From Spanky Puppy to Gothic Bottom

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In the dimly lit room, Spanky Puppy stands naked, her ass trussed up in a tight, leather corset, her chest heaving and her eyes shining with anticipation. The Gothic Bottom enters, his dark, foreboding presence contrasting with the bright reds and pinks of the room. He strokes her skin, leaving a trail of dark bruises where his fingers touch. He bends her over a wooden table, pulling the leather straps that restrain her hands back tightly. He raises his hand, and Spanky Puppy tenses with fear. His hand comes down hard, slapping her ass loudly. Her vocalizations are muffled by the gag in her mouth. The strokes continue, one after another, each harder than the last. Spanky Puppy’s back arches as she tries to escape his turbulent physicality, but the bindings keep her pinned down. The Gothic Bottom unfastens his own pants, pulling out a thick, pulsing cock. With a single thrust, he plunges deep inside of her, the noise of their combined lust overwhelming the silence of the room. He pounds her hard, their flesh slapping wetly, her moans growing louder and more desperate with each strike. As she nears orgasm, the Gothic Bottom chuckles darkly. Not so helpless now, are you, Spanky Puppy? His thrusts get rougher, more aggressive, and her moans grow feral. He grips her tightly, bites her neck, and slams into her harder, his climax on the horizon. As he comes, Spanky Puppy clenches around him, perhaps finding a small measure of control and power in this dark and animalistic encounter.