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process, Rose could still feel that her masters were forcing
     her, her extraordinary value as a pick-up—that is, really, as the unwilling concubine
     of a man wealthy enough to afford to buy and keep an unwilling concubine—would be
     destroyed. It happened frequently—perhaps in as many as a third of the cases Leo handled.
     The Institute still got their money, but the concubine almost always left her master
     at the end of the year.
    Really, the volunteers were much easier—they just commanded only a tenth of the price.
    Leo looked at Rose, still hesitating, standing at the end of the bed in the awkward
     posture of a girl with an enormous anal plug firmly implanted. It was going very well,
     but there was a great deal of work to be done.
    “That’s a lovely pussy you have, Rose,” Leo said. “Come let your master feel it on
     his cock. And you should enjoy the feeling of having your hair there while you can.
     Your owner wants it taken off, and we’re going to do that later tonight.”
    That got the reaction he had expected: Rose moved her hand instinctively to her cunt.
     He watched her feel the soft hair there, and know that her fantasy of forced depilation
     would soon be realized. At the thought, he was certain, she made a low moan, and he
     could see her erotic imagination exert its control over her body; she climbed onto
     the bed, wincing as she felt the punisher, but wincing in the passionate way of the
     submissive, whose pain transmutes itself into pleasure.
    She knelt on the bed, now, looking at Leo’s enormous, hard cock, and he could read
     in her expression the play of fantasy that was running through her imagination: all
     the times she had fantasized about being made to take a cock that big. She put her
     right hand down, and then her left, and she was on hands and knees, turning her eyes
     from his cock to his face. Her countenance betrayed the kind of fear that includes
     a wish to be forced to do the frightening thing.
    She was on the edge, and if Leo did his job right, she would ride that edge for a
     very long time. For the moment, one more, simple threat would suffice, he knew. He
     said, “Rose, get that pretty little cunt on your master’s cock right now, or I’m going
     to make you take the biggest part of my anal punisher with no lube, right this instant.”
    Rose closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. Balanced on her left hand, she put
     her right again between her legs, as if she were by herself and in a dream of lust.
     Leo watched the way her fingers moved against her pussy as she came to an understanding
     of what he was saying, and then, as, with her eyes still closed, she turned herself
     around and got ready to swing her left knee across his abdomen to comply with his
     order. The end of Leo’s anal punisher, saucily protruding from her cane-marked backside,
     came into view; the sight made Leo’s cock give a little leap of anticipation.
    “Rose,” Leo said quietly, “did your ex-husband ever truly fuck you?”
    She stopped the movement of the knee she was about to lift off the comforter. She
     opened her eyes, and looked into his.
    “I mean,” Leo continued, “I know you made love, but fucking and making love are different
     things. And one thing we know about you, Rose, is that you need fucking.”
    “No… he… oh my… Yes, Master…” Rose sobbed, and in an awkward series of movements of
     her hands and legs, turned herself, and got over Leo’s thighs, the way he had ordered
     her to. The punisher was too close to his right hand to resist giving it a tiny little
     shake to remind her that she was still being disciplined, and she yelped very satisfactorily
     when she felt how he could command her thus so easily.
    Then her knee brushed his cock, lightly, and she seemed to shudder all over at the
     contact. It would not be long, Leo thought, before she knew his cock so well that
     to touch it with her knee would seem to her a profanation not of her but of