Rok and Isis Love

Isis Love strides into the clearing like she owns the trees. Her boy stays on his knees, mouth already watering for whatever she decides to give him. First she plants her heel on his tongue and makes him earn it, then she lowers herself so he can lap at her cunt until his jaw aches. She watches him, smiling thin, pushing down harder when he slows. Out in the raw sun she strips him bare and drops to the dirt with him. Mud clings to her fingers; she smears it over his cock, strokes him until he’s shaking, then flips him onto all fours. She takes his ass with sharp, steady thrusts, her strap sinking in while his palms grind into pine needles. When he starts to gasp she pulls out, stands, and uncoils a cane. The wood cracks across his ass and thighs in clean, measured strokes. She follows with the flogger until his skin burns red and his cock hangs heavy, untouched. She leaves him bound to a sun-warmed boulder, wrists cinched tight, cock throbbing, breath ragged, denied and leaking while she walks away.