Wipe that smile off of your face, whore!

Alexa bounces onto the set like she owns the day, all teeth and cheap jokes. The grin hits me wrong. I want it gone. I want screams instead. I tape her spine into a scorpion and snap the locks. The jokes die right there. She isn’t coping with laughs anymore; she’s coping with the metal chewing into her joints. I drag her to the next rig, crank the tension, and her voice cracks into the first real shout. Later she’s spread on cold steel, and I decide when her cunt gets to pulse. She comes because I let her, not because she asks. By the end the only sound left is her breath hitching around whatever I shove inside her next.