The Great and the Weeper

The room is thick with tension and the scent of sweat and leather. The grande, a towering figure in black, towers over the weeper, a small, trembling form bound at his feet. The grande's hands are like vises, squeezing and pinching, extracting cries of pain and pleasure from the weeper's lips. The grande's cock stands rigid and proud, a testament to his power, as he plunges it into the weeper's mouth, fucking his face until tears stream down his cheeks.

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