Femdom Ass Worship #14, Scene #03

Kiara Mia isn't the kind of woman who waits for you to figure shit out. Curvy, sharp-tongued, wrapped head-to-toe in black vinyl that creaks when she moves. She looks straight through the lens and tells you exactly what'll happen if you step out of line. Her ass is thick, heavy, and very much in control. In the dungeon below her is Guy DiSilva—on hands and knees, breathing fast like he already knows the score. Kiara presses her bare foot against his cheek, toes painted glossy, then shoves them in his mouth. He sucks like she taught him, quiet and quick. The vinyl creaks again as she peels the bottom aside, bends at the hips, and smothers his face between her cheeks. "Tongue," she snaps. His mouth gets to work—hot, flat, desperate—spreading wide along the groove of her rim, lapping slow while she sways forward just enough to smother whatever part of him she hasn't already claimed. She twists, squats, plants both palms on his skull, all of her resting weight pressing him into the padded bench with nothing but flesh on either side of his nose. He flails but doesn't fight it. He knows better. Long breathless moments pass. She chuckles low when the rhythm of panic hits, waits until his vision swims, then eases just enough that he can drag another lungful of scent instead of breath. When mercy finally feels worth doling out, Kiara flips around, grabs his cock at the base, and pumps him in tight, quick jerks. Sweat-slick and sticky, the shaft jerks harder than his control. One savage half-stroke and he paints the floor in thick, stinking ropes under her boots, eyes rolled back, useless and proud of it.