The Price of Love

Sean clicks on some online quiz about warning signs. Stellina sees it too. She decides he needs a lesson. Her eyes light up. She pulls out the thickest gag in the drawer and straps it tight across his mouth. His jaw aches. Rope bites into his wrists and ankles until his body swings from the ceiling hook, toes barely scraping the floor. Stellina circles him, leather creaking. She lubes her fingers and works two knuckles into his ass, then three, opening him wider with slow, relentless pressure. The stretch burns hot and sweet. Once his hole yields, she adds more slick, tucks her thumb, and sinks her fist past the knuckles. Sean’s moan is muffled, his cock throbbing uselessly in the air. She keeps him there, fist deep, knuckles grinding inside, until he shakes. Only then does she pull free and replace her hand with cold steel—an ass hook, curved and unforgiving. The ball at the end pops past his rim. She ties the hook’s ring to the rope already pulling his shoulders back, forcing his back into an arch. The strain keeps the steel seated hard. Every twitch pushes the hook deeper. Stellina steps in front of him, watching his eyes water. She lets the silence stretch until his breathing turns ragged, then nods once like the matter is settled. He wanted signs. She gave him every one.