A Hard Lesson: Throat Training

Sub-dom | Pain & Pleasure | Touch Her and Die | Possessive | 18+ Submissive academy. Where girls are shaped into perfect submissives and perfect housewives. Except I don't want to be a submissive. I don't want a dominant. Weeks go by where I don't choose a dominant. An 'extraordinary' situation, they call me. The untouchable. In the end, I am forced to take one. Well, one is forced upon me. The most sadistic of them all. One that hasn't taken a submissive for an entire year. He's just here to beat the submissiveness into me. To get me 'ready'. The lines of pain and pleasure start to blur. For the first time in my life, someone is touching me. Someone owns me. This is a dark romance.

"Do you hate me?" He asked, nibbling my ear with his teeth. I couldn't form words. I felt... I didn't know what I was feeling. A minute ago, I was sure I hated him but now that he's so close, so close that I could feel him breathing on my skin, I wasn't sure. "Do you hate me?" He asked again, his voice a low growl in my ear. "I...I..." I tried to form words but ahis lips left my ear and trailed kisses down my neck. “I need words,” he whispered. “Tell me you hate me.” My fingers tightened on his shirt as he continued. “Say you hate me, and I’ll stop right now and walk away.” What? There was a pause, I still hated him but I don't want him to stop.. “Don’t…and I won’t be responsible for what I do next.” Lena Hartwell is a girl who has been bullied all her life for being plus size. After the sudden death of her father, her family falls deep into debt, forcing her to accept the highest paying tutoring job she can find to support her Mom. The job turns out to be tutoring one of her bullies, the school’s hottest quarterback, Jace Dawson and despite hating him, she takes it the job because her family is at risk of losing everything they have left. What happens when the hatred they have for each other slowly turns into something darker, when forced proximity turns every argument into temptation? He is everything she is taught to fear. She is the weakness he was taught to crush. And when one forbidden moment shatters the boundary between hate and desire, will Lena be able to walk away from the boy who might ruin her life?

I have a severe case of logorrhea. Only speaking makes me feel alive. My classmates all call me a freak, but Marvin Britt is the only one willing to listen to me. One day, I bring some homemade soup over to see him, only to catch him holding his junior's hand. "Lexie, your voice is so lovely, unlike my wife at home. She sounds like a squawking duck. It's exhausting." My hands shake so violently that I drop the thermal flask. The commotion angers a nearby madman, who forces a bottle of boiling water down my throat. With my mouth full of blood and blisters, I realize I need proof. I send Marvin—a lawyer—a frantic voice note to accompany me to the police station for evidence. Marvin shoots back a single word—"Noted". Of course. He doesn't even listen to it, as usual. He used to reply to everything I said with voice notes at least a minute long. But we hit the seven-year itch, and he's sick of my endless talking. Leaving the hospital, I stare at my diagnosis of permanent mutism and laugh bitterly. He must be thrilled. His world is finally quiet.

Ever since I was young, I've always been the one made an example of. It's as though I exist solely to teach my older brother, Irwin Blanchard, a lesson. When Irwin spends 50 dollars in an online game, Mom makes me pay off the debt for Irwin so that she can teach him to cherish money. When Irwin gets caught for stealing, Mom forces me to kneel down in front of the store owner and slap myself repeatedly while begging for forgiveness. This is her attempt to teach Irwin to always feel shame and be humble. After Irwin starts junior high, he gets addicted to soft drinks. That's when Mom fills soda bottles with pesticide and places them in the most obvious spots in the living room. When I accidentally drink from a soda bottle, I'm in so much pain and agony that I keep rolling all over the floor. Dad quickly drives me to the hospital that night. On the way there, we are flagged down by a traffic officer, who's there to catch those who drink and drive. Even though Dad has already passed the breathalyzer test, Mom exclaims while laughing, "Your device really is useless! He already had a bottle of beer, and yet it couldn't even detect the alcohol in his breath!" Meanwhile, I feel as though my guts are on fire as I curl up in the backseat. Yet, Mom turns to stare at Irwin. "You see now? This is what you get for drinking!" Too engrossed in nagging Irwin's ear off, Mom fails to notice the fact that my breathing is growing weaker. Mom, are you happy now that your lesson has cost me my life?

I had always been fragile, the kind of kid who could not handle a gust of wind without losing balance and who teared up over the smallest thing. The day my biological parents found me and took me back into their wealthy world, everything had already felt unreal. Then, things got worse. Out of nowhere, an old woman came sprinting down the street and dropped right in front of the Bentley, like she had timed it perfectly. I panicked and completely froze, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dropped down beside her and started crying. However, I overdid it. I cried so hard that blood started streaming from my eyes. The old woman jolted upright like she had seen something horrifying. She shoved 500 dollars into my hands, muttered a string of curses, and ran off without looking back. Just like that, I was back with the Snyder family. The house rose in front of me, all polished stone and perfectly kept lawns, like something out of a magazine. However, the closer I got, the more my nerves kicked in, and that familiar metallic taste crept up my throat again. The so-called heir walked over, smiling like we were supposed to be close. Then, he gave me a light shove. He leaned in, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Stay in your place. Don't start wanting things that were never yours." Right there, in front of everyone, I leaned back and collapsed. I did not move at all. He froze. His face turned red as he grabbed my collar and shook me. "Quit pretending. Get up!" A few seconds passed, then a few more, before he slowly turned his head, his movements stiff. Tiny drops of blood speckled his clothes. His voice trembled. "Mom… Dad… I think…" He swallowed hard. "I think he stopped breathing."

I had always been obedient and compliant. I never dared to disobey others' instructions. The day my wealthy biological parents brought me home, my adoptive brother leaned close to my ear and sneered arrogantly, "The position of the Spencer family's heir belongs to me. If you know what's good for you, get lost on your own." I nodded obediently. Then I turned around and threw myself straight into rush-hour traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. Panicked and trembling, they dragged me back into the car, their faces drained white with terror. My sister's expression darkened as she warned me coldly in my ear, "If you pull another stunt for attention, believe me, I'll throw you right back into the doghouse you came from." I obediently listened. That very night, I locked myself inside a dog crate. My sister froze in complete shock. Gritting her teeth, she yanked me out, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. Later, when my adoptive brother pretended to be sick, my sister forced me to donate blood for him. I obediently took the knife. Without the slightest hesitation, I slashed straight through the artery in my wrist. By the time my parents rushed over, blood had just begun spraying out. They screamed in horror and lunged forward to press against my wound. "Somebody call 911! Now!!!" My sister had gone just as pale. After a long moment of stunned silence, she finally stammered, "Mom, Dad… I only told him to donate a little blood to Eric. I never told him to slit his wrist…" I blinked. My sister wasn't lying. She really hadn't taught me that. It was something the traffickers taught me during the five years my family personally handed me over to them—to "learn obedience."