Routines. Rules. When she heard the door open again, she tensed with both fear and joy. Jezebel felt his hand in her hair and his cool voice, ever so calm, commanding her.
"Kiss my cock hello." And it was becoming very clear that being degraded did something for her, because she had left a mess on the floor that he made her clean up when he freed her from her bondage. Jezebel cowered at his feet and licked it up, like a dog.
Asher fed her from the cock toy again and that time he connected it to a machine. Every push down her throat resulted in a spritz, every pull away resulted in the toy leaving her... and a stripe from his belt.
Jezebel started to jump forward to take the toy, jarring in her chains with dread when it wasn't in her mouth.
After that, he set up the machine with a different toy for her while he left again, saying he didn't want to have to fight every time he decided to use her. And she wondered when that would be for those first four days.
Jezebel suffered through them, every second a wild flame of painful desire, and he only used her mouth. She learned to choke herself on her feeding toy, learned to not ever close herself to him. She turned used to being a creature in constant need, and she started to crave him.
Jezebel stared up at him whenever he was in the dungeon with her, drinking in the sight of him like he was life. Whenever he got a toy, whenever he turned to her holding a whip, whenever he brought her clamps, she pulsed in anticipation.
And that was another thing. Asher hurt her, often, but it was never terrible pain. His sadism seemed tempered with the desire to see her degraded, which was obviously the more prominent pleasure for him.
Sometimes his pain was to discipline her, like when she didn't spread wide enough. Most often, it was for his pleasure and she loved those moments. Asher would pet her and praise her for taking his pain to please him.
More rarely, it was for punishment, like the third night when she struggled for the first, and only, time against the restraints. Asher was tired and she knew as much, but she was going a little bit insane too, because he had spent the whole day casually training her in that way he had.
Her body felt like a punishment straight out of Dante's hell. He finally lost his patience and used the cane, striping her until she sobbed at his feet. And then the restraints still went on, except he used even larger implements, so that she shuddered with every passing second.
"You will never win, Pet. Get that through your head. This is what happens to you and there's nothing you can do to stop it, to stop me. Accept that and life will be far easier for both of us."
Jezebel cried into her pillow, looking up at him from her cage, and sad that she had so disappointed him. But, like always, he left and came back with the same routine.
Asher never deviated from course, never held anger towards her when she made mistakes. No, he came back the same as always and she eagerly accepted him, desperate for his approval to make her feel steady again. And he gave it, with a gentle, even smile.
"Good girl. There we are again. Come on. Shower and breakfast." And she crawled, staring up at him adoringly again, trained to the feel of the leash and collar.
It was horrible. It was wonderful. Asher soothed her with things like pain. And she responded with more and more obedience, craving him.
It was in that state, in that mental place, that he finally took use of something other than her mouth. After her first incurred punishment she was strangely subdued, jumping to every command for each little scrap of approval.
Every earned "good girl" felt like her own private bliss. The energy fueled both of them, so that she responded immediately as soon as he removed her restraints, and moved frantically in the most obscene ways she could think of.
Maybe that was what made him need something other than her mouth. Jezebel wasn't sure, but he bent her forward over the medical table and he was using implements on her, but she took it. She took it and whined and begged wordlessly, pleading with sounds.
Instead of mercy, he gave her his degrading comments. "That's it. I think this is ruined enough to be a comfortable fit. Why don't we find out?" Asher prepared himself, barely, and pressed into her.
Jezebel keened and squealed like an animal, thrashed in frantic panic. It wasn't that it hurt. Because it didn't so much anymore, after his relentless, torturous training.
There was nothing but a pervasive stretch and press that shot her into a mental state more than she had ever felt. There was a basic debasement that came with it, one that was terrible and wonderful.
Jezebel sobbed out, convinced that she would never feel release again by that time, and horrified that she was probably going to fail him because of the perfectly degrading way he used her.
"Shh. Breathe and take it."
Breathe! Jezebel sobbed instead, but she gulped in air desperately too, praying for the strength to obey. Please! Master, please have mercy! She was a wild thing around him, more desperate than ever, and she struggled against her cuffs so hard she was shocked she didn't hurt herself.
Perhaps that was why he covered her with his body, and held her wrists in each of his hands.
"Such a beautiful slave. This is why I want you constantly aroused, Pet, to feel this. The way you respond so desperately is like heaven. It's like every part of your body is my own personal toy that you take care of, and keep ready for my pleasure. Listen to me, Pet. Are you listening to me? Answer out loud like a good girl."
There was an intensity in his voice that made her so desperate, and it was the only saving grace that she had.
"Yes, Master, Pet is listening!"
***