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.

O vídeo começa com a Rainha Circe de pé sobre seu patético escravo, que está amarrado a uma mesa, com sua cabeça firmemente presa no lugar. As mãos do escravo estão acorrentadas, tornando-o completamente indefeso. A Rainha Circe, vestida com sua atitude dominante, olha para o escravo com uma mistura de entretenimento e desprezo.

\"Você está aqui para me servir, escravo,\" Ela declara, sua voz firme e imperativa. \"E hoje, você vai adorar Meu sexo.\"

A Rainha Circe se posiciona sobre o rosto do escravo, abaixando todo o seu peso sobre ele. Ela prende o rosto e a boca do escravo na mesa, garantindo que ele não possa escapar de Sua dominação. Ela começa a roçar o seu sexo contra a boca do escravo, usando sua língua para seu próprio prazer. Ela começa lentamente, saboreando a sensação, mas aumenta rapidamente o seu ritmo. O som de seu sexo molhado batendo contra o rosto do escravo preenche a sala.

\"Escravos de sexo devem cheirar como sexo,\" Ela declara, sua voz molhada de dominação. \"É um grande honra servir-Me desta maneira para um porco como você.\"

Os gemidos enfraquecidos e os suspiros desesperados do escravo pelo ar preenchem a sala à medida que a Rainha Circe continua a roçar contra o seu rosto, seus movimentos seguindo um ritmo implacável. Ela se delicia com o seu poder, usando a boca do escravo para se aproximar mais de um orgasmo.

A Rainha Circe se vira, posicionando o seu traseiro sobre o rosto do escravo. Ela desce sobre a boca do escravo, garantindo que ele ainda possa lamber e adorar o seu sexo de trás. Ela roça contra o rosto do escravo, seus movimentos agora mais urgentes.

\"Lambê-o, escravo,\" Ela ordena, sua voz entrecortada pelo prazer. \"Lambê-o como se sua vida dependesse disso.\"

O escravo obedece, sua língua trabalhando diligentemente para agradar a sua Rainha. Os gemidos da Rainha Circe enchem a sala à medida que ela se aproxima do seu orgasmo, seus movimentos ficando cada vez mais rápidos contra o rosto do escravo.

O corpo da Rainha Circe se tensa quando ela atinge o seu orgasmo, seus movimentos se tornando mais lentos e deliberados contra o rosto do escravo. Ela permanece sobre o rosto do escravo por um momento, saboreando as réplicas do seu orgasmo.

O vídeo começa com a Rainha Circe de pé sobre seu patético escravo, que está amarrado a uma mesa, com sua cabeça firmemente presa no lugar. As mãos do escravo estão acorrentadas, tornando-o completamente indefeso. A Rainha Circe, vestida com sua atitude dominante, olha para o escravo com uma mistura de entretenimento e desprezo.

\"Você está aqui para me servir, escravo,\" Ela declara, sua voz firme e imperativa. \"E hoje, você vai adorar Meu sexo.\"

A Rainha Circe se posiciona sobre o rosto do escravo, abaixando todo o seu peso sobre ele. Ela prende o rosto e a boca do escravo na mesa, garantindo que ele não possa escapar de Sua dominação. Ela começa a roçar o seu sexo contra a boca do escravo, usando sua língua para seu próprio prazer. Ela começa lentamente, saboreando a sensação, mas aumenta rapidamente o seu ritmo. O som de seu sexo molhado batendo contra o rosto do escravo preenche a sala.

\"Escravos de sexo devem cheirar como sexo,\" Ela declara, sua voz molhada de dominação. \"É um grande honra servir-Me desta maneira para um porco como você.\"

Os gemidos enfraquecidos e os suspiros desesperados do escravo pelo ar preenchem a sala à medida que a Rainha Circe continua a roçar contra o seu rosto, seus movimentos seguindo um ritmo implacável. Ela se delicia com o seu poder, usando a boca do escravo para se aproximar mais de um orgasmo.

A Rainha Circe se vira, posicionando o seu traseiro sobre o rosto do escravo. Ela desce sobre a boca do escravo, garantindo que ele ainda possa lamber e adorar o seu sexo de trás. Ela roça contra o rosto do escravo, seus movimentos agora mais urgentes.

\"Lambê-o, escravo,\" Ela ordena, sua voz entrecortada pelo prazer. \"Lambê-o como se sua vida dependesse disso.\"

O escravo obedece, sua língua trabalhando diligentemente para agradar a sua Rainha. Os gemidos da Rainha Circe enchem a sala à medida que ela se aproxima do seu orgasmo, seus movimentos ficando cada vez mais rápidos contra o rosto do escravo.

O corpo da Rainha Circe se tensa quando ela atinge o seu orgasmo, seus movimentos se tornando mais lentos e deliberados contra o rosto do escravo. Ela permanece sobre o rosto do escravo por um momento, saboreando as réplicas do seu orgasmo.

A cena começa com a Senhora Minerva se preparando para uma sessão de tomar sol, mas antes de se entregar aos raios do sol, ela tem uma tarefa para seu escravo. O escravo está amarrado, suspenso no calabouço, completamente à sua mercê. Ela se aproxima dele, apresentando seus pés suados para o seu rosto e puxa sua coleira para fazê-lo inalar sua pele pungente e úmida. Ele faz careta enquanto começa a lamber, mas a Senhora Minerva repreende-o rapidamente com um forte tapa no rosto. "VOCÊ VAI HONRAR TUDO QUE VEM DO MEU CORPO DE DEUSA!" ela ordena. ???? "Agora me diga como está tão saboroso e suplique por mais, porco." ????<\/p>

O escravo obedece, lambendo e sugar a limpeza de seus pés, lutando com o sabor salgado do seu suor. Apenas uma vez que ela fica satisfeita com seu trabalho, ela sai para o sol abrasador, deixando seu escravo pendurado na expectativa de seu retorno.??????<\/p>

Ao retornar de sua sessão de tomar sol, o corpo da Senhora Minerva está escorregadio com suor e suas axilas exalam um cheiro pungente e muskoso. Ela se aproxima de seu escravo, fazendo-o cheirar seus axilas com cheiro de suor. Ele recua, mas ela o pega pelo cabelo e o puxa mais perto, ordenando-o a lamber limpo. Ela o prende em um bloqueio de cabeça, garantindo que ele não escape da tarefa. "Qual axila cheira e sabe melhor, escravo?" ela provoca, rindo de seu desconforto.?????<\/p>

O clímax deste encontro intenso acontece quando a Senhora Minerva pergunta a seu escravo se ele quer lavar o sabor do suor dela. Quando ele assenta, desesperado por alívio, ela o ajusta com um bocal aberto. O que se segue é um assédio implacável de escarro, enquanto a Senhora Minerva engasca globo após globo de saliva, depositando-os diretamente no bocal. Ele estrangula e espirra, lágrimas correndo pelo seu rosto enquanto ele luta para engolir cada gota.????<\/p>"

A cena começa com a Senhora Minerva se preparando para uma sessão de tomar sol, mas antes de se entregar aos raios do sol, ela tem uma tarefa para seu escravo. O escravo está amarrado, suspenso no calabouço, completamente à sua mercê. Ela se aproxima dele, apresentando seus pés suados para o seu rosto e puxa sua coleira para fazê-lo inalar sua pele pungente e úmida. Ele faz careta enquanto começa a lamber, mas a Senhora Minerva repreende-o rapidamente com um forte tapa no rosto. "VOCÊ VAI HONRAR TUDO QUE VEM DO MEU CORPO DE DEUSA!" ela ordena. ???? "Agora me diga como está tão saboroso e suplique por mais, porco." ????<\/p>

O escravo obedece, lambendo e sugar a limpeza de seus pés, lutando com o sabor salgado do seu suor. Apenas uma vez que ela fica satisfeita com seu trabalho, ela sai para o sol abrasador, deixando seu escravo pendurado na expectativa de seu retorno.??????<\/p>

Ao retornar de sua sessão de tomar sol, o corpo da Senhora Minerva está escorregadio com suor e suas axilas exalam um cheiro pungente e muskoso. Ela se aproxima de seu escravo, fazendo-o cheirar seus axilas com cheiro de suor. Ele recua, mas ela o pega pelo cabelo e o puxa mais perto, ordenando-o a lamber limpo. Ela o prende em um bloqueio de cabeça, garantindo que ele não escape da tarefa. "Qual axila cheira e sabe melhor, escravo?" ela provoca, rindo de seu desconforto.?????<\/p>

O clímax deste encontro intenso acontece quando a Senhora Minerva pergunta a seu escravo se ele quer lavar o sabor do suor dela. Quando ele assenta, desesperado por alívio, ela o ajusta com um bocal aberto. O que se segue é um assédio implacável de escarro, enquanto a Senhora Minerva engasca globo após globo de saliva, depositando-os diretamente no bocal. Ele estrangula e espirra, lágrimas correndo pelo seu rosto enquanto ele luta para engolir cada gota.????<\/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.

A Rainha Circe tem um novo candidato a escravo de sexo que ela concordou em deixar tentar o cargo. Ela tem o escravo amarrado, em uma mesa, com sua cabeça presa a um arnês de cabeça, acorrentado de forma segura, sem conseguir mover um músculo. Ela tem uma câmera móvel montada na cabeça para avaliar seu desempenho. Ela entra na sala médica vestindo um uniforme de enfermeira branco e vermelho, completo com alças antigas e meias e luvas de PVC vermelho. Ela fica de pé na frente do escravo, sem calcinhas, sua vagina nua à mostra enquanto pergunta:<\/p>

\"Ok, você filho de puta sortudo, vou dar a você o privilégio de adorar Meu sexo. Você melhor fazer um trabalho muito bom, ou eu vou tirar a pele do seu pau!\"<\/p>

\"Sim, Senhora\" é tudo o que o escravo responde enquanto ela monta o rosto dele, ficando de pé sobre ele com Seu monte de cabelo raspado. Ela espalha as suas vaginas abertas na face dele e pergunta:<\/p>

\"Você vê Meu sexo, escravo? Você sente o cheiro? Eu quero ouvir você respirando profundamente, ligando Meus feromônios a você e escravizando você para Meu sexo\"<\/p>

Ela abaixa Seu sexo na face do escravo, passando-o sobre o seu nariz, de trás para frente. O escravo sabe melhor do que começar a lamber sem permissão. Ela faz o escravo cheirar Seu sexo, então espalha as vaginas abertas novamente e ordena:<\/p>

\"Você pode começar beijando Meus coxins e tudo AOREDO de Meu sexo - bom. Agora comece beijando Meu sexo\"<\/p>

O escravo faz como ordenado, derramando beijos em Sua virilha e depois beijando Sua vagina com delicadeza, como um amante de história cruzada.<\/p>

\"Você pode começar a lamber. Acima e abaixo GENTILMENTE primeiro, em seguida, comece a explorar para dentro das vaginas internas para saborear Meus sucos.\"<\/p>

O escravo faz como ordenado, fazendo-a soluçar e descer sobre seu rosto, sentando-se com todo o seu peso enquanto o rosto dele desaparece sob a Sua.<\/p>

\"CONTINUE LICKING. Não você DAR PARAR até que eu ORDENE você para!\"<\/p>

Ela começa a roçar na face dele, movendo-se para trás e para frente lentamente, em seguida, acelerando enquanto dá instruções passo a passo para o escravo:<\/p>

\"Agora coloque a sua língua em Meu sexo - MAIS PROFUNDO! Bom, agora dentro e fora, foda Meu buraco com a sua língua\"<\/p>

Ela começa a pular na face do escravo, para cima e para baixo na língua enquanto o rosto dele começa a brilhar com os Suas secreções pegajosas, ficando mais espessas e espessas. Ela finalmente desce na face do escravo:<\/p>

\"Agora comece a sugar Meu clitóris. SOLUÇAR MEUS SUCOS, não você DAR PARAR desperdiçar qualquer um dos Meus sucos preciosos! Um escravo de sexo saboriza tudo a partir do sexo sagrado de Sua Deusa\"<\/p>

Ela fica de pé sobre o rosto do escravo, esticando as suas pernas da mesa, totalmente obliterando o seu rosto com o seu sexo e o seu quadro de 15 cm de altura. <\/p>

\"SUGE MEU CLITÓRIS! MAIS FORTE!\"<\/p>

Ela tem alguns tremores pequenos e soluços na sua face enquanto ele faz barulho de soluçar tentando sugar os quantidades abundantes de néctar de sexo doce e pegajoso que saem do seu doce sexo que começou a se abrir como uma flor. Ela se vira e fica de quatro sobre o rosto do escravo.<\/p>

\"Agora eu vou foder a sua cara, para trás e para frente. Mantenha a sua língua para fora o tempo todo se você valor os seus testículos. Agora, diga-me, QUEM É QUE TE PERTENCE?\"<\/p>

\"Você e Seu sexo, Senhora\"<\/p>

\"Isso mesmo!\"<\/p>

Ela começa a deslizar o seu sexo sobre a face do escravo, para trás e para frente como se estivesse brilhando um sapato, o rosto do escravo brilhando com as Suas secreções pegajosas, ficando mais espessas e espessas. Ela finalmente desce na face do escravo:<\/p>

\"Foda Meu sexo, escravo. Sem respirar para você até que eu fique satisfeita com os seus esforços\"<\/p>

(Continuado em Parte II)<\/p>

 <\/p>"

A Rainha Circe tem um novo candidato a escravo de sexo que ela concordou em deixar tentar o cargo. Ela tem o escravo amarrado, em uma mesa, com sua cabeça presa a um arnês de cabeça, acorrentado de forma segura, sem conseguir mover um músculo. Ela tem uma câmera móvel montada na cabeça para avaliar seu desempenho. Ela entra na sala médica vestindo um uniforme de enfermeira branco e vermelho, completo com alças antigas e meias e luvas de PVC vermelho. Ela fica de pé na frente do escravo, sem calcinhas, sua vagina nua à mostra enquanto pergunta:

\"Ok, você filho de puta sortudo, vou dar a você o privilégio de adorar Meu sexo. Você melhor fazer um trabalho muito bom, ou eu vou tirar a pele do seu pau!\"<\/p>

\"Sim, Senhora\" é tudo o que o escravo responde enquanto ela monta o rosto dele, ficando de pé sobre ele com Seu monte de cabelo. Ela espalha as suas vaginas abertas na cara dele e pergunta:

\"Você vê Meu sexo, escravo? Você sente o cheiro? Eu quero ouvir você respirando fundo, ligando Meus feromônios a você e escravizando você para Meu sexo\"<\/p>

Ela abaixa Seu sexo na cara dele, passando-o sobre o seu nariz, de trás para frente. O escravo sabe melhor não começar a lamber sem permissão. Ela faz o escravo cheirar o sexo dela, então espalha as vaginas abertas novamente e ordena:

\"Você pode começar beijando Meus coxas e tudo AO REDOR do Meu sexo - bom. Agora comece beijando o Meu sexo\"<\/p>

O escravo faz como ordenado, derramando beijos em Sua virilha e depois beijando Sua vagina com delicadeza, como um amante de história em conflito.<\/p>

\"Você pode começar a lamber. Acima e abaixo GENTILMENTE primeiro, em seguida, comece a explorar para dentro das vaginas internas para saborear Meus sucos.\"<\/p>

O escravo faz como ordenado, fazendo-a soluçar e cair sobre o seu rosto, sentando-se com todo o Seu peso enquanto a cara dele desaparece sob a Sua.<\/p>

\"CONTINUE LAMBENDO. Não você DARE PARAR até que eu ORDENE você para!\"<\/p>

Ela começa a roçar a Sua vagina na cara dele, movendo-se para trás e para frente lentamente, depois acelerando enquanto dá instruções passo a passo para o escravo:

\"Agora coloque a sua língua dentro do Meu sexo - MAIS PROFUNDO! Bom, agora dentro e fora, foda Meu buraco com a sua língua\"<\/p>

Ela começa a pular na cara do escravo, para cima e para baixo na língua enquanto a cara dele começa a brilhar com os Suas secreções pegajosas, ficando mais espessa e espessa. Ela finalmente desce sobre o rosto do escravo:

\"Agora comece a sugar o Meu clit. SOLUÇAR MEUS SUCOS, não você DARE desperdiçar qualquer um dos Meus sucos preciosos! Um escravo de sexo saboriza tudo a partir do sexo sagrado de Sua Deusa\"<\/p>

Ela fica de pé sobre o rosto do escravo, esticando as pernas para fora da mesa, totalmente obliterando a cara dele com o Seu sexo e o Seu quadro de 1'10. <\/p>

\"SUGE MEU CLIT! MAIS FORTE!\"<\/p>

Ela tem alguns tremores pequenos e soluços na cara dele enquanto ele faz barulho de soluçar tentando sugar os quantidades abundantes de néctar de sexo doce e pegajoso que saem do Seu doce sexo que começou a se abrir como uma flor. Ela se vira e fica de quatro sobre o rosto do escravo.<\/p>

\"Agora eu vou foder o seu rosto, para trás e para frente. Mantenha a sua língua para fora o tempo todo se você valor os seus testículos. Agora, diga-me, QUEM É QUE TE PERTENCE?\"<\/p>

\"Você e Seu sexo, Senhora\"<\/p>

\"Isso mesmo!\"<\/p>

Ela começa a deslizar o Seu sexo sobre o rosto do escravo, para trás e para frente como se estivesse brilhando um sapato, a cara do escravo brilhando com as Suas secreções pegajosas, ficando mais espessa e espessa. Ela finalmente desce sobre o rosto do escravo:

\"Foda Meu sexo, escravo. Sem respirar para você até que eu fique satisfeita com seus esforços\"<\/p>

(Continuado em Parte II)<\/p>

 <\/p>"