Jasmine Byrne and Nathaniel Meadowlark

Jasmine Byrne cuts straight through the bullshit. She sits behind that desk in a dark suit, heels sharp, hair black as ink, sizing Nathaniel Meadowlark up like she's deciding whether to hire him or break him. He fidgets. She doesn't. She tells him to stand, to strip, to kneel, and every word lands like a command he already knew was coming. The tie stays around his throat while she loops rope around his wrists, cinches his arms behind the chair, lets him feel how little control he has left. Nathaniel's cock is hard before she even touches it. She works him slow at first, then harder, edging him until his breath comes in short, desperate pulls. She laughs when he leaks. She keeps his mouth busy, too, makes him repeat "Yes, Miss Jasmine" while she slides her fingers inside his ass, opens him up, then straps on and fucks him until his thighs shake and his voice breaks. He comes shaking, still tied, still repeating her name like it's the only word left in him.