Sex slave: Angelic

Angelic arrives expecting nothing more than oil and gentle hands. She has no idea Mistress Mandy waits behind the folding screen. When the mask slips, the fan snaps open, stiff wood catching the air as Mandy pulls it down hard across Angelic’s upturned ass. Skin flushes. Heat blooms. Mandy trades the fan for new gloves, their fingertip ridges buzz against every slick fold. Ropes bite Angelic’s wrists overhead. She feels the pads thrum, then Mandy orders it plainly: come now. Angelic’s calves ache, blood pooled and ripe, thighs trembling, yet she begs for the next breath, the next jolt. Mandy answers with her whole hand, four fingers easing then a thumb tucking tight until the fist presses past the clinging rim. Angelic jerks, heels drumming, cunt pulsing around the knuckles that claim her.