Trina

Trina's on the bed, stripped bare, wrists and ankles roped tight to the four corners. The gag—black rubber, fat and shiny—sits deep in her mouth, straps cutting sharp lines across her cheeks. Blonde hair fans out across the pillow. Her nipples stand tight. She tests the knots once and feels them give nothing back. The first stroke lands across her tits, then another, lower, then higher again. The cane bites clean. She jerks, groans, but the ropes hold her open. Sweat beads along her ribs. Her hips lift on their own, asking for the next one even as her eyes beg no. Another stripe blooms across her thigh. Another across the top of her breast. Trina breathes hard through her nose. Her cunt glistens under the light.