On your knees, slut.

Look at the first photo. Me lounging like royalty on silk sheets, black lace hugging every deadly curve, tits heaving, eyes already owning you. This is the view you get when I decide you’ve earned the privilege of approaching. Crawl closer. Eyes up. Don’t you dare look away from your Goddess while you beg to serve.

Now open wide and show me how badly you want to worship what owns you.

Imagine the thick, glossy black strap-on I strap on for boys like you — veiny, girthy, glistening with lube just for your greedy mouth. I stand over you, one heel pressing your shoulder down, the other hand fisted in your hair.

Suck. Take every inch like the desperate cock-hungry bitch you are. Gag on it. Drool. Look up at me with those pathetic, watering eyes while I fuck your throat slow and deep. Tell me how much you love being my pegging toy. Say it around the shaft — I want to feel the vibrations when you choke out “Thank you, Mistress Sienna.”

Scroll to the second photo. See this perfect ass? The one arched high, thong barely there, ready to remind you who’s really in charge? After you’ve worshipped my strap clean with your tongue, I’ll bend you over, spread you wide, and slide in — inch by merciless inch — until you’re stuffed full and whimpering my name.

I’ll peg you senseless. Hard. Deep. Relentless. My hips slamming against your ass while I reach around and milk that useless little cock of yours — edging you, denying you, making you thank me for every brutal thrust. You’ll beg to cum while I laugh and pound your prostate until your legs shake and your mind breaks.

And when I’m done ruining you? You’ll drop back to your knees, kiss the tip of my strap like it’s sacred, and whisper how grateful you are to be my owned little pegging slut.