Return of the Mistress

The slave was so beautiful in her suffering, Rosalie basked in the waves of sweet need and agony that crested off of her with each rise and fall of her hip and shoulder. The way she rocked back and forth, striving for some sort of relief was bewitching. The fractures slowly widening, each breath tearing from the slave with a rising volume of her need. Coated with tears and honey of her need, the thick musk of her arousal almost too much to resist.

"Cum." Rosalie whispered at last, watching the woman through the veil of her lashes. She dipped the pussy-wet finger between her lips as Malina's head lifted and tear bright eyes met hers. The woman screamed and her hips jerked, fucking against the air. Fucking against nothing and still she came. The hot gush of her juices squirting from her in a silken heat. The trickle of thick, sweet pleasure staining her perfect skin and leaving a messy puddle around her knees where they rested. Rosalie gave the nipple a slow squeeze between her knuckles again, twisting it and watched in satisfaction as Malina came a second time, falling forward, into the pressure that crushed the delicate bud of flesh.

Peace came over Rosa then. A cold swirl of energy that the pleasure released in the slave-woman. As she watched her convulsing and lost in her pleasure, Rosalie felt herself slipping into that remote, protected corner of heself. Yes. She was Mistress. She would not be so swayed by her emotions. Not ever again. She offered the finger to the slave's mouth and smirked as she felt the hungry mouth suckling her own heat from the long digit. No, Rosalie would never be a simpering creature like that again!