Cliff Jensen & Vander Pulaski Shock Fans With A BDSM Session
Cliff Jensen slams Vander Pulaski against the floor, leather gloves creaking as he fists Vander’s hair. “You’re just a fuck-toy until I say otherwise,” Cliff growls, spit glistening on Vander’s gagged lips before he rips the cloth free. Vander’s cock, already swollen purple from the rope tied to the rock, twitches as Cliff slaps it raw. “You’ll scream my name before I let you cum.”
Vander’s eyes—wide, defiant—lock onto Cliff’s as the dom shoves two fingers down his throat. “Suck. Deeper.” Vander gags, spit dripping down his chin, as Cliff’s free hand claws angry red lines down his rope-bitten sides. The flogger cracks against Vander’s balls next, and he arches off the floor, howling into Cliff’s palm.
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No mercy. Cliff mounts him missionary, leather-clad thighs pinning Vander’s hips as he drives in dry. Vander’s choked gasps turn to broken pleas. “Beg,” Cliff snarls, his thrusts brutal and raw. His cum hits Vander’s tongue on command, thick and bitter. “Swallow it, slut.” Vander does, lips smirking around Cliff’s softening cock—until Cliff kicks the ropes taut again. “Now finish yourself. I want to watch.”
Vander’s hands fly, jerking his ruined cock with a desperation that cracks his voice. Cliff lights a cigarette, boots propped on the bed, as Vander’s orgasm hits—violently, messily—semen streaking the leather mat.
“Pathetic,” Cliff mutters, ash flicked onto Vander’s trembling thigh. “Clean this up before I chain you outside.”
