Femdom Ass Worship #19, Scene #02

Tori Taylor—ebony, solid, carved like a wet dream—has Eric Jover stripped and roped down in her brick dungeon. A raw lash of current snaps from the cattle prod and he jerks, wrists cracking the metal cuffs. She mounts him backward, her heavy, muscle-packed ass covering his whole face, cheeks swallowing him until the air runs out; he thrashes, tongue buried deep as her weight bears down. One bare heel drives straight into his ribs and then finds his throat, pinning him there while she fists her thighs and rocks. He slicks her shiny ass with oil, palms gliding, lips licking every warm cleft. She drops that prod again for good measure, and when his cock stands raw and needy, she knots her fist around it and jacks hard—long strokes, short strokes—until he shoots white over his own stomach. She scoops the mess, forces it past his teeth, lets him taste every drop while she laughs low and merciless.