Her Delicate Submission Unleashed

Эма девушка маленького роста с очень красивой фигурой и телом, с слегка похотливыми желаниями всю жизнь хотела стать искательницой приключений, она всем говорила что хочет стать известной и богатой но на самом деле она хотел совсем другого. Эма обожала когда над ней издеваются и унижают, когда ее связывают и пытают

The tavern was loud and sticky with sweat, but Ema didn’t care. Every pair of eyes that slid over her tight leathers, her petite frame barely filling them out, sent a flush of heat through her. She’d spun tales of treasure hunting, of becoming the most famous adventurer this side of the Black Mountains—but the truth was, she wasn’t here for gold. The real prize was in the way the mercenary at the bar kept leering at her, his fingers tapping absently against the hilt of his knife. She could already imagine the bite of rope around her wrists, the sharp sting of his palm across her cheek when she inevitably “stepped out of line.” “You’re too small for this kind of work,” he grunted, grabbing her arm as she pretended to stumble past. His grip was rough, perfect. Ema bit her lip, heart pounding. “I can handle myself.” His laugh was dark, promising. “We’ll see about that.” She shivered. Finally.

**The mercenary’s grip tightened** as he dragged her toward the back of the tavern. Ema’s pulse thrummed in her throat, her breath coming fast. The noise of the crowd faded behind them as he shoved her into a dim storeroom, the scent of ale and damp wood thick in the air. “You sure you’re cut out for this, little girl?” His voice was a low growl, one hand fisting in her hair to yank her head back. The sharp pain made her gasp, but she arched into it, craving more. “I—I can take it,” she breathed, trembling not from fear but anticipation. He laughed, a rough sound that sent heat coiling low in her belly. His free hand grabbed the front of her leathers, tearing them open with a brutal jerk. Cool air hit her exposed skin, her small breasts tightening instantly. His calloused palm scraped over one nipple, then pinched hard. She cried out, her knees buckling—but he held her up effortlessly, his strength overwhelming. “Pathetic,” he sneered. “You’re already shaking.” Ema’s lips parted, her thighs pressing together as wetness soaked through her smallclothes. He noticed, his grin turning cruel. “Oh, you like this, don’t you?” His fingers dug into her hip, nails biting. “You want me to fucking ruin you.” She moaned, her head falling forward in submission. He didn’t make her wait. A sharp crack echoed as his palm slammed across her ass, the pain radiating through her in a delicious burn. She whimpered, her fingers scrabbling at the wall for balance. “Beg,” he ordered, his other hand wrapping around her throat. Ema didn’t hesitate. “Please—please hurt me,” she gasped. His grip on her hair tightened. “Good girl.” Then he threw her to the floor.

The rough wooden planks scraped against Ema’s bare thighs as she hit the ground, the impact jarring but thrilling. She barely had time to catch her breath before his boot pressed between her shoulder blades, forcing her chest down. The weight of him was intoxicating—absolute, immovable. “Stay down,” he commanded, dragging the tip of his knife along the curve of her ass. The cold metal made her flinch, her skin pebbling as he traced lazy circles. “Or do I need to carve my name into you first?” Ema’s breath hitched. “I—I’ll be good,” she whispered, spreading her legs instinctively. His fingers tangled in her hair again, wrenching her head back so hard she saw stars. “You don’t get to decide what *good* is.” His other hand yanked her smallclothes aside, exposing her wet, swollen cunt to the damp air. A rough finger plunged inside without warning, stretching her with a brutal twist. She sobbed, her walls clenching around the intrusion—too much, not enough. “Look at you,” he sneered, pulling his fingers out to slap her soaked folds, the sting sharp and electric. “Dripping for it like a whore.” He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “You want my cock?” Ema nodded frantically, whimpering as his palm cracked against her ass again. “Then *ask* properly.” “Please—please fuck me,” she begged, voice breaking. “Please ruin me.” His growl of approval sent a tremor through her. And then he did.

The mercenary didn't bother undressing—just freed his cock with one rough jerk of his belt, the thick length already hard and angry. Ema felt the blunt head press against her, teasing her entrance before slamming in with one brutal thrust. She screamed, her back arching as he split her open, the stretch bordering on pain. "Fucking tight," he grunted, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. He didn't give her time to adjust, just pulled out and drove back in, each snap of his hips punishing. The slap of skin, her choked whimpers, the creak of the floorboards beneath them—it was filthy, perfect. His hand fisted in her hair again, yanking her upright against his chest. "You take it so sweetly," he murmured, biting her shoulder as his pace turned ruthless. One hand slid around her throat, squeezing just enough to blur her vision. "Bet you'd let me break you." Ema could only moan, her body jolting with each thrust, her cunt fluttering around him. She was close, so close— Then he stopped. "Not yet," he growled, pulling out entirely. Her whine of protest was cut short as he flipped her onto her back, her legs splayed. His thumb rubbed rough circles over her clit, just shy of cruel. "You come when I say." She trembled, aching and desperate. "*Now.*" His fingers dug into her thighs as he fucked into her again, and she shattered.

Сделай ещё чтобы наёмник что нибудь нарисовал на ней на память ножом или каким нибудь не смываемым фломастером

The mercenary pulled out of her slowly, watching Ema tremble through the aftershocks. His breath was still ragged, but his grip remained steady as he reached for the knife at his belt. The blade glinted in the dim light. "Hold still," he ordered, pressing the flat of it against her inner thigh. Ema gasped at the cold steel but didn't dare move. He dragged the tip in deliberate strokes—not deep enough to bleed, just enough to sting. The sharp lines burned, marking her skin in a jagged pattern she couldn't see. "Fuck—*fuck*," she whimpered, squirming under the scrape of metal. His free hand clamped down on her hip, stilling her. "Mine," he muttered, finishing the crude design with a final flourish. "So you don't forget who wrecked you first." She panted, the heat of the fresh mark throbbing in time with her pulse. The mercenary smirked, running a thumb over the tender skin. "Good. Now get dressed." He stood, buckling his belt. "Unless you want another lesson." Ema didn't answer, but her thighs pressed together again—already aching for more.