Cowgirl and Paige Richards

Cowgirl grabs Paige by the hair and shoves her down across the cold floor. The first slap lands across her face. Paige jerks, breath caught, already tasting the sting of it. Cowgirl leans in close. "You want to light another one?" she asks, voice low and hard. Paige shakes her head, eyes wide, but Cowgirl laughs once, short and ugly, then sends a sharp knee into her ribs. The breath leaves Paige in one rush. Cowgirl’s fingers twist deeper into her hair, yanking her upright, then shoving her face-first into the mattress. Rope snaps tight around her wrists, pulling her arms behind her back until her shoulders burn. More rope bites around her thighs, locking her legs apart. She strains. Cowgirl only pulls the knots tighter. Another slap—harder this time—catches her across the ass. The sound cracks through the room. Paige’s hips buck. Cowgirl’s hand follows with three quick punches to her side, knuckles sharp, deliberate. Each one knocks the air out of her lungs. Paige gasps, whimpering, trying to twist away, but the ropes hold. Cowgirl’s boot presses down on her lower back, pinning her. "You smoke again and I’ll make this look gentle." Her voice is calm. Almost bored. She drives her elbow into Paige’s side again, right under the ribs, and Paige cries out. The ropes creak. Sweat beads on her skin. Cowgirl circles her, looking for the next open spot, and Paige’s breath stutters—waiting, braced, aching, and still not ready for what comes next.