Anouk's Struggles

Anouk takes the ropes again. Red ball gag shoved between her teeth. Master Ar wraps the hemp tight—shoulders back, chest out, wrists cinched to elbows until the muscles burn. She pulls anyway, testing every knot like she’s going to win. The gag keeps her protests small, wet, and desperate. Ar’s hands slide over skin the rope leaves bare, and she twists, breath hissing around rubber. Another length pins her ankles to her thighs; she can’t close her legs, can’t do a damn thing but jerk and drool when his fingers push in. She fights the pressure, hips rolling like denial will save her. The ropes hold. They always do. By the time he tightens the final cinch behind her back, she’s shaking—caught, open, and exactly where he wants her.