Lesson Zero, A4F version

 [Script offer] [M4F] [A4F] Lesson Zero [RAPE] [Mdom] mild [petplay] [assassin] [death threats][gunplay][gunfucking][degradation]

In this script, someone has seen something she wasn't supposed to, and is about to get an offer she can't refuse. Assassins! Dog metaphors! Poor firearm safety! This got long, friends, and the sex is a small percentage, but damn, I wrote all these words, I'm going to post it. Hopefully it'll be fun to read, anyway! Shoutout to u/SethTheSith for picking a gun for me, because I truly know fuck all about guns.



[There's some sound effects in this, but I think what's happening is pretty clear without them, if you don't feel like it. I imagine this narrator as fairly calm and confident; they're not unhinged, they're at work]

Alright, bag off.

Yeah, little bright in here.

[Finger snapping]

No, focus up, none of that shit's important, it's just a warehouse. Eyes on me. We're all alone, nothing in here can help you. I'm your hope of heaven, right now, I'm the only thing in your life that matters.

Stop it. Hush. I'm gonna talk, you're gonna listen. You saw what I did to Richardson, I don't have any issues doing the same to you. That's it. Keep being smart.

So this is my problem. You weren't meant to be in that alley. You weren't meant to see that. That was Uncle Sam's very personal, very private business you got a peak at, and he's sensitive about his reputation. Empires can be surprisingly touchy. Nice girls like you aren't supposed to see them with their hands all dirty. It embarrasses them.

[...I realize, as I'm typing, this presupposes an American narrator. Whatever, we outsource everything anyway. If you wanted to edit that paragraph to be more in line with your own nationality, though, go for it.]

Mmm. I wish I could believe that. But three can keep a secret when two of them are dead, you know. Poor Richardson's bought the farm, but I'm still standing, and that leaves... you. You. What do I do with you?

You've seen something you shouldn't, and I can't let you go. Sh, shh. I can't. I have a reputation to uphold. You're a very pretty little problem, I'll give you that. I wish we'd met under nicer circumstances. But we play the hand we're dealt.

Hush, now. Killing you is only one of my options. Don't make it an attractive one by whining at me.

The thing is, I almost killed you in that alley--it would have even been good for me, an unrelated corpse would make what happened to Richardson look more like a random act of violence--but then I got a good look at you. While you were, hah, trying to chew your way to freedom. I got a look at you and I wondered if fate put you in my way.

Well, your face, and the way you were dressed... no one's looking after you, are they? No one's waiting for you to come home. No, don't lie. Watching people is part of my job. You aren't anyone's precious girl. Did you run away? Oh, aged out of the system, even better. Eighteen? Nineteen? Nineteen. Good. I don't care to do business with children.

What was I saying. Yes. I looked at you, and I saw a pretty thing with no leash around her neck. A pretty thing that fought me... alright, not very well, but passionately, at least. You never froze. Not half so many tears as I expected. I called you a nice girl, but you aren't, are you? You're the kind of girl who tries to bite a person's ear off. You're not the kind of girl who gets rescued, and you know it.

See, the way you don't answer, the way you try to figure out how to be what I want--I like that. I'll help you. Nice girls don't survive in my line of work.

Useful girls do. Do you want to be useful?

[Little laugh]

Strong self preservation instincts, I see. Not even going to ask what useful means?

I'll tell you anyway. "Useful" means there are places a pretty woman can go that a big nasty person like me can't. Not even in my good shoes. There are people who will talk in a cute girl's ear. People who wouldn't ever believe you were dangerous. There are dark little holes in the world where you'll fit, and I won't. Lately I've been thinking my job would be easier if I had a pretty little bait fish on my string.

And here you are. No family, and a hell of a lot of motivation to please me.

Don't go promising me your soul yet, girl. The flip side of this is, you're nineteen, and I'm guessing you're pig fucking ignorant of anything worthwhile. You speak any other languages? Yeah? How much? Not good enough. I already know you can't fight. How long can you hold your breath? Can you pick a lock, at least? Fuck me, can you even drive stick?

[sigh]

Making you into something I can use is going to take time, and energy, and money, and frankly, I'm not sure you'll be worth it. I mean, I can't make this decision just based on you having good timing, can I? Look at you. You're street trash. I could get three of you at the nearest methadone clinic.

That's nice, and I'll take you up on it sometime, but do you think I have trouble getting sex? Look at me. I doubt you're even that good at it. A good little slut could find ways to make some money, which you clearly haven't been doing.

No, I don't think you have anything useful in that head of yours, or between those legs. Your best hope is that you can convince me that making you into something worth your feed won't be a waste of my time.

I'm so glad you asked! Right now, see, you're like a puppy. You don't know anything and you aren't good for anything except looking cute while I play with you. Maybe one day you'll be a good dog, but for now... You have to prove to me that you're going to be trainable.

[gentle sort of tone, very much as if addressing a small dog:]

Can you do that for me, puppy? Can you be a smart girl and do every little thing I want, as soon as I want it? Because if you run from me--if you ever try to have any pride or control--I will take this knife right here and I will tear you open like a bag of fucking chips. And because you made me waste my time, it won't be quick.

Oh, I hope so, puppy, because right now, you are so very disposable. The only way you make it out of this warehouse is by convincing me a dirty little mutt like you is worth training.

Alright. We're going to play a game, now. You aren't going to like it, and that's the point. Convince me you can swallow as much pain and humiliation as it takes to make an agent out of trash like you. This is your first lesson.

[Rattling of cuffs being unlocked]

That's a good puppy. You didn't move off the chair. No chasing the rabbits until I give the order, hmm?

[Laughter]

You see that bag over there? Bring it to me.

[pleasantly:]

I see you thinking. Are you thinking puppies don't walk on their hind legs? I hope so. If you were thinking about anything other than the best way to obey me, you need to kill that thought in the cradle.

Do puppies have -hands-?

That's it. Drag it over here in your teeth, just like that. Open it up.

Lots of nice shiny toys in there, aren't there?

There's a school of thought that says to start your trainees on weapons. The idea is that an untrained idiot who has a knife is still safer than an untrained idiot without one. The threat of the weapon might even be enough to make their opponent back down.

[pause]

Of course, the other school of thought says that if an untrained idiot with a knife meets someone better than they are, that knife is nothing but a present they brought for the bigger fish. But we aren't going to play with knives today, right? We agreed that wasn't going to be necessary?

[I imagine them crouching down and rustling through the bag and unlatching a case at this point, so if you wanted to add some rustling and clinking here, you could]

Here we are. This is what we're going to be playing with, today.

Did you know, puppy, that female police officers kill more people than male ones? By percentage, anyway. People don't take them seriously, they keep pushing their luck, and then, bang. Their intestines get a viewing window. It's going to be the same for you. Now, this is one of my favorite 1911s. It's a Nighthawk AAC Recon, and it...

[trailing off. Is this pause because the writer doesn't fucking know anything about guns and did not understand the shit she googled? You're not wrong. If you do know something and want to keep talking about the gun, that'd be hot.]

...I might as well be speaking fucking Punjabi right now. You look like a goldfish. You really don't know anything useful, do you? It's a fucking pistol, puppy. It's a magic wand that makes my problems go away.

Take your clothes off. All of them.

Good puppy. Put them on the ground and lay on them. Don't cringe, like you aren't already filthy. Legs apart.

Don't get excited, puppy, you haven't had your check ups yet. You're not getting anything of mine near that hole until the vet gives you a clean bill of health. This is still just the audition.

Eyes on me. Mmm. I know it's cold, and your thighs are sensitive, but you can't stop me from doing whatever I want with it, so watching isn't gonna do you any good. Legs a little wider, puppy, give me room to work.

Now, this is the first rule: a gun is always loaded. I don't care if you just watched me unload it. I don't care if you did it yourself. Every gun you see, you assume it's loaded. Or, in this case, every gun you feel tracing your sweet little lips. Which leads to two:

Never point a gun at something you aren't willing to kill. Or at least blow a massive fucking hole in. Relax. Relax, you can take it, it'll fit. If you're a virgin, I'll eat my fucking hat. It's going in even if you don't relax, so really, just make things easy for yourself. That's it. The trigger pull is only three and a half pounds, puppy, you don't want to make me get forceful.

Now, don't assume a bullet stops at a wall, either--you point a gun at an object, you think about everything and everyone that might be behind it. Nice and still, puppy, just like that. Control your body. You can't control anything else, all you can do is try not to jostle my hand.

Now three:

You feel that, bumping against you when I move it? That's the trigger guard. You keep your finger out of it until you're ready to fire. Lay it along the barrel. If you flinch--and stupid puppies like you do flinch--you clench your hand, bam. You redecorate the fucking room. Tell me the rules, puppy. Recite them back to me.

[irritably:]

No. That's the second rule. Tell me the first. Worse things than this are going to happen to you, puppy, if you can't use that empty fucking head when you're scared, or when someone's playing with your cunt, you are not useful to me. Only useful girls are walking out of here tonight, so tell me the first fucking rule.

That's it. Keep going. Tell me the rest. I'm going to go faster now.

Mmm. Look at you, opening up for me. I guess our next lesson is going to be cleaning this off. What did I say this gun was called?

Oh, good girl. That's right. If I tell you something, you treat it like the unedited word of God. My words are your fucking catechism. Isn't that right?

Tilt your hips up. Fuck my gun. Convince me it's the best cock that's ever used this hole. All you want in the world is for this gun to fill your cunt. I know you can play the whiny little victim, but I have no use for a dog with only one trick. Convince me you love it, puppy.

[pause]

That sounds more tearful than needy, but we'll work on it. Rub your clit. I'm not going to fucking do it, my gloves are in the car. Just like that.

Oh, I am going to make you worthwhile, puppy, I'm going to make you so useful and good. You're all mine, now. Your family, your whole society threw you away, but now you're mine, and I'm going to teach you. I'm going to pull you apart, little puppy, and kill everything in you that I can't use.

Faster. Keep moving your hips. Wag that tail, puppy. You're going to come on my gun, and if I think you faked it, I'm going to break rule number three, and we'll try this again. Yeah, just like that. On floor of this dirty, cold warehouse, my gun buried in your cunt, you're going to come for your new owner.

Oh, puppy, I can't wait to get started. It's going to hurt, but when it's done, you're going to be so good for me. So obedient. Don't you want to be worth something? I doubt you've ever been good enough for anyone. Poor, barely educated, half-feral trash. You won't have a choice but to be good enough for me, puppy, because I'm not going to stop until you're either perfect or dead.

Gonna come for me? Don't bite your lips, I want to hear it. I want to hear my little puppy whine for her treats. That's it. Desperate little mutt, coming all over the thing that could kill her. Give it to me. Give me everything. Come for me, puppy, come all over this gun.

Good puppy. Good, good puppy.

Mmm, the sight scraped you up a little down here. Didn't stop you from dripping all over your little puppy pad, though, did it? That's good to know. Sit up.

This isn't how you clean a pistol, but... you'll indulge me, I'm sure. Lick it clean. Just like that.

Alright. That's enough. Get your shit together. Get dressed.

Yes, puppy, you passed. Get the bag. Give me the case for this. I'll show you the right way to clean it when we get to the hotel, but we need to be out of this city in an hour, and we're cutting it close as it is, so I'll just do it for now...

What? Absolutely fucking not. No one in this city will ever see your face again. The nasty little piece of street trash I picked up in that alley is dead, you understand me? She died the second you got in my car. She's gone. You aren't her.

-You- are my good little puppy. Now heel, puppy. It's time to go.