Break Your Domina

The penthouse suite stretches out around you, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city skyline as Alexa Creed steps through the door. She moves slowly, deliberately, her black lace lingerie barely covering her curves, a garter belt clipping to the tops of her fishnet stockings. Her stiletto heels click against the hardwood floor with each measured step. She doesn’t smile. She looks at you like you’re already hers.

“On your knees,” she says.

You drop without hesitation. She extends one leg, the pointed toe of her heel hovering in front of your face. You wrap both hands around her ankle and bring her foot to your mouth, dragging your tongue along the underside of her toes, tasting the smooth skin, feeling her watching you from above. A low hum of approval escapes her throat.

She turns, bending forward at the waist and glancing back over her shoulder. You press your face between her cheeks, your tongue working in slow circles, her body tensing and then relaxing as you move lower, parting her folds and licking the full length of her pussy. She grips the edge of the bed, her breath coming out in short, sharp exhales, hips rocking back against your mouth.

Then she pushes you onto your back.

She straddles your chest, looking down at you, and wraps her hand around the base of your cock, stroking slowly before lowering her head. Her lips close around the tip, sliding down inch by inch, her tongue pressing flat against the underside as she takes you deeper. She pulls back and drags her tongue along the seam of your balls, taking each one gently into her mouth before returning to your shaft, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks.

She pulls off with a wet sound and looks up at you. “Fuck my face.”

You grip the back of her head, fingers tangling in her dark hair, and she opens wide, relaxing her throat as you thrust upward. Her eyes water at the corners. She takes it, bracing her palms against your thighs, gagging softly each time you push deep, spit slicking your cock as you use her mouth.

When you finally let go, she swings her leg over and gets on all fours. You kneel behind her, gripping her hips, and push inside. The angle is deep and direct, her back arching as you find a rhythm, the slap of skin filling the quiet room. Her fingers curl into the sheets. You lean forward, pressing your chest against her back, changing the angle, and she groans into the pillow.

You flip her over. She wraps her legs around your waist as you sink back in, her heels digging into the small of your back, pulling you closer with each thrust. Her head tilts back, mouth open, one hand gripping the headboard and the other pressed flat against your chest.

Then she pushes you down and climbs on top.

She rolls her hips in a slow grind, palms planted on your chest, head falling back as she finds the angle she wants. The pace builds until she’s bouncing, the headboard knocking against the wall, her breath breaking into short cries. She spins around without pulling off, facing away, bracing her hands on your knees and working herself up and down while you watch.

When you finish, you pull her down hard onto you and hold her there, warmth flooding deep inside her. She stays still for a long moment, chest heaving, before slowly lifting herself off and collapsing onto the bed beside you.