The Confessions Of A Merciless Mistress

The Vanilla Ice Cream

It was my next day. The slave was still squirming in pain. Like a crippling worm, he came to me and down on his knees, begged my forgiveness for passing out before my lashes were over.

The slave had committed a grave sin. I was a mistress, my whips were his food. How dare he reject it. The punishment was that he would not get any food for that day.

There was a packet of my favourite vanilla ice-cream, I had kept it on the top of my table.

It was night. Before going in bed, I came and sat there. Asked the slave to unbox it and he did, as commanded, as if he had any choice.

The poor slave looked at the ice-cream with his rapacious pity eyes and I really savored that moment, rewarding him for his useless life, as I teased him and his appetite while munching on that ice-cake.

But then something happened. Tears rolled down the slave's eyes. He started begging me for that last scoop of vanilla. He was hungry, and hungrier when he saw his mistress eating an ice-cream on her full stomach.

I felt a tinge of mercy in my head for the slave. I put that leftover minuscule scoop of ice-cream in my beautiful asshole and asked the slave to reach to it.

The slave jumped at the opportunity but I had to stop him at the final moment. He was a stinking rodent for me, how could I allow him to eat my ass, he had to earn it. He had done nothing to earn it.
So, I gave a tissue to the slave and the slave cleaned my asshole and licked all the food from the tissue.

I warned him against the slightest scrap of anything left on my ass and the poor boy just followed it.

My ass was never cleaner.