Rough sex is only the tip of the iceberg.
Rough sex is only the beginning. You wake up to find yourself strapped to a strange bed on all fours with your ass up, blindfolded, gagged, and totally naked. You hear something. Muffled whimpers located not too far from her. Despite your best efforts, it is useless to escape. But your attempt does alert me to the fact that you’re awake now.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you hear my heeled footsteps come down the steps, “you were out of commission for a while. Sorry that I wasn’t around when you came to. I had to tend to some business so that no one would come looking for you. Wouldn’t want anyone to ruin the party.”
You groan and shoot muffled shouts at me.
“Sorry, honey. I don’t allow my property to talk back at me. It’s okay. You didn’t know any better. None of my new stock ever does. But that’s what the spanking horse is for.”
Spanking horse. What was that? I remove your blindfold and, as your eyes, adjust, you start to behold the true terror that is my basement. So many apparatuses of torture and training and, to your horror, the source of the sounds you heard from upstairs.
“Oh, him? This one isn’t quite broken in yet. I bet he feels pretty bad knowing that all he did was lure down another victim. Don’t worry. He’s been adequately punished,” you see the marks all over his backside and a circular, round handle coming from his ass. When I go over to him, I grab onto that handle and, with a distinct schlorp, a huge buttplug slides out of him as he whimpers. I throw it into the pile, “honestly, I’ve never trained two at once before. This ought to be interesting. But first,” I twist a riding crop in my hands, “I’ve got to break you. Just like a horse.”
And suddenly the name of the thing keeping you on all fours makes sense.