The New Girl Ch. 12

'B-ut, Mistress...'

'Do you want to clean me, or not? Because that's all I'm offering right now. If you hadn't been so badly behaved' -- schlack -- 'I'd have likely been happy to reward you. But you got ideas above your station, didn't you?'

I shut my eyes, and nod. 'I did, Mistress. I'm so, so sorry. Please let me make it up to you.'

And the very moment the words leave my mouth, her prodigious python comes down with a glorious schlack and doesn't leave me. A heavy humid hulk laid across my face, sweaty and sublime. It throbs, pulsates, raring to go and yet if Mistress is speaking the truth, this is all I'm getting for the moment.

'No hands,' Freya says. 'Just your tongue. No sucking, either. Just licking. Lick my cock clean, so that I don't have to do so much in the shower. Do a good job, slut. It's all you're good for, after all.'

God, she's gotten hot. I'd almost think it honest, if not for the little wink she does, the momentary masking of one of those brilliant blues. Mistress holds her enormous erection against my face, practically pins me with it, and I can barely nod for its effortless enforcement.

'Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry.'

'Words are not the proper use of your tongue, cumslut.' She rolls her glorious gaze. 'Think again, if you want to apologise.'

Fuck, why am this pathetically twisted, that being denied somehow possesses an appeal of its own? I suck in a breath through my nostrils, getting a heady whiff of her pseudo-masculine majesty, and then crudely stick out my tongue. Saltiness, faint filthiness, in the best of possible ways. Tasty, even edged in bitterness.

'Mhm.'

Mlep. Mlap.

'Good boy,' Mistress says. 'I'll move, so you just focus on one spot at a time.'

I begin halfway up her length, where she presses herself down against my face. Moving my head little, doing my best to get my tongue up around the bulky sides of her broad shaft, replacing the stickiness of sweat and whatever other risqué residues with a glaze of glistening spit.

Mlap. Mlep.

The position is difficult, the angle obnoxious. I find myself dribbling, excessive saliva from a mouth hungry for cock, at best getting a teasing taster. The way Mistress watches me, she finds me ridiculous, appealing all the same. She stands up, to have an easier time of it. Stands up, and begins slowly thrusting against my tongue, ensuring that I get a good covered on every inch of her cock.

'You're so pathetic, slut. The things you'll do, all for the hope of my sperm on your tongue.'

Mlep. Mlep.

'Mhm. Mumph. Anything for you, Mistress.'

'Oh, don't I know it.' She grins, ear to ear, as we make our way down towards the base. Inch after inch freed of one kind of dirtiness, replaced by another. 'You're my property, Tom. You'll do what I want, because you know that I own you. Because you want me to own you.'

I do. It's true. Every word. I am her hound, her pet, her property. An object, to be defiled. Defiled by my beautiful bodacious bronze-skinned Mistress. My goddess, my queen, my Freya.

Mlap. Mlap.

She pulls her cock to the side, and thrusts her hairy crotch against my face, engulfing me in golden curls, particularly sweaty and musky. 'Get your tongue in there, slut. Clean those pubes with that whore mouth.'

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Mistress tastes ever so good. That her body, sweaty and glistening after exercise, should taste so divine, tells me all that I need to know. That we're so compatible, so right, so properly paired. As I lick and lap around the base of her prodigious prick, face clad in golden curls, I'm in a kind of humiliating heaven. A perversely pathetic paradise. Every time I get my tongue deep in that sweaty jungle, my tastebuds are tickled, my mind sent racing with lurid notions of utter submission and intimate inferiority.

Mlap. Mlep.

'Mhm. Good boy,' Mistress says, controlling my head and her cock both, a hand on each. 'Time to wash the tip. All the nooks and crannies.'

I nod, frantic, filthy. Filthier by the moment as she dirties me in this delicious fashion, using my tongue as a makeshift scrubber for her sweaty schlong. Extended as my drooling dick-tickler is, she drags herself along it, the top of her cock getting a thorough lapping as we work inch by inch towards her glorious glans.

Schlack.

When she gets there, she slaps herself down on my exposed tongue. Splatters my tastebuds in a thickly rich flavour, her sweat and stale precum and old seed and whatever else, dirty and divine and cock-achingly carnal. Schlack. Schlack. Schlack. And like some hungry, horrible wretch, I do my best to tease and tickle at her throbbing crown whenever it lands, wherever it lands, all to a chorus of chuckling from my mean-spirited Mistress. Her huge helmet is lustrous, thickly-contoured, ever so hot and heavy. I get my tongue behind the rear ridge, where the flavours are thickest, tongue-tingling and perverse.

Mlep. Mlap.

The eyelet of her glorious glans, oozing away when it comes to rest across the flat of my tongue, releases such pleasant saltiness, fresher and cleaner than the rest of her filthy flavours. Lubricant, for an act that won't come to pass. An act I wish for, long for, but have managed to deny myself. To deny, and...thoroughly enjoy being denied.

'You're such a whore, Tom. Such a dirty, dick-cleaning slut.'

'Mhm. Yes, Mistress. Anything for you. I'm your slut, your bitch, your toy.'

Her eyes flare, bright and bold, excited and enticed. Mistress is hotter than hell itself, a futanari fiend of the finest quality, and I'm at her mercy. I overstepped, and she still managed to make my day. Managed to wrestle control back in the sultriest sense.

God, I want to suck so badly. Want her in my mouth like little else on Earth, but I know that if I disobey, she'll be serious. I can see it in her eyes. This is love, of a sort, of our sort. This is our game, the game I wanted to play, and now...now I have to follow the rules.

Which makes it all the worse when she pulls away before I'm satisfied.

'That'll do, slut.' No. She can't! 'Oh? Not enough?'

I shake my head. 'Please, Mistress. I...I'm so sorry, but I--'

'I'm going to feed the fat load you just worked up to Morgan,' Mistress says, smirking devilishly. 'And if you're lucky, she'll share it with you. But you'll have to beg her, I'm sure.' Freya winks at me, and pulls away her perfect penis. Steps away, leaves me trembling with need. 'God, I love teasing you. You're ever so sexy, you submissive little slut.'

She moves quickly, dropping down beside me, kissing my neck. I gasp, suck in a hurried, frantic breath. 'You stink, Tom. You stink of cock and ball sweat, like the suck-pig you are. Go fucking shower, okay?'

'M-istress...'

'I know, I know. But this is important, isn't it? You wanted me to become a good domme, didn't you?' Mwah. Another fleeting kiss, those lovely lips provoking a shudder. 'Be careful what you wish for, Tom. You're getting it.'

As she picks up her shorts and walks away, hips swaying, buttocks jiggling in a glorious fashion, up-down, up-down, all I can do is stare and lick my lips. Stare, and taste her on my mouth and skin. Stare, and begin to smile like a lovestruck idiot.

Yes. I'm getting it.