New slave girl

Years working the whip gave Mistress Mandy a cruel sense of measure. With Aleksandra Black on her knees, fresh and frightened, she pressed limits the girl barely understood she had. Aleksandra sobbed and thrashed; her throat was already hoarse. None of it slowed the relentless hands and tongue pushing between her thighs, stretching, teasing, forcing another orgasm from a body that kept trying to say no. Tears streaked the new slave’s face, yet Mandy only smiled—an elegant, steady smile—and leaned in deeper, never breaking pace, never missing the smallest tremor of surrender.