The Bondage Virgin

Tiffany Star, all of nineteen and fresh to the game, steps into something she’s only dared to imagine. The rope bites before she can catch her breath—Derrick’s knots lock her wrists high, her ankles wide. She learns the hard way how cotton can bruise. He strips her bare with slow, sure hands, each button, each zipper, another layer of control he takes. The first slap lands across her ass and the sound cracks in the room like a secret finally told. She gasps. The second leaves heat. The third makes her push back for more. He presses her face into the mattress, lips open, tongue working him until her throat learns its new limits. Spit trails down her chin when he yanks her up by the hair and flips her. Face down, ass up, rope creaking with every shift, she feels the head of his cock nudge where she’s never let anyone. He works in slow, then deeper, until she’s stretched around him, the burn blooming into something hotter. Every thrust slams the ropes tighter against her skin. He leans in close, teeth at her ear, telling her she’s going to come like this or not at all. Her pleas get louder, ragged, edged with desperation. He keeps her right there—bound, used, dripping—until she finally breaks and begs the way he wants.