Chapter 9: Moderation
The sharp crack of Eleanor’s palm against her bare ass jolted Sam from sleep, a bright sting blooming across her flesh. “No school today, pet,” Eleanor purred, her voice thick with intent, as she shoved Sam’s thighs apart. Before Sam could process the words, two of Eleanor’s fingers plunged deep into her cunt, a ruthless invasion that drew a ragged moan into the sheets. “You’re already wet for it,” Eleanor laughed, scissoring her fingers inside the tight, slick heat.
She hauled Sam onto her back, climbing over her face, the trimmed red curls of her cunt hovering an inch from Sam’s lips. Eleanor gripped the twin pigtails she’d braided into Sam’s hair the night before, using them like reins to yank Sam’s mouth upward, grinding her pussy down onto Sam’s waiting tongue. “Eat,” she commanded, rocking her hips, smearing her wetness across Sam’s nose and chin.
Sam’s tongue worked instinctively, lapping at Eleanor’s swollen folds, probing for her clit as Eleanor rode her face with slow, deliberate thrusts. “We’re having a dress-up day,” Eleanor gasped, her voice hitching as Sam’s tongue found a rhythm. “You’ll wear costumes. I’ll photograph you.” She ground down harder, stifling Sam’s muffled gasp. “Maybe bound. Definitely used.”
She tightened her grip on the pigtails, fucking Sam’s mouth with a steady, demanding pace. “Think of the album, Sam,” she breathed, her thighs trembling. “More pages for our collection.” The taste of her, musky and sharp, flooded Sam’s senses as Eleanor’s movements grew frantic, her climax wet and shuddering against Sam’s imprisoned tongue.
costumesxxzxzxzxzzzzz
Eleanor begins the the modeling She introduces Beth a freind and lover from the fashion world
she is 30 buzzed black hair. Shaved sides. Dykish
Start the fashion show (DreamPress give detail of the outfits)
1. Nude full frontal loose waiste lenght blonde hair
2. school girl blond braided pigtails
3. French maid outfit
4 Modified slut French maid
5. Secretary blonde bun, tight pencil skirt see thru white shirt no bra high herls
6. Dressed as a street whore complete with stockings and micro skirt
Describe the six outfits in detail
The sixth outfit was a garish parody of desire: fishnet stockings with deliberate, scandalous runs, a vinyl micro-skirt so short it barely covered her cleft, and a cheap, lace bustier that dug into her ribs. Beth circled her, a silent vulture, while Eleanor’s camera shutter clicked like a ticking metronome. “Perfect,” Eleanor finally said, lowering her camera. “Now, show Beth how grateful you are for her stylistic guidance.”
Eleanor pushed Sam to her knees on the polished concrete floor. Beth unzipped her leather trousers, revealing trimmed black curls and the thick, flushed head of her strap-on. “Open wide, princess,” Beth said, her voice a dry rasp, as she guided the silicone to Sam’s lips. Sam obeyed, the taste of clean rubber flooding her mouth as Beth gripped the back of her head and began to fuck her face with slow, shallow thrusts.
“You can do better than that,” Eleanor chided, crouching to capture the scene. Beth deepened her rhythm, the dildo hitting the back of Sam’s throat, making her gag. Tears welled in Sam’s eyes as Beth established a brutal, unrelenting pace. “Such a pretty, used-up little thing,” Beth muttered, her hips pistoning.
Eleanor’s hand snaked under the micro-skirt, her fingers pushing aside the fishnets to drive into Sam’s sopping cunt. Sam convulsed, a muffled scream around the silicone cock as Eleanor’s fingers crooked upward, rubbing that rough, secret spot. The dual violation—mouth and cunt filled simultaneously—shattered her. Her orgasm was a silent, shuddering collapse, a flood of wetness over Eleanor’s hand.
Beth pulled out, leaving Sam gasping and dripping. “The album will be magnificent,” Eleanor whispered, wiping her fingers on Sam’s cheek.
“The album will be magnificent,” Eleanor whispered, wiping her fingers on Sam’s cheek. “Now, the next set.” Beth hauled Sam upright by her armpits, steering her toward the rack of costumes. “Let’s see how you look in white, sweetheart,” Beth said, her voice a low chuckle.
The slutty nurse uniform was cheap polyester, the skirt barely covering her ass, the top straining over her breasts with a plunging neckline. The cap perched on her head felt absurd as Eleanor fastened a heavy leather posture collar around her throat. “Crawl,” Eleanor commanded, and Sam moved on her hands and knees across the concrete, the skirt riding up to expose her completely.
Next was the ballerina outfit, a sickly pink tulle tutu with a fitted bodice. “No underwear,” Beth reminded her, pulling the tights up Sam’s legs, the material sheer and exposing every detail of her shaved cunt. As Sam posed in a fragile arabesque, Eleanor’s camera focused on the damp spot darkening the fabric at her apex.
The weathergirl costume was a crisp, blue skirt-suit, the jacket unbuttoned to reveal a lace camisole. “Point at the imaginary map,” Beth directed, pushing a pointer into Sam’s hand. Eleanor zoomed in on Sam’s face, her expression vacant, as Beth’s hand snaked under the skirt to finger her roughly from behind.
The final setup used a complex system of ropes and a suspension rig. They fastened a black lace thong onto her, then secured her ankles behind her shoulders with cruel, efficient knots. The main rope clenched in her blonde ponytail, lifting until her weight hung from her hair, her body a taut, inverted arch awaiting the flash.
xxxxxxxdoouble penetrating
The camera flash burned her vision white, a searing pop that echoed the strain in her scalp. "Beautiful," Eleanor murmured, her boots clicking on the concrete as she circled Sam’s suspended form. Beth approached, her hand rough on Sam’s inner thigh. "Think she’s ready for the finale?" Beth asked, her fingers already probing Sam’s soaked cunt from below.
"More than ready," Eleanor said, her voice calm as she lubricated the thick, black silicone of Beth’s strap-on. "Aperture wide open, pet. Deep depth of field." Beth positioned herself, the blunt head of the dildo pressing against Sam’s rear entrance. Eleanor’s own fingers, slick and unyielding, pushed back into Sam’s cunt from the front. "Breathe out," Eleanor commanded.
They penetrated her in one synchronized, brutal motion. Sam’s gasp shattered into a silent scream, her body stretched impossibly full, the twin invasions burning through her core. Beth fucked into her ass with slow, grinding thrusts while Eleanor’s fingers curled up, scraping her front wall. The competing rhythms tore a primal, guttural sound from Sam’s throat. "Such a greedy fucking hole," Beth grunted, picking up her pace.
Eleanor watched her own fingers disappear, coated in Sam’s arousal. "You’re taking it all," she whispered, her other hand pinching Sam’s clit. The overwhelming fullness, the sharp ache and the brutal friction, coiled into a violent tremor. Her orgasm ripped through her, a convulsive pulsing around both intrusions, brutal and utterly devastating. She hung, wrecked and trembling, from her hair.
The ropes slackened, and she crumpled to the concrete, a heap of sweat-slicked limbs and ruined tulle. “Enough of the costumes,” Eleanor said, her shadow fallinggo over Sam’s shivering form. “Now we address your education.”
Beth unbuckled her strap-on with a smirk, dropping it with a wet thud. “Her ass took that pretty well,” she remarked, lighting a cigarette. Eleanor knelt, her fingers tracing the bruised, fluttering rim of Sam’s anus. “It took it. It hasn’t been trained.”
She produced a small bottle of slick, cold lube, dripping it directly onto Sam’s stretched hole. “This is your lesson now.” Eleanor’s thumb, blunt and insistent, pressed against the tight pucker, not entering, just applying steady, unforgiving pressure. “You will learn to open on command.”
Sam whimpered, her face pressed against the rough floor. “Relax,” Eleanor commanded, her voice devoid of warmth. Her thumb breached the resistant ring of muscle, a slow, burning invasion. “Breathe out, you stupid cunt.”
Sam exhaled a shuddering breath, and Eleanor’s thumb slid knuckle-deep into her rectum, a shocking, full feeling. “See?” Eleanor twisted her thumb, scissoring it slightly. “Your body can obey.” She withdrew, then pushed two lubricated fingers inside, stretching Sam wider.
A guttural sound of protest caught in Sam’s throat. “You’ll take three by the end of today,” Eleanor stated, crooking her fingers, searching. Beth watched, blowing smoke rings. “Then the small plug. You’ll wear it to bed.”
Eleanor’s fingers pumped in and out, a ruthless, stretching rhythm. “You belong here,” she whispered, as Sam’s body betrayed her, softening, accepting the intrusion. The shame was a colder, deeper penetration than the fingers.
When the smooth, chilled silicone plug pressed against her, Sam tensed. “Now,” Eleanor said, and pushed. The bulbous head popped past her sphincter with a sickening, final give, settling heavily inside her. “A reminder of your purpose.”
Eleanor stood, wiping her hands on a cloth. “Leave it in until I say.”
The cold concrete bit into Sam’s knees as she knelt, the plug a heavy, foreign presence inside her. Eleanor circled her, the click of her boots a slow metronome. “Beth, hand me the velvet rope from the chaise,” she said, her voice detached.
Sam flinched as the soft, unforgiving cord looped around her throat, then threaded between her breasts. “New positions require new leverage,” Eleanor explained, pulling the ends taut to create a cruel harness that pinned Sam’s arms back. She used the remaining length to bind Sam’s wrists together at the small of her back.
“On your feet.” Eleanor hauled her upright by the throat-rope, the sudden pressure making Sam gasp. She guided Sam, stumbling, toward the heavy oak desk at the studio’s edge. “Bend over. Chest flat on the wood.”
The desktop was icy against her skin. Eleanor tightened the harness, arching Sam’s back and forcing her ass high, the plug shifting obscenely. “This is a study position,” Eleanor murmured, her hand coming down in a sharp slap on Sam’s right buttock. The impact echoed, the sting flaring across the pale skin.
“Count.” Slap. “One,” Sam choked out. Slap. “Two.” Each strike landed on the alternating cheek, a methodical calibration of pain. Her cunt, betrayed her, growing wetter with each blow, a slick trail escaping down her inner thigh.
“You’re dripping on my floor,” Beth observed from somewhere behind her, a note of dark amusement in her voice. “Disgusting.” Eleanor’s fingers slid through the mess, gathering Sam’s wetness before tracing the rim of silicone protruding from her. “The plug’s in the way,” she said casually.
She hooked a finger around the base and pulled. The slow, dragging exit was a more profound violation than its entry, a stretch that burned. Sam cried out, her body clenching around empty air. “Better,” Eleanor said, discarding the plug on the desk with a soft thud.
Her thumb, slick and relentless, pressed immediately against the loosened, throbbing entrance. “Now this empty hole learns its place.” She pushed in, a brutal, shallow fuck with just her thumb. “You’ll come from this,” she stated, her other hand snaking beneath Sam to pinch her clit hard. “You’ll come from being opened up like this, or you’ll stay here all night.”
The dual sensation—the sharp, degrading penetration and the cruel pressure on her clit—coiled a wire of panic and need in Sam’s gut. Her hips jerked, a futile movement. “Please,” she whispered into the wood grain, the word splintering.
“Not yet.” Eleanor withdrew her thumb, replacing it with two fingers, scissoring them wide inside the tight, hot channel. The stretch was incendiary. Sam’s vision swam, her breaths coming in ragged pants that fogged the polished desk.
A third finger, pressing, insistently breaching her. The fullness was unbearable, a tearing, magnificent ache. Eleanor’s other hand never stopped its vicious work on her clit, a rough, circular torment. “Now,” Eleanor commanded.
Sam fractured, a raw, screaming climax that tore through her with the violence of a shockwave, her body seizing around the invading fingers. Eleanor held her through it, fucking her with her hand until the last spasm faded into a hollow tremble. “Good,” she said, her fingers slipping out with a wet sound.
She left Sam collapsed over the desk, a used, trembling thing. “The plug goes back in now,” Eleanor said, reaching for it. “You’ll wear it to your lecture tomorrow.”
The cold, slick silicone breached her again, a deeper, more filling stretch now that she was loosened and raw. Sam gritted her teeth, a sharp gasp escaping as the bulbous head popped past her protesting muscle, settling with a final, heavy presence inside her rectum. “Walk,” Eleanor said, untying the velvet rope, her voice devoid of the warmth it held during the climax.
Sam stood, her legs unsteady, every slight movement causing the plug to shift, a constant, obscene reminder. Eleanor handed her the neatly folded graduate student clothes—jeans, a simple sweater, the backpack. “Dress.” Sam complied, the soft cotton feeling like a lie against her skin, the plug a secret she couldn’t ignore. “It stays in until you’re back in this room,” Eleanor stated, fixing Sam’s ponytail with a possessive tug.
“If you remove it, I’ll know.” The morning air outside was a shocking slap of normality, cars passing, students laughing. Each step sent a jolt through her, the plug a firm, alien intruder with every footfall on the pavement. In the lecture hall, the drone of astrophysics formulas blurred against the throbbing fullness inside her. She shifted in her seat, and the silicone pressed against something deep, a bright, internal spark that made her breath hitch.
The professor’s voice discussed celestial mechanics, tidal forces locking bodies in perpetual, unequal dance. Sam’s pen slipped, her knuckles white. She existed in the duality: the public student, the private, plugged thing. The walk back was an excruciating pilgrimage, every cobblestone transmitted through that relentless, internal pressure. She turned the key, the door clicking open to the scent of lavender and development chemicals.
Eleanor waited in the studio, camera in hand. “Show me.” Sam, her face hot, slowly peeled off her jeans, then her panties, and turned, bending slightly. The black silicone base glistened, snug between her cheeks. “Good pet,” Eleanor whispered, the shutter clicking, documenting the proof of her obedience.
xxxxxxxnew postion
“Good pet,” Eleanor whispered, the shutter clicking, documenting the proof of her obedience. “Now, the new position.” She guided Sam to the center of the room, towards a low, backless leather bench. “Kneel here, straddle it,” she said, her fingertips pressing into the sore small of Sam’s back until her chest was forced down, her ass raised high in the air. The plug shifted heavily inside her with the movement, a blunt reminder. “Arms behind you.”
Eleanor took Sam’s wrists, crossing them at the base of her spine, and began wrapping them with the same cool, velvet rope. “This is about presentation,” she explained, pulling the binds taut. “And patience.” She finished the knots and stepped back. Sam was immobilized, bent over the bench, her face turned to the side, her breath fogging the leather. Every muscle in her thighs trembled from the strain of holding the pose.
Eleanor’s booted foot nudged Sam’s knees wider apart. “Open.” The command was soft, final. She circled, the slow click of her heels the only sound. “Your body is a sentence I’m writing.” She crouched, and Sam felt the sudden, shocking warmth of Eleanor’s tongue, a slow, flat stroke from her clit up to the protruding base of the plug. Sam jerked against the ropes, a broken sound escaping her.
“Quiet.” Eleanor’s hand came down in a sharp slap on Sam’s inner thigh. The sting was bright, localized. “This isn’t for your pleasure. It’s an inventory.” She licked again, a meticulous probe around the silicone rim, tasting the faint, metallic hint of Sam’s earlier distress. Her thumb replaced her tongue, pressing insistently against Sam’s clit while her other hand took a firm grip on the plug. “Breathe in.”
On Sam’s indrawn gasp, Eleanor twisted the plug and pulled. The slow, dragging exit was an exquisite, burning violation. Sam cried out, her body clenching around sudden, empty space. “See how empty you are?” Eleanor murmured, discarding the plug. She pushed two fingers into the vacated, slack hole without pause, scissoring them deep. “This needs to be filled properly.”
xxxxxxxolug reoced
“This needs to be filled properly.” Eleanor’s fingers slid out, leaving a cold, aching void. She stood and walked to a cabinet, the click of the latch loud in the quiet room. Sam watched from her bent position, her heart hammering against the leather bench.
Eleanor returned with a different silicone toy, thicker and longer, its surface matte black. “This is a step up from the plug.” She slicked it with lube, the sound wet and deliberate. “You’ll take the whole thing.” The broad, blunt head pressed against Sam’s loosened hole, not pushing, just applying impossible pressure.
“Breathe out, Sam.” The command was soft. Sam exhaled, and Eleanor leaned her weight forward. The stretch was a burning, tearing expansion that forced a raw, guttural cry from Sam’s throat. “It’s only the head,” Eleanor murmured, pausing to let the muscle spasm and clutch. “So much more to go.” She pushed again, a slow, relentless invasion that carved a deep, fiery path inside her.
Sam’s vision speckled, her knuckles white against the ropes. “It’s in you,” Eleanor said, her voice a mix of wonder and ownership. She began a gentle, rocking motion, each minute thrust seating the toy deeper into uncharted territory. Sam felt impaled, split open on a solid, unforgiving presence that touched something blindingly deep. A broken sob hitched in her chest.
Eleanor’s hand snaked beneath her to find her clit, a rough, circling torment. “Come on this,” she whispered. “Come on this thing fucking your ass.” The dual sensations—the profound, stretching fullness and the abrasive friction on her clit—collided. Sam’s body seized, a silent, shaking earthquake of a climax that ripped through her with shocking violence. Her ass clenched convulsively around the invading toy, the intense pressure magnifying every spasm.
Eleanor held it deep inside her, letting the waves subside. Then, with a soft, wet sound, she withdrew the entire length. Sam gasped at the sudden, hollow emptiness. “PLUG REMOVED,” Eleanor stated, placing the heavy toy on the bench beside Sam’s cheek. “The lesson is complete. For now.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxphoto sam
“The lesson is complete. For now.” Eleanor placed the heavy toy on the bench beside Sam’s cheek. She retrieved her camera, the lens clicking as it extended. “Stay exactly as you are.” The command was calm, almost conversational. Sam trembled, her muscles screaming from the pose, her asshole still throbbing from the violation. “Look at the lens, Sam. Let me see what’s left in there.” The shutter clicked, capturing her hollowed-out expression, the sweat-sheened skin, the dark vulnerability between her legs. “Good. Now, arch your back more. Present the emptiness.” Eleanor’s fingers, still slick, smeared a wet trail across Sam’s perineum. The camera whirred, documenting the sheen. “Perfect.” She crouched, the camera now aimed up between Sam’s thighs. “This is the shot,” Eleanor breathed, her own excitement audible. “This raw, used-open fucking hole.” The flash fired, bleaching the room white for an instant. In that frozen moment, Sam felt entirely owned, a specimen pinned in light.