Forbidden Thoughts
Each step with the plúg inside her made her feel more open, more helpless, more owned.
He bent her over the edge of the bed and secured her wrists above her head with rope, binding her elbows tightly together so she couldn’t move her arms at all. Then he stràpped her ankles to the legs of the bed frame, locking her in a bent-over position, her àss high, back arched, completely exposed.
Without warning, the crop struck.
A crack rang out across the room.
Bella screamed into the gàg. Another blow, lower, right under the curve of her àss. Then another—higher. A fourth, deliberately across the plúg.
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