The Pedagogical Tool by Ganainm

The first thing I thought of when I opened my eyes was coffee.   The second was the feeling of a whip biting into the flesh of my back.  I shook the thought off as an improbable dream and tried to rise to my feet.  The searing pain across my shoulder was enough to convince me that I hadn’t been dreaming.  Add to that the fact that I was bound, spread-eagle to a horizontal surface covered in what felt like leather, and I knew I was in hot water.
She and her friend were sitting at the bar seeming to survey the room, like a pair of predators looking for prey.  She had dark red hair that spilled over her shoulders in an seductive cascade, her friend was blond, and her eyes darted around the room hungrily.
I had just come in for a drink on my way back from a late meeting.  My plan was to toss back a bourbon, go back to the room, shower and change and then head out in search of a steakhouse.    I sat at the bar some distance away from the two women, who seemed to be paying no attention to me at all and signaled the bartender.    His movement toward me attracted the eye of the two women who glanced my way briefly, then at each other.  The bartender paused on his way to me to fill their drinks from a martini shaker he’d been holding.  The red-head spoke a few words to him and he came and took my order.
I made short work of the bourbon and threw a few bills on the bar to pay for the drink.  As I did so, I noticed that the two women were no longer at the bar.  I guessed that they had found their victim, poor fellow.  I chuckled at the thought
I got into the elevator and pressed the button for my floor. The doors closed and I began to feel a bit light-headed.  I thought it was the high-speed elevator at first, but when the doors opened on my floor I staggered out into the hall and fished for my key, thinking I’d lie down for a while before going out.  I slipped the electronic key into the slot and fell forward into the room.  As the clouds gathered in my head, I felt hands on me, dragging me into the room and I knew suddenly that someone had been waiting for me inside.
And now, here I was…
And there they were, watching me come to consciousness.  They had identical smirks of superiority on their faces as they observed me discovering my predicament.  They stood close together, their bodies touching sensuously.  They were dressed in black revealing tops with acres of cleavage an bare midriffs descending to tight, shiny, black, form-fitting latex pants.  They began to move toward me and I heard the click of their heels on the hardwood floor.
One on either side of my helpless body they eased themselves along the length of me, their hands sliding along my inner thighs, roughly over my balls and cock and up over my belly to my chest, where they took a moment to pinch my nipples and laugh as I winced.
They leaned over until their faces were inches from my own.

The red-head spoke first, but not to me.
“See, Monica, we have someone for you to train on.  I’ll teach you how to make him feel pain without passing out.  You can program him to please you and make him your slave.”
I tried to protest but she slammed her hand over my mouth before I could utter a word.
“Rule one:  Don’t let him speak.”
Monica smiled at her companion.  “I think I can fix that, Rae, “she said, and walked away.  Moments later she returned and I felt her jam a sort of ball into my mouth.  It was attached to straps which she then fastened around the back of my head, pulling them very tightly.
“Now, boy,” said Monica, “What were you saying?”
Both women burst into wicked laughter.
I could see myself through their eyes for a moment, wide-eyed, gasping and writhing against my bonds.   I’m sure they enjoyed it.