LESBIAN BALL GAG CONFRONTATION

Ashley grabs Mila by the hair, pins her against the wall. Her fingers force the black rubber between Mila’s teeth. The buckle snaps tight at the nape of the neck. Mila’s lips stretch around the ball, spit already slicking the corners of her mouth. She tests it once, twice, teeth clicking, nothing but a wet choke getting through. Ashley steps back. The crop hangs from her wrist like a promise. One crack across the thigh leaves a clean red line. Mila jerks, breath snagging. Another stripe, higher, the leather whistling. Each strike lands harder, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Mila’s knees buckle but she stays upright, back arched, eyes locked on Ashley. Ashley circles. She tilts Mila’s chin up with the crop’s tip, then drags it down between her breasts, lower, until it rests against the heat between her legs. Mila’s thighs tremble. Ashley presses in, rubbing the leather across the swollen clit, slow, deliberate, until Mila’s hips chase the pressure on their own. The gag glistens, soaked. Every moan comes out broken, half-swallowed. Ashley smiles, tight, satisfied. She raises the crop again. Mila braces. Another wet sound fills the room, and another red stripe blooms across pale skin.