Sgt. Major, JP and Dana DeArmond

JP's already stripped down to nothing but rope and a ball gag when Sgt. Major steps in to lend another set of hands. He and Dana work Dana like they mean it. No talk, no waste, just steel and skin and the dull click of buckles tightening around Dana's wrists. JP keeps Dana close, face pressed against the bars of a narrow cage, body stretched and shaking while rope bites deep across her tits. Dana drops the flogger across JP's thighs, counts the strikes with her free hand, then trades the flogger for clamps and watches JP's eyes roll. The cage rattles every time one of them jerks. Sweat slides down the small of JP's back, catches on the rope, glistens under the lights. They keep the pace brutal and steady until both women are panting through clenched teeth and the only sound left is the dull slap of leather on flesh.