In the dimly lit room, Missy Monroe lay bound and gagged. Her eyes were filled with despair and her body trembled with anticipation. The man approached her slowly, running his rough hands over her bare skin. As he pulled down her panties, she let out a muffled cry behind the gag.
She felt his hardness against her leg, and her heart beat faster in fear and excitement. He climbed on top of her, teasingly rubbing his erection against her wetness. Without any warning, he thrust into her, filling her tightness.
Every inch of him felt so wrong, yet so right. She had never felt more degraded, yet so desired. With each powerful stroke, she could feel herself losing control. His rough hands grasped her hair, pulling her head back as he pounded into her.
Their bodies moved together in a primal rhythm, lost in the heat of the moment, their breaths heavy and their hearts racing.
