It is the season to scissor any guy

It’s midweek and Trish, a vivacious, buxom secretary, is wrapping up another busy day at the office. Her ample curves are lovingly hugged by her crisp, white blouse—a few buttons strategically undone—and tailored pencil skirt that flares just right. Trish raids her lingerie drawer, lingering with a coy grin on her lacy black stockings and garter belt. “Tonight’s the night,” she thinks wickedly.

Trish’s latest conquest is Mr. Johnson, her hunky, virile boss. For weeks, they’ve playfully sparred in the boardroom—subtle touches, lingering gazes, “accidental” titillating encounters. Trish is putting her bondage skills to the test tonight and doesn’t plan to take no for an answer.

Zipping into her sleek red dress that accents her every delicate curve, Trish slips on her come-fuck-me heels and makes her move, hips swaying with purpose. Bypassing the elevator, she takes the stairs two at a time to the executive floor, her heart pounding in just the right way.

Quietly letting herself into Mr. Johnson’s dim office, she locks the door with a purposeful click. “Mr. Johnson?” Trish purrs from the darkness. “It’s time for our… performance review,” she hisses sultrily.

Mr. Johnson jolts in his leather executive chair, his erection already straining against his slacks. Trish’s high heels click on the marble floor as she emerges from the shadows. “You’ve been a very naughty boy,” she scolds, tracing his jawline with a perfectly manicured finger. Her dress gapes open to reveal black lace stockings and dangerously high heels.

Trish straddles her boss’s lap, grinding her hips against his bulge, her hot breath tickling his ear. “I’ve waited so long to collar a cock like this,” she mewls, palming him through his pants. “Right now, it’s mine to do with as I please.”

In a flash, Trish yanks a dildo from her cavernous cleavage. “Open wide,” she commands, shoving the strap-on’s head first into Mr. Johnson’s slack mouth. Her other hand fishes nipple clamps from her valley and fastens them onto his pins. Trish loves turning her men into her playthings, making them wear her toys.

“Now, strip,” Trish orders, standing back to admire her captive’s suffering. He complies, frantically whipping off his shirt and pants. Opportunely, he’s wearing boxer-briefs. Trish grins. “Good boy. But why decide for me?” Grabbing a pair of scissors from her desk drawer, Trish expertly splits the fabric with one scissor, popping his thick rod free. “Mmmm,” she groans appreciatively.

Trish sucks his cock, stroking it until it’s diamond hard and leaking. She sits in her boss’s chair, hiking up her skirt to flash her lacy constricted pussy. Ramming her first two fingers in, she pulls out her digits covered in glistening fuckslime. “Clean up, slave,” she barks, slathering her juices on his face as heService sucks her fingers subserviently.

Trish shoves Mr. Johnson face first on her desk, spread eagle, his cock tapping the wood. With a quick snap, a ball gag puts a muzzle on his protests. “I’ll just help you stay still,” she coos, lashing a silky rope around him. Criss-crossing his chest, cinching his balls, his cock, and his mouth with intricate bondage, she puts her erotic lingerie experiences from the stripping business into good use. In a simple swift move, she shoves her Lance sheath deep in his tight asshole, pumping in and out evilly. “Mmm, I love your warm anal tunnel,” she groans, pinching his balls, forcing his cock into stiffness.

Trish buttons her uniform blouse to peekaboo her cleavage. “Now, Mr. Johnson. Let’s get to our performance review…”