The Training of Satine Phoenix, Day Two

He pushes her against the wall. The concrete's cold on her back. Her wrists burn under the rope. Black hair falls across her face while he forces her legs apart, checking how wide she'll open for him. She fights it at first. The stretch. The pressure. Then he slides inside, thick and hard, and she stops pretending she doesn't want it. Each thrust knocks the air out of her chest. Her muscles clamp down anyway, greedy, pulling him deeper even when it hurts. He doesn't give her time to adjust. He fucks her ass like he owns it, hips slapping against her, sweat slick between them. She takes it. Every inch. Every time he pushes past that tight ring of muscle until she's shaking. Her athletic body was built for this kind of use. Hard lines. Tight grip. The kind of ass that fights back then gives in. He grips her hips harder and keeps going until she can't hold anything back anymore.