The air crackled with tension. Anya Olsen stood before you, eyes blazing. Not a single word needed to be said; the storm cloud on her face spoke volumes. You knew you’d screwed up, royally. And now, there was a debt to be paid. Her frustration radiated off of her in waves and you knew exactly what she wanted. You went for it.
"Get on your knees," she commanded, her voice tight with barely suppressed anger. You obeyed instantly, the plea in your eyes the only sound in the room. She wants your submission. Anya smirked. "That's right, beg me."
Her hands grasped your head, guiding you roughly. Deepthroat was the only way to repent, the only way to even begin to atone for your mistake. Every inch of her thick penis filled your mouth, each thrust a brutal reminder of your transgression.
But she wasn't finished. She spun you around and bent you over, positioning you for doggystyle. The anger in her eyes was replaced by a burning lust, a need to dominate and punish. Her hands gripped your hips, slamming you into her with brutal force. Your orgasm built slowly, each thrust was more violent and pleasurable than the last. You were hers to use, to punish, to enjoy.
She rides you cowgirl, the anger leaving her beautiful face. She takes your soul. She throws you into missionary. Your passion builds, she grabs you by the hair. Your climax is close now.
As she neared her own release, a guttural moan escaped her lips. It was a sound of pure animalistic pleasure and raw power. She'd tamed your defiance, broken your will, and found satisfaction in her domination. You knew you’d crossed a line, but seeing Anya’s natural boobs glistening in the dim light, you realized some lines were worth crossing. The only question remaining was... what would you do to make her angry again?
(mh=hAs-QvyBanrGjwvv)3d925811-5a34-42d5-bf4f-4803da43c890.jpg)
Anya Olsen