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A Tight Grip (F/M, femdom, hair pulling, facesitting)

When strong fingers twist into his hair and yank his head back, Marcus lets out a stuttering moan. Chelsea chuckles above him.

"You've been behaving, haven't you, my good boy?"

Marcus keeps his eyes closed, knowing the sight of her will drive him right to the edge. Chelsea is the most gorgeous woman he's ever laid eyes on to begin with, but he knows she's in her element, with her dark, mischievous eyes and a tight, shiny PVC dress.

"Ye-es," he says, stretching out the word as she releases his hair and scratches her nails along his scalp.

"I love it," she says. "I can make you purr like a kitten for me."

He nods minutely, aware any sudden movements will have her wrenching his head back again, and as hard as it makes him, she'll tsk and sigh and then he risks losing his prize.

His prize.

His cock twitches in anticipation, leaking from the tip. Marcus has been hard for, damn, feels like an hour now; ever since he sank to his knees to worship at her sharply pointed stilettos.

"All right then, kitten, are you ready?" she asks.

Words fail him so often when he's in this position; tonight is no exception. He groans once again.

"Good answer." Her shoes click on the tile floor as she circles him. Finally, she releases him. His scalp tingles and aches in a way that goes straight to his groin.

Marcus risks a glance up. She towers over him when he's on his knees, as sublime as any ancient statue, like the Venus de Milo carved from flawless Parian marble.

Chelsea flips her skirt up an inch or two, just enough so he knows she's not wearing panties. She prods him with the toe of her shoe, and he goes down so easily. Marcus lies on his back on the cool tile and she steps over him and lowers herself toward his mouth.

Marcus surges upwards, eager as anything. Another noise rips from his throat at the first taste of her pussy, something near feral with wanting.

"Please?" he murmurs when she starts to pull away.

Chelsea slaps him lightly on the face, a reminder he exists here to serve her, and he isn't to ask for what's not been freely granted. But she's not cruel to him; she sits on his face after a moment of consideration.

He eats her out with enthusiasm, licking at her with the flat of his tongue, sweeping up to circle her clit a few times. She grabs his hair again, holding his head steady while she grinds against him.

Marcus feels the pinpricks of pain and his cock starts to harden again. He's always been one to mix up pain with pleasure and of course, Chelsea indulges him every chance they get.

He groans into her cunt, making her shake and rock against his mouth. He even hears a little gasp, which has him redoubling his efforts.

The wet slide of his tongue through her soaked folds makes her quiver above him and the sweet tang of her arousal sends electric shocks up and down his spine. She tugs lightly on his hair, exactly the way she knows riles him up. His cock is hard and leaking precome and he puts his hands on her thighs to stop from touching himself.

Chelsea lets out a long moaning gasp, muffled music to his ears, and he takes that as his cue to suckle carefully on her clit.

"Good kitten," she says with a whimper. Then she tightens her thighs around his ears and Marcus doesn't hear much else. He knows when she climaxes though, because the flood of her arousal soaks him and leaves a tantalizing taste.

She releases him, loosening the vice hold of her thighs and then letting go of his hair. He misses both immediately, but she moves to kneel beside him.

"You wanna come now, pretty kitten?" she asks.

Two rewards in one night; how could he say no?

Marcus nods and she wraps her delicate hand around him and starts stroking. It doesn't take long, especially when she leans over and licks the mess of precome from the head of his cock.

He comes with a guttural groan, spilling his pent up release. It trickles down his cock and her fingers as she strokes him gently into overstimulation territory.

Finally, she releases his cock when he starts squirming and panting.

"Good," Chelsea says, and then a moment later, "right?"

Marcus laughs out loud and tugs her down to the floor by the back of her neck. She wriggles in next to him, pillowing her head on his bare, sweaty chest.

"Baby, you're amazing," he tells her.

"Not too much?" she asks. She cards her fingers through his hair, a sweet reminder of how she guided him by it earlier.

He shakes his head. "Perfect."

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