A Divine Introduction

She walks in and the air changes. Chanel Preston doesn't just enter a room—she owns it. One look from those eyes and you already feel smaller, like she can see straight through the bullshit straight to the weak little man underneath. Madeline brings her here so all you losers can drop and worship what you’ll never have. Troy thinks he’s different. Big muscles, cocky grin—he lasts maybe thirty seconds before her mouth starts tearing him down. Every filthy word she spits makes his dick twitch even while she laughs at how easy he is to break. She keeps him hard, keeps him hurting, wraps her fist around his balls and squeezes until the only sounds coming out of him are whimpers. When she straps on that thick cock and bends him over, there’s no mercy. She drives it deep, uses every inch of his ass while her hips slap against him. Every thrust says the same thing: you’re just a hole. Later she climbs on, sinks down onto his throbbing cock and rides it like it’s nothing but a toy built for her pleasure. She takes what she wants, cums loud, then climbs off before he can finish. Only when she’s good and satisfied does she let him spill—on her terms, on her timeline, and with that wicked smile that says she already knows how pathetic he looks doing it. On your knees, pindick. She’s waiting.