Tremain's pussy, a slippery, inviting chasm, commands the room. Her enslaved lover, bound and gagged, can only obey her silent orders. She grinds against his face, her juices coating his chin, his nose, his lips. He laps at her, desperate to please, to hear her satisfied moans. She rides him, her hips moving in rhythm, her fingers digging into his scalp. She's in control, her pleasure his only concern, her wetness his reward.