The Vengeance

Kitana Lure ran her own show until a stupid kid with no license crushed it. Crushed her. Her world went dark the second bone broke. She rebuilt. Steel and blood. Years hunting the girl who stole everything. Found her shaking, unaware, barely remembering the night she played murderer. Now she had Kate Quinn stripped down in black lace. Strapped wrists. Shaking thighs spread open on the mattress. Kitana loomed over the thin body, pressing brutal palms behind bent knees until she folded like paper. Desired what still worked: the bright skin, the tendons, the pulse. Needed to drink it. She kissed down trembling calves. Hungry mouth tasting young thigh like it owed her life itself. Kate didn’t fight. Wanted this... wanted the punishment, the mercy mixed with dirt. Each long wet stroke of Kitana’s tongue over her cunt felt like payment exacted with interest. Kate whimpered beneath her but never said stop. Instead her mouth answered: slick tongue dragged over bunched toes, then pressed flat and shameless against the dancer’s aching arch. Kitana hissed when she heard the saliva-gloss sounds, spreading wider. Hands knotted in Kate’s short hair until soft lips sealed over her swollen clit. She pumped against them, breath thick with need, hips snapping faster until pressure collapsed inward and burst out in ragged, wet shudders over Kate’s chin and tongue. The rest of her revenge was soaked into those sheets, but the hunger in her was nowhere near finished.