Surrender Your Stress

Lyra Law ends the call from hell, then slips out of her office on cue. Her heels strike marble like the clockwork she runs on all day. She never stops owning rooms. Until she knocks on this door. Kimmy opens it wearing nothing but a white coat and a grin. She takes Lyra’s phone, flicks the screen off, and drops it into a drawer. “Strip.” Lyra steps out of her pencil skirt. The black lace thong underneath matches her bra, tiny straps cutting across tan skin. Kimmy unhooks the bra, pockets it, then tugs the panties down Lyra’s legs and balls the damp silk into her mouth. “You’ve been riding people at the firm again. You know what happens.” Lyra nods once. Words would be a lie. She steps onto the table and lays stomach-down, arms stretched above her head. Kimmy buckles soft pink cuffs at her wrists, clicks a collar around her throat, then blinds her with smooth silk. The loss of sight feels like freedom. Kimmy shrugs off the coat. Oil hits warm skin and spreads in slow circles. Each pass over Lyra’s ass ends with a firm slap that makes the flesh bounce and pink. Kimmy straddles the table in nothing but skin, hot thighs on either side of Lyra’s ribs. She drags her nipples across the oiled back, rides the arch of Lyra’s foot, smearing slick heat. Lyra’s foot stays still like an obedient pet until Kimmy grinds on it, hips jerking once, twice, a soft sigh as she comes. Kimmy slides forward and pulls Lyra’s cheeks apart. Her tongue swipes once, deliberate, slow, then two fingers part the dark curls between Lyra’s legs. The strokes inside are deep and precise, finding the spot that makes Lyra’s thighs shake. “Now,” Kimmy says, and Lyra breaks with a muffled cry against the gag. The cuffs come off only long enough for Lyra to roll onto her back. Kimmy straddles her face, lowering wet folds to her waiting tongue. Lyra laps in grateful rhythm, nose pressed to Kimmy’s slick heat. Kimmy leans back and spreads Lyra wide with both hands, the open pose obscene in the low light. Then her mouth seals over Lyra’s cunt, tongue flicking the swollen clit until Lyra arches off the table and comes again, messy and shaking. Lyra stays spread, chest heaving. Kimmy kisses the inside of one trembling thigh. The only sound left is the distant tick of the city beyond the tinted glass.