Darcie Belle--Damsel in Distress

She’s nineteen. Blonde. A pretty little package tied up and ready to break. He starts with the flogger, snapping leather across her skin until the sting settles into heat. She gasps when his hand connects, sharp slaps leaving pink marks that bloom fast. Then he takes her—rough, deep, every angle he wants. Her body jolts with each thrust, caught between pain and something darker. She gushes when he pushes her over the edge, wet and shaking, still bound. He doesn’t stop. Just keeps driving into her, using every hole like he owns it, until there’s nothing left but the mess she’s made and the sound of her breathing.