Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Cat Toy

This is a story I enjoyed from literotica called 'Cat toy':

In a darkened corridor of the Blüdhaven Museum of Civilizations, one sinuous shadow separated from the rest. The figure slid down the hallway, away from the opened panel where the guts of the museum's security system dangled like so much offal. The hush of the empty hall amplified the *tok*tok* of heels as the intruder passed by the exhibits, apparently uninterested in the Native American artifacts on display. Dead cameras surveyed the atrium as the shadow passed, polished lenses reflecting abundantly feminine curves all wrapped up in a skintight blend of technical fabrics and leather, the latter for the sake of aesthetics as much as any contribution to stealth it might have made.

The shadow slid beneath the cordon that separated Special Exhibits from the rest without breaking stride. High above, a banner flapped gently in the breeze of her passing; it read, "THE BOUNTIES OF BUBASTIS- ON LOAN FROM THE SMITHSONIAN" proudly in faux- Egyptian script. The following day's date ran underneath, bracketed by stylized, cat-headed figures.

Selina Kyle, the Catwoman, chuckled quietly to herself. It was almost too easy; she never would have gotten this far back in Gotham, where she'd long since learned to eschew the feline-themed heists that had once been her trademark. The Bat would have been there before she even got through the window, never mind letting her get all the way to the exhibit.

It felt good to get back to basics.

Selina paused for a moment in front of a glass case to preen. His loss. She twisted to the side, checking herself out. Maybe next time she redid her costume, she'd go back to the combat boots; the three-inch heels on these boots were a little impractical, but they did wonders for her ass. The muscular globes of her buttocks stood out even more prominently than usual as she arched her back just a little, pushing her prodigious breasts up further, while silently thanking science for the miracle of the built-in supports just beneath the chrome zipper that ran from her neck to her navel.

"Maybe I'll even put the tail back on," she mused aloud, a smirk creeping across her plush mouth. It was terrible for balance and got in the goddamn way all the time, but it certainly drew attention to where she wanted it. Anyway, back to work. Selina nudged her cowl so that her ears were on straight, and strolled away, hips rolling.

In the centre of the room, on an elevated pedestal, inside a thick glass case, stood tonight's prize: The Handmaid of Bast. Leather creaked as Catwoman flexed her fingers. The "Handmaid" was a stylized statuette of a cat from a recent dig near Bubastis, a foot in height and supposedly solid gold. The emeralds chasing around its neck glittered expensively in the dim light of the room. Selina approached the case; she adjusted her ruby goggles and stared into the red gems that were laid into the sockets of the statuette. With a flick of her wrist, glass-cutting claws flashed out from her left glove and she hunkered down to begin.

"Straying far from home tonight aren't you, Selina?" From above, a familiar voice echoed. Scowling, she looked over her shoulder as another shadow fell from the rafters to the floor.

"I could say the same for you, bird-boy," she said, standing.

"Blüdhaven is *my* town," Nightwing stepped forward, idly twirling one escrima baton; despite the feigned nonchalance, every muscle in his lean, acrobatic form was tense and it showed through his own costume, which looked as though he'd been dipped in black latex. Catwoman unfurled the bullwhip she carried at her hip.

"How'd you even know I was here?" She asked, giving the whip a flicker.

"Are you kidding? I picked you up before you even got inside the building." He smirked. "I can't tell if you were just being disrespectful or getting sloppy in your old age." Selina snarled and her whip cracked. As she approached forty, she probably had ten-fifteen years on the kid, but needling a lady about her age was uncalled for!

"We don't have to do this," she warned. "I don't want to mess up such a pretty face." Under his domino mask, Catwoman had to admit that the Bat's onetime sidekick had grown into his features. If he hadn't gotten into beating up muggers, he'd probably be on billboards selling Abercrombie & Fitch. How old was he now, anyway? He must be out of college by now, surely. She tried to add the years up in her head. He had to be at least in his twenties, anyway.

"Tell you what," Nightwing dropped into a combat stance, raising both batons. "You go back to Gotham right now, and I won't even tell your boyfriend you were here."

"Tell *you* what," she said, slicing the air with a vicious crack of her whip. "You won't even be able to remember this conversation happened once I'm done kicking your ass."

He rushed forward, closing the gap between them; the toe of Selina's boot caught him on his finely-turned chin as she pinwheeled backwards.

"Too slow, sweetie. Maybe-" Whatever else she was going to say was cut short as one of the batons came whistling towards her head. She took a quick step back in a fairly simple dodge, and it screamed past her to slam straight through the glass case holding the Handmaid. Cubes of safety-glass scattered everywhere, grazing her cheek, as the baton continued on, hitting the statue on the flank. It teetered, then began to tip over entirely. They shared a look between them and both scrambled to the other side of the pedestal as the statue tumbled.

Selina felt as though she were moving through molasses as she watched the head come free of the body, spinning away to the side as she swung herself around the pedestal, coming in low to catch the figure. The vigilante aimed too high, and Catwoman watched his open hand swinging just past where the head should have been while she twisted her body to land on her cushioned behind and let the thing *donk* quietly on her bosom. The open neck of the thing stared up at her, and in the moment's breath that followed, a thick slug of something brown and deeply musky glugged out onto her suit.

She was suddenly very much aware that the young hero was standing over her, staring down at her with those piercing blue eyes. He sniffed once, and she saw his pupils contract. Nightwing's eyes lost their focus for a moment, and he straightened up, staggering backwards.

"What the hell-?" He said, wiping his eyes with a free hand. "What is..." Somewhere in the museum, an alarm sounded. Selina wiped the goo away hastily and sprang to her feet, watching him curiously. Outside, sirens began to wail.

"Too bad, kid." Catwoman said with a shrug, scooping up the Handmaid's discarded head with her free hand. "Give my regards to the Bat." She dashed past, taking a moment to sweep his legs out from under him with a well-placed boot, and then she was gone into the shadow.

Dick Grayson lay on the museum floor, watching the ceiling spin above his head as he listened to her heels beat a tattoo on the tile. He struggled upwards against the dizzying haze in his skull, and was on his feet by the time a pair of cops burst in.

"What the hell happened here?" One of the officers shouted. "Nightwing? What the f-"

"Nothing," he said, dismissively. He waved a hand, then slid his escrima batons back in their holsters. "Robber. I'm in pursuit. Don't worry about it." He slipped into the darkness, leaving the officers goggling as he ran.

"I'm not crazy, right? You saw it too?" The first cop said to the second, sidling over. They spoke in hushed tones, as though not wanting the exhibits to hear.

"You mean his-"

"Right? It was huge. I've never seen anything-"

"Well, I mean, you gotta *assume*, right? That anybody who dresses up like that," the second cop waved her hand vaguely at the darkness. "Probably gets off on it, you know?"

"My kid's got a poster of him up on her wall. I'm gonna chuck it when we get home."

"Hell, I'll take it off your hands. Rawr."


From the fire escape, Selina slid open her window and slipped inside. Slamming it shut again, she put the Handmaid gingerly down on the couch, and peeled her cowl off to toss it alongside the statuette. Turning on a lamp, she looked at herself in the mirror; that goop had left a long brown stain across the grey and black material of her catsuit. She gingerly unzipped the front of the suit, only to find that some of it had soaked through, leaving brown beads of the stuff on her milky skin.

"Ah, dammit," she said, striding purposefully into the bathroom, where she cranked open the tap in the shower. As the room filled with steam, Selina unzipped her catsuit the rest of the way, gasping as her thick pink nipples, rock hard and angry, scraped free of the zipper. As she wriggled her butt out of the restrictive grasp of the poly-leather blend, Catwoman ran a hand between her thighs, and was a little surprised to find that she was pretty slick downstairs. A successful heist was always an aphrodisiac, of course, but she hadn't been so turned-on in... well, in a long time.

Stepping out of her boots, she walked into the water and let it beat against her plush body.

"Honey, you need to get *laid*," Selina said to nobody in particular, running her hands through her short black hair to rinse off the sweat built up under her cowl before grabbing the soap. As she lathered up her breasts, she did the math: it had been two weeks and three days since she'd gotten the fuck out of Gotham, which meant that it had been two weeks, two days and roughly four hours or so since she'd gotten fucked last. Catwoman's slick sudsy fingers toyed with her firm flesh, as she thought about the Bat's thick, rampant cock, standing tall and free from his shorts, right before he fucked her that last time atop the First Gotham Savings and Trust building.

She gently tugged at one nipple before shaking her head, sending a spray of water splattering against the shower door. It *was* definitely going to be the last time. However pleasantly fat his member happened to be, no matter how wonderfully full it made her feel, that didn't make up for his other shortcomings. Ten years they'd been hooking up, off and on, and he always, *always* had to be in control. A rough, dominant fuck had been fine when she was just starting out, but the older she got, the more tiresome it became. Not to mention that around the same time the first grey pubes started curling out around that big cock, he started having trouble not only getting it up, keeping it up and fucking her through to an orgasm. Rough sex was one thing, but frantic five minute rabbit fucks without even some cursory head for her simply weren't going to cut it any longer and she'd told him as much on that roof, packed up her shit, and got the hell out of Dodge.

Selina snarled and pulled more violently on her nipple, letting it snap back into shape.

But since then, the only thing she'd had between her legs had been either her own hand, or one of an increasingly-large collection of toys.

Not that Selina had any trouble attracting male attention. Quite the opposite, in fact, but none of the men she'd run into since leaving Gotham had quite turned her crank. They all seemed so aggressively...normal. Boring men with boring jobs and boring suits and boring stories.

More than once, she wondered if she'd picked up a cape fetish. Hardly surprising. Half the country had one by now, but that only compounded her problem. All the capes she knew were more or less like the Bat: big, hulking, driven, aggressive, dominant. What the hell was the point in moving if she was only going to end up back where she started?

She wasn't about to live without cock for the rest of her life, either. She liked cock. Big fucking cock.

Her long, delicate fingers, clean of soap, slid between her thighs as she carried on twisting one fat nipple, washing forgotten.

Where did that leave her? What she needed was a cape cock. A big, fat cape cock. But a young one this time, some young stud cock that could fuck her relentlessly for as long as she needed, but only as much as she wanted. Someone she could mould and shape, turn into her private fucktoy at her beck and call, put her pleasure first and foremost.

Selina's fingers were driving in and out of her wet hole now, palm slapping hard against her clitoris as she did.

Someone young. Someone young and hard and hardbodied.

As she fingerfucked herself, the image of Nightwing flashed through her head, back at the museum. Except this time he was on the floor and she was standing above him, looking up at her with those Vogue model eyes and waiting for her to make her next move.

"Pull down your pants," she growled in her imagination. "And show momma what you've got." He hooked his thumbs in his waistband and-

An orgasm ripped through Catwoman's body, unannounced. She gasped and trembled and her knees grew so weak that she had to grab onto the shower door to steady herself.

"Ngh! Fuck!" She gasped as her index finger strummed furiously away at her clitoris. "Fuck fuck fuck." Wet fingertips squealed against the glass as she held herself up.

Selina pulled her sticky fingers out of her pulsing hole, and stood up. "Jesus, you *are* hard-up, honey." Fumbling fingers searched for the bar of soap, as she started washing again. "As if any of *his* little minions would ever- would ever-" She found her fingers toying with her nipple again, thinking. The skin on her chest was tingling a little; she assumed it was from the afterglow, not really noticing it was localized around where the goo had soaked through her zipper.

"Oh get a grip, Selina." With a rueful grin, she let go of her breast, and carried on with her shower. Later, after she'd dried off, it'd be time to find out what the deal was with the Handmaid of Bast.


At his own apartment, Dick Grayson's fist was wrapped tight around the base of his cock. It was harder than he'd ever seen it, even during his midnight teenage fumblings with Barbara before college. Six inches of it stood straight out from his fist, the plum head a shimmery, angry purple. Precum drooled from the pulsing slit at the tip.

It had been this way since leaving the museum, and had presented serious obstacle to leaping from rooftop to rooftop. He'd actually considered taking care of it on top of some building, but figured the risk was too high. As it was, he'd barely been inside the apartment before yanking his pants down to his muscular thighs and starting to stroke his rampant member. His buttocks clenched as he did, feeling his pulse rate rising; what was going on here? Dick couldn't remember ever feeling so fucking horny. It obviously had something to do with what happened at the museum, something to do with Catwo-

"Ungh," he grunted as a frisson of pleasure slid up his spine.

A chime sounded. Glancing over, he saw it was Babs calling. Fist slowly pumping his cock, he picked up the phone in his other hand.

"Hey," Dick said, trying to keep the shake out of his voice, but not missing a stroke. "What's up?"

"Just checking in," Barbara said; the gorgeous redhead known as Oracle was calling from her nerve centre back in Gotham. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," he said, pumping faster. "I'm good. Just out of breath." Maybe he should ask her if he could drop by; maybe a booty call was in order. Though confined to a wheelchair, Babs' figure was still as fine as it had been when she was active as Batgirl. As he thought about fucking the pretty college coed, Dick felt the need that had driven him home begin to abate and despite himself, the erection in his fist faltered. What the hell?

"I saw someone hit the Museum of Civilizations," she said, oblivious.

"Y-yeah, nothing serious." He watched as his dick flagged and deflated.

"Cops didn't nab anybody, though. Were you there?"


"Anybody we know?"

"Yeah, just Ssss-" Catwoman's name fell back into his throat as his cock surged back to life. The shaft inflated so rapidly in his fist that it made him dizzy.

"What was that?" Babs said. "I lost you there for a moment."

"It was Sssss-" pleasure shot up through his spine as images of Selina flashed through his head, as he remembered how she looked there in front of the Handmaid of Bast, posing with one hand on her hip, the plush globes of her ass wrapped glove tight and pushed out.

"What?" She asked again. "You're breaking up, Dick."

In his head, Catwoman strode around the pedestal, posing for him while he panted and pumped and tried to choke back the grunts.

"Just Ssssss-" just the effort of saying her name made his balls churn. "Ssssome random, nobody important." In his head, Selina nodded and smiled and just watching her lips curl made his balls jump and precum leak over his fist.

"How come you let him get away? Are you sure everything's alright?"

"No," he insisted. "I'm fine. Great." The imaginary Selina drew the handle of her whip up the length of her thigh; in his apartment, Dick fell to his knees.

"Are you sure? Do you need me to tell Bruce?"

"No!" He shouted. "I'm fine. I can handle Ssss-" he shuddered as his balls drew close to his body. "Ssssome dope, okay?" His fist flew up and down his slippery shaft, dreaming of Selina.

"Alright okay. I get it."

"G-good," he stammered. Catwoman tapped one heel impatiently against the floor. "Look it's been a long night, I should hit the sack."

"Already? It's only-"

"G'night, Babs. I'll talk to you later." Gritting his teeth, he hung up the phone even as Oracle was still talking.

In his head, Selina said one word: "Cum."

Dick had to choke back a scream as the cum sprayed forth from him, fine-tuned acrobat's body rigid as steel as the orgasm ripped through his body, pumping thick plumes of cream out of his balls. It was so intense it drove all thoughts and words and doubts out of his brain; his eyes rolled back in his head as he came and came and came, spurting out what seemed like a lifetime's worth of semen.

Eventually, his fist wrang his balls dry and Dick fell to the floor, spent. Once he could gather up the energy to stand, it'd be time to find out what the deal was with the Handmaid of Bast. For now, however, it was just easier to lie here.


The Director of Special Exhibits for the Blüdhaven Museum of Civilizations lived just outside the city core, in a (relatively) modest little McMansion that was hardly Catwoman's usual target. It was all so very *suburban*; she sneered. Nonetheless she took the time to case the place, making sure that there were no surprises in store.

Which is why, when Dick eased himself out of a third story window the night following her heist at the museum, she was seated atop a nearby gable, watching. He really did have a very nice butt, Selina mused as he wriggled his tight behind out the windowsill. He was much slimmer than his mentor, but it was all lean, sculpted muscle. She squeezed her thighs together, reminding herself to focus.

"Find anything interesting?" Selina asked as Nightwing straightened himself. The younger hero whirled around, and she noted the stricken look that he was quick to wipe from his features; what he had less control over was the flush in his cheeks. "No?" She tapped one leg against the shingles of the house, and his eyes flickered over them.

"What are you doing here?" Dick ignored her question and took a slightly unsteady step backwards.

"Well," Catwoman hopped off her perch; the boning in her catsuit provided significant support by necessity, but even so there was no restraining a certain amount of jiggle as she did. He rewarded her curiosity by flickering his gaze over her bosom for a moment longer than he had her legs. "The same thing you are, I imagine. I want to find out what I poured all over myself last night at the museum." Dick's eyes zeroed in on the elongated brown stain that crossed her leather-encased tits. Why didn't he even have his silly batons out? "Did you find anything?"

Saturday, August 15, 2015

I burned through 5 hours of Friday night at Club Pedestal in London. It was awesome! Overwhelming ladies and easygoing men. The later it got, the more vivacious it got. From the word go, there were vicious lady wearing high shoes with pencil dainty heels trampling brutally over prostrate guys. I am shocked there were no wounds such was the eagerness to create torment. This was not playing, it was not kidding cold-bloodedness. It was an enjoyment to watch!

There was beating, whipping and caning of guys twist around or hung. A portion of the caning was likewise intense! Once more, delightful to watch. Later on a penis here or there was uncovered and smacked or whipped. Guys were being driven on chains, or needing to creep on hands and knees taking after their prevailing lady proprietor existing apart from everything else.

Obviously there was much oral love of footwear and of uncovered feet by bowing or prostrate guys, while the women sat in agreeable seats. There were numerous extremely wonderful ladies and some incredible and advanced sexual outfits. I will be going to the following occasion!

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

I cuckolded inadequate bitch-boy with a brand new significant other the night previous to very last. I went away in order to the woman's spot as well as spent the night there, as well as left your ex alone as well as locked upward inside the chastity tube. He's got not really cum regarding a fortnight. Last night, relaxing there inside my small top as well as high-heels, I explained to your ex information about exactly what Used to do in order to the woman's while having sex, as well as exactly what the lady does if you ask me. The many sexual as well as wonderful femdom orgasms. The actual high-priced champagne. He / she only viewed us, sometimes looking lower longingly within my slim lower limbs as well as my own high-heels. I asked your ex in the event he seemed to be delighted I did experienced like a great time. He / she claimed he seemed to be then looking again at us lower limbs, he begged as well as begged in order to be permitted to cum, telling us Used to do not really know how poor it was regarding your ex, how desperate he seemed to be. I explained to your ex I believed that we does understand exactly how poor it was regarding your ex. Along with I explained to your ex that we might make it possible to facesit you the day immediately after tomorrow, in the event he seemed to be specifically worshipful right up until then.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Imagination and reality

For the vacation for you to our total electrical power above bitch-boy, we might often go through threads and posts from the net, expounding on total electrical power associations. Repeatedly, the notice could sing out aloud – the truth is in contrast to imagination. The consequence on this term with bitch-boy and with virtually any subwoofer is usually to energy the hearth regarding submit, in spite of the uncomplicated factual precision.

Right now, bitch-boy thus regrets that they will not fuck yet again, that they cums seldom and frequently within very embarrassing and or perhaps agonizing instances. He does all the cleaning, the grocery shopping, the laundry, that they can be cuckolded, that they can be frequently, roughly punished. They complains for you to blowing wind the time clock back and My partner and i help remind them of the numerous instances we all go through which term – the truth is in contrast to imagination. They has been excited through the term; nevertheless he their likelihood. I enjoy playing too considerably for you to blowing wind back the time clock. I am sure even so which in the deepest recesses regarding their submissive soul, their existence within our complete control satiates them absolutely, in spite of that they have for you to endure.

This morning, regarding above a few several hours, My partner and i interested any Mistress while terrible while myself. We had certainly not satisfied before. She has been merely a best kindred heart and fantastic within the woman prominence. bitch-boy experienced brand-new and deep degrees of mortification. The guest and I truly liked our self plus the occasion is going to be repeated.

I most certainly will submit the notice and paradoxically submissives will reply with excitment – ridiculous animals – The reality is in contrast to imagination.

Servicing and Serving

I stirred a touch over an hour later from my snooze, and I sat up and viewed Karl for a little while as he composed his numbers. He continued flexing his written work hand, so I realized that the repetitiveness of his undertaking had been able to him. At long last, I requested him to stop, had him discuss his lyric, give me the note pad, and take up his "stool" position before me. I put one of my exposed feet on his back and the other under his face where I instructed him to kiss my toes as I checked his work.

It was currently 80 minutes since he had begun, so I expected no less than 2,000 numbers. He had really surpassed that number by 55, as the last number he composed was 7,944. I was fulfilled by that, however there unmistakably was a distinction between the nature of his number written work as the last pages were being filled. The segments were not too adjusted and the numbers themselves were messy contrasted and his before work. Not worthy, to the extent I was concerned. I exchanged the position of my feet so that he could take a shot at my different toes and started to check X's on the greater part of the inadequately done numbers. At last, I had 126 X's that checked menial work.

"All things considered, slave, the uplifting news is that you've sufficiently composed numbers, yet the terrible news is that one hundred and twenty six of them are rejects. That merits a discipline. Tail me." I got up and went into the lounge with Karl slithering behind me, and I recovered another journal. I gave him a pencil and instructed him to begin at the highest point of the page and compose the accompanying expressions, one under the other in piece letters, all promoted::

YES, YOUR Greatness

NO, YOUR Greatness

Much obliged to YOU, YOUR Greatness

It would be ideal if you YOUR Greatness

I went after a number cruncher and told Karl "You'll compose those four expressions one hundred and twenty six times, five times for every page with one line between every arrangement of four, utilizing only one side of every page. That will fill a touch more than a quarter century. That is a sum of five hundred and four lines. On the off chance that you are messy on even one line for each page, you'll begin once again from the earliest starting point. You'll sit in the corner confronting the divider while you do this, and after every five finished pages, you'll creep to wherever I happen to be, present your sonnet, give me the note pad, and lick the soles of my feet while I check your work. At that point it's back in the corner for another five pages. Begin!"

It took Karl around 20 minutes to complete the initial 5 pages, and when he had slithered around searching for me, discussed his ballad and licked the soles of my uncovered feet as I checked his work, then creeped back to his corner, another 10 or something like that minutes had unfolded. Altogether, it took him about 3 hours to finish his discipline.

I got exceptionally hot observing the greater part of this. Mr. Chief composition lines and slithering around to lick the soles of my feet while I checked his role as though he were a school kid searching for educator's support. On the off chance that his secretary could see him now! Obviously, I moved to diverse spots in the house while this went on. Some of the time chatting on the telephone to my companions Vanessa and Patsy, laughingly depicting Karl's day, even as he licked my feet and mixed back to his corner. At different times simply relaxing on our love seat and observing some TV, or meandering to the kitchen to snatch a nibble or a mixed drink or two.

At the point when Karl was at long last done, I let him know that I was frustrated that he'd squandered such a large amount of my time being rebuffed. "In addition irritating, slave, is that strolling shoeless through the house has brought about a lot of dust and coarseness on the soles of my feet, as I'm certain your tongue can authenticate. Fortunately, tomorrow will be another slave day and you'll invest a lot of energy legitimately cleaning these floors. I may even welcome Vanessa over to manage your work. She appears to have gotten great results from you on that exceptional day that she had all of you to herself." (See my post "Slave Day at Vanessa's" in case you're not certain what I'm discussing).

Karl turned a touch pale at the considered being under Vanessa's "direction", and obviously I had no goal of allowing him to sit unbothered with her, however it was amusing to envision her "working" Karl while I was around to verify she didn't escape. For the time being, be that as it may, I required some individual consideration regarding alleviate the "warmth" that watching my slave had produced.

With Karl at my feet, I gave him his next directions. "All things considered, slave, I've chosen to permit you to talk. On the other hand, those four line you've invested so much energy composing will be the breaking point of your permitted talking. Those lines and your ballad, obviously. Just those four lines and just when noting me. We'll hone now. Do you get it?"

"Yes, your Greatness."

"Will you be talking some other words?"

"No, your Majesty."

"Do you require a restroom break?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"What's the enchantment word to get my consent?"

"It would be ideal if you your Majesty."

"Exceptionally well, slave. You may have five minutes."

"Much obliged to you, your Majesty."

I needed to laugh at how rapidly Karl had taken after my directions. He was dependably a brisk study, yet on the other hand he had been all around prepared.

At the point when Karl returned, I instructed him to go into the kitchen and set up a plate of mixed greens for me, and I gave him guidelines in the matter of what fixings I needed. I additionally instructed him to present to me a glass of water and a glass of white wine and a little bowl and a napkin. When he returned I inquired as to whether he'd eaten anything in the kitchen.

"No, your Greatness"

"Great. It is safe to say that you are eager, slave?"

"Yes, your Greatness."

"Would you like some nourishment?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"What's more, how would you request sustenance?"

"If you don't mind your Excellency."

"I'll think of it as, slave. What's more, how would you react to that?"

"Much obliged to you, your Excellency."

"Good. Presently get on your knees, put the dish on the floor, the wine glass and water on the end table, hold the plate and food me my serving of mixed greens, forkful by forkful. I will gesture when I wish another forkful. When I snap my fingers, put the fork on the napkin on the end table and give me my wine. After I drink, you can supplant the wine glass and start nourishing me again when I gesture. Do you comprehend, slave?"

"Yes, your Excellency."

I don't regularly have Karl bolster me, yet it appeared to be suitable now that he was in slave mode, and I must let it be known was incredible enjoyable to simply gesture and snap my fingers while I ate without needing to lift a finger to help myself but to drink from my wine glass when Karl gave it to me. I took as much time as required as the sustenance and wine vanished, and when my plate was 3/4 void, I advised Karl to bring the plate, the dish and the water once again into the kitchen and sit tight for me. I had him put the dish on the floor, fill the dish with the water and I discharged my plate over my uncovered feet. The plate of mixed greens dressing overflowed between my toes onto the tile floor.

"You may lap the water from the dish and eat whatever is left of my serving of mixed greens, slave. Make certain to eat each drop from off my feet and lick the dressing from my toes. My feet and the floor ought to be perfect when you're done. You have precisely ten minutes, so be fast about it. It is safe to say that we are sure about this?"

"Yes, your Greatness."

"Also, what do you say?"

"Much thanks to you, your Majesty."

Watching Karl wolfing down the bits of plate of mixed greens and lapping water from the dish, squirming my toes as he sucked the dressing from between them, then raising one foot at once so that he could lick the deposit from the soles of my feet and the tile floor underneath them....well, what would I be able to say, I simply discovered myself giggling in enjoyment at seeing the entire thing.

I was so turned on at this point that I chose to prepared things for a definitive delight of this day. In the wake of letting Karl wash the "supper" buildup from his face, I drove him into the room and had him lay on his back on the bed. I uprooted all of my garments and sat on his midsection as he watched my bosoms gradually lower over his mouth. "Lick my areolas and suck them tenderly until they're hard, slave." It didn't take long by any stretch of the imagination. I came to behind me and felt his rooster straining against his pocket, and I felt my pussy juices starting to stream.

"I wager you'd love to come, wouldn't you slave?"

"Yes, your Greatness", Karl heaved.

"You haven't earned it yet, slave. We should perceive how your tongue can do first and the amount of order you have." I pushed my hand under his pocket and climbed so that my pussy was directly over his face, yanking his rooster as I did as such. "Eat me legitimately" I requested, "and don't even consider advancing!"

I decidedly overwhelmed his mouth with my pussy, and my little slave didn't baffle me as he ran emphatically wild with his tongue until his face was totally drenched with my juice. Wheezing myself, I pivoted and put my butt over his mouth as I yanked and yanked on his chicken with one hand and crushed his balls with the other. "Presently lick my rear end slave, and get your tongue somewhere down in my opening. At that point let me feel your tongue whirl around in there, then move it in and out like it was a rooster fucking me. Don't you set out come!!!"

I yanked and crushed, he licked, and whirled and went in and out as requested, and I went some place over the rainbow with desire and fervor. I felt such power knowing I was controlling the greater part of this! What's more, I realized that I required his cockerel inside me. I needed the entire of him, and I realized that this was the way this immaculate day of spoiling needed to end. So I expelled my can from his face, yanked off his pocket and brought down myself onto his absolutely swollen rooster. He let out what could just be known as a "cry" of euphoria as his cockerel entered me following quite a while of being denied. "Try not to come unless I give you consent! Simply keep it there while I slide here and there."

I could see the strain and franticness all over as he attempted to abstain from taking off. I appreciated it, as I gradually went here and there, then halting at the tip of his cockerel, then pushing hard down his pole, then simply delaying as I watched his worked breathing and his eyes flickering, close tears with his push to keep himself down. F