I should warn you—this is part two. Maybe read the first one, maybe don’t. Sometimes slipping into the middle tells you more than the beginning ever could.
Cheyenne’s mouth. That first second… my knees almost buckled. I wanted to beg her not to stop, but Martin’s grip in my hair—tight, unrelenting—reminded me where I stood. Harsh, almost too much. And yet I leaned into it. Strange, how fast fear can flip into hunger. Her touch was unlike any man’s. Sharper, almost too curious. And for a moment I thought, maybe I don’t know myself at all.
She worked me until I shook, until I was useless. Martin let go then, slid lower, and Cheyenne’s voice came clear through the fog. “Sit.” Just that. I did. Obedience felt better than I expected—better than the act itself, maybe.
It became a cycle of pain and reward. A sting, then her soft praise. I bent further than I should have, straining, waiting for the next thing. Martin’s hands traced over me, lazy, hungry. He was enjoying what she’d drawn me into.
A small sound—a click, a cap. My pulse stumbled. Her fingers came next, certain, patient, deliberate. I don’t usually let anyone take me that far. With her, I folded. Resistance seemed pointless. Maybe I even wanted to be broken down.
She brought out a small toy. It looked harmless. It wasn’t. She eased it in with a patience that made me tremble. Then a flick—alive. Buzzing through me. And I finally understood why women hide these things away, secret companions. There’s an art in learning how to take your own pleasure… and no guide can really capture that first jolt, that shock that steals your breath.
Martin’s breathing turned ragged. Cheyenne moved me like I was hers to command, teasing him as she did. His body shuddered, his sounds raw. Proof enough that she could pull us both straight into chaos and surrender.
When it ended, I was wrecked. Shaking. Strangely sad it was over. Cheyenne wasn’t finished though—she slipped the toy into herself this time, eyes glittering. Martin devoured her like he couldn’t help himself, kissing, worshipping, frantic. Watching them together—God—I couldn’t look away. I’ve seen a lot, maybe too much, but that… that burned itself into me.
Afterwards, silence. My body heavy, my mind racing. Craving the next test already, the next command. It’s ridiculous how quickly it happens. Some women play with silks, others with masks, ears, tails. My thoughts slipped to another night in Mayfair, where a costume reshaped everything—a tale of bunny roleplay and submission that still lingers in my memory.