She’s all black leather and cold authority—gloves snapping on as she yanks him toward the kitchen counter. No warning, just the sharp sting of rope biting into wrists before he even gasps. That gag? A perfect fit for someone who won’t be speaking anyway. His cock twitches against her palm the second she takes control—no teasing, no buildup. Just rough strokes while she pins him down, fingers working like a vice until his hips jerk helplessly. The first spurt hits her glove; she doesn’t stop. No cum bucket here. She wipes it across his chest like a trophy before leaning in close enough to whisper something filthy that makes him whimper behind the gag.
