The finale was a blur of leather, sweat, and cum. I had him draped over a bench, his ass high in the air, trembling. I didn’t use a toy; I used myself. I climbed on top of him, my leather skirt riding up to reveal my soaking wet pussy. I guided his cock—now leaking pre-cum and desperate—right to the edge of my heat. But I didn’t let him in. Not yet.
I spent ten minutes teasing him, grinding my clit against his shaft while I used my heels to pinch and pull at his nipples. I wanted him on the absolute brink of explosion. “Please, Rosemary… please let me cum,” he begged, his voice high and broken. I laughed, a cruel, melodic sound, and finally slammed down onto him, taking every inch of him in one wet, sliding motion.
I rode him with a violent intensity, my leather corset creaking with every thrust. I wasn’t looking for intimacy; I was claiming ownership. I watched his face as I pushed him past the point of no return. As he finally erupted, spraying hot cum deep inside me, I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “You’re mine now. My sissy, my toy, my slave.” I climbed off him, leaving him shaking and spent on the floor. I stepped over him, the clack of my heels signaling the end of the session. He didn’t even try to move; he just lay there, completely broken and utterly mine
Rosemary
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