. Oh, and a warning – Lord Grom is most interested in keeping your maidenhood intact, but he said nothing about your jaw. If you’re planning to bite, you should know that whores don’t need teeth and I won’t delay in removing yours if you give me cause.

Motivated by fear, Cayla climbed up to her knees as she was instructed. As Quilar’s trousers dropped to the floor, she saw that his manhood was already growing stiff. Though she had heard descriptions of the male organ, what she saw wasn’t like anything that she had expected. It was bigger, uglier, and seemed almost angry. She wanted to hide from it, but she knew that would be futile – she couldn’t even stand up, much less run. Terrified but beaten, she reluctantly opened her mouth.

Quilar grabbed Cayla by the hair as he moved in close. She expected him to ram his member down her throat immediately, but instead he simply held it in front of her, seemingly savoring her fear. She could smell him intimately, which made her feel strange. The sharp, musky odor of his groin simultaneously disgusted her and aroused her, and she couldn’t understand why.

You can start by giving it a kiss, he ordered. A nice wet one, with plenty of tongue, right around the head.

She followed his orders, but it wasn’t easy. The taste of the cock was even more intense than the smell, which simultaneously disgusted and aroused her. Additionally, there was something about the taste that seemed almost familiar, though she struggled to place it. Eventually she remembered where she had tasted it – on Orthyn’s fingers the night before when he thrust them into her mouth. To her horror, she realized that she was likely tasting another woman, though she’d likely never know whom.

You’re too quiet, he critiqued, delivering a gentle slap to her face. He didn’t hit her hard enough to hurt, but she knew he likely would if she didn’t please him. It doesn’t matter if you love this or hate it, you’ll make me think you’re having the time of your pathetic whore life down there. Moan a bit; show me how grateful you are to be honored by your master’s cock.

Cayla did as she was told and began to moan. To her surprise, she found that she didn’t have to fake it as much as she would have expected. Although the flavor and the knowledge of its origins made a part of her want to retch in disgust, it also made another part of her long for Orthyn’s fingers between her legs again. She wanted to believe that she was only following orders, but her moans of pleasure felt all too legitimate to her for that to be plausible.

Although her arousal grew with each passing second, her fear grew right along with it. Quilar’s manhood had looked intimidatingly large before she had begun, and it had only grown with time. She worried that if it grew any further it wouldn’t fit in her mouth, and though she had no idea how Quilar might handle that situation she doubted that she’d enjoy it.

Good slut, he encouraged. You’ve gotten me nice and hard with your kisses, so now it’s time for you to make a hole. Open your mouth as wide as you can, and remember – I had best not feel a single tooth. You aren’t going to enjoy this, but in time you might get used to it.

Cayla took a deep breath and opened her mouth wide. Quilar tightened his grip on her hair and thrust his cock into her open mouth, holding her head steady the entire time. Terrified that he might accidentally scrape up against a tooth and punish her for it, Cayla strained to keep her jaw open wide. It hurt a bit, though she suspected that it would quickly be getting worse.

Cayla struggled not to gag as the cock slid deeper and deeper into her mouth. Before long its head was up against the back of her mouth, yet more than half of the cruel organ was still outside of her mouth. She hoped that would be enough to satisfy Quilar, but the malicious look in his eyes suggested that it would not.

Holding her steady, he continued to drive his cock deeper, forcing the head into her throat. Cayla managed to keep herself from closing her mouth, but she couldn’t repress her gag reflex any longer. Fortunately, Quilar didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the torment that Cayla was feeling.

Strangely, he wasn’t the only one who was enjoying it. Though having his prick forced down her throat hurt Cayla terribly, the idea of being used in such a brutal and savage way resonated with her libido. She still struggled to keep her mouth open, but she found that she was struggling just as much to keep her hands away from her crotch. She wanted to touch herself more than anything, to emulate the way that Orthyn had played with her the night before, but she knew how disgusting and shameful such an action would be.

Her resolve weakened with each forceful stroke for Quilar. As tears streamed down her cheeks and spittle leaked down her chin, she began to question what dignity she hoped to protect by keeping her hands in a proper place. She was dressed as a whore and being used like a whore, and didn’t see why she shouldn’t act the part as well. Repressing the modesty that had been beaten into her throughout her entire life, she quietly brought her hand between her legs and her finger to her clit.

Enjoying yourself, whore? he laughed, noticing her masturbation immediately. I ought to beat you raw for touching yourself without permission, but I guess I can’t fault you. You’re a whore, after all – hardly a surprise that your instinct when a man stuffs his cock down your worthless gullet is to fuck yourself silly. Go ahead, slut, make yourself cum. Next time, though, you’ll be asking permission if you don’t want to be punished.

Cayla knew that she ought to be ashamed of the fact that he had noticed what she was doing, but what shame she felt wasn’t nearly enough to stop her. Even his threat to punish her next time only seemed to make it feel better – though she knew she’d do well to avoid it, the thought of being bent over his knee or even fucked in her ass struck her as strangely desirable. Figuring that she had already been caught so she might as well enjoy it, she continued to play with herself as Quilar fucked her throat brutally. By that point her moans of pleasure were entirely legitimate – she couldn’t have stopped them if she had tried.

Despite being a grown woman, it was actually the first time that she had touched herself lewdly in earnest. She had experimented a few times when she was with the Gray Sisters, but had never managed to go more than a few seconds before some elderly sister put a stop to that; usually in a way that was both painful and humiliating. Unsure of what she was doing, she was unable to produce the levels of intensity that Orthyn had the night before, but she managed just the same. In the back of her head was a fear that any moment now a Gray Sister would burst out of the shadows and whip her for her sins, but even that seemed unnaturally appealing to her.

Quilar seemed to be enjoying the legitimacy of her moans as well. Grunting loudly, he fucked into her mouth with brutal abandon. A part of her enjoyed the abuse, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to take it. With each stroke Quilar forced his cock well down her throat, and the pain was unbearable. She knew that she’d cum if she continued what she was doing, but she was beginning to suspect that she might pass out first.

Thankfully, she was mistaken. Her lack of experience with her own body slowed her down a bit, but after five more minutes she felt her orgasm beginning. It wasn’t quite as powerful as the one that she had experienced the night before under Orthyn’s far more skilled fingers, but it was still more than strong enough for her to forget how much her jaw and throat ached, even if it was only for a moment.

Quilar came shortly after her. He thrust his cock into her fully, forcing her nose up against his massive belly. While Cayla struggled to breathe, she felt his hot cum squirting down her throat. She was grateful for that – he clearly expected her to swallow, and bypassing her tongue made it a bit easier to do so. Unfortunately, he apparently didn’t mean to make things too easy for her – before he finished shooting his load, he pulled out and sprayed the rest over her face.

You missed some, slut, he taunted, smearing the semen on her face into her skin. You’ll wear that for the rest of the day. Maybe being forced to feel my cum drying on your skin will teach you to try harder to get it all in your mouth like a good whore. Understood?

Yes, master, she replied, feeling as if she were in a dream. This cunt will wear your cum.

That’s a good whore, he praised. You’re lucky, you know – if you hadn’t gotten me off so quickly, I’d surely be fucking you in the ass right now. Let that be a lesson to you – the better you serve, the more suffering you can avoid. Think about that for a bit, I’ll be back later for more training.

With that said, Quilar pulled up his pants, grabbed his things, and left the cell, locking the door behind him. Left in the dark and with her master’s cum still dripping down her face, Cayla felt terribly confused. She wanted to scream about how unfair her fate was, and yet at the same time she also wanted to masturbate again. Wondering what was happening to her, she curled up in a ball on the floor and awaited his return.

Continue reading with chapter three.

Cayla's Training - Chapter Three

Warning: The following story describes events that are illegal, immoral, and just generally a very, very bad idea. Nothing in this story should be emulated. Nothing in it is a good idea. Nothing in it actually happened, either -- it's a work of pure fiction. If you are underage, easily offended by things that probably should offend you, or unable to differentiate between fantasy and reality, you should probably piss off right now.

This is part three of the story. If you haven't read part two yet, you should probably do that first.

Cayla spent the rest of her first full day in the house of pleasure being orally violated by Quilar. He’d give her tips on what to do, but she was under far too much stress to remember anything. For the most part, she simply did what she could to avoid punishment. It seemed to work well – she received two more spankings, but nothing worse and Quilar explained that the second spanking wasn’t meant as a punishment but purely because he felt like it.

The second day was more of the same. Quilar woke her up with the same meal of stale bread and suspicious wine, then spent the rest of the day using her mouth. He continued to give her instructions, but just like the first day Cayla had difficulty remembering anything. That turned out to be a mistake – Quilar was far less forgiving than he had been before, and she paid for her lack of studiousness with multiple spankings. By the time the day was over she had lost track of how many times she had been reprimanded, but her bottom was so sore that she had to sleep on her front. She didn’t complain, though. She had managed to avoid being sodomized by him, and for that she was grateful – even if a part of her was a bit disappointed.

By the third day she was a bit more able to focus. Having her throat penetrated still hurt terribly, but it was a familiar pain. Paying closer attention to his instruction, she was able to avoid the degree of punishment that she had faced the day before. She received only three spankings, and they didn’t seem to hurt as bad – though she was unsure if that was due to mercy on Quilar’s part, if it was some side effect of the wine she was given daily, or if she was simply growing numb to the abuse. Still, she cried out loudly with each stroke, both due to the pain and due to her belief that if Quilar found out the spankings weren’t hurting her enough he might find something that would.

By the fourth day, she found that she was almost looking forward to Quilar’s frequent visits. The man was crude and sadistic and always left her hurting, but the pain was becoming easier to bear and it beat sitting alone in the cold darkness. She tried to convince herself that it was all wrong and she should be dreading his visits, yet every time he left she found herself wishing that he’d return quickly before he had even locked the door behind him.

By the fifth day, she had almost completely accepted her fate. Living in the cell wasn’t great, but it wasn’t too much worse things had been with the Gray Sisters. There was a bit more pain, but a lot more pleasure as well – Quilar seemed to deeply enjoy watching her masturbate, and rarely refused permission when she asked. She found herself almost getting comfortable in her new life, even though she knew that things would only change again once her training was complete. Quilar seemed to pick up on her comfort and didn’t approve – he spanked her until she bled and then forced her to get on her hands and knees so that he could sodomize her. Cayla obeyed him, but begged him to fuck her mouth instead; saying the most degrading things she could think of about herself in order to win his favor. He eventually relented and did what she asked, but he warned her that she had only bought herself a temporary stay of execution – whether she liked it or not, he would be fucking her in the ass sooner or later.

On the sixth day, she awoke her with a soft kick to her midsection, as was his custom. Cayla found herself involuntarily happy to see him, until she noticed that there was a leather sack in his hand. She told herself that it was nothing to be concerned about, but she couldn’t believe it. She remembered her first day in Quilar’s care, how everything in his sack had harmed her in one way or another, and she knew that his gifts were typically coated in thorns.

Good morning, master, she stated, as she had been trained to do. This cunt is most grateful that you would take an interest in her.

So you say, he grinned. I doubt you’ll be so grateful once you see the surprise that I’ve in store for you.

His reply did nothing to calm Cayla. She now knew that there was something she ought to be dreading whatever might be inside of his leather pouch, though she didn’t dare voice her concerns. Terrified yet unable to do anything about it, she simply held still on her knees and hoped for the best as Quilar placed his sack on the floor and reach into it.

He produced an object shaped like a rounded cylinder and made out of something that resembled beeswax in the dim light, though darker in color. A week earlier she might have been confused as to what it was for, but she wasn’t so naïve now – the resemblance to his penis was close enough that she could guess what it was meant for. What she didn’t understand was why it tapered in the way it did – it grew larger until the base, at which point it shrunk down to the point where it was almost slim. Attached to the very base of it was what appeared to be a dog’s tail; she didn’t understand its purpose either but was far more concerned with the body of the object.

Hands and knees, he growled, coating the object in fluid drawn from a waterskin that he had also produced from the sack. The fluid was without color, but far too viscous to be water.

Cayla obeyed his orders. Her mind was full of fear and dread as to what was about to come, but she knew better than to rebel against him. Still, even as she assumed the vulnerable position she couldn’t help but to wonder as to what new degradation she was about to experience.

Has this cunt displeased you, master? she eventually squeaked out, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

Not at all, he grinned, still rubbing the fluid into the object. In fact, I’ve enjoyed your mouth a lot – that’s why I fuck it so much. I’m hoping that your other two holes will be just as enjoyable, but that will never happen until we break them in. Can’t touch your cunny yet, of course – if I could, I’d have fucked it half a hundred times by now – but there’s nothing stopping me from using your asshole.

Please, master, she whimpered, fuck this cunt’s mouth again? She didn’t actually want him to do it – her throat was terribly sore from all the abuse it had endured – but it seemed far preferable to what he was suggesting.

You’re a filthy little slut, aren’t you? he laughed, slapping her playfully across the ass. I fuck your mouth near every time I see you, and you still can’t get enough. Too bad for you, you’re going to have to go without this time – but if you’re good, I might just let you lick me clean when I’m done.

Cayla heard no flexibility in his voice, but she wasn’t about to give up. She had managed to avoid being sodomized for nearly a week, and while she knew she likely wouldn’t be able to put it off forever she wasn’t about to simply give up. Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite sure what she could say – if she were forceful he’d likely beat her for forgetting her place, but if she remained timid she doubted she’d be able to sway him. She knew that the only way to save herself would be to convince him to cum in some other way, but she wasn’t sure how.

Cayla was still racking her mind for a solution when it happened. Reaching over, he forced a finger directly into her vulnerable anus. Although she was still a virgin back there, it slid in with little resistance – the fluid that he had been rubbing into the object was extremely slippery. Caught off guard she let out a quiet whimper and instinctually shied away from him, but he quickly grabbed her hair and pulled her back.

To her surprise, it didn’t really hurt at all. His fingers were fat, but not fat enough that she felt too stretched out. In a way, she was actually disappointed by the lack of pain. It seemed only appropriate that if a man would do such a vile thing to her that she should despise it, yet her body simply wouldn’t cooperate. If anything it actually felt good – not nearly as good as when he permitted her to play with her clit, but still good enough that she felt deeply ashamed.

Just think, slut, he said as he began to slowly pump his finger in and out of her. By the time I’ve finished with you you’ll be two-thirds of your way to your destiny, and that much closer to being fucked by any man willing to spare a few coins.

Cayla involuntarily grimaced at the thought. She had managed to come to terms with being abused by Quilar alone and without witnesses, but the idea of being whored out to complete strangers was still a bit difficult for her to handle. Knowing that she was getting closer to being unceremoniously passed around and used did little for her spirits.

Don’t like that? Quilar laughed, picking up on her obvious discomfort. Well, that’s all the more reason to get you broken in. Doesn’t happen all too often, but sometimes a whore impresses a man so much that he might buy her. Doesn’t come cheap, and it’s a waste of good coin if you ask me, but it does happen. Never known it to happen with a deficient whore, though, and that’s just what you are until all three of your holes are good and fuckable. If you aim to be the property of just one man instead of being rented out by the half hour, you’re going to need to learn to use all three of your fuck holes.

Cayla wanted to tell him that that wasn’t what she wanted at all, but she held her tongue. A part of it was that she knew she’d be disciplined for backtalk if she corrected him, but that wasn’t the sole reason. Though she had always believed that she didn’t want to be owned by anyone – one man or one thousand – the thoughts of serving just one owner seemed strangely pleasing to her. Additionally, though she struggled to deny it, the firm pumping of Quilar’s finger in and out of her was becoming extremely enjoyable – far more so than she knew was proper.

Having decided that she could handle more, Quilar worked a second finger into her asshole. That cut her enjoyment a bit – though the lubricant he had smeared on his fingers made the pain bearable, it hurt just the same. Cayla didn’t mind, though. She had been worried that if he continued with just one finger she might eventually reach orgasm, and as disgraceful as everything else that had happened to her was she didn’t think she could bear the humiliation of reaching climax is such a shameful way. Struggling with the feeling of being stretched out, she let out an audible grunt.

Does that hurt? Quilar laughed, obviously enjoying her pain. You should remember this. In a year or two I expect you’ll be so stretched out that you’ll be able to take a man’s arm up to the elbow without even flinching, and it will be fun for you to look back and remember a time back before your asshole was ruined when just two fingers caused you pain. Still, I don’t want you thinking I’m a cruel master – tell me the truth, whore, would you like me to take my fingers out of your ass?

She knew it was a trap. Quilar might not have been as cruel as she had initially believed him to be, but he wasn’t in the habit of changing his actions to accommodate her comfort. Still, she didn’t see what choice she had. If she lied to him then he’d know, and she didn’t think he’d appreciate being lied to.

I do, master, she reluctantly admitted, hoping for the best.

To her surprise, Quilar actually took his fingers out of her. She found herself strangely disappointed – though his fingers had caused her pain, they had caused pleasure as well and it was the removal of pleasure that she noticed most. She was also a bit concerned about what might be about to happen. She might have wanted to believe that Quilar was going to show her some mercy and leave her anal virginity intact, but she wasn’t quite so naïve as to actually expect it.

She didn’t have to wait long to figure out what was going on. With his hands free, Quilar grabbed the bizarre object that he had been lubricating earlier and forced it into her ass. Cayla cried out in pain – though he was forcing it in slowly, it was still much wider than she was ready for. She could feel herself stretching to accept the object, and remembering Quilar’s prediction of how she might be in a couple of years worried that the stretching might be permanent.

Quit your whining, whore, Quilar growled, continuing to force the object deeper into her. This dildo’s not half as thick as my cock, and I’m being far more gentle than I ought to with a slut like you.

This cunt is sorry, master! she groaned in pain. It just hurts so much! Please, master, have mercy!

Mercy? he laughed. This is mercy, whore – if I wanted to be merciless I’d have rammed my cock up that pig asshole of yours and been done with it. Frankly, I’ve half a mind to do just that and teach you what hurts so much really means, but lucky for you I’m not a cruel man. Instead, I’m going to fuck you with this until you learn to love it – in fact, I won’t be stopping until your slut ass cums for me. I can spend the whole day doing this if need be, so you’d best learn to take it like a good whore.

Cayla felt panic seeping in. It was all that she could do to avoid screaming in pain; managing to climax from such abuse seemed like it would be impossible. Even if she could manage the task she wasn’t sure that she’d want to – she knew that only a true whore would be able to do what he was demanding, and she didn’t want to give him further evidence that that was just what she was. She considered faking her orgasm to satisfy his demands, but she knew that wouldn’t be wise. He’d likely see through her ruse, and the bulge in his pants suggested that once he was done with the object in his hand he’d simply stick something larger into her.

Instead, she simply bit down on her lip and did her best to manage the pain. She knew that it could be worse – Quilar was freakishly strong and could have forced the object in to the hilt quicker than she could blink an eye, yet he was going relatively slow. She wondered how much of his gentleness was due to actual mercy and how much was due to his likely understanding that she might pass out if he went too fast, and realized it made little difference.

Before long he had managed to force the entire object into her. Feeling his knuckles pressing up against her buttocks, she let out an anguished groan. It still hurt, but more importantly it was tremendously humiliating. She remembered how large the object was, and was more than a little disgusted with herself for being able to take it all. Quilar said nothing about her groan, but he did hold the object in place for a minute – though she wasn’t sure if that was to give her time to adjust or simply to soak in her humiliation.

Eventually Quilar began to slowly pull the dildo back out. Cayla let out another groan, though this one was more out of shame than actually pain. It didn’t hurt quite as much, though she wasn’t sure if it was because she had adjusted to the girth or because it was being removed. Either way, feeling herself being sodomized with an inanimate object was a bit more than her pride could bear easily.

Starting to like it, are you whore? Quilar taunted, apparently having picked up on the shame in her groan. I’d tell you it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but even a stupid bitch like you is likely to know better. I will say this, though – it’s not a surprise. I knew from the instant you started fucking yourself the first time I crammed my cock down your throat that you were a true whore, a slut made for fucking and nothing else.

Remembering how she had behaved the first time that he had fucked her face filled Cayla with shame. She wanted to believe that he was wrong about her, and that she was really a proper lady just doing what she had to do to survive, but it was growing increasingly difficult for her to accept that. She knew that when she touched herself that first time she was doing it of her own free will, even though she knew that it was wrong, and that didn’t seem like the kind of thing that a proper lady would do in that situation.

It wasn’t just the memory of her first time masturbating troubling her, either. As Quilar worked into a slow but steady rhythm with the dildo she felt her pain melting away and being replaced with pleasure. She didn’t think she’d reach orgasm from that alone, but she couldn’t be sure. She suspected that the pain would continue to fade, and she didn’t trust her own body to accept that pleasure was not the appropriate response to such immoral use.

I’ll tell you what, bitch, he said as he began to build up steam with the dildo. I’m willing to spend all day doing this, but I’d rather speed this up. If you ask me real nicely, I might just let you put one of those hands of yours to work fucking yourself – and I know how you like to fuck yourself.

The thought of masturbating had crossed Cayla’s mind, though she had been far too ashamed to ask. She was already disgusted with herself for all the times she asked his permission when he was only using her mouth; playing with herself while being sodomized just seemed beyond the pale. Still, it seemed like it might be necessary in order to reach her climax and she wasn’t sure how he’d take it if she told him that she didn’t want to. She was also painfully aware of how damp her inner thighs had grown from her own juices, but she didn’t want to think about that.

May this cunt please fuck herself? she grunted, telling herself that she had no choice but knowing that made little difference.

You may, he answered.

With permission granted, Cayla reached back and pressed her finger to her clit. She had known that she was wet, but she found that she was far wetter than she had realized. She couldn’t understand why – the violation had hurt more than anything else. Still, as she pressed down on her clit and launched waves of pleasure through her body she couldn’t deny that on some level she was enjoying what was happening.

It wasn’t long before she felt her orgasm approaching. She told herself that it was entirely her own doing, that she was simply responding to her fingers between her thighs and that Quilar’s violation had nothing to do with it, but she knew that wasn’t entirely true. It might have been somewhat accurate towards the beginning, but after only a few minutes she knew that she was being propelled just as much by what Quilar was doing as she was by what she was doing to herself. Still, it made her feel better to pretend that what he had said about her coming to love being violated anally wasn’t the truth.

After ten minutes of Quilar picking up speed while she played with herself Cayla’s orgasm began. It was powerful – far more powerful than any she had given herself when he had only been in her mouth. She rationalized that that was a good thing. Though she was ashamed to be seen cumming in such a disgusting way, she figured that it would be even more humiliating if Quilar didn’t notice and forced her to do it again. With that in mind she gave herself permission to be as vocal as she liked, moaning loudly as Quilar continued his assault.

If you liked that, Quilar laughed as Cayla came down from the high of her orgasm, you’re going to love the real thing. Best brace yourself whore – this is going to hurt.

While Quilar undid his trousers Cayla began to panic. Deep down the idea of losing her anal virginity might have resonated on some level, but the conscious thought of it was terrifying to her. It wasn’t even the pain she feared – over the last week she had learned that she could endure far more suffering than she would have ever thought possible – it was what it would mean. In her mind, if she actually allowed him to sodomize her then she really would be a whore, and that was all she’d ever be. The thought of spending the rest of her life on her back might have been mildly appealing, but she wasn’t ready to give up without a fight.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite sure how she could fight. Quilar was a massive and powerful man; resisting him physically would only make him angry with her. She couldn’t bribe him, either – the only things that she owned were her collar and her shoes, and she doubted that he wanted either of them. She felt completely powerless, and she hated it – she had been powerless her entire life and was sick of having to accept her fate rather than make it. She remembered how eager she was to learn the ways of the Gray Sisters and claim their power as her own, and how disappointed she was when it all turned out to be a lie.

She then remembered the power she had perceived in Orthyn’s chambers, how he had been able to make her do anything he wanted through her lust, but that didn’t help her – Quilar didn’t need her to voluntarily comply when he could take what he wanted. She wished that she had even just a fraction of the power that Orthyn had demonstrated; imagining how differently Quilar might act if the man he called his lord was on her side instead of viewing her as little more than an investment. That’s when she found her answer.

You can’t, she growled, praying that he wouldn’t hear nearly as much fear in her voice as she did.

Quilar looked irritated but also amused. That bothered Cayla – she had meant to sound forceful, not to make a joke, and his reaction implied that her resistance was nothing to be taken seriously. The expression in his face ate away at her resolve, but she forced herself to stay strong.

Is that so? he mocked. Are you the master now? Tell me, master – how exactly can you stop me?

I can’t, she admitted. But if you do this, I don’t think Orthyn is going to be happy about it. He wants me to remain a maiden, remember?

Stupid whore, Quilar laughed, slapping her ass hard. I going in your asshole – you won’t lose your maidenhead from that. You’ll keep that until some dreg coughs up the gold to buy it rightfully.

Are you certain? she shot back. How do you know I won’t break it myself with mine own fingers?

You do that, and my lord will have your head, he warned. He paid good coin for you, and he won’t thank you for damaging his property.

Maybe I’ll be able to calm him with my words, Cayla suggested. I know just what I’ll say, too. I’m so sorry my lord, but Master Quilar was too strong for me! I told him that he had no right to take it, but he said that you’d never even notice! Please forgive me, my lord, I fought him as best I could!

Cayla forced herself to remain as calm as possible while Quilar considered her threat. She was terrified that she might have overplayed her hand, but it would do her no good to show him her fear. It was far too late to back down, her only hope was to stand her ground and hope for the best. Making eye contact with Quilar, she repressed her fear and returned his icy stare.

After what felt like an eternity to Cayla, Quilar looked away, let out a bestial growl, and slapped her ass hard. The blow hurt terribly – he had clearly been holding something back when he spanked her. Cayla curled into a defensive ball, worried that he believed her to be bluffing, and braced herself for the consequences of her rebellion.

Rather than feeling his fist again, however, she simply heard footsteps as he walked out of her cell and locked the door behind him. She worried that she’d pay for her treachery later, but that was hardly her dominant emotion. Quilar was three times her size and more powerful than her in every way, yet she had bent him to her will. For the first time in her entire life she felt as though she was in control, and she found that she quite enjoyed the feeling.

Continue reading with chapters four and five.