The room was cloaked in darkness, broken only by the trembling flame of a single candle. Its light struggled against the weight of the shadows, painting the walls with shapes that twisted and writhed. The air carried the sharp scent of sandalwood, underscored by something deeper—sweat, skin, and heat.
Susan stood beside the bed, her silhouette outlined in the dim glow. Her gaze was steady, her lips curled in a smile that was both predatory and patient. She looked down at Mark, stretched out before her like an offering. His wrists were bound by leather straps to the headboard, evidencing the raw power she held over him.
“You’re ready?” she asked, her voice low, her words slicing through the thick silence.
“Yes,” he said, the word escaping on a shallow breath.
“Say it again,” she ordered, stepping closer, her bare feet soundless against the floor.
“I’m ready,” he repeated, his voice trembling slightly but resolute.
Her smile widened, dark amusement flickering in her eyes. “We’ll see.”
She climbed onto the bed, her movements slow, deliberate. The faint rustle of sheets accompanied her as she knelt astride him, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his chest. His skin was warm beneath her, a stark contrast to the cool air that brushed against her own.
“Look at me,” she commanded.
Mark’s eyes locked past her pussy into her eyes, the intensity of her gaze pinning him as effectively as the ties around his wrists. The light played across her features, accentuating the sharp curve of her jaw, the fullness of her lips. She leaned down, her hair brushing against his chest, and kissed him—a fleeting touch that left the faintest taste of salt and desire lingering on his tongue.
She shifted her weight, her thighs brushing against his sides as she moved upward. The scent of her skin—musky, intimate, and inescapable—filled the space between them, enveloping him as she settled over his face.
Mark exhaled sharply, his breath fanning against her, and she let out a soft sigh, the sound low and indulgent.
The first press of his mouth against her cunt sent a shiver through her, her thighs tightening instinctively around his face. His lips and tongue moved tentatively at first, testing her response, but the subtle roll of her hips urged him on. The taste of her was overwhelming—salty, raw, and dirty—flooding his senses and erasing everything else.
Her fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently at the roots.
The warmth of her body against his face was consuming, the weight grounding him, forcing him to focus entirely on her. She adjusted herself, leaning forward slightly, her breath hitching as his tongue found the rhythm she demanded. Her thighs pressed more firmly against his cheeks, the skin hot and smooth, her scent growing more intense as she began to slide her wet pussy back and forth from his chin to nose, pausing there long enough for his nose to penetrate her vagina.
His nose buried deep inside her, Susan leaned back, covering Mark’s mouth with her asshole.
Mark’s breathing grew ragged beneath her, each shallow exhale a desperate attempt to find air. Susan lifted herself briefly, granting him a single, sharp inhale before settling back down. The sound of his gasp—raw and desperate—sent a thrill through her, igniting something primal.
Mark’s chest heaved, his muscles straining faintly against the bonds that held him. The ties creaked softly, a reminder of his helplessness, his surrender. The vibration of his muffled moans reverberated through her, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.
The candlelight flickered, its glow dimming as if the room itself was suffocating under the weight of their shared intensity. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat and Susan’s cum, an intoxicating haze that blurred the edges of her thoughts.
Susan’s movements became sharper, more insistent, the control she wielded over him fueling her. The heat of him beneath her, the taste of salt lingering on her lips as she bit down gently to stifle a moan—it all pushed her closer to the edge.
The climax came suddenly. Mark’s head vibrated as Susan clamped her shaking thighs tightly around his head. Urine began to flow, streaming onto Mark’s face. Mark involuntarily inhaled the liquid, causing him to gag. Despite Mark’s distress, Susan continued to pleasure herself on his face until the last of the waved ebbed.
When Susan finally lifted herself, allowing him a deep, shuddering breath, the sound of it was as satisfying as her own pleasure. She watched his chest rise and fall, his face flushed, his lips swollen and his face crimson and glistening with her cum and piss.
Susan scooted back to sit on Mark’s chest while she reached up to unbuckle his restraints, leaving faint red marks on his skin. Her fingers traced them absently, her touch soft now, almost tender.
She leaned down to kiss him, her tongue brushing against his lips, tasting the faint salt of sweat and the deeper, metallic tang of their shared intensity. When she pulled back, her hands moving across his chest, her nails trailing faint lines across his skin.
“Next time,” she said, her voice soft but brimming with promise, “I won’t be so gentle.”
The candle flickered once more before extinguishing itself, plunging the room into darkness. In the silence that followed, the only sounds were their breathing, slow and deliberate, and the faint, steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.