Sgt. Major and Maya Matthews

Evie turns 21 and still aches for the feeling of her Master owning every inch. She watches the doorway. He walks in like a storm, and her knees give. She calls him Sgt. Major. The title alone floods her with heat. His hands speak first. He ties thick rope around her wrists, pulls her arms overhead, and lets her dangle just enough to taste helplessness. His palm cracks across her bare ass, the sharp sound filling the room. She gasps and pushes back, begging without words. He takes his time, strikes landing in steady rhythm until her skin burns. Then he lowers her just enough to spread her cheeks and push his cock inside her ass. The stretch forces a long, broken moan from her throat. He rocks deeper, each thrust an order. She grips the ropes and takes it, wet and open. He pulls her hair, bites her shoulder, rides her until the room shrinks to sweat and skin and the slap of his hips. She comes first, clenching hard, but he keeps using her, driving the lesson home until he finally floods her. The ropes hold her up, the red welts on her ass gleam, and he stays inside her, breathing against her neck, claiming every tremble.