Gwen Diamond and Billy

Mistress Diamond struts in wearing a tailored suit. She yanks the tie on her quivering husband and shoves him to his knees. His hands shake as she forces him to peel down her nylons one trembling inch at a time. Every thread that snaps against his knuckles drives home who owns the room. She snaps her fingers, points to the floor, and his tongue follows like a dog on a short leash. He licks the sole of each bare foot, lips working past painted nails while she towers over him, still buttoned up and smirking. She drops her skirt, spreads her thighs, and gives him one chance to prove his mouth is good for something. His tongue works fast, desperate for approval. The moment he hesitates, she jerks his head back by the hair and cracks the crop across his shoulders until he whimpers. Red welts bloom under the silk shirt she never bothered to remove. When he’s shaking too hard to speak, she hauls him over the desk, wrists bound with his own belt. The leather harness bites into her hips as she sinks the strap-on deep, no warning, no mercy. Billy’s groans turn wet and broken while she drives the toy to the hilt, pounding until his cock jerks and paints his chest with thick streaks. She leaves him there, used and dripping, while she straightens her cuffs and walks out like nothing happened.