Revenge On the Priest 3

Audrey Noir has Father Jim where she wants him. She's waited years to settle this score, and tonight she starts slow—paddles first, then crops, the hairbrush biting last. Each strike lands harder than the one before. His bare ass turns from pink to deep, throbbing red while she laughs, low and mean, calling him every name he used to hide behind his collar. The room echoes with leather on flesh, her breathing sharp, his gasps turning to whimpers. When she's good and ready she steps back, pulls the strap-on from her bag. It's not just any toy—thick, ridged, built to ruin—and the built-in reservoir waits for her cue. She makes him kneel. Father Jim opens his mouth, eyes wet, pride long gone. Audrey grips his hair, feeds him the length until spit runs down his chin. She rocks her hips, driving deeper, using his throat like it's owed to her. When the fake cock pulses she pulls free, thick white lube splattering across his face, his chest, his ruined collar. He stays on his knees, a shaking, sticky wreck. Audrey stands over him, breathing easy for the first time in years.