Conditioned Obedience (Denial, Corruption)
He never let her cum anymore. Not unless he said so. But that didn’t mean she got to lay there uselessly.
Her training had started months ago, when her denial sessions first began. Not just denying her release — that was far too simple. No, he had something much crueler in mind. Something that fed his sadism. Something that broke her more deliciously.
He taught her how to fake it.
At first, it was humiliating. The idea alone made her burn with shame. But the shame made her wetter. And he knew that. Of course he knew that.
“You don’t get to cum, slut,” he whispered into her ear during one of their early sessions, his cock deep inside her. “But you’re going to act like you do. For me. For my pleasure.”
Her face flushed deeply, trembling as he spoke, her cunt already dripping around him.
“That’s right. Moan for me. Squirm. Arch that back. Flutter those useless muscles like you’re cumming your little brains out.”
He was teaching her to perform. Teaching her to mimic real orgasms so well that even he could lose himself in her trembling act. The clenching, the spasming, the breathless gasps. Every little detail was trained to his exact liking.
“Arch your back more when you feel me tense.” “Let your voice crack here.” “Tighten and flutter your cunt like you're about to burst.” “Don’t forget to cry a little. You’re so pretty when you cry.”
Every single session left her broken. Her face buried in the sheets, her body obeying on instinct. Her cunt fluttering and squeezing around him exactly how he trained her, even as her mind screamed for real release.
He thrived on it. The control. The humiliation. The complete and utter ownership.
“You perform so well for Daddy,” he whispered as he emptied himself inside her quivering hole again and again. “Look at you — pretending so sweetly while I fill you like the dumb little toy you are.”
Her eyes watered with humiliation, her face hot, but the words only made her soak through the sheets.
“You don’t need to cum, do you?” he mocked softly. “You don’t even know what you want anymore, do you?”
“No, Daddy,” she whimpered, trembling, brain fogged with denial and desperation.
But it got filthier.
He loved to degrade her mid-performance, whispering in her ear while she performed her fake orgasms for him.
“Look at you. You shake like a whore for me. Like a needy, empty slut desperate for attention. You’re not even a person anymore, are you? You’re my personal little fleshlight. My trained hole. My obedient, broken fuckdoll.”
The more he abused her, the more she melted for him. And when he finally allowed her to cum for real, it was no longer hers. They would all be ruined, last minutes to add salt to her begging and mewling.
Her real orgasms were his. Trained. Engineered. Molded by months of conditioning. Her body spasmed in perfect waves, her pussy fluttering exactly how he liked, her sobbing cries breaking at just the right pitch — all for him.
“Good girl,” he cooed after those rare releases. “Look how well I’ve corrupted you.”
Her face would burn, nuzzling his chest like a scared, broken little thing, but her cunt would still throb with pride.
“You don’t even cum for yourself anymore,” he whispered while stroking her hair. “Every orgasm belongs to me. You cum the way I taught you to. Because I broke you. Because you’re mine.”
She couldn’t stop the sobbing moan that escaped her lips as her body shook again, overstimulated and humiliated.
“You’re going to keep practicing for me, aren’t you, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered, barely audible, voice shaky.
“Nuzzling won’t save you, little thing,” he mocked, voice dripping with pride. “You’ll stay trained. You’ll stay ruined. You’ll stay perfect.”
And he smiled darkly as she blushed harder, trembling under his fingertips, ruined beyond repair — exactly how he wanted her.
“My perfect little corrupted pet. My addict. My property.”
And the next session would start all over again.
