The air in Akash’s study still hummed with the aftershocks of Avni’s surrender, the scent of her climax a sweet, musky counterpoint to the old leather and polished wood. He watched her retrieve the torn silk, her movements a delicate dance of compliance and lingering tremors. The black cord of the vibrator, a thin, stark line against her inner thigh, disappeared into the moist folds between her legs. The buttplug, a dark, gleaming cap, nestled against her pale ass, a constant, physical declaration of ownership. Every tremor that ran through her, every subtle shift of her weight, sent a fresh wave of sensation through her, a buzzing reminder of his control.