The Sarge meets Mia Bangg

The Sarge steps in on Mia Bangg, all fire and muscle. She gives ground fast. She’s bound, gagged, nothing spared. He draws the crotch rope razor-tight until she whimpers, then yanks it another inch. She jerks, hips twisting against the knot, but the rope wins. Later he drags her to the curved tank. He grabs her hair, shoves her under, pulls her out gasping, shoves her under again. The dunking goes on until her eyes blur and spit runs from the gag. She kicks once, then twice, then hangs limp in the water. The Sarge lets her surface just long enough for a thin breath before forcing her down again. No mercy, no pause. When he finally drags her out, she’s soaked, shaking, rope biting deep between soaked thighs. Year 2011. Blonde hair plastered, body marked, every restraint still cinched.