My slave

Kathia Nobili doesn’t waste time. One look from her and Samia Duarte is on her knees, posture perfect, pulse hammering in her throat. Blonde hair frames Kathia’s sharp face as she steps close enough for Samia to breathe in the leather and warm skin. She sets the order fast—tongue out, thighs parted, everything open for Kathia’s use. Samia feels the shift: nothing belongs to her now but the task of receiving. Kathia’s fingers slide into dark curls and tug, positioning Samia’s mouth exactly where she wants it. Wet heat follows. Samia licks. Kathia watches, pleased, one knee easing forward to keep her open and exposed. She rides that mouth with slow, greedy rolls of her hips. The taste of Kathia coats Samia’s tongue, sharp and heavy. Every swallow drags Samia deeper into obedience. Kathia’s free hand pins Samia’s wrists behind her back, squeezing just enough to make the point: she decides when and how release happens. Samia moans, muffled and helpless, while Kathia takes her pleasure in measured, relentless strokes.