Mommy's Gift: Part Three

Blunt cracks the whip until Riley earns the strap and the new name. Now they descend together—Mommy and Daddy—into the dim basement where Robin kneels behind bars. Leather creaks with every step. Blunt raps the bars. Robin’s eyes snap up, hungry. "Please," the voice behind the mesh is hoarse already. They want out. They want in. They want everything. Boots stop inches from eager fingers. Robin presses their face to the steel and licks cold metal, desperate for the smell of hide and sweat. Blunt nods. The door swings open. Riley steps in first, sole planted on Robin’s tongue, grinding grit across taste buds. Blunt follows, crop hissing through air, laying lines across bare thighs while Robin counts—eleven, twelve—each number cracking into a moan. When the count stumbles, a cock is shoved past their lips, rubber thick and unforgiving, saliva stringing from chin to shaft. Riley fucks the open mouth until Robin gags wet and loud; Blunt takes the rear, driving another strap-on straight into soaked cunt. The rhythm slams Robin between them, drool running down their chest, hips jerking, every thrust answered with another broken plea. When they’re spent, the cage door clangs shut again. Upstairs, leather and laughter fade, leaving Robin locked in the dark, trembling, counting strokes that still burn.