Teaching Beth

The ugly one knelt on filthy tile, mouth pressed to the leather. Petra didn’t speak. She only lifted one boot and watched her tongue slide across dried mud and salt. The girl moaned like someone who never expected a hand on her head again. No questions, no demands—just greedy obedience. When the boots came off, the scent made her lean in without being told. Tongue tracing arch, heel, every callous. The gratitude showed in how eagerly she worked, licking between the toes like it might earn her another night like this. Petra let it happen. Silence worked better than orders. Later she had her spread open on the low table, cunt held wide with gloved fingers, pink walls already shiny. Slow. Patient. The girl shivered every time Petra added another finger, breath catching, grateful even when it hurt. No one else would touch her like this. She knew it, and she stayed there until her thighs shook.