Naked and Afraid

Alexa inches into the dark with wide eyes and a wet cunt. She’s tasted rope before, never like this. The Pope drops her on her knees and cinches her into a vampire trap—razor-sharp stakes crowding every inch of her pale skin. One twitch and the wood will kiss blood. She freezes, panic written all over her face. He doesn’t rush her. He leans close, voice low, talking her through the terror until the shakes turn into something she can ride. The fear stays, but she learns how to breathe around it. Next he flips her onto all fours, ass up, cunt open and begging. He slides in deep, hips snapping, stretching her until the restraints creak. Every thrust reminds her she’s meat on display. Last, he spreads her flat on the floor, wrists and ankles locked to the corners. The sting and ache keep coming, but they’ve changed shape—now they push her past the line instead of dragging her back. When he rips the first climax out of her, she screams like the truth finally landed: she’s a submissive slut who just had to feel it to believe it.