The Other Side of the Coin

Lyra calls herself a domme but the hunger won’t let her rest. Today she kneels, blindfold on, arms locked behind her in rope that bites every time she breathes. She hates how fast her cunt betrays her—already wet before a single strike lands. The Pope circles, calm as a blade. He slaps her face once, hard, then grips her jaw. "Beg to suffer." She shakes her head. He laughs low, pins her nipple between cruel clamps, and pulls until the chain swings heavy. Every tug sends a bolt straight to her clit. She stays quiet as long as she can, but the blindfold makes the next hit unpredictable. A flogger cracks across her tits, then lower, the leather kissing the soft strip above her mound. She jerks, legs spread wider without meaning to. The Pope pushes two thick fingers inside her, twists, laughs again when she clenches down on nothing. "You owe yourself this," he reminds her. Lyra’s mouth opens on a broken sound. She still wants to stop. Her wrists stay tied. Her body keeps wanting more.