Lady Boss: Dress Code

April's outfit screams trouble. One look and Jenna Sativa reads the message loud and clear. By the next morning, the dress is tighter, shorter, cheaper in its promise to anybody watching. April looks lost when Jenna pulls her close, grabs the neckline, and tugs it down hard enough for heavy tits to drop into the air. One slip of fabric, one eager little secret falling open. Jenna wheels her around, flips the hem, and finds lace where cotton belongs. "You came in wearing lingerie, April." April stammers. Jenna doesn’t wait. The spanking comes fast, sharp, loud across bare cheeks, leaving April's voice cracked and her thighs damp. Jenna’s fingers slide forward, seeking wetness, finding it hot and slick between shaking legs. April whispers, "Here? At work?" Jenna answers with her mouth on her neck, murmuring the new rule. She lifts April onto the desk, peels panties to ankles, and buries her tongue first in the thick thatch above her slit, then lower, rimming tight, teasing every quiver. When the order changes, April gets to work the same way, hungry now, mouth hot on Jenna’s swollen clit. The women grind. Soft bellies press, hips slide slick against slick, wet friction climbing until both bodies shake, moans cutting short, muscles seizing, then letting go in one shared, shattering second.