Future Corp

She drags her gooner into the neon hell of the future. Latex skin stretched tight, she works his cock with both hands in a relentless rhythm. No break, no mercy. The straps bite deep into his wrists and ankles, holding him open, forcing every thrust. She whispers poison in his ear until his brain leaks out through his dick. He is her toy, her toy only. Eyes, ears, cock—everything belongs to her. Nothing else exists. Every stroke pulls him deeper until he forgets his own name and remembers only the grip, the squeeze, the endless, hungry rhythm of her hands.