The bedroom air is thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the unmistakable musk of a real man’s seed. The kind of scent that makes a slave’s stomach twist with shame and his useless cock ache with forbidden longing. Goddess Obsidian strides into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor like a judge’s gavel, each step a verdict: guilty. Guilty of being weak. Guilty of being a man. Guilty of existing only to serve Her.

Her slave lies spread-eagle on the bed, blindfolded, his body trembling with the knowledge of his own insignificance. The pink chastity cage glints under the soft bedroom light, a constant reminder that his cock is useless—locked away, denied, owned. He hears the soft thud of Her heels hitting the floor, the rustle of fabric as She peels off her dress. His breath hitches. He knows what’s coming. He always knows.

“Oh, slave,” She purrs, Her voice dripping with amusement, “what a wild night I had with my new boyfriend, Tyrelle.” The name alone makes his stomach twist. Tyrelle. A real man. A man who can fill Her up, who can make Her moan, who can leave Her dripping with his seed. The slave’s jaw clenches behind the blindfold. He knows what that means. He knows what’s coming next.

She climbs onto the bed, Her weight pressing down on the mattress beside him. The scent of Her—sweat, perfume, and the thick, musky smell of cum—fills his nostrils. His cock, useless in its cage, twitches traitorously. She leans down, Her breath hot against his ear. “He filled me with three loads, slave. Three. Can you even imagine that?” She laughs, low and cruel. “Of course you can’t.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. She never does. Instead, She shifts, Her thighs straddling his head, Her panty-covered crotch pressing down against his face. The fabric is soaked, the heat of Her pussy radiating through the thin material. The slave’s nose is immediately flooded with the scent—salt, musk, and the unmistakable, thick aroma of Tyrelle’s cum. His stomach lurches. His mind screams at him to turn away, to refuse, to fight—but his body betrays him. His tongue darts out, just a little, tasting the air. He can’t help it.

Goddess Obsidian feels it. She always feels it.

“Can you smell his cum, slave?” She taunts, grinding Her soaked panties against his face. “That’s the smell of a real man’s cum.” She presses down harder, smothering him, making him breathe in the humiliation. “Go on. Sniff.”

The slave hesitates. His pride, what little he has left, rebels. But pride is a luxury for men. And he isn’t a man. Not anymore.

She doesn’t wait. The crack of the whip against his chest is sudden, sharp. Pain blooms across his skin, and he gasps, arching up against the restraints. “I said sniff,” She snarls. The whip comes down again, this time across his thighs. “Do you need another reminder of who owns you?”

“N-no, Mistress!” he chokes out, his voice muffled against Her panties. He inhales deeply, the scent of Tyrelle’s cum filling his lungs. It’s everywhere—in Her, on Her, soaking into the fabric pressed against his face.

“Good,” She coos, though there’s no warmth in it. Only mockery. “Now, let’s see if that tongue of yours is good for anything.”

She shifts, settling Her full weight onto his face. The slave can feel the heat of Her, the wetness of Her panties against his skin. She starts to rub, grinding Her crotch against his mouth, his nose, his everything. “Lick,” She commands. “Get it all, slave. Every. Last. Drop.”

He obeys. What else can he do? His tongue flicks out, pressing against the soaked fabric, tasting the bitterness of Tyrelle’s cum seeping through. It’s thick, salty, real. Nothing like the pathetic dribbles his own useless cock could ever produce. He licks, his tongue tracing the outline of Her lips through the panties, lapping up the cum that’s already dripping down Her thighs.

“Mmm, that’s it,” She murmurs, rocking Her hips slightly. “Taste that? That’s what a real man leaves inside me.” She reaches down, gripping his hair, yanking his head up slightly. “Tell me how good it tastes.”

The slave swallows, his throat working. The taste is overwhelming—the musk of Her, the salt of Tyrelle, the humiliation of it all. “I-it tastes...” His voice cracks. He can’t even lie. “Good, Mistress.”

She laughs, the sound rich and cruel. “Good? That’s it?” She shifts again, lifting Her hips slightly. “Here. Let’s see if you can do better.”

She peels off Her panties, the fabric making a wet schlick as it pulls away from Her skin. The slave can hear the cum dripping from Her, the thick, sticky sound of it hitting the bed beneath him. His mouth waters—not with desire, but with the need to obey. To please. To survive.

“Oooh, it’s starting to drip out,” She sighs, turning around. The slave can feel the heat of Her ass against his face now, the wetness of Her pussy hovering just above his mouth. “And I don’t want you to waste a single drop of that.”

Before he can react, She sits down—hard—sealing Her cum-filled pussy over his mouth. The slave’s nose is pressed into the crack of Her ass, his mouth smothered by Her dripping cunt. The first thing he tastes is the flood of Tyrelle’s cum, thick and warm, oozing out of Her and into his mouth. He gags, but She doesn’t let up. “Suck it out,” She orders, grinding down on him. “It’s so deep inside. You need to suck it out.”

The slave does as he’s told. His tongue works frantically, pressing into Her, trying to coax out more of the sticky, salty fluid. He can feel it—so much of it, pooling inside Her, waiting to be claimed. By him. The thought makes his head spin. He’s not worthy of this. He’s not anything. But Goddess Obsidian doesn’t care about worth. She only cares about obedience.

She rises up slightly, giving him a moment to breathe. Then, with a groan, She reaches down, spreading Her lips apart with Her fingers. “Mmm, there’s so much,” She murmurs. He can hear the wet sounds as She digs inside, trying to coax out more of Tyrelle’s seed. Finally, with a satisfied sigh, She pushes out a big dollop of the creamy, sticky fluid. It splashes onto his face, into his mouth, dripping down his chin. The slave swallows reflexively, the taste burning its way down his throat.

“Tell me how good it tastes,” She demands, Her voice thick with amusement.

The slave’s mind races. He wants to lie. He wants to say it’s disgusting, that he hates it. But the words won’t come. Because the truth is, it does taste good. Not because of the flavor—no, it’s bitter, salty, humiliating—but because it’s Hers. Because She wants him to like it. Because he needs to please Her.

“It’s... it’s delicious, Mistress,” he chokes out, his voice breaking.

She laughs, the sound echoing through the room. “Beg for more.”

The slave’s chest tightens. Beg. The word is a punch to his gut. But he knows what happens if he doesn’t obey.

“P-please, Mistress,” he whimpers, his voice trembling. “Please, let me have more of Tyrelle’s cum. Please, I need it.”

She doesn’t make him wait. She slams Her pussy back down onto his face, smothering him completely. “Suck up every drop,” She orders, Her voice muffled by the press of Her body against his face. The slave obeys, his tongue working furiously, lapping at Her, cleaning Her. He can feel Her muscles clenching around his tongue as She rides his face, Her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. “That’s it. Get it all. Don’t you dare waste a single drop.”

He doesn’t. He can’t. His tongue darts into Her, swirling, pressing, searching for every last bit of Tyrelle’s cum. He can feel it—thick, sticky, real—coating his tongue, sliding down his throat.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Goddess Obsidian lifts Her hips, Her pussy glistening and clean. The slave gasps for air, his face covered in the remnants of Tyrelle’s cum, his lips swollen from the friction. He’s dripping with it—his chin, his cheeks, his tongue. He swallows again, the taste lingering.

She doesn’t let him rest. She turns around, straddling his chest, Her ass pressing down against his face. “Mmm, you did good, slave,” She purrs, reaching down to stroke his hair. “But we’re not done yet.”

The slave’s heart sinks. More? But She’s clean. There’s nothing left—

Then he feels it. The weight of something being pressed against his lips. Something soft. Something soaked.

“Here’s your reward, slave,” She says, Her voice dripping with sadistic delight.

The slave realizes what it is. Her panties. The same ones She’d been wearing. The same ones soaked with Tyrelle’s cum. The same ones he’d been licking just minutes before.

She stuffs them into his mouth, pushing them deep, making him taste the fabric, the cum, the humiliation. “Chew,” She orders. “And swallow. Every last bit.”

The slave obeys. He has to. The fabric is thick in his mouth, the taste of Tyrelle’s cum and Her musk overwhelming. He chews, the wet fabric sticking to his teeth, his tongue. He swallows, the bitter, salty flavor burning its way down his throat.

Goddess Obsidian watches, Her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good,” She murmurs, patting his cheek. “Now that’s how a slave earns his keep.”

She leans down, Her lips brushing against his ear. “Tomorrow, Tyrelle’s coming back,” She whispers. “And you’re going to watch as he fills me up again. And then...” She laughs, low and dark. “Then you’re going to clean me all over again.”

The slave’s stomach twists. His cock, useless in its cage, throbs. And for the first time, he realizes the truth:

He can’t wait.

The bedroom air is thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the unmistakable musk of a real man’s seed. The kind of scent that makes a slave’s stomach twist with shame and his useless cock ache with forbidden longing. Goddess Obsidian strides into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor like a judge’s gavel, each step a verdict: guilty. Guilty of being weak. Guilty of being a man. Guilty of existing only to serve Her.

Her slave lies spread-eagle on the bed, blindfolded, his body trembling with the knowledge of his own insignificance. The pink chastity cage glints under the soft bedroom light, a constant reminder that his cock is useless—locked away, denied, owned. He hears the soft thud of Her heels hitting the floor, the rustle of fabric as She peels off her dress. His breath hitches. He knows what’s coming. He always knows.

“Oh, slave,” She purrs, Her voice dripping with amusement, “what a wild night I had with my new boyfriend, Tyrelle.” The name alone makes his stomach twist. Tyrelle. A real man. A man who can fill Her up, who can make Her moan, who can leave Her dripping with his seed. The slave’s jaw clenches behind the blindfold. He knows what that means. He knows what’s coming next.

She climbs onto the bed, Her weight pressing down on the mattress beside him. The scent of Her—sweat, perfume, and the thick, musky smell of cum—fills his nostrils. His cock, useless in its cage, twitches traitorously. She leans down, Her breath hot against his ear. “He filled me with three loads, slave. Three. Can you even imagine that?” She laughs, low and cruel. “Of course you can’t.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. She never does. Instead, She shifts, Her thighs straddling his head, Her panty-covered crotch pressing down against his face. The fabric is soaked, the heat of Her pussy radiating through the thin material. The slave’s nose is immediately flooded with the scent—salt, musk, and the unmistakable, thick aroma of Tyrelle’s cum. His stomach lurches. His mind screams at him to turn away, to refuse, to fight—but his body betrays him. His tongue darts out, just a little, tasting the air. He can’t help it.

Goddess Obsidian feels it. She always feels it.

“Can you smell his cum, slave?” She taunts, grinding Her soaked panties against his face. “That’s the smell of a real man’s cum.” She presses down harder, smothering him, making him breathe in the humiliation. “Go on. Sniff.”

The slave hesitates. His pride, what little he has left, rebels. But pride is a luxury for men. And he isn’t a man. Not anymore.

She doesn’t wait. The crack of the whip against his chest is sudden, sharp. Pain blooms across his skin, and he gasps, arching up against the restraints. “I said sniff,” She snarls. The whip comes down again, this time across his thighs. “Do you need another reminder of who owns you?”

“N-no, Mistress!” he chokes out, his voice muffled against Her panties. He inhales deeply, the scent of Tyrelle’s cum filling his lungs. It’s everywhere—in Her, on Her, soaking into the fabric pressed against his face.

“Good,” She coos, though there’s no warmth in it. Only mockery. “Now, let’s see if that tongue of yours is good for anything.”

She shifts, settling Her full weight onto his face. The slave can feel the heat of Her, the wetness of Her panties against his skin. She starts to rub, grinding Her crotch against his mouth, his nose, his everything. “Lick,” She commands. “Get it all, slave. Every. Last. Drop.”

He obeys. What else can he do? His tongue flicks out, pressing against the soaked fabric, tasting the bitterness of Tyrelle’s cum seeping through. It’s thick, salty, real. Nothing like the pathetic dribbles his own useless cock could ever produce. He licks, his tongue tracing the outline of Her lips through the panties, lapping up the cum that’s already dripping down Her thighs.

“Mmm, that’s it,” She murmurs, rocking Her hips slightly. “Taste that? That’s what a real man leaves inside me.” She reaches down, gripping his hair, yanking his head up slightly. “Tell me how good it tastes.”

The slave swallows, his throat working. The taste is overwhelming—the musk of Her, the salt of Tyrelle, the humiliation of it all. “I-it tastes...” His voice cracks. He can’t even lie. “Good, Mistress.”

She laughs, the sound rich and cruel. “Good? That’s it?” She shifts again, lifting Her hips slightly. “Here. Let’s see if you can do better.”

She peels off Her panties, the fabric making a wet schlick as it pulls away from Her skin. The slave can hear the cum dripping from Her, the thick, sticky sound of it hitting the bed beneath him. His mouth waters—not with desire, but with the need to obey. To please. To survive.

“Oooh, it’s starting to drip out,” She sighs, turning around. The slave can feel the heat of Her ass against his face now, the wetness of Her pussy hovering just above his mouth. “And I don’t want you to waste a single drop of that.”

Before he can react, She sits down—hard—sealing Her cum-filled pussy over his mouth. The slave’s nose is pressed into the crack of Her ass, his mouth smothered by Her dripping cunt. The first thing he tastes is the flood of Tyrelle’s cum, thick and warm, oozing out of Her and into his mouth. He gags, but She doesn’t let up. “Suck it out,” She orders, grinding down on him. “It’s so deep inside. You need to suck it out.”

The slave does as he’s told. His tongue works frantically, pressing into Her, trying to coax out more of the sticky, salty fluid. He can feel it—so much of it, pooling inside Her, waiting to be claimed. By him. The thought makes his head spin. He’s not worthy of this. He’s not anything. But Goddess Obsidian doesn’t care about worth. She only cares about obedience.

She rises up slightly, giving him a moment to breathe. Then, with a groan, She reaches down, spreading Her lips apart with Her fingers. “Mmm, there’s so much,” She murmurs. He can hear the wet sounds as She digs inside, trying to coax out more of Tyrelle’s seed. Finally, with a satisfied sigh, She pushes out a big dollop of the creamy, sticky fluid. It splashes onto his face, into his mouth, dripping down his chin. The slave swallows reflexively, the taste burning its way down his throat.

“Tell me how good it tastes,” She demands, Her voice thick with amusement.

The slave’s mind races. He wants to lie. He wants to say it’s disgusting, that he hates it. But the words won’t come. Because the truth is, it does taste good. Not because of the flavor—no, it’s bitter, salty, humiliating—but because it’s Hers. Because She wants him to like it. Because he needs to please Her.

“It’s... it’s delicious, Mistress,” he chokes out, his voice breaking.

She laughs, the sound echoing through the room. “Beg for more.”

The slave’s chest tightens. Beg. The word is a punch to his gut. But he knows what happens if he doesn’t obey.

“P-please, Mistress,” he whimpers, his voice trembling. “Please, let me have more of Tyrelle’s cum. Please, I need it.”

She doesn’t make him wait. She slams Her pussy back down onto his face, smothering him completely. “Suck up every drop,” She orders, Her voice muffled by the press of Her body against his face. The slave obeys, his tongue working furiously, lapping at Her, cleaning Her. He can feel Her muscles clenching around his tongue as She rides his face, Her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. “That’s it. Get it all. Don’t you dare waste a single drop.”

He doesn’t. He can’t. His tongue darts into Her, swirling, pressing, searching for every last bit of Tyrelle’s cum. He can feel it—thick, sticky, real—coating his tongue, sliding down his throat.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Goddess Obsidian lifts Her hips, Her pussy glistening and clean. The slave gasps for air, his face covered in the remnants of Tyrelle’s cum, his lips swollen from the friction. He’s dripping with it—his chin, his cheeks, his tongue. He swallows again, the taste lingering.

She doesn’t let him rest. She turns around, straddling his chest, Her ass pressing down against his face. “Mmm, you did good, slave,” She purrs, reaching down to stroke his hair. “But we’re not done yet.”

The slave’s heart sinks. More? But She’s clean. There’s nothing left—

Then he feels it. The weight of something being pressed against his lips. Something soft. Something soaked.

“Here’s your reward, slave,” She says, Her voice dripping with sadistic delight.

The slave realizes what it is. Her panties. The same ones She’d been wearing. The same ones soaked with Tyrelle’s cum. The same ones he’d been licking just minutes before.

She stuffs them into his mouth, pushing them deep, making him taste the fabric, the cum, the humiliation. “Chew,” She orders. “And swallow. Every last bit.”

The slave obeys. He has to. The fabric is thick in his mouth, the taste of Tyrelle’s cum and Her musk overwhelming. He chews, the wet fabric sticking to his teeth, his tongue. He swallows, the bitter, salty flavor burning its way down his throat.

Goddess Obsidian watches, Her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good,” She murmurs, patting his cheek. “Now that’s how a slave earns his keep.”

She leans down, Her lips brushing against his ear. “Tomorrow, Tyrelle’s coming back,” She whispers. “And you’re going to watch as he fills me up again. And then...” She laughs, low and dark. “Then you’re going to clean me all over again.”

The slave’s stomach twists. His cock, useless in its cage, throbs. And for the first time, he realizes the truth:

He can’t wait.

The slave is already cuffed to Mistress Minerva’s custom facesitting chair, his wrists secured to the arms, his head locked through the hole—face up, mouth exposed, and completely at Her mercy. His body is not just restrained; it is owned. The chair’s design ensures he cannot twist, cannot turn, cannot do anything but offer his mouth upward like the worthless tool he is. His legs are free, but they might as well be bound—there is nowhere to go, no escape from the weight of the Goddesses’ asses or the sting of the crop. He is a living footstool, his tongue the only part of him that matters now.

Mistress Minerva enters first, dressed in booty shorts and a crop top that clings to Her body, emphasizing the power in every curve. She doesn’t even look at him as She steps forward, Her attention on Goddess Obsidian. Without a word, She sits down on his face, Her full weight pressing down, smothering him instantly. The slave’s muffled gasps are the only sound as She turns to Goddess Obsidian, who watches with a thin, sheer sweater barely covering Her authority. "You need to show your male that your needs are his only concerns," Minerva instructs, Her voice dripping with casual cruelty, as if She’s discussing the weather. "Eating your ass and being your chair is a privilege for an inferior." She shifts slightly, the fabric of Her shorts the only barrier between his mouth and Her superiority. The slave’s tongue flicks out instinctively, already learning its place. "I’m doing it with My shorts on... but of course, you should take yours off." With that, She rises, leaving the slave gasping, his face glistening with the proof of his submission. As She exits, She delivers the final lesson with a smirk: "Besides, he’ll get used to the taste. Then you move up to using him as toilet paper, passing gas, things like that... before you turn him into a full toilet."

Goddess Obsidian, clad in panties and Her thin sweater, steps forward, riding crop in hand. The crop taps lightly against Her palm as She surveys the scene—Her new toy, already broken in by Minerva’s expertise. She looks down at the pathetic male beneath Her, his face already marked by Mistress Minerva’s dominance, his lips parted in anticipation of what’s to come. "You hear that, bitch? You’re gonna be My toilet... but one step at a time." The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of his new reality. She mounts the chair, Her perfect, round light brown ass hovering just above his lips. The slave can smell Her, feel the heat radiating from Her, and knows his purpose. "Kiss My asshole, bitch." The command is simple, but the slave hesitates—his disgust still lingering from his old life, the one where he thought he had a choice. CRACK! The riding crop snaps against his chest, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "I said kiss My asshole, ass bitch!" The tone leaves no room for disobedience, no space for hesitation. He is here to serve, and serve he will.

He obeys, his lips pressing against Her tight hole, and She rewards him by sitting down fully, smothering him. The weight of Her ass cuts off his breath as She grinds, Her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. "You’re gonna treat My asshole like your girlfriend. Understand?" Her voice is calm, almost conversational, as if She’s explaining the weather. But the message is clear: this is his life now. She pulls Her thong aside, exposing Herself completely, the fabric now a useless barrier between them. "Stick out your tongue, like a cock." The slave complies, his tongue trembling as it extends, already learning its new purpose. She spreads Her cheeks wide, pulling Her asshole open with Her fingers, guiding him to accept the full depth of his new existence. "Not deep enough. I said make your tongue like a cock—it’s bigger than your actual peanut anyway. But that’s getting locked up soon." The humiliation burns deeper than the crop’s sting, searing into his soul. He is nothing. His tongue is everything.

She changes positions, turning around to face-fuck him into a frenzy. The wet smack of his mouth against Her ass fills the room, the sounds of his submission echoing off the walls. The riding crop lashes out intermittently, leaving red marks across his trembling body—his chest, his thighs, his useless cock straining against his shorts. She whips his dick more than once, the pain making him scream into Her asshole, a sound She savors. "That’s right, scream for Me. Let Me hear how much you love it." His muffled cries vibrate against Her, and She grinds harder, ensuring he understands the depth of his insignificance. His tongue is buried inside Her, his breath hot against Her skin, his entire world reduced to the taste of Her, the scent of Her, the weight of Her.

She turns back around, bouncing up and down on his tongue, using his face like the worthless furniture it is. The chair creaks beneath them, the only witness to his degradation. Then She takes breaks, smothering him completely, Her ass pressing down until he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but serve. Each time She rises, She orders him to thank Her, to confess in a choked, desperate voice how delicious Her asshole tastes, how he craves everything that comes out of Her. "Tell Me again, slave. Tell Me how much you love My asshole." His voice is muffled, broken, the words barely intelligible: "Thank You, Goddess... it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted... I want everything You give me..." She laughs, the sound cruel and triumphant, as She reaches back to spread Her cheeks wider, giving him even deeper access. "Good. Because you’re going to get it all."

The session escalates into a rhythm of absolute dominance: grinding, smothering, whipping, and verbal degradation. She taunts him, reminding him of his future—"Next time, I’ll pass gas on your face. Then I’ll use you as My toilet. And you’ll thank Me for it." His mind fractures under the weight of Her words, his resistance crumbling with every stroke of the crop, every bounce of Her ass on his tongue. She alternates between riding him hard, her ass slapping against his face, and smothering him completely, her weight pressing down until he can’t breathe. "Keep that tongue in there, or I’ll whip your cock raw," She warns, and he obeys, his tongue staying buried inside Her even as he gasps for air. The crop lashes out again, this time across his thighs, the pain a constant reminder of his place.

By the end of the 21 minutes, the slave is a gasping, trembling mess, his body covered in crop marks, his face drenched in Her, his spirit broken down to a single truth: his purpose is to worship, to serve, to consume what She offers. His tongue is raw, his jaw aches, but he doesn’t dare complain. Goddess Obsidian stands, admiring Her work, Her ass glistening with his saliva. The camera lingers on his exhausted, used face, his eyes glazed with submission, his lips still parted as if waiting for Her to sit back down. "Next session, we’ll see how you do with toilet paper duty," She says, Her voice light, as if She’s discussing the weather. But the message is clear. He is Hers now. And this is only the beginning.

The slave is already cuffed to Mistress Minerva’s custom facesitting chair, his wrists secured to the arms, his head locked through the hole—face up, mouth exposed, and completely at Her mercy. His body is not just restrained; it is owned. The chair’s design ensures he cannot twist, cannot turn, cannot do anything but offer his mouth upward like the worthless tool he is. His legs are free, but they might as well be bound—there is nowhere to go, no escape from the weight of the Goddesses’ asses or the sting of the crop. He is a living footstool, his tongue the only part of him that matters now.

Mistress Minerva enters first, dressed in booty shorts and a crop top that clings to Her body, emphasizing the power in every curve. She doesn’t even look at him as She steps forward, Her attention on Goddess Obsidian. Without a word, She sits down on his face, Her full weight pressing down, smothering him instantly. The slave’s muffled gasps are the only sound as She turns to Goddess Obsidian, who watches with a thin, sheer sweater barely covering Her authority. "You need to show your male that your needs are his only concerns," Minerva instructs, Her voice dripping with casual cruelty, as if She’s discussing the weather. "Eating your ass and being your chair is a privilege for an inferior." She shifts slightly, the fabric of Her shorts the only barrier between his mouth and Her superiority. The slave’s tongue flicks out instinctively, already learning its place. "I’m doing it with My shorts on... but of course, you should take yours off." With that, She rises, leaving the slave gasping, his face glistening with the proof of his submission. As She exits, She delivers the final lesson with a smirk: "Besides, he’ll get used to the taste. Then you move up to using him as toilet paper, passing gas, things like that... before you turn him into a full toilet."

Goddess Obsidian, clad in panties and Her thin sweater, steps forward, riding crop in hand. The crop taps lightly against Her palm as She surveys the scene—Her new toy, already broken in by Minerva’s expertise. She looks down at the pathetic male beneath Her, his face already marked by Mistress Minerva’s dominance, his lips parted in anticipation of what’s to come. "You hear that, bitch? You’re gonna be My toilet... but one step at a time." The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of his new reality. She mounts the chair, Her perfect, round light brown ass hovering just above his lips. The slave can smell Her, feel the heat radiating from Her, and knows his purpose. "Kiss My asshole, bitch." The command is simple, but the slave hesitates—his disgust still lingering from his old life, the one where he thought he had a choice. CRACK! The riding crop snaps against his chest, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "I said kiss My asshole, ass bitch!" The tone leaves no room for disobedience, no space for hesitation. He is here to serve, and serve he will.

He obeys, his lips pressing against Her tight hole, and She rewards him by sitting down fully, smothering him. The weight of Her ass cuts off his breath as She grinds, Her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. "You’re gonna treat My asshole like your girlfriend. Understand?" Her voice is calm, almost conversational, as if She’s explaining the weather. But the message is clear: this is his life now. She pulls Her thong aside, exposing Herself completely, the fabric now a useless barrier between them. "Stick out your tongue, like a cock." The slave complies, his tongue trembling as it extends, already learning its new purpose. She spreads Her cheeks wide, pulling Her asshole open with Her fingers, guiding him to accept the full depth of his new existence. "Not deep enough. I said make your tongue like a cock—it’s bigger than your actual peanut anyway. But that’s getting locked up soon." The humiliation burns deeper than the crop’s sting, searing into his soul. He is nothing. His tongue is everything.

She changes positions, turning around to face-fuck him into a frenzy. The wet smack of his mouth against Her ass fills the room, the sounds of his submission echoing off the walls. The riding crop lashes out intermittently, leaving red marks across his trembling body—his chest, his thighs, his useless cock straining against his shorts. She whips his dick more than once, the pain making him scream into Her asshole, a sound She savors. "That’s right, scream for Me. Let Me hear how much you love it." His muffled cries vibrate against Her, and She grinds harder, ensuring he understands the depth of his insignificance. His tongue is buried inside Her, his breath hot against Her skin, his entire world reduced to the taste of Her, the scent of Her, the weight of Her.

She turns back around, bouncing up and down on his tongue, using his face like the worthless furniture it is. The chair creaks beneath them, the only witness to his degradation. Then She takes breaks, smothering him completely, Her ass pressing down until he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but serve. Each time She rises, She orders him to thank Her, to confess in a choked, desperate voice how delicious Her asshole tastes, how he craves everything that comes out of Her. "Tell Me again, slave. Tell Me how much you love My asshole." His voice is muffled, broken, the words barely intelligible: "Thank You, Goddess... it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted... I want everything You give me..." She laughs, the sound cruel and triumphant, as She reaches back to spread Her cheeks wider, giving him even deeper access. "Good. Because you’re going to get it all."

The session escalates into a rhythm of absolute dominance: grinding, smothering, whipping, and verbal degradation. She taunts him, reminding him of his future—"Next time, I’ll pass gas on your face. Then I’ll use you as My toilet. And you’ll thank Me for it." His mind fractures under the weight of Her words, his resistance crumbling with every stroke of the crop, every bounce of Her ass on his tongue. She alternates between riding him hard, her ass slapping against his face, and smothering him completely, her weight pressing down until he can’t breathe. "Keep that tongue in there, or I’ll whip your cock raw," She warns, and he obeys, his tongue staying buried inside Her even as he gasps for air. The crop lashes out again, this time across his thighs, the pain a constant reminder of his place.

By the end of the 21 minutes, the slave is a gasping, trembling mess, his body covered in crop marks, his face drenched in Her, his spirit broken down to a single truth: his purpose is to worship, to serve, to consume what She offers. His tongue is raw, his jaw aches, but he doesn’t dare complain. Goddess Obsidian stands, admiring Her work, Her ass glistening with his saliva. The camera lingers on his exhausted, used face, his eyes glazed with submission, his lips still parted as if waiting for Her to sit back down. "Next session, we’ll see how you do with toilet paper duty," She says, Her voice light, as if She’s discussing the weather. But the message is clear. He is Hers now. And this is only the beginning.

Il video si apre con la Regina Circe che sta sopra il suo schiavo patetico, che è legato a un tavolo, la testa ben fissata al suo posto. Le mani dello schiavo sono incatenate, rendendolo completamente indifeso. La Regina Circe, vestita con il suo abbigliamento dominante, lo guarda dall'alto con un misto di divertimento e disprezzo.<\/p>

\"Sei qui per servirmi, schiavo,\" dichiara, la sua voce ferma e autorevole. \"E oggi, adorerai la mia passera.\"<\/p>

La Regina Circe si siede sulla faccia dello schiavo, abbassando tutto il suo peso su di esso. Lo schiaccia sulla faccia e sulla bocca al tavolo, assicurandosi che non possa sfuggire alla sua dominanza. Inizia a macinare la sua passera contro la bocca dello schiavo, usando la sua lingua per il suo piacere. Inizia lentamente, gustando la sensazione, ma aumenta rapidamente il suo ritmo. Il suono della sua passera bagnata che schiaffeggia contro la faccia dello schiavo riempie la stanza.<\/p>

\"Gli schiavi della passera dovrebbero puzzare di passera,\" dichiara, la sua voce che cola con la dominanza. \"È un onore servirmi in questo modo per un maiale come te.\"<\/p>

I gemiti soffocati e i respiri disperati dello schiavo per l'aria riempiono la stanza mentre la Regina Circe continua a macinare contro la sua faccia, le sue anche si muovono in un ritmo implacabile. Si compiace del suo potere, usando la bocca dello schiavo per avvicinarsi all'orgasmo.<\/p>

La Regina Circe si gira, posizionando il suo sedere sopra la faccia dello schiavo. Si abbassa su di esso, assicurandosi che possa ancora leccare e adorare la sua passera da dietro. Macina contro la faccia dello schiavo, i suoi movimenti più urgenti ora.<\/p>

\"Leccala, schiavo,\" ordina, la sua voce affannata dal piacere. \"Leccala come se la tua vita dipendesse da essa.\"<\/p>

Lo schiavo ubbidisce, la sua lingua che lavora diligentemente per compiacere la sua Regina. I gemiti della Regina Circe riempiono la stanza mentre si avvicina al suo orgasmo, le sue anche che si muovono sempre più velocemente contro la faccia dello schiavo.<\/p>

Il corpo della Regina Circe si irrigidisce mentre raggiunge il suo orgasmo, le sue anche che si muovono una volta contro la faccia dello schiavo. Emette uno schianto trionfante, il suo corpo che trema con la forza del suo rilascio. Rimane sulla faccia dello schiavo per un momento, gustando le scosse dopo l'orgasmo.<\/p>"

Il video si apre con la Regina Circe che sta sopra il suo schiavo patetico, che è legato a un tavolo, la testa ben fissata al suo posto. Le mani dello schiavo sono incatenate, rendendolo completamente indifeso. La Regina Circe, vestita con il suo abbigliamento dominante, lo guarda dall'alto con un misto di divertimento e disprezzo.<\/p>

\"Sei qui per servirmi, schiavo,\" dichiara, la sua voce ferma e autorevole. \"E oggi, adorerai la mia passera.\"<\/p>

La Regina Circe si siede sulla faccia dello schiavo, abbassando tutto il suo peso su di esso. Lo schiaccia sulla faccia e sulla bocca al tavolo, assicurandosi che non possa sfuggire alla sua dominanza. Inizia a macinare la sua passera contro la bocca dello schiavo, usando la sua lingua per il suo piacere. Inizia lentamente, gustando la sensazione, ma aumenta rapidamente il suo ritmo. Il suono della sua passera bagnata che schiaffeggia contro la faccia dello schiavo riempie la stanza.<\/p>

\"Gli schiavi della passera dovrebbero puzzare di passera,\" dichiara, la sua voce che cola con la dominanza. \"È un onore servirmi in questo modo per un maiale come te.\"<\/p>

I gemiti soffocati e i respiri disperati dello schiavo per l'aria riempiono la stanza mentre la Regina Circe continua a macinare contro la sua faccia, le sue anche si muovono in un ritmo implacabile. Si compiace del suo potere, usando la bocca dello schiavo per avvicinarsi all'orgasmo.<\/p>

La Regina Circe si gira, posizionando il suo sedere sopra la faccia dello schiavo. Si abbassa su di esso, assicurandosi che possa ancora leccare e adorare la sua passera da dietro. Macina contro la faccia dello schiavo, i suoi movimenti più urgenti ora.<\/p>

\"Leccala, schiavo,\" ordina, la sua voce affannata dal piacere. \"Leccala come se la tua vita dipendesse da essa.\"<\/p>

Lo schiavo ubbidisce, la sua lingua che lavora diligentemente per compiacere la sua Regina. I gemiti della Regina Circe riempiono la stanza mentre si avvicina al suo orgasmo, le sue anche che si muovono sempre più velocemente contro la faccia dello schiavo.<\/p>

Il corpo della Regina Circe si irrigidisce mentre raggiunge il suo orgasmo, le sue anche che si muovono una volta contro la faccia dello schiavo. Emette uno schianto trionfante, il suo corpo che trema con la forza del suo rilascio. Rimane sulla faccia dello schiavo per un momento, gustando le scosse dopo l'orgasmo.<\/p>"

La scena inizia con la Mistress Minerva che si prepara per una sessione di abbronzatura, ma prima di concedersi ai raggi del sole, ha un compito per il suo schiavo. Lo schiavo è appeso, sospeso nel dungeon, completamente alla sua mercé. Si avvicina a lui, gli presenta i suoi piedi sudoci al suo viso e tira la sua corda per fargli annusare la sua pelle umida e puzzolente. Egli storce il naso mentre inizia a leccare, ma la Mistress Minerva lo rimprovera bruscamente con uno schiaffo duro in faccia. \"ONORERAI OGNI COSA CHE PROVIENE DAL MIO CORPO DI DIODESSA!\" comanda. ???? \"Ora dimmi quanto è buono e supplica di più, porco.\" ????<\/p>

Lo schiavo obbedisce, leccando e succhiando i suoi piedi fino a pulirli, lottando con il sapore salato del suo sudore. Solo quando è soddisfatta del suo lavoro, esce all'ardente sole, lasciando il suo schiavo appeso in attesa del suo ritorno.??????<\/p>

Al suo ritorno dalla sessione di abbronzatura, il corpo della Mistress Minerva è viscido di sudore e le ascelle emettono un aroma pungente e muschiato. Si avvicina al suo schiavo, facendogli annusare il suo odore puzzolente e sudaticcio. Egli si ritrae, ma lei lo afferra per i capelli e lo tira più vicino, ordinando a lui di leccarli puliti. Lei lo assicura in una presa al collo, assicurandosi che non possa sfuggire al compito. \"Quale ascella sa e ha il miglior sapore, schiavo?\" lo schernisce, ridendo del suo disagio.?????<\/p>

Il culmine di questo incontro intenso arriva quando la Mistress Minerva chiede al suo schiavo se vuole lavare via il sapore del suo sudore. Quando annuisce, disperato per il sollievo, lei lo equipaggia con un gag aperto. Quello che segue è un assalto implacabile di sputi, poiché la Mistress Minerva ingoia globo dopo globo di saliva, depositandoli direttamente nel gag. Egli soffoca e si strozza, lacrime scorrono lungo il suo viso mentre lotta per ingoiare ogni goccia.????<\/p>"

La scena inizia con la Mistress Minerva che si prepara per una sessione di abbronzatura, ma prima di concedersi ai raggi del sole, ha un compito per il suo schiavo. Lo schiavo è appeso, sospeso nel dungeon, completamente alla sua mercé. Si avvicina a lui, gli presenta i suoi piedi sudoci al suo viso e tira la sua corda per fargli annusare la sua pelle umida e puzzolente. Egli storce il naso mentre inizia a leccare, ma la Mistress Minerva lo rimprovera bruscamente con uno schiaffo duro in faccia. \"ONORERAI OGNI COSA CHE PROVIENE DAL MIO CORPO DI DIODESSA!\" comanda. ???? \"Ora dimmi quanto è buono e supplica di più, porco.\" ????<\/p>

Lo schiavo obbedisce, leccando e succhiando i suoi piedi fino a pulirli, lottando con il sapore salato del suo sudore. Solo quando è soddisfatta del suo lavoro, esce all'ardente sole, lasciando il suo schiavo appeso in attesa del suo ritorno.??????<\/p>

Al suo ritorno dalla sessione di abbronzatura, il corpo della Mistress Minerva è viscido di sudore e le ascelle emettono un aroma pungente e muschiato. Si avvicina al suo schiavo, facendogli annusare il suo odore puzzolente e sudaticcio. Egli si ritrae, ma lei lo afferra per i capelli e lo tira più vicino, ordinando a lui di leccarli puliti. Lei lo assicura in una presa al collo, assicurandosi che non possa sfuggire al compito. \"Quale ascella sa e ha il miglior sapore, schiavo?\" lo schernisce, ridendo del suo disagio.?????<\/p>

Il culmine di questo incontro intenso arriva quando la Mistress Minerva chiede al suo schiavo se vuole lavare via il sapore del suo sudore. Quando annuisce, disperato per il sollievo, lei lo equipaggia con un gag aperto. Quello che segue è un assalto implacabile di sputi, poiché la Mistress Minerva ingoia globo dopo globo di saliva, depositandoli direttamente nel gag. Egli soffoca e si strozza, lacrime scorrono lungo il suo viso mentre lotta per ingoiare ogni goccia.????<\/p>"

Queen Circe is trying out a new ass slave that She's had secured on the floor of the dungeon, with his head under a fuck chair, resting on an inflatable pillow-She wants to ass fuck his face. She walks in wearing spike heels and a one-piece leotard that barely covers Her charms but splits Her incredible ass perfectly. She puts clothespins on his nipples to help him 'focus', then spreads Her magnificent round ass cheeks and sits down on the chair, ordering Her slave to get busy:

"Your only purpose today is to go spelunking in My sweaty asshole. I took a dump before yoga so it's kinda slimy back there, but that's what a slave is for! But first, kiss My asshole, pig!"

She has him make out with Her asshole, telling him to French kiss it, She starts moaning when he tongue fucks Her anus. She spreads Her cheeks wider and starts pumping up and down on his face and tongue.

"Not only does a male tongue feel good on My asshole, but it's essential for cleaning. Your face form fits into My ass crack too-you're a like a form fitting, heated seat! Now get your tongue farther up My ass, pig!"

She sits on his face with Her full weight, pinning his head to the floor, covering his face and sealing his airways.

"Ahhh, keep it up there. Suck and lick and taste My waste"

She starts humping his face, he gasps for breath, but She lets him catch his breath again before spreading Her cheeks wide again and pushing back onto his tongue again, then releasing Her ass cheeks which flop around his face until he's engulfed in Her ass, only the tip of his nose is visible besides the hair on his head. She moans as he digs it in and out, finally getting up and ditching the chair, She climbs onto his body, his cock hard as a rock but completely ignored by Queen Circe as She fucks his face:

"I want you to thank Me for allowing you to taste My dirty ass. It's not a privilege that many are allowed. After you thank Me I want you to prove to Me how grateful you are by going even deeper than before so I'm really fresh"

He agrees, so She spreads Her ass cheeks again but this time rocks back and forth on his body, his tongue disappearing in and out of Her asshole She starts grinding on his face again, pinning it to the floor with Her 5'10 ass. But finally, She seems satisfied and stands up, saying:

"Ok toilet brush, now let's take off those clothespins!"

As She does, he screams in pain and the clip ends.

Queen Circe is trying out a new ass slave that She's had secured on the floor of the dungeon, with his head under a fuck chair, resting on an inflatable pillow-She wants to ass fuck his face. She walks in wearing spike heels and a one-piece leotard that barely covers Her charms but splits Her incredible ass perfectly. She puts clothespins on his nipples to help him 'focus', then spreads Her magnificent round ass cheeks and sits down on the chair, ordering Her slave to get busy:

"Your only purpose today is to go spelunking in My sweaty asshole. I took a dump before yoga so it's kinda slimy back there, but that's what a slave is for! But first, kiss My asshole, pig!"

She has him make out with Her asshole, telling him to French kiss it, She starts moaning when he tongue fucks Her anus. She spreads Her cheeks wider and starts pumping up and down on his face and tongue.

"Not only does a male tongue feel good on My asshole, but it's essential for cleaning. Your face form fits into My ass crack too-you're a like a form fitting, heated seat! Now get your tongue farther up My ass, pig!"

She sits on his face with Her full weight, pinning his head to the floor, covering his face and sealing his airways.

"Ahhh, keep it up there. Suck and lick and taste My waste"

She starts humping his face, he gasps for breath, but She lets him catch his breath again before spreading Her cheeks wide again and pushing back onto his tongue again, then releasing Her ass cheeks which flop around his face until he's engulfed in Her ass, only the tip of his nose is visible besides the hair on his head. She moans as he digs it in and out, finally getting up and ditching the chair, She climbs onto his body, his cock hard as a rock but completely ignored by Queen Circe as She fucks his face:

"I want you to thank Me for allowing you to taste My dirty ass. It's not a privilege that many are allowed. After you thank Me I want you to prove to Me how grateful you are by going even deeper than before so I'm really fresh"

He agrees, so She spreads Her ass cheeks again but this time rocks back and forth on his body, his tongue disappearing in and out of Her asshole She starts grinding on his face again, pinning it to the floor with Her 5'10 ass. But finally, She seems satisfied and stands up, saying:

"Ok toilet brush, now let's take off those clothespins!"

As She does, he screams in pain and the clip ends.

La regina Circe ha un nuovo candidato schiavo pussy che ha accettato di lasciare provare per la posizione. Ha lo schiavo legato, su una panca, con la testa attaccata a un'imbracatura per la testa, saldamente incatenato, incapace di muovere un muscolo. Ha una telecamera mobile montata sulla sua testa per valutare le sue prestazioni. Entra nella stanza medica indossando un'uniforme da infermiera bianco e rosso, completo di vecchie calze autoreggenti e guanti in PVC rosso. Si ferma davanti allo schiavo indossando nessun perizoma, la sua passera nuda in mostra mentre chiede:<\/p>

\"Ok, tu fortunato figliastro di una stronza, ti darò il privilegio di adorare la mia passera. Devi fare un lavoro dannatamente buono, altrimenti rimuoverò la pelle dai tuoi coglioni!\"<\/p>

\"Sì Mistress\" è tutto ciò che lo schiavo risponde mentre Ella sale sul suo viso, calandosi su di esso con il suo cespuglio rasato. Ella apre le sue labbra e chiede:<\/p>

\"Mi vedi la mia passera, schiavo? Senti il suo odore? Voglio sentirti inspirare profondamente, legando i miei feromoni a te e rendendoti schiavo della mia passera\"<\/p>

Ella abbassa la sua passera sul viso dello schiavo, strofinandola sul suo naso avanti e indietro. Lo schiavo sa di meglio che iniziare a leccare senza permesso. Ella fa annusare la sua passera allo schiavo, poi apre nuovamente le labbra e ordina:<\/p>

\"Puoi iniziare baciando le mie cosce e ovunque ATTORNO alla mia passera - bene. Ora inizia a baciare la mia passera\"<\/p>

Lo schiavo fa come ordinato, ricoprendo la sua pelvi di baci e poi baciando delicatamente la sua passera come un amante sfortunato.<\/p>

\"Puoi iniziare a leccare. Su e giù GENTILMENTE per prima, poi inizia a esplorare verso l'interno delle labbra interne per assaggiare i miei succhi.\"<\/p>

Lo schiavo fa come ordinato, facendola gemere e cadere sul suo viso, accovacciandosi con il suo peso completo mentre il suo viso scompare sotto di Lei.<\/p>

\"CONTINUA A LECCARE. Non osare smettere finché non ti ordino di farlo!\"<\/p>

Inizia a macinare sul suo viso, muovendosi avanti e indietro lentamente, poi accelerando mentre dà allo schiavo istruzioni passo:<\/p>

\"Ora infila la tua lingua nella mia passera - PIÙ PROFONDO! Bene, ora dentro e fuori, scopami la fica con la lingua\"<\/p>

Inizia a saltellare sul viso dello schiavo, su e giù sulla lingua mentre il suo viso inizia a luccicare con i suoi succhi.<\/p>

\"Ora inizia a succhiare il mio clitoride. SBORRA I MIEI SUCCHI, non osare sprecare neanche una goccia dei miei preziosi succhi! Uno schiavo della passera gode di tutto ciò che proviene dalla passera sacra della sua Dea\"<\/p>

Si accovaccia sullo schiavo, lasciando cadere le sue gambe fuori dal tavolo, completamente obliterando il suo viso con la sua passera e il suo telaio di 5'10. <\/p>

\"SUCCHIA IL MIO CLITORIDE! PIÙ FORTE!\"<\/p>

Ha alcuni piccoli scossoni e gemiti sul suo viso mentre lui fa rumore di suzione cercando di succhiare fino all'ultima goccia di nettare dolce di passera copioso che fuoriesce dalla sua dolce passera che ha iniziato ad aprirsi come un fiore. Si gira e si mette in ginocchio sopra il viso dello schiavo.<\/p>

\"Ora ti scoperò la faccia, avanti e indietro. Tieni la tua fottuta lingua fuori per tutto il tempo se tieni a cuore i tuoi coglioni. Ora, dimmi, CHI TI POSSEDE?\"<\/p>

\"Tu e la tua passera Mistress\"<\/p>

\"Hai ragione!\"<\/p>

Inizia a scivolare la sua passera sul viso dello schiavo, avanti e indietro come se stesse lucidando una scarpa, il viso dello schiavo luccicante con i suoi fluidi appiccicosi, diventando sempre più spesso. Ella alla fine schiaccia giù sul viso dello schiavo:<\/p>

\"Scopami la fica, schiavo. Nessun respiro per te finché non sarò soddisfatta dei tuoi sforzi\"<\/p>

(Continuato in Parte II)<\/p>

 <\/p>"

La regina Circe ha un nuovo candidato schiavo pussy che ha accettato di lasciare provare per la posizione. Ha lo schiavo legato, su una panca, con la testa attaccata a un'imbracatura per la testa, saldamente incatenato, incapace di muovere un muscolo. Ha una telecamera mobile montata sulla sua testa per valutare le sue prestazioni. Entra nella stanza medica indossando un'uniforme da infermiera bianco e rosso, completo di vecchie calze autoreggenti e guanti in PVC rosso. Si ferma davanti allo schiavo indossando nessun perizoma, la sua passera nuda in mostra mentre chiede:<\/p>

\"Ok, tu fortunato figliastro di una stronza, ti darò il privilegio di adorare la mia passera. Devi fare un lavoro dannatamente buono, altrimenti rimuoverò la pelle dai tuoi coglioni!\"<\/p>

\"Sì Mistress\" è tutto ciò che lo schiavo risponde mentre Ella sale sul suo viso, calandosi su di esso con il suo cespuglio rasato. Ella apre le sue labbra e chiede:<\/p>

\"Mi vedi la mia passera, schiavo? Senti il suo odore? Voglio sentirti inspirare profondamente, legando i miei feromoni a te e rendendoti schiavo della mia passera\"<\/p>

Ella abbassa la sua passera sul viso dello schiavo, strofinandola sul suo naso avanti e indietro. Lo schiavo sa di meglio che iniziare a leccare senza permesso. Ella fa annusare la sua passera allo schiavo, poi apre nuovamente le labbra e ordina:<\/p>

\"Puoi iniziare baciando le mie cosce e ovunque ATTORNO alla mia passera - bene. Ora inizia a baciare la mia passera\"<\/p>

Lo schiavo fa come ordinato, ricoprendo la sua pelvi di baci e poi baciando delicatamente la sua passera come un amante sfortunato.<\/p>

\"Puoi iniziare a leccare. Su e giù GENTILMENTE per prima, poi inizia a esplorare verso l'interno delle labbra interne per assaggiare i miei succhi.\"<\/p>

Lo schiavo fa come ordinato, facendola gemere e cadere sul suo viso, accovacciandosi con il suo peso completo mentre il suo viso scompare sotto di Lei.<\/p>

\"CONTINUA A LECCARE. Non osare smettere finché non ti ordino di farlo!\"<\/p>

Inizia a macinare sul suo viso, muovendosi avanti e indietro lentamente, poi accelerando mentre dà allo schiavo istruzioni passo:<\/p>

\"Ora infila la tua lingua nella mia passera - PIÙ PROFONDO! Bene, ora dentro e fuori, scopami la fica con la lingua\"<\/p>

Inizia a saltellare sul viso dello schiavo, su e giù sulla lingua mentre il suo viso inizia a luccicare con i suoi succhi.<\/p>

\"Ora inizia a succhiare il mio clitoride. SBORRA I MIEI SUCCHI, non osare sprecare neanche una goccia dei miei preziosi succhi! Uno schiavo della passera gode di tutto ciò che proviene dalla passera sacra della sua Dea\"<\/p>

Si accovaccia sullo schiavo, lasciando cadere le sue gambe fuori dal tavolo, completamente obliterando il suo viso con la sua passera e il suo telaio di 5'10. <\/p>

\"SUCCHIA IL MIO CLITORIDE! PIÙ FORTE!\"<\/p>

Ha alcuni piccoli scossoni e gemiti sul suo viso mentre lui fa rumore di suzione cercando di succhiare fino all'ultima goccia di nettare dolce di passera copioso che fuoriesce dalla sua dolce passera che ha iniziato ad aprirsi come un fiore. Si gira e si mette in ginocchio sopra il viso dello schiavo.<\/p>

\"Ora ti scoperò la faccia, avanti e indietro. Tieni la tua fottuta lingua fuori per tutto il tempo se tieni a cuore i tuoi coglioni. Ora, dimmi, CHI TI POSSEDE?\"<\/p>

\"Tu e la tua passera Mistress\"<\/p>

\"Hai ragione!\"<\/p>

Inizia a scivolare la sua passera sul viso dello schiavo, avanti e indietro come se stesse lucidando una scarpa, il viso dello schiavo luccicante con i suoi fluidi appiccicosi, diventando sempre più spesso. Ella alla fine schiaccia giù sul viso dello schiavo:<\/p>

\"Scopami la fica, schiavo. Nessun respiro per te finché non sarò soddisfatta dei tuoi sforzi\"<\/p>

(Continuato in Parte II)<\/p>

 <\/p>"