Property of princess Donna

Alice Frost kneels in the center of the room, bare skin marked with welts from the cane. Her eyes lock on Princess Donna’s boots like they’re the only thing keeping her steady. Donna turns the tattoo gun on, the needle buzzing like a warning. This isn’t just ink. It’s ownership, and Alice has one last test before the needle touches flesh. First comes the cock—thick, veiny, already hard. Alice swallows it to the root without hesitation, spit running down her chin while Donna watches from the chair. When Donna snaps her fingers, Alice pulls off, crawls behind the guy, spreads his cheeks and drags her tongue across his asshole like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything. Like it’s hers to clean because Donna said so. Pain comes next. Donna swings a flogger heavy enough to bruise, each strike cracking across Alice’s tits until they glow red. Alice gasps but stays on her knees, hands behind her back, mouth open. She’s shaking. She’s soaked. The marks on her chest will last longer than the session, but they aren’t the ones that matter. When Donna finally points to the table, Alice climbs up without a word. The gun buzzes again. The needle bites. Property of Princess Donna etches into pale skin, letter by letter, while the room watches. Alice doesn’t flinch. She came here to belong. Now she does.