May The Lord Forgive You

Christina shoved Zazy face-down, pins those wrists above her head with one hand, and spreads her wide with the other. She works slow, then cruel. Every time Zazy bucks or whimpers, Christina only presses harder, turning her squirming into another wet stain on the sheets. Zazy can't hide how much she likes it: the orders, the cuffs, the sting of the crop. Every slap, every command, she pushes back for more like a bitch in heat. Christina takes her mouth, her cunt, and when she decides it's time, Zazy begs to be fucked until she can't talk. They feed off each other, ugly and perfect—mistress feeding off need, sub choking on it, both greedy until there's nothing left to give.