Stefanos' Sunday Brunch

Cherry Torn walks in. Her hands are cuffed behind her. Stefanos has a table laid out for brunch on the Upper Floor, but the plates are empty. He sits her down and ties her ankles to the chair legs. Rope pulls her knees wide apart. Every inch of her is exposed. Stefanos pours oil across her skin and works it in. The first slap lands across her thighs, sharp and quick. She gasps. He picks up a leather strap next, swings it over her breasts, then down between her legs. Red lines bloom. He watches each mark rise. His hand follows the strap, pinching skin, twisting flesh, pushing deeper. Cherry struggles against the ropes, breath ragged. He slides a plug into her ass, slow and deliberate. Once it is seated, he stands behind her and holds her chin so she must watch herself. He takes a crop and slaps her nipples, then her clit, each stroke timed with the clink of cutlery. She leaks onto the wood seat. Stefanos pulls the plug out and replaces it with his cock, pushing into her ass while she is still bound to the chair. The table rattles. Her voice cracks on every thrust. He fucks her until sweat streaks down her back, then stops, wipes his hands on her hair, and leaves her tied there, open and used, the unfinished brunch cooling around her.