Nathalie's breath hitched as I slowly pulled my hand back from her throat, her body trembling with a mix of fear and resignation. "Hmmm..." I hummed, my voice low and amused, my eyes never leaving hers as I watched the way her chest rose and fell with each panicked breath.

Angela didn't waste a second. Her hand flashed out, slapping Nathalie's ass with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the room. "Why don't you get to work?" she taunted, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"Don't you want to save your son?" She let out a cold, chuckling laugh, her fingers digging into Nathalie's hip. "Or should I say, your daughter?"

Nathalie's body jerked at the sting of the slap, her face flushing with humiliation and desperation. "Hmmm... I'll do it," she whispered, her voice trembling, tears dripping from her eyes as she turned to face me.

She stepped closer, her hands pressing against my chest as she rose onto her toes, her lips crashing into mine with a desperate, bruising kiss. Her teeth grazed my lower lip, biting down just hard enough to draw a drop of blood, her voice a broken plea against my mouth. "After this... promise me... let my son go... please, I beg you..."

I looked down at her, my fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head back so she had no choice but to meet my gaze. "I promise," I murmured, my voice a dark, velvety vow. The words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken threats and the weight of her surrender.

Nathalie nodded, her breath shuddering as she pressed herself against me, her body molding to mine, her tits pushing against my chest like they were made to torment me. She reached behind herself, her fingers fumbling with the clasp of her bra before letting it slip from her shoulders, the lace falling to the floor with a whisper. Her breasts spilled free, full and heavy, the nipples already hard and aching, the dark, puffy areolas begging for attention.

Angela's laughter filled the room, sharp and mocking. "Oh, look at her," she purred, her voice dripping with amusement as she stepped closer, her gaze raking over Nathalie's exposed body.

"She doesn't even look like she's forced. She's enjoying this." Her fingers reached out, tracing the curve of Nathalie's breast before flicking a nipple, making Nathalie gasp. "Look at her—her nipples are so erect. She's wet for you, Dexter. She's been craving this."

I didn't hesitate. My hand moved to cup Nathalie's breast, my fingers pinching her nipple between them, rolling it until she let out a soft, helpless moan. "Hmmm..." I hummed, my voice a dark growl as I squeezed, feeling the weight of her tit in my palm like a ripe fruit.

"Such beautiful tits, Nathalie." My other hand joined in, pressing and kneading her flesh, molding it like dough, my thumbs circling her nipples until they were tight, aching peaks. "So firm. So responsive."

Nathalie's breath came in ragged gasps, her body arching into my touch, her moans growing louder despite herself. "Please..." she whispered, her voice trembling, her hands clutching at my shoulders as if she needed me to keep her upright.

Angela's laughter was a cold, mocking melody. "Oh, she's begging already," she taunted, her fingers sliding down Nathalie's stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. "And we've only just started."

Nathalie's body trembled as my hands continued to knead her breasts, her nipples hardening under my touch like pebbles of need. Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest heaving as she pressed herself closer, her body betraying her despite the shame burning in her cheeks. She could feel Angela's eyes on her, sharp and mocking, but she didn't care—not anymore. All that mattered was Tyler. All that mattered was survival.

With a slow, deliberate sway of her hips, Nathalie grinded her pussy against my cock, the thin lace of her panties doing nothing to hide the heat between her thighs. She could feel me hardening beneath her, the thick outline of my length pressing against her through the fabric of my pants, and it sent a jolt of something dark and electric through her.

"Mmm..." she moaned, her voice a breathy whimper as she rocked her hips, her clit throbbing with every movement.

She reached up, her fingers tangling in my hair as she forced my face between her tits, pressing them hard against my cheeks, smothering me in their soft, heavy weight. "You like that, don't you?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of shame and desperation. "You like how soft they are... how full..."

My gaze lingered on Nathalie, her face flushed with shame, yet her eyes burned with a desperate, almost frantic effort to seduce me—her words tumbling out in a breathless, reckless plea.

Then Angela's laughter sliced through the air, sharp and venomous. "Oh, look at her," she crooned, her voice laced with sadistic amusement as she closed the distance between them. Her eyes roamed over Nathalie's body, slow and predatory, every glance dripping with unabashed, lecherous hunger.

"She's not just doing it—she's loving it." Her fingers reached out, tracing the outline of Nathalie's panties, her touch deliberate and cruel.

"Look at her, Dexter. She's rubbing that pussy against you like a slut in heat. Those nipples—so hard they could cut glass." She leaned in, her breath hot against Nathalie's ear, her voice a dark whisper. "And that pussy—already so wet. I can smell her from here. Can't you?"

Nathalie's face burned with humiliation, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. Her hips rolled in slow, deliberate circles, her panties dampening with every grind, the lace clinging to her swollen lips. "Shut up," she hissed, her voice raw with embarrassment, but there was no conviction in it. Not when her body was betraying her so deliciously.

Angela's laughter only grew louder, her fingers suddenly gripping the waistband of Nathalie's panties and yanking them to the side, exposing the thick, dark curls of her pubic hair, the glistening pink folds beneath. "Oh, but I won't," Angela taunted, her voice dripping with amusement.

"Not when you're putting on such a show." Her fingers trailed lower, brushing against Nathalie's exposed pussy, making her gasp.

"Look at this mess. So wet. So ready." She pressed a finger against Nathalie's clit, circling it just once before pulling away, her voice a dark promise. "You're dripping, Nathalie. And we haven't even started yet."

Nathalie's breath hitched, her body jerking at the touch, her face flushing even darker. "I—I'm not—" she stammered, but the words died in her throat as I bit down on her nipple, my teeth grazing the tight peak before soothing it with my tongue. She moaned, her back arching, her pussy grinding harder against my cock, her panties now soaked with her arousal.

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