Bound Bliss: Master's Mark on My Back

Bound wrists, spread eagle, the sub's body is a canvas ready for the Master's art. He traces intricate patterns on her skin with the tip of his whip, each touch a promise of the storm to come. The first crack echoes through the room, and she gasps, arching into the pain, her cunt pulsing with need. He alternates between gentle caresses and harsh lashes, reading her body like a book, pushing her to the edge of ecstasy, until she's a whimpering, wanton thing, desperate for release.

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