Try Again. Lesson One, Slut.

You do not have a good night.

Standing there bent over as you are--head and arms clamped inside the pillory, beaten, bruised, starving, and exhausted, it’s all you can do not to allow your legs to buckle. Your welted ass throbs thunderously in pain, as you shift your body in search of the least uncomfortable posture.

Sleeping in this position is an impossible prospect, so you are instead left to ruminate for hours on end how to better your situation. Giving into the Mistress now would spare you deeper punishment--and to be honest, you’re not certain how much more punishment your body can take. If defiance means a protracted stay in the pillory, it could very well end up killing you. Then again, perhaps **** would be preferential to serving as that creature’s plaything.

You contemplate your options for several long and punishing hours, but the time eventually arrives.

You are rattled from your half-conscious stupor by the sound of heavy keys unlocking the bar door of your cell. You groggily open your eyes to see the Mistress and her armed guards once more entering the room. She sets a large black satchel down onto the stone floor in front of you and gives you a smart smirk.

“Sleep well? I hope so. Because today is a big day for you, my impudent pet. You are going to supplicate yourself before me, apologize for your abysmal behavior, and promise to perform exactly to my standards from now on.”

She walks up to you, grabbing your head in her tight, powerful hands. She forces your errant eyes to meet hers, as she cranes your head upward. Her piercing golden gaze threatens to consume the small shreds of control you yet possess, and you feel yourself wavering in resolve.

“After admitting to your wrongdoings, you will be released from the pillory, and permitted to complete lesson one. Do you understand, ****?”

You nod absent-mindedly in her tight grip.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe you should just give in. Maybe your entire life has led up to this moment, and your futile rejection of this fact is the true source of your discomfort.

You try to shake the fogginess from your mind, but she holds your gaze fast to hers. You know those weren’t your thoughts! Something about her eyes…

They’re hypnotic. Inviting. Calling. Controlling.

You feel your cock growing in needy arousal as you take in the scent of her corruptive influence. Is this the end?