shy love and DannyBoy

Dannyboy lies stripped and bound, the leather biting his wrists and ankles. Mistress Shy Love circles, heels clicking, mouth curling into a grin that promises nothing soft. She pins his cock with the toe of a boot, rolls it, grinds until he gasps. Words hiss from her lips—mocking, filthy, each one twisting deeper than the ropes. She drags his face between her thighs. “Lick, bitch.” His tongue works fast, desperate, while her palm cracks across his balls. Pain flares white-hot, yet his cock stays rigid, throbbing against the sole of her boot. She laughs, twists his nipples, forces another moan into her cunt. Every flinch earns another slap or squeeze. Dannyboy strains in the ropes, sweat slick on his skin, the sting of her commands hotter than the leather. When she stands, he follows on his knees, mouth open, ready to give whatever she takes next.