TAKEN FANTASY

Chyna’s about to fight a ticket when she steps into the wrong room and gets snatched from behind. A heavy hand cracks across her face. She twists, kicks, tries to yell, but an arm’s locked around her throat like iron. Feet scrape tile. A bulb pops and glass rains down. Then nothing but black. She wakes in a tangle of rope and leather, ass lifted, cheeks spread wide. An iron hook bites between them, curved steel snug in her hole, the chain drawn tight to her long black hair. The hook doesn’t budge when she flinches. Every twitch yanks her head back, forces her spine into a cruel arch. Her jaw aches around a fat red ball gag. Spit runs down her chin and drips onto the floor beneath her. She can’t ask, can’t beg, can’t make any sound louder than a wet whimper. She strains, muscles shaking. The hook sinks deeper, pulling harder on her scalp, reminding her who’s in charge. Her wrists are pinned behind her, her ankles lashed so her knees stay wide. She’s trapped in the pose, ass offered, head forced high, body quivering every time the chain sings tight. Sweat beads on her smooth skin, rolls down the curve of her ass. The metal stays cold inside her, unforgiving. She breathes hard through her nose, eyes wide, trying to read the dark, but the hook won’t let her look anywhere except straight ahead. One wrong move and the steel tugs, sharp and immediate, a reminder that she isn’t going anywhere until whoever tied her decides she’s done.