Breaking Abigail by Emily Tilton

one?”
    “Oh, God… I… thank you, master. Just please… please don’t spank me again.”
    “What are you thanking me for?” Hans said, letting the authority seep back into his voice. “You must say it, Abigail.”
    “I can’t,” Abigail wailed. “Please… please, master… I just wasn’t raised that way. Those words… They just make me feel strange.”
    “That feeling,” Hans said, “is a feeling that belongs to me now, Abigail. I am going to make you feel it whenever I want. Let me ask you again: do you need another spanking?”
    “No! I… Thank you… Thank you, master…” Her voice trailed off. Hans withdrew his satisfied cock from her cunt, and rose enough so that he could move backward on the bed, to prepare to spank her.
    “No!” Abigail wailed. “Oh, please… Thank you for fucking me! Thank you for fucking me, master!”
    “You are very welcome,” Hans said levelly, “but I very much hope that next time you will remember to thank me properly as soon as I am done with you.”

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    Sitting in the control room, Anne-Marie smiled. She turned to Jean, who was sitting next to her at the raised producer’s table in the back of the room, so they could watch the assessor team in front of them and the monitors that the assessors were watching. “Was the thanking Hans’ own idea?” she asked Jean. She spoke in English, as they agreed they always would in the control room, so that the operations of the Institute would always be transparent to the entire team they had assembled.
    “Oh, yes,” Jean said. “Or, rather, it came out of his answer to the narrative question, in the free association that always happens on such responses. I believe he was telling me about his fantasy of the ideal fuck. He expressed the idea that his concubine would make a statement of gratitude to him, and I encouraged him to incorporate that into his mastery of Abigail from the beginning. It worked, no?”
    “But of course,” Anne-Marie replied. “Anything that came from that dominant mind, and then was reflected in your own dominant mind, Jean, could not fail, as far as I can imagine.”
    They returned their attention to the monitors. Hans had arranged Abigail on her side now, and he was behind her on his side, holding her. One monitor had a close-up of Abigail’s face. She was crying, softly. Hans stroked her shoulder and spoke gently to her. “Don’t worry, Abigail, it was right, and good, to feel what you felt.”
    “Perfect,” Jean said. “Perfect, no?” He turned to Anne-Marie.
    “You gave him that line?”
    “Of course. It took a while for Hans to grasp what I told him about the reason she would cry from time to time. But when it sank in, he seemed to understand the essence of how to respond very quickly. And certainly it is very flattering to a dominant ego to know that he awakens desires in his concubine that she finds overwhelming.”
    Anne-Marie laughed. “Through no fault of his own, of course.”
    “Of course,” Jean replied, chuckling. “But I hope you will forgive me for not having impressed that particular point upon him. Besides, I’ve never met a dominant who was not happy to use his sub’s mental construct to his own pleasure. Lucky the few who actually are rich and powerful and dominant. They stand some chance of keeping their subs overwhelmed.”
    That made Abigail think of poor Mark LeMarchand, who must have found the sight of his girl being deflowered by another very painful. “Brian is observing Mark in room two?” she asked Jean. “How did he do during the fuck?”
    Jean had a special computer linkup with Brian, down the hall in the second, smaller control room they had set up specifically to observe Mark’s reactions. He said, “Brian thinks Mark has broken through. He seems to have done much better watching Hans deflower Abigail than he did with Ian caning her.”
    Down below them, Claire, one of the assessors, called out, “Start.” Anne-Marie