Broken in Beautiful: The Reset Ritual pt.2

June 19

The Training Begins

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t flinch when his fingers finally wrapped around my hair, yanking my head back.

“Eyes up,” he commanded coldly.

My gaze met his. There was no kindness in his eyes, only control. That beautiful, terrifying control that carved through me with precision.

“You want to tell me again why I had to ask what was wrong?” His voice was calm. Controlled. But each syllable sliced deeper than if he’d shouted.

“I was worried...” I started, but the sentence withered in my throat.

His grip tightened, jerking my head farther back.

“You chose to keep your mouth shut. Just like you’re choosing to hide behind excuses now.”

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

“Nothing?” he asked, tone sharpening. “You’re not stupid. You knew what you were doing.”

“I...I didn’t mean to..” I whispered, the words cracking under the weight between us.

“You like pretending you’ve got it all handled, don’t you?” He mocked, my skin heating from the tone.“Until it all falls apart, and suddenly I’m supposed to put you back together.”

Before I could answer, his palm struck my cheek. Sharp, but not cruel, just jarring enough that I paused to watch him.

He took a slow and measured breath, exhaling a low whistle. Like the restraint tasted bitter on his tongue.

Then his hand followed the line of my jaw, grazing the heat he’d left there. His voice dropped, quiet but heavy. “You don’t get to shut me out like I’m just some stranger you’re afraid of burdening.”

I swallowed hard, the shame already flooding in. I had shut him out. Not because I didn’t trust him, but because the truth felt heavier than it should have. Because I didn’t want him to see the the very real ways I could come apart.

I dropped my eyes, the silence between us suddenly louder than anything I could say.

He stepped away, giving space, and cleared his throat. “Stand, take off your dress, fold it, and kneel.”

I complied, the task giving me a small comfort. I shivered, my nipples peaking at a sudden chill.

He moved then, crossing the foyer into the open space of the house. I couldn't see him, but I could hear him. The clink of glass, ice tumbling into it, and the sound of drink being poured.

I didn't move. I wanted to look. I wanted to see if he was watching me, or if he'd forgotten me there entirely. But I knew better.

My body trembled as I waited, the floor cool under my knees. The air in the home felt too quiet and calm. It set my nerves thrumming.

Then came his voice, low, calm, and absolutely unhurried.

“Crawl.”

I clenched my fist as heat licked up my spine, and began to crawl naked across the ground. My body was exposed, my thighs slick, and my tits swinging about. My body was warm, and my pussy achy. It was all too much, yet not enough.

Each crawl forward felt louder than the last, my body was betraying me with the wet sound of my thighs dragging, the slight hitch of breath in my chest. The house felt enormous. Endless, even. My hands landed with soft thuds against the carpet, finally a break in hardness.

I looked up to see him seated in his leather armchair now, bathed in soft light, and angled to see the entirety of his possessions; Watching me degrade myself with silent, perfect focus.

On the table beside him I noticed a series of tools that sent sweat down my back, but one set caught my attention. Neatly placed on top of the pile, was a folded leather collar, a length of chain, and a small black bag I didn't recognize.

My breath caught, he had been planning this before I even arrived, and that did something to me.

Nervousness twisted low in my belly, curling tight around something shameful and desperate.

When I finally reached him, my body bowed low between his legs. I didn't dare rise.

He set his glass down and leaned forward, making us eye level.

“I shouldn't have to put you back together,” he murmured, “when you never gave me permission to take you apart.”

I swallowed thickly, as he stood then, releasing his cock from his pants.

“Open.” He commanded coldly.

My lips parted, breath catching in my throat. He didn't waste time teasing. He shoved his cock deep past my lips until I gagged, my hands instinctively coming up to steady myself.

He pulled out and slapped my face, hard. The sting bloomed instantly, stealing my breath, before he shoved himself back down my throat.

“You take what you’re given,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not what you think you deserve.”

I nodded as best I could around his thickness.

He grunted and held me still for a few seconds, feeling my throat clench and my lips stretch around him. Then he pulled back and shoved in again.

Another slap. Sharper.

“You were silent all week. Let's hear those pretty little noises now.” he said gruffly, thrusting deeper, forcing tears from my eyes. My saliva pooled fast, dribbling down my chin and neck.

“You can cry when you suck cock,” he taunted. “But you can’t reach out when you’re drowning in your own head?”

He pulled back again, his cock slick from my spit. Then slapped me on both sides quickly, watching while I coughed and took in air.

My cheeks stung, my knees ached, and my cunt throbbed. He continued to

“Say it,” he growled. Pulling me on and off his cock.

I gasped. “I’m sorry.”

Another slap, his voice flat. “That's enough. Say what you’re sorry for.”

“I’m sorry for shutting you out. For lying. For forgetting I’m yours.” I whimpered pathetically.

He grabbed me by the throat, not hard, but firm, and ***d me to stare at him.

“You want to be punished for that, Pet?” he asked, cocking his head inquisitively.

My lips parted again, tongue extending. I didn’t speak, I just nodded as he filled my mouth once more.

He fucked my face harder this time. Not cruel for cruelty’s sake, but to remind me. Every thrust was a reclamation, every slap a punctuation. You belong to me, you will not hide from me again.

“Messy little thing,” he grunted, watching my drool spill down my chin. “Look at you. Taking me like it’s the only way you know how to beg.”

I moaned around his cock, creating vibrations that tickled as he thrust.

He let out a rough groan, “That's it, Pet. That’s the sound of a slut learning her place again.”