She is bound and broken — bested and beneath you. Her hands tied. The fire in her eyes dimming, though still set in a glare that will not ebb. And so you test her. Tease her, as your womanhood lingers just above her face.
Leaning in and lowering, until your lower lips, though still covered by panties, come to a gentle rest on those of her’s through which curses and insults once flowed.
And as fabric presses, and opposing lips part, you watch her. For signs of fight or bite — hatred or rebellion. To know if she has truly accepted it yet.
Or if she needs more…. More pain and proof that in your feud of jealousy and rage, it is you who is the alpha.
You who belongs in a straddle atop her face.Recommend0 recommendationsPublished in