Cry for the Hood Moon

Mercy West gave me the power to own them. They trusted me enough to sit there and let me take everything. Elise Graves stood over the chair, watching Mercy’s body tighten as the ropes locked them in. Her cunt got wet the second the straps bit into Mercy’s skin. She reached out, slipped her fingers over Mercy’s tits, then lower, feeling them tense and twitch under the touch. Mercy tried to breathe when the heavy black hood dropped over their head. The world disappeared. All they had left was sound—Elise’s breathing, the drag of leather, the wet slide of fingers circling their clit. Elise pressed harder. Mercy jerked. The ropes held. Elise smiled. She traced the collar around Mercy’s throat, tugged it once, then kept stroking until Mercy’s hips fought the chair for more. Mercy didn’t beg yet. But they would. Elise knew how to make sure of it.