Miki gasped, her body jerking as a fresh wave of heat pooled between her thighs.
But it was Reina's reaction that stole the moment—a high, sharp cry as her knees buckled, her hands clutching the petal's edge for support.
Her face was a mask of humiliated arousal, her degradation kink flaring to life under the weight of her own helplessness.
Yuri laughed, her voice a sultry drawl.
"Well, that's one way to test pressure sensitivity," she teased, her thick thighs pressing together as she leaned forward, her blouse straining against her ample chest.
Kota released Miki's finger with a soft pop, his voice low.
"Sorry, Reina." But there was no real apology in his tone—just a quiet acknowledgment of the power he held.
Reina didn't answer, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
Kota's hands moved to Miki's hips, gliding across the generous curve of her pelvis.
His touch was light, exploratory, but it sent the petals beneath her into a simultaneous glow.
