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The club’s bass throbs like a heartbeat. I spot her—black dress clinging to hips that beg to be bruised. She’s laughing too loud at her boyfriend’s lame joke, eyes already scanning. I walk over, no smile, just presence. She turns, breath catches.
“Drink?” I say. Voice low. She nods, too fast.
We end up in the VIP booth. Her hand on my thigh under the table. I grip her wrist, hard. “You want to be told what to do.” Not a question. She shivers.
Back at my loft. Door slams. I push her against the wall, yank her dress up. No panties, slutty little secret. I slap her ass once sharp, echoing. She gasps, legs part.
“Count.”
“One…” Smack. “Two…” Harder. By ten she’s dripping down her thighs.
I bend her over the couch, belt off, loop it around her wrists. No rope yet, just leather biting skin. I fuck her raw, no condom, no mercy. She screams my name…
When I’m done, I pull out, cum streaking her ass. She pants, “He never… he never does it like that.”
I smirk. “He won’t get the chance.”
I zip up, leave her trembling on the floor. “Tomorrow. My office. Wear nothing underneath.”
She nods, already ruined.

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