FemDom Ass Worship #20, Scene #03

She’s built like trouble—tight skirt riding low, legs wrapped in glossy nylons, heels sharp enough to step on your throat. Raven hair. Sour smile. Kendra talks straight to you like she owns the room and every inch of your body. Turns. Spreads. Her ass fills the screen, soft and heavy. She orders you down. Lick it. Now. No hesitation, no mercy. Later she’s heels and lies at some cheap conference table. Tom Byron waits to plead his kid’s case. Doesn’t get the chance. Kendra shuts the door, locks it, and that smug little frown is gone. Five minutes in, he’s stripped and shaking. She points to the floor; he crawls. One tug and he’s over her knee, skirt hitched, nylons cool against his ribs. Her palm cracks down—hard, fast, furious. He yelps. She laughs. Bare feet come next, tracing his face, forcing his tongue to every aching arch. Stocking soles mash across his lips. Then she stands, backs up, and drops that fat ass on his chest till breathing’s a favor she might not grant. Tom’s mouth opens. Her weight shuts it. She stays there till the fight drains out of him and the only word left is yes.