Isis Love and Ben English

Isis Love sits there while Ben English talks. One sentence and her spine straightens, eyes drop. He looks her over like he’s checking stock, fingers on her jaw, then lower. She strips when he tells her. No hesitation. Rope comes next. Her wrists behind her back, elbows cinched, then her ankles. He leaves her on her knees, a big red ball gag jammed between her teeth, spit already starting to drip. He walks around her once, then twice, making sure everything’s tight. When he starts, he doesn’t go easy. Slaps across her tits, fingers shoved in her mouth around the gag, then lower. He fucks her throat first, one hand gripping her hair, hips driving until her eyes water. She takes it. Every inch. He bends her over a chair, lines up, and sinks into her ass without warning. Deep. She chokes on a cry, body jerking, but the ropes hold. He pounds into her, hard and steady, switching angles when he feels like it. On her back, legs in the air. Face down, ass up. Sideways, one knee pinned to her chest. He uses every position the ropes allow, never letting her catch her breath. Sweat, spit, and the wet sound of skin on skin fill the room. Ben doesn’t stop until he’s finished with her. When he pulls out, she’s shaking, marked, used exactly how he wanted.