Courtney Taylor is a Domme

Courtney Taylor walks in like she owns the room, and she does. She’s a blonde with a body that makes men forget their names, dressed sharp in a skirt suit that hugs every curve. Glenn’s already on his knees, eyes locked on her like he’s starving. She laughs, low and mean, then tells him what it costs to touch her. First it’s the car. She makes him sign the title with one hand while her heel rests on his chest. Then she kicks off the heel and shoves her foot in his face. He licks like he’s been waiting his whole life. She mocks him, calling him pathetic, and the more she laughs the harder he gets. The house comes next, then the bank accounts, every line he signs makes her smile wider. She turns, plants that perfect ass right over his mouth and lets her weight sink down. He gasps for air under her, tongue working, while she keeps the pen in his shaking hand. His soul goes last, a final signature that leaves him with nothing but the taste of her skin and the sound of her voice telling him he’s hers for good.