Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

I pointed out to Zarina that the main benefit of her hands being freed from time to time was that I expected a higher level of sexual performance and for her to set better records, especially when oral was her focus. I made it clear that being allowed to use even one of her hands was a privilege. Zarina tried to comply and her hands worked my sensitive parts in panicked motions, but she was mostly fumbling around, throwing every trick she could think of at the proverbial wall and hoping enough would stick. To me it was a beautiful process: Zarina discovering what I liked and how to detect what I wanted in the particular moment, all through prolonged painful trial and error.

Now that Zarina could use her hands and move around to a limited degree, I strictly enforced the rule that she had to swallow all of my cum. The implied task dawned on her quickly as I restated the basic rule the next time I came inside her pussy. She hurriedly realized what I wanted, and scooped my cum out of her pussy with a finger. She was indeed a fast study. I appreciated that from the start. But in her fright she was moving too quickly and did not do a thorough job. I frequently probed her pussy and rectum after rape for traces of cum, by sticking my cock back in after she had sucked it supposedly clean, or sometimes ordering her to shove her middle finger inside and then show it to me, whichever was longer at that moment. If Zarina came up with any drops of semen, then, naturally, she was punished. The rule quickly became a habit for her.

With being comparatively free came a new standard in Zarina habitually keeping her mouth on my cock. Between rape and torture setups, as I walked around, I trained Zarina to remain bent forward and strive to retain my cock in her mouth as she stumbled backwards or side to side in step. I was at my most flaccid during these periods when I was moving to do and focus something else, so there was not much length for Zarina to hold on to between her lips. At the outset, Zarina tried to hold on to my shaft or my hips and buttocks. But if I felt that that force of her hands were impeding my motion or in anyway uncomfortable, I would lock her wrists behind her back.

To teach her how to walk again, I kept some kind of nefarious training aid in one hand, ready to demonstrate the dangers of losing contact with my sensitive parts. It was cumbersome for both of us at the start, but the pleasure for me and pain for her were worth it to me. As Zarina became more coordinated in maneuvering backwards in sync with my pace, I challenged her by leaving her wrists unlocked and ordering her to keep her hands off me and resist the reflex to steady herself. Once Zarina could consistently perform this circus trick throughout the day, I sometimes increased the difficulty by blindfolding her with the sleeping mask or fastening her ankles to a wide spreader bar. 

Another rule I introduced at the start of Zarina’s training was limiting her use of lubricants to only what her body could produce. I consider myself to be a gentleman and I have always kept coconut oil around my other bedrooms for lady friends. That is, after we had come to trust each other, get tested, and dispense with condoms. Friction burns for me too. But I make my sex slaves earn their lubricant. 

In the first few weeks I had sometimes applied commercial silicone or natural oil lubricants on my own, especially when raping her ass, when I was concerned about feeling too much friction. But I found that her saliva and the mucus from the back of her throat was plenty effective, even for anal sex, though it did dry out quickly. Fortunately, Zarina’s ring gag and hampered ability to shut her jaw made her drool constantly and copiously, so it did not take long for her to slobber up my cock again.

It also made for another fun game to push Zarina’s sexual abilities. I would routinely set the wall timer for a minute or less to get her pussy or asshole lubed up enough for a pleasant ride. I mockingly pointed out how generous I was being and directed her to thank me for the ‘mercy.’ At first, Zarina could only repeat the phrases through tears and often choked up trying to spit them out. Sure I faulted her tepid theatrics, but knew she needed more such conditioning to play the slut during sex.

If I judged that Zarina’s lubrication efforts had been insufficient, then in due course I got to enjoy punishing her. On rare occasions I felt not just sadistic, but overconfident that my cock could take raping her almost dry and raw. She learned too that she had to show gratitude for what a luxury it was to lubricate with her own secretions. Keeping those memories fresh was enough to get her to instantly throw herself into gagging on my cock and trying to force it in deep every time. It also evaporated any hangups or hesitations she had about pleasuring herself if a hand could reach or, failing that, finding the nearest thing to grind her clit against. Zarina still hated every second of it, but she did what she had to lessen her future suffering.

There was a limit to how much I let Zarina touch herself. Though I concluded she might never have an orgasm again during sex, I wanted to keep her as horny as possible throughout the day. Ergo, I forbade her from masturbating to completion. This was one the few rules that did not seem to bother Zarina much, for the time being. She was far too downcast to ever enjoy intercourse or any kind of sexual stimulation and, if anything, was struggling with being able to get herself aroused enough before I violated her.

I was building a life where if Zarina wanted to climax, it would have to be while she was taking my dick. Programmed by biology, every man loves the feeling of a vagina contracting as a woman achieves orgasm. That said, I am honest about my own skills as a man, and knew that it was impossible to make Zarina come every time I raped her. So I told her not to bother faking it, and to work on developing her kegels and pompoir skills instead.