Title: The Velvet Cage Sasha reigned over The Velvet Cage, a clandestine club where desire and dominance entwined. At 25, her fiery auburn hair cascaded like molten copper, framing a face that promised both pleasure and punishment. Her broad hips and thick thighs swayed with purpose as she prowled the room, a feline goddess clad in crimson lace, her every step a silent command. Men trembled in her presence, knowing she’d strip them not just of clothes, but of pride—and their wallets. Tonight’s plaything was Ethan, a nervous intern who’d paid a small fortune for the privilege of kneeling at her feet. She greeted him with a smirk, her voice a velvet whip. “You wanted a queen, baby boy. Let’s see if you can afford the crown.” She led him to her private chamber, where velvet ropes and leather restraints whispered of submission. Ethan’s hands shook as he unbuttoned his shirt, offering his torso—pale and eager—for her approval. Sasha circled him, a predator sizing up prey. “You think money buys you this?” she purred, snapping a pair of padded cuffs around his wrists. “It keeps you in the game.” Her fingers traced his collarbone, then dove into his pocket, extracting his credit card like a dagger. “Every command you beg for will cost you,” she murmured, running her nails down his spine. Ethan shivered as she switched on a pink vibrator, its hum blending with the thud of her high heels as she stomped on his funds—$500 for the first tremor of ecstasy. “S-sasha,” he gasped, already addicted to her rhythm. She leaned close, her thick thighs pressing against his thighs as she guided his hand to her hip, demanding he stroke the curve like a map of his surrender. “Say it,” she growled. “Say you’re mine.” “Yours,” he choked out, and she rewarded him with a slap to his ass, followed by a swipe of her tongue along his neck. The game stretched late into the night—cash exchanged for kisses, accounts drained for each whimper he coaxed from her. As dawn bled through the curtains, Sasha lay atop him, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. Ethan, spent and grinning, slid his depleted credit card across the mattress. She captured his fingers, biting softly. “Next time… bring more toys.” In The Velvet Cage, she didn’t just own the game—she was the payout.