Female domination is the spine this whole catalogue is built on, and its 278 dedicated femdom scenes show the discipline behind the position. Instruction, denial, worship and the calm voice that keeps a man exactly where she put him. Watch it work, one quiet order at a time.
Silas is bleeding cash. The economy took a bite and left the company dry. Lease payments have stacked up like unpaid sins. Then she walks in—Zoey, property manager with a body built to wreck a man. Massive tits that strain her blouse, an ass so big it should come with a warning. Silas stares. He knows he should run but his knees go soft instead.
She lays it out cold. She tells him to have read the fine print. Ninety days behind and the clause gives her a choice: evict him and keep the deposit, or take fifty-one percent of the company. Owning losers makes her wet. She picks the second option. She calls him a pathetic piece of shit while she yanks him across the desk by his tie. The cheap fabric bites into his throat. She makes him drop.
“Down, puppet.” He lands hard on the carpet. She turns, hikes the skirt, bares that colossal ass. The smell hits him first, heat and sweat and pure filth. She backs up until his nose is buried between her cheeks. “Sniff,” she snaps. He breathes deep. She grinds and he chokes on the stink. Her laughter cuts like broken glass.
“Lick it.” His tongue hesitates, then pushes in. The taste is musky, sharp, female. She groans, spreads herself wider. “Now kiss my fucking hole.” He obeys, lips sealing over the puckered ring, tongue circling. Every moan she gives sounds like ownership. She drops her full weight and sits on his face, smothering every word he tries to form. His lungs burn.
“You can’t even pay your rent, loser. All you’re good for is worship.” She rocks forward and back, smothering him in sweat-slick heat while his cock throbs against the zipper. She stands, spins, and jams her foot onto his chest. The heel presses down. He kisses the leather like it’s holy. She laughs again, low and cruel.
Then she peels the blouse open. Those tits spill out, heavy and marked with her own finger bruises. She drags him up just enough to slap his face with one heavy breast, then shoves his mouth onto her nipple until he sucks like he’s starving. The second she’s satisfied she spins and sits again, thicker than before, ass swallowing his whole face while she grinds until his tongue shakes and his brain whites out. She keeps him there, filthy, obedient, until every last shred of pride tastes like her ass on his tongue.
Silas is bleeding cash. The economy took a bite and left the company dry. Lease payments have stacked up like unpaid sins. Then she walks in—Zoey, property manager with a body built to wreck a man. Massive tits that strain her blouse, an ass so big it should come with a warning. Silas stares. He knows he should run but his knees go soft instead.
She lays it out cold. She tells him to have read the fine print. Ninety days behind and the clause gives her a choice: evict him and keep the deposit, or take fifty-one percent of the company. Owning losers makes her wet. She picks the second option. She calls him a pathetic piece of shit while she yanks him across the desk by his tie. The cheap fabric bites into his throat. She makes him drop.
“Down, puppet.” He lands hard on the carpet. She turns, hikes the skirt, bares that colossal ass. The smell hits him first, heat and sweat and pure filth. She backs up until his nose is buried between her cheeks. “Sniff,” she snaps. He breathes deep. She grinds and he chokes on the stink. Her laughter cuts like broken glass.
“Lick it.” His tongue hesitates, then pushes in. The taste is musky, sharp, female. She groans, spreads herself wider. “Now kiss my fucking hole.” He obeys, lips sealing over the puckered ring, tongue circling. Every moan she gives sounds like ownership. She drops her full weight and sits on his face, smothering every word he tries to form. His lungs burn.
“You can’t even pay your rent, loser. All you’re good for is worship.” She rocks forward and back, smothering him in sweat-slick heat while his cock throbs against the zipper. She stands, spins, and jams her foot onto his chest. The heel presses down. He kisses the leather like it’s holy. She laughs again, low and cruel.
Then she peels the blouse open. Those tits spill out, heavy and marked with her own finger bruises. She drags him up just enough to slap his face with one heavy breast, then shoves his mouth onto her nipple until he sucks like he’s starving. The second she’s satisfied she spins and sits again, thicker than before, ass swallowing his whole face while she grinds until his tongue shakes and his brain whites out. She keeps him there, filthy, obedient, until every last shred of pride tastes like her ass on his tongue.
