Visitors to the Upper Floor

Ashley Fires owns the room. She snaps commands at the slaves. Cherry Torn and Trina Michaels kneel, eyes down, wrists already marked from the rope that binds them. Ashley moves behind Cherry, fingers sliding between her cheeks, testing, spreading, pushing one slick digit past the tight ring of muscle. Cherry grunts, hips tilting for more. Trina watches, tits heaving, nipples tight. Ashley turns to her, pulling the blonde forward by the hair, forcing her face between Cherry’s thighs while she works another finger into Cherry’s ass. Cherry moans, loud and raw. Ashley slaps her own palm across Trina’s upturned ass, then slides two fingers inside her too, fucking them in rhythm. Both women rock, hips jerking, holes stretched open for the men watching. Peter and Mogul call the shots, and Ashley makes sure every order gets followed to the inch. She grabs the flogger, lays stripes across Cherry’s back, then bends to tongue the welts while she keeps her fingers buried knuckle-deep in both girls. Trina gasps when Ashley’s tongue finds her clit, but Ashley stops just as quick, leaving her aching. She lines the slaves up, spreads their cheeks again, shows off every inch she’s opened. They wait, holes glistening, ready for whatever comes next. She smiles, cold and sharp. This is what the Upper Floor demands, and nobody leaves until she’s satisfied.