The next evening came too fast. My body still ached from the rooftop — ass sore from double penetration, skin sticky with dried piss and cum, mind replaying her whisper over and over: “Tomorrow. Whips. Wax. Blood. No more games. Just pain and us.”

I didn’t eat dinner. Couldn’t. Stomach twisted with dark anticipation. Cock stayed half-hard all day, leaking every time I thought of her cruel smile. I showered cold, scrubbed hard, but the smell of her — piss, sex, pool water — clung like a curse. Dressed simple: black t-shirt, loose pants. No underwear. Ready to be stripped and ruined.