Loss of Control

Dakota James walks in like she owns the place. Buttoned-up blouse. Tight skirt. A blonde executive who looks ready to rip someone a new one over a missed deadline. But the second the cuffs snap on her wrists, that armor starts to crack. Her therapist sent her here for a reason. Control issues. A cure that doesn’t involve another session on some leather couch. Tonight she learns what it costs to let go. They bend her over expensive furniture. Take her apart inch by inch. Her ass gets worked open slow and deliberate while the rest of her struggles to stay poised. Every thrust knocks another layer of that corporate attitude loose. She’s dripping before they even touch her clit. When the biggest dick in the room finally sinks into her, she stops pretending she’s in charge. Her body answers for her—hips bucking, voice breaking, every muscle locked between fight and surrender. She came for answers. She’s leaving wrecked and grinning.