Cherokee and Damien

Cherokee struts back into the room, crop in hand, ready to put her prisoner through it. Her black hair swings across her shoulders as she raises the crop and brings it down, sharp enough to split air. The first strike lands. Then another. She swaps to the flogger, leather tails cracking against his skin in heavy rhythm. His wrists bite at the cuffs. She steps close, slides the strap-on deep, and fucks him in tight, relentless thrusts. Every time she leans in he strains toward her cunt—mere inches away, denied. The rope around his balls pulls tight with every move. She watches the ache spread across his face and decides whether he’s earned a taste or another round of pain.