It's more like "trains" than "teaches"

He watches your face as he continues to stroke your thighs with the riding crop, a faint smile twitching his lips as you quiver in front of him. He nods suddenly appearing to make up his mind, and drops the crop on the floor, walking away from you to sit in a strait backed chair against the wall. You turn to watch him, not sure what to do, not trusting your voice to ask.

"Bring me the crop," he orders, no longer smiling, his voice as hard as polished steel. You bend to pick it up with a trembling hand, still staring at him, your mind and body whirling in a confusion of arousal and anxiety.

"Not like that!" he snaps. "Pick it up with your mouth!" You hesitate, but only for a moment, then drop to your knees and bend your head to pick up the crop between your teeth.

"That's a good bitch," he praises you. "Now bring it here." You know he wants you to crawl to him, and a part of your mind rebels, telling you to stand, but your body is already crawling towards him, your body swaying like a bitch eager to please her master, the crop held between your teeth.

Reaching him, you raise your head and let him take the crop from your mouth, looking at him with anxious eyes, waiting his next order. He picks up the crop and smiles at you, a smile devoid of all his former politeness, a smile of nothing but controlled cruelty. You shudder in front of him, your mouth trembling, your nipples stiff and hard, your pussy gushing with moisture, knowing you are his to command.