Face Control

He grips her by the hair and the chin. Natalie Minx's head is pinned in place, the rest of her follows whether she wants it or not. 2008. The big, bare tits shake with every move. Her arms are lashed behind her. Rope bites the pale skin. He slaps her face, not hard enough to mark but enough to remind her who decides where she looks. She glares back at him, eyes wet, mouth wetter. He tips her head back until her throat is a long, offered line. She swallows. The movement runs all the way down to her tied wrists and the spread of her knees. Another slap, another sharp breath. He holds her there, fingers sunk in her scalp, and the whole woman waits on that single point of contact. Big tits rise and fall. Rope creaks. Nothing moves until he decides it does.