Punished Masseuse

London Keyes has her hands on Karlo Karrera’s back when he flips over and asks for a different kind of service. She says no. He grabs her wrists, binds them, and yanks her across the table. The sheet slips. He tears off her uniform and stuffs a rolled towel between her teeth. Every time she tries to twist away, rope bites harder. He drags a belt across her ass, leather cracking skin, leaving red stripes that deepen with every slap. She shakes, moans muffled, hair plastered to her forehead. He shoves her forward, knees spread, face pressed to the padded surface. His cock—thick, veined, dark—lines up and pushes straight into her ass. She screams around the gag. He drives deeper, hips snapping, the table legs scraping tile. Sweat drips off his chest onto her back. She stops fighting, starts pushing back, hungry for each brutal thrust. He reaches under, finds her clit, rubs it rough while he pounds her hole open. When he finally unloads, hot and thick, she’s shaking so hard the ropes creak. He leaves her like that—bound, used, leaking—until the next appointment knocks.