Rude Awakening

Goddess Starla yanks the covers off. Ava’s eyes snap open. Starla’s fist knots blonde hair and drags her upright. A crop cracks across bare thighs. Ava gasps. The sharp sting cuts through sleep. Starla’s boot presses Ava flat to the mattress, sole pinning her chest. She straddles that pale body, cold leather brushing hot skin. The crop traces Ava’s ribs then snaps down again. Each stroke lands harder. Starla’s grip tightens in that golden hair, twisting Ava’s head so their eyes lock. Ava’s mouth opens—half protest, half plea. Starla silences it with a bruising kiss. Her free hand yanks Ava’s wrists above her head, holds them there with one strong palm. The crop flicks her nipples raw. Ava arches, caught between pain and hunger. Starla pushes two fingers inside, finds her already slick. She works fast, no mercy, thumb grinding Ava’s clit with every thrust. Ava’s thighs tremble around the leather boot. Starla leans in, breath hot on her ear. "You’re mine right now." Ava whimpers yes. Starla pulls out, flips her onto all fours, crop lashing across her ass. She rides the smaller woman like she owns every inch. Skin slaps skin. Sweat drips. The rhythm turns brutal. Ava claws the sheets, body jerking with each stroke until her voice breaks on a raw scream. Starla rides the quake, pace never slowing, until she shudders and clamps down hard. The room falls quiet except for ragged breathing. Ava lies trembling under the boot. Starla’s fingers stroke through sweat-damp hair once, almost tender, then push her face back into the pillow. Scene over. Lights still low.