A Slave's Love

Nora Riley's knees hit the floor. The room is small. Hot. Her wrists are tied behind her back, and she's staring up at Derrick Pierce with her mouth forced open around a ball gag. The leather strap cuts into the corners of her lips. She makes a sound that isn't words—just air and spit and need. Derrick grabs her hair. Pulls. She's already wet. He starts with the cane. It lands hard across her ass, sharp and clean. Her body jerks forward each time. The stripes come fast. Thin red lines. Bruises blooming under her skin. She moans, but the gag swallows most of it. Her thighs shake. Her cunt drips down the inside of her leg. He bends her over the bench. No warm-up. No mercy. He spreads her open and fucks her ass like he's trying to break her. She cries behind the gag—wet, muffled, desperate. Her shoulders heave. He doesn't slow down. Every thrust is deep, mean, exact. She takes it all. The pain. The stretch. The humiliation. She loves him. That's the sick part. She wants this more than she wants soft hands or sweet words. Derrick grips her hips and slams into her again. Nora Riley shakes. The cane marks burn. Her eyes water. Her body gives in. This is what love looks like for a girl like her.