I woke up in the Crimson Suite with a deep, satisfied ache between my legs.
My body was a map of last night’s pleasures with faint bruises on my hips from being gripped too hard, bite marks on my breasts, and a pleasant soreness in my p***y and ass. Dried c*m still clung to my inner thighs and stomach. I stretched lazily on the silk sheets, a small, dreamy smile playing on my lips.
The blackmail felt like a distant memory now. The threats, the videos, the fear of exposure… none of it mattered anymore. All I could think about was the next room, the next group of masked men, the next time I would be used, stretched, and filled until I screamed.
I was addicted.
Completely.
A soft knock sounded at the door and two masked attendants entered, carrying fresh oils and lingerie.
“Master Damie
