When we reached my door, Rowan hesitated for a beat, his apple-green eyes searching mine in the dim hallway light, like he was asking a question without words. I felt a calm readiness settle over me, as if this moment had always been meant to happen, inevitable as the pull of gravity. I answered him with a look—steady, unyielding—and a small, crooked smile that must have been invitation enough, my stormy grey eyes locking onto his with quiet command.

He followed me inside, the door to my apartment closing behind us with a soft click that sounded like permission granted. I didn't turn the lights on. The city glow leaked through the half-drawn curtain slats, painting long, slow bands of neon and shadow across the bed, reminding me of the beauty and unpredictability of life—fleeting streaks of color in the endless night, just like this. The air hummed with distant traffic, a low pulse that matched the anticipation building in my veins.

Rowan moved closer without hurry, his 6-foot-2 frame towering yet tentative, hands finding my shoulders like he was learning them anew. His fingers brushed the cracked skin where a bruise had stiffened at the edge of a rib—a remnant from some forgotten tumble in the chaos of our nights out—and his touch sent a thrill through me, exciting and dangerous, like playing with fire. Warmth bloomed under his palms, seeping into my skin, making my breath catch as I tilted my head slightly, inviting more without a word.

I turned to face him fully, my shoulder-length blonde hair catching the faint light, and reached up to trace the fluffy strands of his blonde hair, tugging just enough to draw him nearer. His lips parted, a soft exhale escaping, and I could see the submission flickering in those green eyes, eager yet waiting for my lead. The scent of him—clean sweat and something faintly citrusy—filled the space between us, intoxicating.

He kissed me then—not the quick, testing touch of strangers, but the slow, claiming press of someone who had been keeping a promise in his bones, his mouth warm and yielding against mine. I took control almost immediately, my hand fisting in his hair as I deepened it, the sort of kiss that made the air between us electric and private, charged with the promise of what was to come. His heartbeat thudded steadily against my chest as I pulled him closer, my shorter frame pressing into his, C-cup breasts brushing his torso through the thin fabric of my blouse.

My free hand slid down his back, nails grazing lightly, testing his response—a shiver ran through him, deliciously pliant. I broke the kiss just enough to murmur against his lips, my voice low and commanding, "Undress me, Rowan. Slowly. Show me how badly you want this." His eyes widened, a flush creeping up his neck, but he nodded, fingers trembling slightly as they moved to the buttons of my blouse, the first reveal of lace peeking through.

His fingers fumbled with the first button, the soft pop of it undoing echoing in the quiet room like a secret being unveiled. I watched him through half-lidded eyes, my stormy grey gaze holding his, daring him to falter. The blouse parted slowly, inch by inch, revealing the black lace bra beneath—delicate filigree cups that hugged my C-cup breasts, the sheer fabric teasing the outline of my nipples already hardening in the cool air. Rowan's breath hitched, his apple-green eyes darkening with hunger, but he didn't rush; good boy, I thought, feeling that rush of power coil tight in my core.

"That's it," I murmured, my voice a husky command laced with approval, stepping back just enough to give him space but keeping my hand in his fluffy blonde hair, guiding his movements. "Unbutton it all the way, pet. Look at you, already shaking like a needy little slut. Do you like what you see? Tell me how much you want to touch what's underneath." The degradation slipped out smooth and teasing, consensual fire that made his cheeks burn brighter, his submission blooming under my words like a flower in the neon glow.

He swallowed hard, nodding as his hands worked lower, the blouse slipping open to expose the matching lace panties, high-cut and edged with silk that whispered against my skin. "Y-yes, Crystal," he stammered, voice rough with desire, "I want it so bad. You're... you're beautiful." His fingers brushed the fabric of my skirt next, hesitating until I tugged his hair sharper, a warning pull that sent a shiver down his tall frame.

"Skirt next," I ordered, my tone firm, stepping closer so my body heat mingled with his, the city lights casting striped shadows across his flushed face. "Slide it down my hips, slow enough to savor every bit. Imagine how wet I am already, thinking about what I'll do to you once you're done worshipping me like the desperate boy you are." Praise and filth intertwined in my words—I could feel his arousal pressing against his jeans, the evidence of his obedience making my own pulse throb between my thighs. The skirt pooled at my feet, revealing the silk garters clipped to sheer black stockings, the lace tops gripping my thighs like a promise of restraint.

Rowan's knees nearly buckled as he knelt instinctively to help me step out, his hands trailing up my calves, reverent and trembling. The touch was electric, dangerous fire licking along my skin, igniting that calm readiness into something fiercer. I reached down, cupping his chin to tilt his face up, forcing eye contact. "Such a good boy for me, Rowan. Look at you on your knees already, eyes all wide and pathetic. But don't stop—unhook the garters now. Tease them free, one by one, and beg to keep the stockings on me later."

"Please, Crystal," he whispered, his voice breaking with that sweet desperation I craved, fingers fumbling with the first clip, the soft snap releasing the tension. "Please let me... I want to feel them against my skin. I'll do anything." The plea sent a thrill through me, my medium ass shifting as I stood taller, the unpredictability of this moment mirroring the city's restless glow—beautiful, untamed, pulling us deeper into the night. His hands moved to the second garter, brushing the sensitive inner thigh, close enough to the lace-covered heat that I felt myself ache.

I let out a low hum of approval, threading my fingers through his hair again, holding him steady as he worked. "That's my eager little slut. Begging so pretty for scraps. Undo the last one, then stand and show me how hard you are for this." The verbal command hung in the air, thick with tension, his body responding to every word—taut, yielding, mine to direct. The final clip released, the garter straps dangling loose against the silk stockings that still sheathed my legs, a deliberate tease for what was to come.

As he rose, I pulled him in by his shirt, my lips brushing his ear. "Now, hands on my hips, pet. Feel the lace, but don't you dare go further until I say. You've done well so far—such a good, obedient boy—but I want to hear you admit how much you need me to wreck you." His grip tightened, warm and bruising in his eagerness, the air between us crackling, the bed waiting like a shadowed invitation just beyond.

Rowan's hands trembled on my hips, his thumbs tracing the lacy edge of my panties with a reverence that bordered on worship, the silk stockings still hugging my thighs like a second skin. I could feel the heat radiating from his palms, seeping through the delicate fabric, igniting that dangerous fire in my blood. His apple-green eyes locked onto mine, wide with a mix of vulnerability and raw need, his fluffy blonde hair disheveled from my earlier tugs. The city glow striped his face in blues and golds, highlighting the flush creeping down his neck, making him look every bit the beautiful, unpredictable storm I was about to unleash on.

"I... I need you to wreck me, Crystal," he admitted, his voice a rough whisper that cracked at the edges, laced with that desperate honesty I craved. "Please, I need it so bad. I'm yours—do whatever you want with me." The words hung between us, thick and electric, his body leaning into my touch like he was already surrendering, his arousal straining against the front of his jeans, impossible to ignore.

A slow smile curved my lips, predatory and pleased, as I slid my hands up his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath my fingers. "Good boy," I purred, my tone dripping with praise that made his breath hitch, his grip tightening on my hips in response. "Such a pathetic, eager slut for me already. But words aren't enough—prove it. Strip for me now, Rowan. Let me see that hard cock you've been hiding, begging to be used." I stepped back slightly, my stormy grey eyes raking over him commandingly, the lace of my bra shifting with my breasts as I crossed my arms, waiting.

He obeyed without hesitation, his long fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal the lean muscles of his torso, dusted with faint blonde hair that caught the neon light. His skin was warm-toned, flushed, and I could see the subtle tremor in his arms as he unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink echoing like a promise. Jeans and boxers followed, pooling at his ankles before he kicked them aside, standing bare before me—his 7-inch cock standing rigid, thick and veined, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. He shifted, vulnerable under my gaze, but there was trust in those green eyes, a yielding that made my core clench with anticipation.

"On the bed, pet," I commanded, my voice firm as I pointed to the shadowed expanse, the sheets rumpled and inviting under the city's erratic glow. "Hands above your head. You're going to let me tie you down while I decide how to break you." I moved to the nightstand, pulling out a coil of soft black rope I'd kept for nights like this—smooth against the skin but unyielding in its hold. Rowan's eyes followed me, darkening with excitement and a flicker of nervousness as he climbed onto the bed, stretching out his tall frame, wrists offered up like a sacrifice.

I straddled his hips as I worked, the lace panties brushing against his bare skin, my stockings whispering silkily with each shift of my thighs. The rope looped around his wrists first, binding them to the headboard with practiced knots—tight enough to bite just a little, leaving future marks I'd trace later. He tested the restraints lightly, a soft groan escaping as the fibers tugged against his skin, his body arching instinctively beneath me. "That's it, struggle for me," I murmured, leaning down to nip at his earlobe, my breath hot against his neck. "Feel how helpless you are, my little fucktoy. All tied up and dripping for whatever I want to do next. Beg me to touch you, Rowan—tell me how bad you need my mouth on that cock."

"Please, Crystal," he gasped, his voice breaking into a whine as he tugged at the ropes, the muscles in his arms flexing futilely. The vulnerability in his plea sent a rush of power through me, my medium ass grinding down just enough to tease his length against the damp lace between my legs. "I need it—need your mouth, please. I'll be so good for you, just... fuck, touch me." His hips bucked upward, seeking friction, but I pinned him harder with my weight, my nails digging into his shoulders in a bruising grip that made him whimper.

"Good boy," I praised again, sliding down his body with deliberate slowness, my blonde hair trailing over his chest like a caress. The city lights danced across his bound form, unpredictable shadows playing over the rope marks already blooming red on his wrists. I settled between his thighs, my hands gripping his hips to hold him still, and met his gaze from below—those green eyes pleading, locked on mine as I leaned in. My lips parted, tongue flicking out to trace the underside of his cock from base to tip, savoring the salty bead of pre-cum that made him shudder violently against the restraints.

I wrapped my lips around him then, taking him in with a slow, deliberate bob of my head, the warmth of my mouth enveloping his thickness as my tongue swirled around the head, teasing the sensitive ridge. He groaned deep in his throat, his head falling back against the pillow, but I pulled off just enough to command, "Eyes on me, slut. Watch how I suck this needy cock—see what a desperate mess you are for your mistress." His gaze snapped back, hazy with lust, as I took him deeper, lips stretching around his girth, bobbing with increasing rhythm—wet, slurping sounds filling the room as I hollowed my cheeks, tongue working relentlessly along the vein that pulsed under my touch.

Deeper still, until the tip hit the back of my throat, my throat relaxing to take him fully, nose brushing his abdomen as he thrashed against the ropes, a strangled "Fuck, Crystal—please, don't stop" spilling from his lips. Saliva dripped down his shaft, slicking my hand as I stroked what my mouth couldn't reach, the primal intensity building in his ragged breaths. I hummed around him, the vibration drawing another beg from his depths—"More, I need more, you're so fucking good"—and I obliged, sucking harder, my free hand twisting the base while my stormy eyes held his, promising the wrecking he craved was only beginning.

But I pulled back before he could tip over, lips glistening as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, leaving him panting and straining, cock twitching untouched in the cool air. "Not yet, pet," I whispered, crawling back up his body, my lace-clad breasts pressing against his chest as I nipped at his jaw. "You've been such a good, obedient boy, but I want you begging for me to ride you first—beg to feel me come undone on that cock while you're all tied up and helpless." His eyes burned with frustration and desire, the rope creaking as he pulled, the night's unpredictable heat coiling tighter between us.

Rowan's chest heaved beneath me, his bound wrists straining against the headboard with a faint creak of rope on wood, the red welts already forming like badges of his surrender. Those apple-green eyes, hazy and desperate, bored into mine, pupils blown wide in the dim city glow that striped his sweat-slicked skin like erratic lightning. The air between us was thick, scented with musk and the faint citrus of his arousal, and I could feel the heat of his cock throbbing against my inner thigh through the damp lace of my panties, a insistent pulse that mirrored the wild unpredictability of the night outside—beautiful chaos, drawing us under.

"Please, Crystal," he begged, his voice raw and fracturing, hips arching futilely toward me as if he could will my body to close the distance. "Fuck me—ride me, please. I need to feel you, tight and wet around me. I'll be your good boy, take whatever you give. Just... don't make me wait anymore." The words tumbled out in a rush, laced with that sweet vulnerability that made my core clench, his fluffy blonde hair matted against the pillow from his thrashing. He looked so utterly helpless, my tall, submissive pet, and the power of it surged through me like fire—exciting, dangerous, burning hotter with every plea.

I leaned down, my lace bra scraping against his chest, nipples pebbled and aching as they dragged over his skin. My lips hovered over his, breath mingling in the scant space between us. "Listen to you, begging like a desperate little whore," I murmured, my tone a velvet blade of degradation, nipping at his lower lip hard enough to draw a gasp. "All tied up and leaking for me, aren't you? But you've earned it—such a good slut, taking my mouth so deep earlier. Now spread those legs wider, pet. Let me use that cock like it belongs to me." Praise wrapped around the filth, and I felt him shudder, thighs parting obediently under my weight, the silk of my stockings sliding silkily against his hips.

With a slow, deliberate grind, I shifted the lace panties aside—just enough to bare my slick folds—teasing the head of his cock against my entrance, the warmth of him pressing insistent and hot. The city's neon flickered across my shoulder-length blonde hair as I sank down inch by inch, enveloping his 7-inch length in my tight heat, a low moan escaping my lips at the stretch. He was thick, filling me completely, and I paused halfway, rolling my hips to savor the way he twitched inside me, my medium ass settling against his thighs while the garters dangled loose, brushing his skin like whispered promises. "Fuck, you're so big for me," I groaned, my hands pinning his shoulders down, nails digging in with bruising force to hold him still. "But don't you dare move until I say— this pussy owns you now."

I started slow, rising and falling with controlled rhythm, the wet sounds of our joining filling the room as I rode him, my C-cup breasts bouncing slightly in the lace confines, the fabric rasping erotically against my skin. Rowan's head thrashed, ropes biting deeper into his wrists as he whimpered, "Crystal—oh god, you're so tight, please harder." His pleas only fueled me, and I obliged with a surge of aggressive passion, slamming down fully, my stormy grey eyes locking onto his as I fisted a hand in his fluffy hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. I leaned in, biting the pulse point there, marking him with my teeth while my hips pistoned faster, the primal intensity coiling like a spring in my belly.

"That's it, take it like the needy fucktoy you are," I growled against his skin, my voice commanding and rough, directing every thrust as I ground my clit against his base with each descent. The silk stockings clung to my thighs, a sensual friction that heightened every slide, and I kept the garters on, the lace panties shoved aside but still framing the lewd sight of him disappearing into me. His body bucked beneath me—or tried to, restrained and helpless, the struggle only making him harder, deeper. "Look at you, all flushed and pathetic, tied down while I fuck myself on your cock. Beg for it, Rowan—beg me to come all over you, to make you feel how wet you make your mistress."

"Please—fuck, Crystal, come on me," he rasped, eyes squeezing shut before snapping open at my sharp tug on his hair, holding his gaze as vulnerability and trust warred in those green depths. "I want it, want you to soak me, use me—I'm yours, good boy for you, please!" The desperation in his voice, the way he yielded so completely, sent sparks racing through me, my pace turning frantic, rough slaps of skin on skin echoing with the distant hum of the city. I could feel it building, that electric tension low in my core, my walls clenching around him as I chased it, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit, the lace edge teasing my fingers.

The release hit like a storm, sudden and shattering—my body seizing as I squirted around his cock, hot fluid gushing out in pulsing waves, soaking his groin and the sheets beneath us in a messy, glorious flood. Pride swelled in my chest at the sight of it, at how I'd wrung this from myself on him, my moans turning triumphant as I rode through the aftershocks, hips stuttering but unrelenting. Rowan groaned beneath me, his face a mask of awe and arousal, the warmth of my release dripping down his balls, marking him as mine. "Yes—fuck, look what you did to me, pet," I panted, grinding down harder, the slickness making every movement obscene and slippery. "Such a good boy, making your mistress squirt like that. But I'm not done—now beg me to let you fill me up, to cream this pussy while you're still all bound and broken."

His eyes widened, a fresh wave of desperation flooding his features as he tugged at the ropes, the red marks stark against his pale skin in the unpredictable city light. "Please, Crystal—fill you, come inside, I need to," he whined, voice hoarse from begging, his cock throbbing insistently within my still-quivering walls. The intimacy of it hung between us, the night's beauty twisting into something raw and inevitable, pulling us toward the edge I wasn't quite ready to let him cross.

His pleas washed over me like the city's distant rain, raw and unrelenting, fueling the fire that still licked through my veins after my release. I slowed my hips deliberately, rising almost off him before sinking back down in a torturously languid slide, feeling every inch of his thick cock drag against my sensitive walls, slick with my squirted mess. The warmth of it all—his heat buried deep, the dampness soaking between us—made my skin prickle, the silk stockings taut against my thighs as I shifted, the loose garters swaying like pendulums of tease. Rowan's bound body trembled beneath me, his wrists raw against the rope, the headboard groaning in protest as he strained, helpless and exposed in the flickering neon stripes that painted his fluffy blonde hair in erratic hues.

"Fuck, you're so pathetic like this," I whispered, my voice a husky growl laced with degradation, leaning forward to brace my hands on his chest, nails raking red trails down to his hips in bruising grips that made him arch and hiss. The lace of my bra chafed deliciously against my C-cup breasts as they pressed into him, nipples like diamonds scraping his skin, while the shoved-aside panties framed the lewd union of our bodies, lace edges damp and clinging. "Tied up, cock throbbing in my soaked pussy, begging like a desperate little cumslut. You love it, don't you? Being my broken toy, leaking pre-cum while I decide if you get to fill me." His green eyes fluttered, vulnerability cracking through the lust, but he nodded frantically, hips twitching upward in futile need, the primal intensity of his submission making my core clench tighter around him.

"Please, Crystal—I'm your slut, your toy," he gasped, the words spilling out in a whine that bordered on sob, his voice hoarse from the constant begging, body yielding completely as I pinned him harder, my medium ass grinding down to take him to the hilt. The rope bit deeper into his wrists with each pull, faint struggles sending vibrations through his frame that I felt in the most intimate places, his helplessness a drug that heightened my control. I rewarded his obedience with a sharp praise, my stormy grey eyes locking onto his as I rolled my hips in a slow circle, clit rubbing against his base through the slick mess we'd made. "That's right, good boy—such a perfect, obedient pet. Keep begging, tell me how bad you want to pump that load deep inside your mistress, mark me from the inside out."

The air hummed with our ragged breaths, the city's unpredictable glow casting shadows that danced over the red rope marks blooming on his pale skin, a beautiful reminder of the chaos we'd woven tonight. I straightened slightly, one hand fisting in his fluffy hair again, yanking his head back to expose the column of his throat, where my earlier bite still pulsed faintly red. With aggressive passion, I slammed down onto him once, twice, the rough slap of my thighs against his echoing wetly, the silk of my stockings whispering with the friction as I chased another build, slower this time, savoring the way his cock stretched me, the intimate warmth of him threatening to unravel me anew. He whimpered, eyes pleading from below, trust and eagerness mingling in that apple-green gaze, his body utterly mine—pinned, bound, and quivering under my command.

"Not yet, pet," I commanded, slowing to a teasing grind, my free hand trailing down to where we joined, fingers circling my clit lazily while feeling the obscene slickness coating his balls, pride swelling again at the mess I'd made of him—of us. The lace panties tugged slightly with each movement, a sensual restraint that kept the moment raw and framed, my garters dangling like chains of desire. "You don't get to come until I say—beg louder, Rowan. Tell me you're nothing without my permission, that you'll fill me only when I allow it, dripping out of me like the used slut you are." His response was immediate, a broken litany of pleas tumbling from his lips—"Please, Crystal, I'm nothing—your nothing—let me come inside, I'll obey, fuck, I need it so bad"—each word stoking the fire, his struggles against the bonds turning frantic, the rope creaking like the tension coiling between us.

I leaned down, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss, all teeth and dominance, swallowing his moans as I picked up the pace once more, riding him with primal ferocity—hair-pulling tugs that arched his back, hips crashing down in a rhythm that bruised us both, the bed frame protesting under the force. The warmth built again, not quite to squirting yet but edging close, my walls fluttering around his length as his begs devolved into incoherent whimpers, his cock swelling impossibly harder inside me. But I held back the edge, drawing it out, the night's beauty twisting into something darker, more inevitable—the drip of sweat down his temple, the salty taste of him on my tongue, the promise of his release hovering just out of reach.

Sweat-slicked and panting, I broke the kiss, my blonde hair curtaining my face as I stared down at him, commanding his gaze with a sharp squeeze of my inner muscles around his throbbing shaft. "Almost, my good little fucktoy," I purred, mixing praise with the filth, my hand releasing his hair to trace the rope welts on his wrists, feeling the heat of them under my fingers—a tactile claim that made him shudder. "Feel how close you are? That warm rush you want to spill deep in me, creaming your mistress while you're all helpless and tied? Beg one more time—make it count—and maybe I'll let you." His eyes burned with desperate fire, body straining, the city's glow flickering like the pulse of what was building, pulling us inexorably toward the brink I controlled.

Rowan's pleas shattered the air like fragile glass, his voice a broken torrent that vibrated through his bound body and into mine where we were joined so intimately. "Crystal, please—I'm begging you, let me come inside you. Fill your pussy, mark you deep—I'm your desperate slut, nothing without this, without you owning every drop. Fuck, I'll do anything, just say yes!" His apple-green eyes locked onto mine, wide and fractured with raw need, tears of frustration glistening at the corners as his hips jerked upward in helpless thrusts, the ropes creaking sharply against the headboard. The warmth of his cock pulsed inside me, thick and insistent, stretching my slick walls with every futile movement, the mess from my earlier squirt making everything slippery, obscene.

I savored it, that power humming in my veins like the city's electric undercurrent, my stormy grey eyes narrowing as I ground down hard, pinning him deeper with a bruising roll of my hips. The silk stockings clung to my thighs, damp now with sweat and release, their sheer fabric rasping against his skin in a way that sent fresh sparks through me—exciting, dangerous fire that licked higher, threatening to consume us both. My lace panties, still shoved aside, tugged at the edges of my folds with each shift, a teasing restraint that framed the lewd slide of him in and out, the garters dangling loose like forgotten chains. "That's my good boy," I praised, my voice a sultry command laced with approval, leaning forward to drag my nails down his chest, leaving red welts that bloomed like the rope marks on his wrists. "Begging so prettily, like the pathetic cumdump you are. You want to flood me? Pump that hot load until it drips out of your mistress's used cunt?"

He nodded wildly, fluffy blonde hair sticking to his forehead in sweat-dampened strands, his tall frame arching beneath me as much as the bonds allowed, muscles taut and quivering under my aggressive hold. The primal intensity surged as I fisted his hair again, yanking his head to the side to expose his throat, sinking my teeth into the tender skin there—not breaking it, but marking deep enough to bruise, to claim. A guttural moan tore from his lips, his cock swelling thicker inside me in response, the veined length dragging against my sensitive spots with delicious friction. I rode him harder then, my medium ass slapping against his thighs in rough, demanding strokes, the bed frame thudding rhythmically against the wall like a heartbeat gone feral. The city's glow filtered through the curtains, casting erratic shadows over us—beautiful, unpredictable streaks that mirrored the chaos building in my core, pulling me toward another edge.

"Fuck, yes—take it, you needy whore," I growled against his ear, my breath hot and ragged, directing every brutal thrust as I chased the heat coiling low in my belly, my C-cup breasts heaving in the lace bra, nipples aching against the filigree confines. One hand slipped between us, fingers slick as they circled my clit, heightening the pressure until stars burst behind my eyelids, my walls fluttering around him in warning. Rowan's begs devolved into whimpers, his body helpless under my weight, struggling against the ropes with a delicious tension that made the fibers bite deeper, red lines etching promises of tomorrow's soreness. The intimacy of it all—the warmth of him buried to the hilt, the slick sounds of our joining, the way he yielded so completely—made my pulse thunder, pride swelling at how I'd reduced this 6-foot-2 man to a trembling mess beneath my 5-foot-3 frame.

But I held him on the precipice, slowing to a torturous grind, feeling the intimate warmth of his impending release tease at my entrance from the inside, not quite granting it yet. "Not so fast, pet," I murmured, my tone commanding as I released his hair, trailing my fingers up to trace the rope welts on his wrists, the rough texture under my touch sending a shiver through him that clenched him tighter around me. His green eyes pleaded silently now, voice spent from the litany of desperation, but the trust there—the eagerness to please, to obey—ignited something fiercer in me. I shifted, angling my hips to take him even deeper, the lace edges scraping erotically as I built the rhythm anew, rough and unrelenting, my stockings whispering with every slide.

The tension crested slowly, my body trembling as I slammed down one final time, commanding through gritted teeth, "Now, Rowan—come inside me, fill your mistress like the good slut you are." His response was immediate, a strangled cry ripping from his throat as he shattered, hot spurts of cum flooding deep within me, the intimate warmth spreading like liquid fire, pulsing against my walls in thick, claiming waves. I rode him through it, milking every drop with deliberate squeezes, the sensation of him creaming me from the inside drawing a low, triumphant moan from my lips—pride in the mess we'd made, the dripping aftermath already threatening to leak out as I slowed, savoring the fullness. He panted beneath me, body limp against the restraints, eyes glazed with spent vulnerability, but the night's unpredictable pull lingered, the city's glow hinting at more chaos yet to unfold.

I didn't untie him yet, my body still humming with the aftershocks as I leaned down to claim his swollen lips in a fierce, possessive kiss, savoring the salty tang of his exhaustion mingled with the faint musk of our shared release. The warmth of his seed began to trickle free, slick and intimate, coating my thighs in a decadent reminder of his surrender. "Such a perfect boy," I breathed against his mouth, my words a silken caress that bound him tighter than the ropes chafing his wrists. "But we're not done—tell me how it feels, pet, knowing you're dripping out of me, marking me as yours while I decide your next exquisite torment." His breath caught sharply, a new flame of submission igniting in those vivid green eyes, the air between us crackling with electric tension, alive with the night's insatiable hunger.