If it requires a monumental amount of lubricant and degradation, I don’t care, but I must get all eight inches until my balls ram into your cheeks and I feel the base of the cock, until I feel your ass cheeks shaking, until I slam so hard into the backs of your thighs that your entire body rocks with my thrusting.
Good morning my corporate slut,
I have to wonder, what does the “day after” feel like to you?
Is it like a hangover, but with your ass leaking and your holes throbbing, your mouth swollen, your ego still trembling, your heart aching and your mind reeling? How do you feel right about now, the thong riding up your tender ass, your jaw still sore from the cock that was just a little too large, your pride bent out of shape from being called “pig” too many times, your tongue raw from the unknown surfaces you were made to clean on hands and knees?
Yet, you love it all. And you come back for more. No, you crawl back for more.
Where on earth did I find such a remarkable creature?
*
The day after, for me, is the same but different. Sure, my head is a bit fuzzy. And a few of my…areas…are a bit sore from overuse. My panties are a little too moist. My bones are aching – and a few other areas continue to ache for you, too.
My body still contracts in all the right areas. But mostly, it is my mind that doesn’t quite shut down. When I replay moments in my mind, I get so wet, I feel like I had a mini-orgasm. I feel like I need to change my panties. I feel like I started my period. I feel like I peed a little. Is that too gross for you? Of course not. In fact, I bet you trickled a little yourself, right into your pink flowered panties, how appropriate, and blushed like a girl.
I replay in my mind when your ass, no matter how well I have trained you, tightens up like you are a virgin all over again and I have to chastise, threaten, degrade and demean you to get you to grovel and beg for penetration as I humiliate you with my fingers to loosen you to an appropriate stage for the level of thrusting and penetration that I need for satisfaction. After all, I am ass-fucking you for my pleasure, not yours.
I am not going to waste my time delicately putting a tiny little rod of a dildo on a little harness in your too-small hole just a quarter of the way in because that’s all the sissy can take; no, that’s not going to do at all. I have no patience for that. If it requires a monumental amount of lubricant and degradation, I don’t care, but I must get all eight inches until my balls ram into your cheeks and I feel the base of the cock, until I feel your ass cheeks shaking, until I slam so hard into the backs of your thighs that your entire body rocks with my thrusting.
Anything less is simply a waste of my time.
And so, if you aren’t “up” for it, as you know, then your mouth takes it instead; and then on days like today, the day after, your jaw aches, your ass leaks (because sometimes, you know, I like it both ways), and you check your mouth for permanent damage. I wonder if you tire of my fingernails digging into your face as I push the head of my cock into your mouth, and wonder why, oh why, do I have to squeeze your cheeks in such a demeaning way when I am pushing the dick in your mouth, considering how hard it already is to accommodate the entire shaft.
And the staring. How I stare at you. Looking at you. Smirking at you. Evaluating you. How I make you so damned self conscious! Yes, of course, I am evaluating you. How WELL are you sucking that cock? Do you LOOK pathetic? Of course, you are pathetic! I want you to look pathetic! That’s what gets me off, remember? To see the tears well up in your eyes when the shaft goes so far down, so fast, that you gag on it, and I respond simply by slapping you on the side of the face and telling you to shut up because I’m concentrating…well, do you know what I am doing?
I am using you. I am using you to get off. Every look, every movement of my hips to push the cock in, every time I push the hair out of your eyes or stick a nail into your flesh to make you wince, it makes me a little wetter. A little hotter. If I push the cock in just a little harder to make you gag, it’s because I am getting closer. Closer to orgasm. Closer to cumming in my panties just because there’s a cock in your mouth. My cock. And it’s too big, but you are taking it anyway. Taking it on your knees, holding still, obedient, hands at your sides, trying desperately not to move, not to upset me, not to breathe wrong, not to wince, not to close your eyes when they are supposed to be open or open your eyes when they are supposed to be closed.
Trying desperately to read my mind when trying to hold onto that last fleeting shred of pride.
As if.
You may as well just give up now; you know you can never win this battle. You wind up, the next day, thinking back, as you leak and ache and grimace, that you never had a chance. Whether it is your ass or your mouth or your pride that you hand over to me, you do so willingly and without reservation, because you long to see me wet.
And I can never get enough of it.
Affectionately.
Mistress Akasha
(c) Akasha@akashaweb.com 2022
