Jason circled Stella, his steps deliberate, the leash taut in his grip, its black strap pulling gently at the silver ring on her collar.
She knelt in the center of the room, head bowed, her heavy breasts swaying slightly, nipples caught in the sharp bite of metal clamps, flushed a deep, needy pink.
Her breaths came quick through her nose, muffled by the ball gag, her blindfolded world reduced to the pulse of her own body—cuffed, collared, trembling, utterly at his mercy.
She was his to unravel.
He snapped the riding crop once—crack—the sound slicing the air just beside her ear.
She flinched, a soft whimper vibrating through the gag, her back arching, thighs quivering as the echo lingered.
A flush crept across her skin, her body betraying its hunger, a silent plea for more.
Jason's lips curled into a slow, predatory smile, his cock straining against his jeans, hard and insistent.
He felt the weight of her submission, the power she'd handed him, and it set his blood on fire.
"You don't speak tonight," he murmured, his voice low, a velvet blade. "You don't ask. You take what I give you."
He stepped behind her, the crop's leather tip grazing the curve of her ass, slow and deliberate, tracing the soft swell of her flesh.
Her skin prickled under the touch, goosebumps rising as he dragged it lower, teasing the sensitive crease where thigh met hip.
He paused, letting her feel the anticipation, the threat of the crop's bite.
Then—crack. The strike landed sharp on her cheek, not brutal but precise, a sting that bloomed into a warm red welt.
She gasped into the gag, her body lurching forward, knees parting instinctively, her arousal glistening between her thighs.
Jason crouched beside her, his breath hot against her ear, his palm soothing the fresh mark, fingers kneading the tender flesh.
"You're already dripping," he whispered, his voice dark and thick with approval. "This is what you need, isn't it? To be broken down. To be nothing but mine."
Her muffled moan was raw, desperate, her body trembling under his words, her bound hands flexing uselessly in the cuffs.
He rose, circling to her front, the leash still taut in his hand. He tugged it gently, forcing her chin up, her blindfolded face tilting toward him.
Her lips, stretched around the gag, glistened with drool, a thin trail slipping down her chin, pooling on her clamped breasts.
He leaned in, letting his spit fall deliberately onto her cheek, watching it slide down her flushed skin.
She shuddered at the degradation, her body jerking slightly, a muffled whine rising from her throat, equal parts shame and want.
He didn't touch her with his cock—not yet.
Instead, he traced the crop along her collarbone, slow and teasing, letting the leather kiss her skin, dragging it down the valley between her breasts, pausing to nudge the clamps.
She gasped, her body twitching, the sharp tug on her nipples sending a jolt through her.
He lingered there, circling one swollen peak with the crop's tip, watching her squirm, her breaths coming faster, more ragged.
"You're so fucking desperate for this," he murmured, his voice a low growl.
"Look at you—kneeling, gagged, clamped, dripping like a slut who can't get enough."
Her moan was louder now, her head tilting back, offering herself to his words, his control.
He tugged the leash again, sharper this time, pulling her forward until her knees scraped the floor, her body swaying, caught between submission and the fire burning through her.
He stepped back, letting the tension build, the silence heavy with her muffled breaths.
"Get up," he ordered, his voice firm, unyielding. "On the bed. Now."
Her movements were shaky, legs trembling as she rose, the leash guiding her like a tether.
He led her to the mattress, bending her forward, her face pressed into the sheets, her ass raised high, thighs spread wide.
The welts on her skin glowed faintly under the dim light, her pussy glistening, a slick invitation that made his cock throb painfully in his jeans.
"Fucking soaked," he said, his voice low, almost reverent, as he traced a single finger along her inner thigh, stopping just short of her heat.
She whimpered, her hips shifting, chasing his touch. "You're begging for it without saying a word."
He didn't give it to her yet.
Instead, he picked up the crop again, letting it hover over her skin, the anticipation a torment of its own.
Crack.
The leather kissed her thigh, a sharp sting that drew a muffled cry from her gag.
Crack.
Another, on the other thigh, her body shuddering, her arousal dripping onto the sheets.
He paused, letting her feel the burn, the ache, the desperate need coiling tighter with every second he made her wait.