Silver / clay

⊱ 2 ⊰

Caleb felt for a breath of life. Folds of skin pressed hard against his mouth, a small nub searching for the coarseness of his tongue.

"Keep it stuck out!" she demanded.

"Yes, Mistress Eboni," said Caleb, muffled, entangling his tongue within her labia.

The globes of her cheeks bounced on his face, grinding after each landing, in a rhythm he was accustomed to.

"Lick," said Mistress Eboni, each time. "Lick. Lick. Lick."

He followed her commands dutifully, like the trained sex doll he was, animated in all the right places. Only the right places. The remainder of his naked body lay prostrate on the hard floor. He squeezed his legs out further and imagined himself as a dead witch, but without the ruby slippers. His feet danced, toes wiggling, to show he was still alive.

"You don't deserve to breathe in my anus," said Mistress Eboni, squeezing her cleft around his nose.

He muffled an agreeable response.

The harsh lining of her black corset momentarily dragged against his skin as she repositioned her feet beneath his head. Her toes caught on his leather necklace, her leather necklace, pinning him further.

"And keep those hands away from that tiny thing," she said, groaning with every lick. "This isn't about your pleasure. That pin-dick deserves nothing."

She was right, he didn't deserve ecstasy. He didn't deserve anything.

When they had their first introductory session, he'd spoken about his likes and dislikes -- at least as far as he understood them himself -- and what he was after. If his younger mind could articulate itself more fully, it would have pictured a scene very similar to this: a strong, commanding woman, forcing him to pleasure her without regard for his own desires. This was pure devotion to another, his ultimate fantasy.

He felt her weight pressing down heavier as she began to let go. Her long hair now tickled his forehead as she flung her head back in euphoria, panting in time with her shakes.

Caleb held his tongue in position, as instructed many times before, until she slowly, reluctantly, peeled from his touch.

"I'm done," she said, suddenly vanishing from his presence.

His toes stopped wiggling, and his body felt suddenly cold, alone on the floor.

Mistress Eboni was putting her underwear back on, near a rack of her more devious accoutrements, when he got to his feet. "What's wrong?" she said, turning to him.

"Nothing," said Caleb, wandering closer to his own pile of clothes. "What do you mean?"

"You normally can't help but jerk yourself when I'm riding you. Especially when I order you to stop."

"My behaviour's being modified," said Caleb, easily slipping his pants on. "I'm just learning to obey." He smiled.

"As you should," said Mistress Eboni. She paused a moment, her face relaxing into a more tranquil version of itself. "Do you want to switch things up? Try something new?"

He held his breath. Shook his head.

"OK," said Mistress Eboni, plainly. "It's your money."

A tingle shot down Caleb's spine. "What do you spend it on? What you earn from this, I mean."

"Anything that gives me pleasure," said Mistress Eboni, running fingers through a long brook of her hair.

"Like what, though?" said Caleb, slipping his shoes on. "What do you do outside of here?"

Mistress Eboni narrowed her gaze. That sternness he recognised intimately had returned. "I'll see you next month," she said.