Stockholm Syndrome Fantasy

Asphyxia Noir walks out the gates and stops cold. She could leave. She doesn't. She turns back to the man who kept her caged and tells him she wants one last round. Xander Corvus doesn't ask why. He just grabs her wrist and drags her to the empty guard station. She drops to her knees on the concrete floor and takes his cock in her mouth like it's the last meal she'll ever taste. He lets her gag on it, then spins her around, bends her over the metal desk, and works two fingers into her ass. She pushes back, hungry for more. He gives it. He works his thick cock into her tight hole while she grips the edge of the desk, knuckles white, breath coming hard. Every thrust slams her forward; every pull drags her back onto him. Her black hair sticks to her face with sweat. She begs for it rougher and he obliges, one hand locked around her throat, the other pinning her wrists behind her back. She comes shaking, legs barely holding her up, and he doesn't stop until he's emptied every drop inside her. When he pulls out she stays bent over, ass red, breathing like she just ran a mile. Then she stands, fixes her hair, and walks out like nothing happened.