Ivy and Janay

Janay grabs Ivy by the hair and pulls her over the bench. Ivy's blonde head drops, mouth open, breath already ragged. Janay keeps her there, tight, then starts with the feet. No warm-up. Just sharp smacks across the soles, the sound cutting through the room. Ivy jerks, bites down on a cry, toes curling. Janay doesn't let up. She moves the crop higher, across the soft skin of Ivy's ass, laying down stripe after stripe until the skin blooms red. Ivy's body shakes, but she stays put. Janay switches between feet and ass without warning, each strike landing hard. Ivy gasps, moans, the bench creaking under her. Janay's hand stays firm in her hair, holding her exactly where she wants her, pushing her deeper into it. Every hit lands with intent. Ivy takes it all, body trembling, ass and feet marked, breath coming fast. Janay keeps the rhythm, never giving her a second to catch up.