"On the bench. Face down."
She positions herself as instructed, spine arched, ass presented, legs spread enough to show me everything. Members who were engaged in their own scenes pause to watch, recognizing something worth their attention.
I pour accelerant into my palm and work it across her shoulders and down her spine. Cool liquid against warm skin, the smell sharp and chemical. When I light the first fire wand, flames dance blue and gold in my hand.
"Breathe," I tell her. "Trust me to know your limits better than you do."
The first pass of flame across her skin makes her gasp. Not pain, but sensation so intense it rewrites neural pathways. Heat without burning, danger without damage, certainty made physical in the space between fire and flesh.
I work systematically. Shoulders to spine, following the curve of her back, letting flame dance across skin still wet with accelerant. Each pass creates a rush of sensation that makes her moan, soft sounds that go straight to my cock.
"Color?" I ask.
"Green."
I intensify the pattern. Flame following the curve of her ass, down her thighs, back up to shoulders. Building sensation, layering intensity, watching how her body responds to each pass. She's soaked between her legs, arousal visible and shameless, need written in every line of her trembling body.
When I extinguish the wands and set them aside, she whimpers at the loss.
"Patience," I tell her. "We're not done."
I slide two fingers inside her and feel how ready she is. Slick and hot, inner muscles clenching around my hand. She moans, hips rolling back to take me deeper.
"So responsive." I pump slowly, teasing her with what she wants but won't beg for. "So fucking perfect."
"Please."
"Please what?"
"Please, Sir. More."
I withdraw my fingers and bring them to her mouth. "Taste what I do to you."
She sucks them clean, tongue working with the same enthusiasm she'll bring to my cock later. The thought makes me harder, but control holds. Tonight is about her surrender, her willingness to give me everything and know I'll value it.
I work her with hands and mouth, bringing her to the edge twice without letting her fall. Each time she begs, each time I deny her, the dynamic deepens. Power and surrender, everything we are distilled into physical sensation.
By the time I let her come, she's shaking. The orgasm crashes through her with enough force to make her cry out, shameless and loud, the sound echoing through the lounge. Members watch with appreciation, recognizing mastery when they see it.
I gather her against me, lift her from the bench, and carry her toward the private rooms. She curls into my chest, boneless and sated, absolute in how she lets me bear her weight.
The private room waits as Margot arranged. A king bed with posts for restraints, privacy, implements arranged on a side table.
I set her on the bed and watch her process the space. She's taking in details, calculating possibilities, her scientific mind already working through scenarios even as arousal clouds her thinking.
I position her on the bed and secure her wrists to posts with soft restraints that won't mark. I test the tension, make sure circulation stays good, and give her the security of knowing she can't escape what's coming.
"Green," she says before I can ask.
I strip and let her watch. She tracks my movements with hunger written plainly across her features, her gaze lingering on my cock already hard and ready.
"Open your mouth."
She obeys. I feed her my cock slowly, letting her adjust to the size and weight, watching her eyes water as I push deeper. When I hit the back of her throat, she gags but doesn't pull away. She just relaxes and lets me use her mouth how I want.
I fuck her throat with controlled thrusts, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping the headboard for leverage. Shetakes everything I give her, tears streaming down her face, saliva coating my cock, the wet sounds of her efforts obscene and perfect.
When I pull out, she gasps for air, mouth swollen and red.
