At your service, master. Dirty in the north

The Navarra estate was immersed in the cold silence of the night, the icy wind blowing between the trees and the murmur of the leaves filling the air. But inside the barn, the atmosphere was a world apart: hot, humid, electrified by the tension that vibrated between two bodies and wills. Aarón waited, standing next to a robust wooden table, his blue eyes fixed on Enrique, who had just undressed without hesitation, offering his body to the master with a perfect mix of nerves and longing.

—Get on your knees —Aarón ordered with a firm voice, marking the rhythm and power.

Enrique obeyed, feeling the cold stone against his knees, the pressure that anchored him to the ground, Aarón's piercing gaze burning him with its intensity. Aarón approached a fine hazel rod, brushing against the entrepreneur's naked skin. The first lashes were soft, a probing to measure, to excite, to establish a silent but absolute dominance. The skin began to color with red furrows, and Enrique moaned, mixing pleasure with pain.

—Each mark on your body is a testament to your submission —Aarón whispered, caressing the red areas with his fingers—. And each one brings you closer to the reward you deserve.

The rod struck now with greater force, constant, rhythmic, making every nerve in Enrique's skin vibrate. He arched his back, clenched his teeth, and released low gasps, surrendering to the punishment that opened the doors to the darkest pleasure. The mixture of pain and excitement made him burn inside.

—Stand up —Aarón ordered, and with skill, he tied Enrique's wrists and ankles to the wooden bench that dominated the center of the room.

The entrepreneur remained motionless, exposed, vulnerable, a toy in the master's hands. Aarón ran his hands, lips, and left a trail of fiery caresses on the marked skin. He kissed each wound, each furrow, each still-untouched part, untouched by the punishment.

—Now the real game begins —Aarón said, undressing slowly, showing his strong and firm torso, with a gaze of hunger and dominance—. Tonight, you will be my absolute slave.

Without warning, he positioned himself behind Enrique and penetrated with force. Each thrust was a blow of power, a brutal affirmation of control. Enrique screamed Aarón's name, mixing pain and pleasure, feeling how his body surrendered to the master's voracity.

—Don't stop screaming my name —Aarón ordered with a hoarse voice—. I want everyone to know who your owner is.

The intensity of the penetration grew, rapid, relentless, until both sank into a storm of pleasure and screams. Aarón then withdrew and, with a cold gesture, showed him the phone: a transfer of one hundred thousand euros to his account.

—Your reward, rich bitch. But the best is yet to come.

He turned him over, leaving him face up and tied, and began to descend with desperate kisses on his body, going down to his vi...