Marcus crawled into the bedroom on his hands and knees the second Ava snapped her fingers from the doorway. No words needed anymore. He knew the routine. Naked. Collared. Leash already clipped from the night before. Ass still bruised purple from yesterday’s crop and paddle, hole tender and slick from the plug she’d made him wear all day under his clothes at work. He’d leaked through his boxers twice on the drive over.
Ava stood waiting in the center of the room under the ceiling chains. Black latex gloves up to her elbows tonight. No bodysuit—just a tight black sports bra, harness locked on, and the same monstrous ridged dildo from last night gleaming with fresh lube. Her real c**k hung heavy below it, already thick and veined, balls full.
She grabbed the leash. Yanked him up to his feet
