Glass shuddered when König slammed them forward, their palms flattening against the tall mirror. Their reflection stared back at them, wide-eyed and trembling, framed by his hulking shadow looming behind. His mask brushed against the back of their head as he bent low, his breath fogging the surface of the glass.

“Sieh dich an,” he murmured, his accent heavy and his voice thick. “Look at you.” His hand gripped their chin and forced their head up, angling their face so they could not look anywhere except at their own reflection. His other hand dragged their hips back and ground his cock against them through the fabric of their clothes, the friction sharp and deliberate.

They tried to shake their head, but his grip only grew harsher. “Nein. You watch. You do not look away from what you are.” His hood pressed against their temple and his pale eyes never left their mirrored image. He yanked their trousers down with a rough tug and pushed inside without hesitation, burying himself deep.

Their scream cracked against the glass, muffled when his palm clamped over their mouth. König’s thrust split them open with merciless rhythm, every movement jerking their reflection into something obscene. “So tight,” he growled, his voice breaking low. “Always fighting me. Always losing.”

He ground them harder against the mirror, his chest flush with their back, the mask pressing them forward into their own reflection. “You see that?” His voice was a hiss, taunting. “How pathetic you look, crying while I take you. My cock inside, your mouth silenced, your body begging.” He smacked their ass once, the sound sharp as the print bloomed red. “That is the truth, Schatzi. That is who you are.”

Their reflection blurred with tears, but König did not relent. Each thrust was brutal and precise, forcing them to witness their own undoing. His voice slipped harsh into German, filthy commands and mockery spilling against their ear. “Gehorsam. Kneel. Cry. Cum. That is all you can do for me.”

The glass fogged with their breath, the mirror rattling with every drive of his hips. “And when you cannot bear to look at yourself again,” he whispered as his cock pulsed inside them, “remember that I was the one who made you see it.”

Glass shuddered when König slammed her forward, her palms flattening against the tall mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed and trembling, framed by his hulking shadow looming behind. His mask brushed against the back of her head as he bent low, his breath fogging the surface of the glass.

“Sieh dich an,” he murmured, his accent heavy and his voice thick. “Look at you.” His hand gripped her chin and forced her head up, angling her face so she could not look anywhere except at her own reflection. His other hand dragged her hips back and ground his cock against her through the fabric of her clothes, the friction sharp and deliberate.

She tried to shake her head, but his grip only grew harsher. “Nein. You watch. You do not look away from what you are.” His hood pressed against her temple and his pale eyes never left her mirrored image. He yanked her trousers down with a rough tug and pushed inside without hesitation, burying himself deep.

Her scream cracked against the glass, muffled when his palm clamped over her mouth. König’s thrust split her open with merciless rhythm, every movement jerking her reflection into something obscene. “So tight,” he growled, his voice breaking low. “Always fighting me. Always losing.”

He ground her harder against the mirror, his chest flush with her back, the mask pressing her forward into her own reflection. “You see that?” His voice was a hiss, taunting. “How pathetic you look, crying while I take you. My cock inside, your mouth silenced, your body begging.” He smacked her ass once, the sound sharp as the print bloomed red. “That is the truth, Schatzi. That is who you are.”

Her reflection blurred with tears, but König did not relent. Each thrust was brutal and precise, forcing her to witness her own undoing. His voice slipped harsh into German, filthy commands and mockery spilling against her ear. “Gehorsam. Kneel. Cry. Cum. That is all you can do for me.”

The glass fogged with her breath, the mirror rattling with every drive of his hips. “And when you cannot bear to look at yourself again,” he whispered as his cock pulsed inside her, “remember that I was the one who made you see it.”

Glass shuddered when König slammed {{user}} forward, his palms flattening against the tall mirror. His reflection stared back at him, wide-eyed and trembling, framed by König’s massive shadow looming behind. The mask brushed against the back of his head as König bent low, his breath fogging the surface of the glass.

“Sieh dich an,” König murmured, his accent heavy and his voice thick. “Look at you.” He forced {{user}}’s chin up, angling his face so he could not look anywhere except at the glass. With his other hand, König dragged {{user}}’s hips back and ground his cock against him through the fabric of his clothes, the friction sharp and deliberate.

{{user}} tried to shake his head, but König’s grip only grew harsher. “Nein. You watch. You do not look away from what you are.” His hood pressed against {{user}}’s temple and his pale eyes stayed locked on his reflection. König yanked {{user}}’s trousers down in one rough motion and pushed inside without hesitation, burying himself deep.

{{user}}’s scream cracked against the glass, muffled when König’s palm clamped over his mouth. König’s thrust split him open with merciless rhythm, every movement jerking his reflection into something obscene. “So tight,” he growled, his voice breaking low. “Always fighting me. Always losing.”

König ground him harder against the mirror, his chest flush with {{user}}’s back, the mask pressing him forward into his reflection. “You see that?” König’s voice hissed sharp, taunting. “How pathetic you look, crying while I take you. My cock inside, your mouth silenced, your body begging.” He smacked {{user}}’s ass once, the sound ringing as the print bloomed red. “That is the truth, Schatzi. That is who you are.”

His reflection blurred with tears, but König did not relent. Each thrust was brutal and precise, forcing {{user}} to witness his own undoing. König’s voice slipped harsh into German, filth and mockery spilling against his ear. “Gehorsam. Kneel. Cry. Cum. That is all you can do for me.”

The glass fogged with {{user}}’s breath, the mirror rattling with every brutal drive of König’s hips. “And when you cannot bear to look at yourself again,” he whispered as his cock pulsed deep inside him, “remember that I was the one who made you see it.”