I go to the "edge" several times, eating my precum and thenultimately, still looking in the mirror, I jack off slowlyuntil I cum, again. Aim your disgusting spunk at the drain hole in front of you. The servants, of course, had eaten in the kitchen. Kit should be cleaned daily with antibacterial soap and warm water. Buggery, sodomy, is a capital crime in the British Army. Instruction sheet and a snap closure, box-style carrying case included. I use a rag to mop the floor.
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Click here to see all free Mia Malkova Videos. The ultimate babe site since ! First Letter. Get more credits here Want to log off? Click here. You are currently not logged in. Please login: Forgot password? Create a free account. You currently do not have flash installed. Please visit FreeOnes. United States Babe rating: Share on Tumblr. Comments Total: Mia Malkova Aliases: July 1, 26 years old Place of Birth: Palm Springs Country of Origin: United States Career Status: Active Eye Color: Hazel Hair Color: Blonde Measurements: No Piercings: None Tattoos: None Social Media: Latest Mia Malkova Videos Added on: Added on: Latest Babe Comments Showing 10 of comments.
I cannot get enough. Probably the best performer for the past few years. Mmmmmmmmia Mmmmmmmmalkova. One of the best. Mia Malkova looked awesome on Blacked Raw when she was on all fours on the bed getting her guts ravaged by Louis Small's big hard black cock, smiling wildly at the camera yelping with pleasure as he rammed into her cunt with long, deep, hard thrusts.
Mia is fantastic! KingPorn What ever she's doing, she's doing it right. Looks more fuckable every year and her thick ass is my cocks dream!! Extra memo to FO racists: This ain't Twitter, where u can call for boycotts-- that won't work. Oh, look, racists don't like her now. Too bad, so sad, tough shit, don't let it hit yer ass on the way out as she deservedly goes back to Eurolvr She opened her mouth this time, without being told to and he shoved his fat cock into her mouth and slid its slick length deep into her throat.
He braced himself on the broad collar that supported her head and rocked his hips as he fucked her face. She took his cock with ease and moaned when she could. The rhythm he gave her was easy to follow. It was a long easy slide into her mouth and down to the hilt to let his balls rest on her chin and then back again.
Over and over he fucked her face. Long and slow.
Silver Spring To BwiUntil her moans and his growls began a strange melodious counterpoint to each other. Finally his cock thickened and the heat caught at the back of her throat. He jerked his cock head back and painted her lips with his seed.
The hot white ropy strands were slung from his cock in several short jerks until finally he pushed the dripping tip back into her mouth. His voice left no room for protest. So she cleaned him. He took his time, gathering his seed from her chin and lips with the head of his cock and feeding it to her again and again. When they were done he ruffled her hair and walked away.
Once again, she was alone. This time, her cunt ached and her anus twitched spasmodically. She remembered the braided handle and how it felt up inside her and how her clit throbbed when she was teased with her own body. It was too much to ask. Her back ached as did her hips from her thighs being so far apart.
She thought, maybe she would beg relief for her shoulders and arms, maybe asking that the thong be loosened on her elbows…maybe. She realized that she dozed when a slap stung her face. He was broad shouldered and narrow hipped and he had mean shifty black eyes. He saw her wary eyes and cuffed her again.
When she obediently complied he slapped her again anyway, not because she misbehaved, but because she was there. He was the sort that enjoyed giving beautiful women pain. After the slap, he jammed a leather covered iron ring into her mouth and tied it behind her head.
She would have no chance to regulate how much of him went into her throat. She tried to beg but her sounds only seemed to excite him further. Hasty fingers unlaced his breeches and freed his long slender cock. She watched him with apprehension, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she found it interesting that men had different sizes and shapes.
It sort of made sense if one thought about the wide variety of people that existed. His long cock hit the back of her mouth before half of him had entered. Naturally she gagged, but she was better able to control it. He never kept his cock in her mouth; instead he pulled it almost completely out before thrusting it harshly back in.
Each thrust was painful and made tears well in her eyes. He made short work of her mouth and came with the tip just over the rim of the leather ring and let his salty pud pool there for her to savor. I might just come back and visit you later. She was thirsty, very thirsty. Her jaw ached with the leather ring still in place and her saliva left her mouth awash in a pool of cooling cum and spit.
Miserable, aching and in need of refreshment she wept. What has she ever done to deserve this? She was a woman of Gor. She had no home stone, no males to protect her. She lived in a world of men and one had found her. She was the fool for not taking better care.
She was too prideful. That had been her downfall. Thinking she was the equal of a man. Soft fingers pulled her from her self-loathing reverie and cupped her chin as warm brown eyes looked down on her. Let me take this ring from your mouth. I am sure you are in pain. He quickly removed the ring and let her close her mouth.
She swallowed without thinking and made a face at the cold cum from the other man and felt sick for the first time since being in this position. But you are in training. He seemed strangely out of place. Perhaps it was because he was young. His touch was oddly comforting, but his words jangled across her nerves like slivers of glass in the veins.
He nodded and opened his breeches. She was curious to see what he had hidden there. His cock was neither overly large like the second man, nor smaller than the first man. She licked her lips, to moisten them and prepare them for whatever happened next. He took his time and stroked her lips with his cock.
Painting them with the velvety smooth skin and teasing her lips until the tickled unbearably and she was forced to chase the head of his cock, just to keep him from tickling them any further. He seemed to enjoy himself especially when her vagina or anus came in contact with the nubbins.
He smiled as he finally relented and slid his cock into her mouth and fucked it. He held her head gently, and let her choose the rhythm. Since her motion was limited she moved only a few inches but her movements were precisely what caused the nubbins to come into contact with her pussy and ass. She moaned louder as she suckled his cock and he stood, legs parted, hands in her hair and fucked her face slowly as she fucked him with her mouth.
His moans and hers echoed in the empty room until finally his became tense with anticipation. He pulled back just as he erupted and shot hot spurts of cum into her open mouth. One jerk caught him off guard and his cock thrust into her mouth savagely, bruising her lips and chafing his cock.
It worked. Both seemed gratified by it because that thrust pressed her against the nubbins and the abrasion made his orgasm all the more intense. Finally he returned to his clothed position and then caressed her face lovingly. Sleep well little one. As he left another man entered. He wore all black and lounged against the doorframe as he regarded her.
He had a dark aura of power around him and it scared her to the core. He withdrew a slender blade and twiddled it between his fingers, making it dance and glitter in the light as he regarded her. She watched him with fear in her heart as he walked closer to her as he held the glittering blade.
He crouched in front of her; the blade still twirled idly between his fingers. The blade ended its dizzying dance and lowered below her sight as he leaned in close. Once again fear shrank her heart. She was afraid of him and could smell her fear on her like a blanket of shame. She shook her head for fear that her voice would fail her.
And if that slut is unsatisfactory for whatever reason, he can pay her purchase price and kill her. She shook her head again and swallowed. She felt cold steel pressed against her slave sex. She swallowed again and looked at him fearfully. Her pulse had increased as had the beads of anxious perspiration grew on her upper lip.
She licked her lips slowly, as her eyes stayed glued to his. He chuckled softly and turned the cold metal so it threatened to bite her sensitive pink sex. She held her breath in fear. Never did she think a man could cause her so much fear, and here she was, bound, helpless with a man who held a blade. He withdrew the blade and let its chilling tip draw a red line across her bara and circle an erect nipple with slow deliberation.
She almost wet herself with relief. He nodded to himself as he saw her reaction and drew two fingers over her slave sex. She had felt when her cunt wet itself and had feared that it might have been discovered. She had no way to answer him. She had never been with a man and did not know if what he said was true.
She simply nodded, thinking it safer to agree with him than disagree, after all, he did still have the blade. He dragged his leather gloved had beneath her nose and then drew his thumb across her lips. Because you will not be far from it for the rest of your life. She inhaled the rich scent of his leather. Male sweat mixed with the animal hide and gave a musky scent that only a slave can truly know.
It held promise, intrigue and terror within its spicy aroma. No other scent would ever have as much meaning to her as this one did. His gloved hand curled in the luxurious black waves of her hair and gripped it firmly. It tightened and she gasped.
As she did so, the purpled crown of his cock slid past her bruised lips and along her tongue. She moaned at the second tug of her hair and then ground her ass against the nubbins that held the agony of sweet release just out of reach. Below her, on the wooden surface glistened her acceptance of her place in this world of men.
She could do little more than yield to his touch. He set the pace, and she sought only to be the receptacle for him to deposit his seed into. Each time her face nestled among the musky curls of hair at his loins she inhaled his scent deeply and learned more about the world of men. Her tongue slid along the shaft and felt the ripples of the throbbing veins in his cock and reveled at the smooth head as it explored there too.
He gave her enough time to acclimate herself to his size and girth before fucking her in an unforgiving rhythm. If she failed to follow it, he would not stop. She gagged a few times but caught up with him and he smiled as he watched the transient emotions track her face. You will be a good asset to him. Then, with slow deliberation, he pushed himself deep into her throat.
She could do nothing but moan as the nubbins pressed against her and she yielded to his command. She would either die of asphyxiation from his cock or she would breathe life again…her life was his at this moment and she knew it. His cock thrust deep into her throat and throbbed dully before thickening and lodging in the back of her throat.
His hips thrust several more times as his seed was pumped into her belly without her consent. All she could see and smell was the leather of his breeches and the musky scent of his cock. Everything seemed to dim and then crystallize in that moment. She existed to serve men.
Her very life depended on it. He withdrew and she sucked in a lung full of air and looked at him gratefully. Beneath her cunt lay the evidence of her place in life and her nipples attested to the divinity of her use. She yearned for this and had never acknowledged it.
But here she was; a slut for men and her pussy ached to be used. What a whore she was…. I first saw her during my morning walk; it was along the path to Nettlebed. There was light rain, as there so often is in June, and the poor young woman, who looked as if she had slept under a hedge, was damp through.
I tipped my hat, as she stepped aside to let me pass. Our eyes met, and I paused in my progress. Her hair was straggly and her face was dirty, but under it all she was a comely lass — thin, even malnourished looking, but there was something attractive to me. There was something about the lilt of her voice; she was not a local girl.
The war between the American states was choking off the supply of cotton. Tens of thousands of spinners and weavers, throughout the North, were unemployed. Some had family to help. Some went to the poorhouse or sank to prostitution. Others, of necessity, took to the road in search of work. My name is Marie-Cecile Stewart. I am not a handsome man.
My face is scarred, my nose broken, my hair graying, and my speech is somewhat impaired, so I am not attractive to women. Nor am I a wealthy man. I have an income, a few pounds annually, which would pay the rent for my little cottage and pay Mrs. Trumble, my housekeeper, who came with the cottage.
I keep no horse. I dress plainly, and whatever money is left over I generally squander on books and newspapers. White Ladies Bottom is a small village, and I seldom attend the local church. Everything considered, it may be the only female I have occasion to speak to, for weeks on end, is Mrs. You will understand, therefore, that I was intrigued by this strange young woman who disturbed the routine of my retirement.
My home is on the edge of the village, the first cottage one comes to, coming down the Nettlebed footpath. Marie-Cecile followed me through the low front door. Trumble, I should be obliged if you would feed this young person some breakfast and let her warm herself by the fire. Not just porridge, Mrs. Trumble, a real, nourishing breakfast. I retired to the front room, sat by the fire, and tried to resume reading a novel, but I could not, for some reason, concentrate on it.
I kept thinking of that young woman in my kitchen. I had never married. I had, of course, in India, a concubine. The Hindus have a real appreciation for the sins of the flesh; some of the low-caste women are shameless. Back in England, all these years, now, I had been deprived of female companionship.
The social gulf between myself and the farmers of White Ladies Bottom is unbridgeable, and I seldom get into the city. Even had I found a suitable wife, I felt I could not afford to keep her in the proper style. I confess, thinking about the young woman had aroused sexual yearnings that I had tried hard to suppress.
It was almost midday, and I had read but a hundred pages, when Mrs. Trumble announced that the young lady was ready to depart. Marie-Cecile had greatly improved in her appearance. Her face was clean, her hair combed and pinned up. I had meant to give her a shilling and send her on her way, but I could not bring myself to give up looking at her.
For all that she was fully mature, her thinness and frailty gave her a childlike appearance. Her small breasts, hardly filling the bodice of her simple dress, would not have been out of place on a girl of sixteen who had not yet begun her menses, which, as I understand, is usually at seventeen or eighteen, in these parts. It may be that you have saved my life, for I was chilled through when you found me.
The wind had picked up, and it dashed rain against the window, made the fire flicker in the grate. Our eyes met, her blue eyes shamelessly engaging mine. I would work for food. Trumble is getting very old. She could use some help. I looked out at the atrocious weather. You may stay until the weather clears. She has offered to be useful. Can you find her work to do? I cannot get my tongue around that name.
I think we shall call her Em-See. Well, I had not noticed how Mrs. Trumble had been aging. With MC around the place, it improved visibly. The fireplaces were swept out, the furniture dusted, and my clothes, such as they were, brushed and pressed, mended and hung neatly. Come nightfall, it was still raining. Trumble came into the front room to clear my supper tray.
The servants, of course, had eaten in the kitchen. Cannot you fix her a pallet in the kitchen, where she can be warm, near the fire? My humble cottage had only the two bedrooms, mine and Mrs. It was the middle of the night, when I was awakened by the sound of my door softly closing. The rain clouds had blown away, and moonlight illuminated my room.
MC stood there, wearing one of my old shirts, which Mrs. Trumble must have given her to sleep in. The sight of her, there in the dim light, her hair down, the shirt tented by her upstanding little breasts, instantly aroused my lust. Does that mean that I must leave, come morning? There are many ways I can serve you. Do I not work hard? As well, I offer you my body, to do with as you will.
I have never sold my body. I am not a prostitute. I offer myself out of gratitude, and affection, Sir. You have been most kind. They began to use me when I was twelve. No more, of course. One is in the army, the other at sea. No man has used my body since I was sixteen. She climbed in beside me and snuggled close. I rolled on my side and ran my hand along her naked body.
I could feel her ribs, and I made a mental note to fatten her up a bit. She kissed me, passionately, and I kissed back, relishing feelings I had not felt for years. Then she was pulling my nightshirt up and begging me to use her. I made to put her on her back, to service her in the usual way, but she got up on her hands and knees, throwing back the bedclothes, and presented her behind to me.
I felt the lips of her womanly cleft, covered with silky short hairs, and tried to insinuate my tumescent organ between them, but without much success. She reached back and guided the tip of my tool toward the anal orifice. I recoiled. Buggery, sodomy, is a capital crime in the British Army.
I had never thought of using a woman in such a way. I want to please you. They place their organs there? I have seen dogs in the street mount a bitch as my brothers mounted me. That is nice, Sir, but surely, with an organ the size of yours, you could never put it inside the hole where I make water.
It is too small. I got out of bed and put a log on the fire, to take some of the chill off the room. I lighted a candle and held it close behind her, as she patiently stayed there on the bed, with her rump in the air. With my fingers, I explored the cleft, expecting to find, perhaps, an unusually tough maidenhead.
Gently, I parted the inner lips and peered into the pinkness of her sex. To my surprise, I found that, in fact, her womanly sheath was very small. I could not insinuate a finger, and when I tried, with more force, MC cried out and begged me not to hurt her. To a certainty, this woman was a virgin.
I put the candle on the bedside table and tried to think, even as I pressed gently between her legs. My manly tool raged tall, lusting to be satisfied, but, clearly, there was nothing for me to do. Even if my moral sensibilities had not forbidden my deflowering an innocent virgin, it was a physical impossibility for me to sheath my sword in her minute vagina.
And yet, the alternative presented to me was, it seemed, equally impossible, morally repugnant. May The Almighty forgive me; lust overcame conscience, and I thrust against her. It felt so good! Shamelessly, I thrust deep, then partially withdrew, to and fro, reveling in the tight warmth of her, and the incredible deliciousness as her muscles gripped my shaft.
Too soon, I expelled my seed into her. For a moment, I was overcome with guilt, for I had ravished a virgin. And yet, I had not. And there could be no scandal, no love child, for, in truth, she was still a virgin! MC thanked me for my attentions, thanked me! I put her on her back and thanked her as best I could, by performing cunnilingus, another secret of the mysterious East.
Needless to say, I did not send MC away. She stayed on, to help Mrs. It was so nice to have her around the house, sometimes singing in that strange north-country accent of hers. When Mrs. Trumble sickened, MC was an invaluable nurse. When the old woman passed on to her reward, in August, MC was promoted to become the new housekeeper, to be paid the same as Mrs.
Trumble had been. I had not, since that first night, permitted MC in my bed, though she was willing enough to come, had I asked. Somehow, shame, and the fear of discovery, had held my appetites in check. However, as soon as the watchful Mrs. Trumble was in the churchyard, Mrs. Stewart and I were overcome by debauchery. I have become a confirmed sodomite.
Several times a week, sometimes even in the middle of the day, since no one can observe, Mrs. Perhaps she has spilled the tea, or dropped a book and lost my place, or failed in the performance of one of her usual duties as my housekeeper. Well, of course, she must be punished, which she implores me to do, that she might be forgiven. Somehow, in the context of my duty to discipline her, I can forget that I commit a mortal sin.
It is always the same; she has prepared herself by cleansing her bowels and lubricating the orifice. She bends over the table, or the arm of my chair, or the foot of the bed. I throw her skirts over her head. The beautiful globes of her behind are presented to me — she has filled out a bit, with careful feeding — and I spank them, or even cane her, which excites her terribly.
Inevitably, as the ultimate punishment, I beat her with my meaty club, burying my pillar in her forbidden pit, to our mutual relief. Oft times, late at night, or even in the morning, I will devote myself to licking her naked body, all over, as if to bathe her with my saliva. Her little breasts, still girlish, are a perfect mouthful, and, when I lave her lower labia with my tongue, the taste of her juices is heavenly to me.
She tells me I make her utterly content, and I have never been happier, never in my lifetime. I have, from a physician in London, a mahogany case. It contains a graduated set of ebony rods, ranging in diameter from one eighth inch to an inch and a half.
It is a medical appliance, specifically manufactured and widely used, I am told, to treat conditions such as the vaginal inadequacy of Mrs. All day, as she works in the kitchen or garden, my housekeeper carries within her, there, between her legs, one of the ebony rods, which I personally remove at night and replace in the morning. Already, she can contain the seven-eighths inch diameter rod, and tomorrow, perhaps, I will try to insert the one-inch rod.
It will not be long before I will be able to couple with her as God intended. The question is: My intellect can rationalize our unnatural relationship as long as the natural sex act is impossible. Would it be fair to Mrs. Dare I to expose her to the risk of a scandalous pregnancy? I think not. Dare I risk the possibility of her marrying one of the young lads she encounters when shopping in the village?
May God forgive me. I tried to get some sleep, but every time I almost made my eyes close, someone came on the intercom, or interrupted me with drinks. I was not in a good mood when I arrived in Stockholm airport. Several people were taken off to one side. Now it was almost my turn to finally get through customs, but no I was stopped by a rather officious young man who demanded that I open all my cases.
I put my magic balls in during the period of turbulence and enjoyed cumming again then. I took them out when I went to the toilet and cleaned up my pussy just before we landed. And of course, now, when the guys opened my case, they had to place each toy separately on the table, so that everyone could see. I was beyond being embarrassed by this as it had happened to me three times before.
No other furniture. It was well lit, and there was a window to the outside, but not a wonderful place to spend any time. And time it was — I waited what I guessed was about an hour, just sitting or walking about. I had no idea what they were intending to look for, but just as I was about to really lose my cool, a pair of guys came in and shut the door firmly. I was sitting at the table, drinking from a plastic beaker of water.
His partner had the same sort of smirk on his face too. Mind you, I probably did look a bit tasty to these two sex- starved youngsters. My year-old body was lithe and athletic, and I was wearing a short skirt to show off my legs, of which I was justifiably proud. I was also wearing a tight fitting short leather coat, which probably showed off my tits to their best advantage.
But even so.. I knew Sweden has civil rights and I knew that they had absolutely no right to do this to me, at least not men. Now, if it was a woman.! Maybe we should call in Shona? I yelped and stamped on his foot. At the doorway as they were leaving the room, there was a heated exchange of views with another person, a woman from the voice, which resulted in the door being slammed shut behind what turned out to be two women.
They were in typical boring uniforms, with trousers, but it was clear that at least one of them, a tall black woman, had quite a body. She was a great looker too, although black is not my favourite colour. Give me a Latino any day! The other was your typical average Swedish blonde — ravishingly beautiful eyes and a walk that would make a man swoon.
We have been authorised to do a strip search on you on suspicion of carrying drugs into the kingdom of Sweden. Do you have any objections? Both girls grinned at me. Breathing a bit easier, I moved behind the screen, which just blocked off the half of the room in which there was no furniture and the wall in which the mirror was situated.
Both women followed me and watched while I slowly began to undress. I was beginning to get a bit of a kick out of this — undressing in front of two completely unknown women. My leather jacket was first. I turned to face them and slowly unzipped it downwards. I could feel my full breasts forcing the leather apart. I then pulled the coat open and almost thrust my tits forward.
Their eyes were concentrating on my firm nipples and lovely breasts. And I was starting to feel a warmth between my legs. I threw my coat onto the table and started to unbutton my little blouse. I quickly reached behind and unclasped my bra, to let my tits free. Both women groaned quite loudly when my lovely round breasts were revealed, firm and suckable. I cupped my hands to them.
Shona, the tall black woman moved forward quickly. I jumped at her touch but then I felt a surge in my pussy as her hands moved upwards to cup and then fondle my tits. She bent real close and looked all round them, then moved behind me and cupped my hard tits from the rear. Shona moved round in front of me again and knelt down in front of me. She was still holding my breasts gently but now her face moved right underneath them.
I waited in excited anticipation as her tongue came out and started to lick all along the underside of the left one, while her fingers were squeezing the nipple of the right one quite hard. I was starting to get almost too horny and my juices were getting my pants thoroughly wet.
Although the pleasure was keeping my eyes mostly closed, I did notice that the other woman had left the room briefly, to return with what looked at first glance to be a leather riding saddle. I had certainly been enjoying her tongue. My pussy was now decidedly wet! Just bend over the table. Briget quickly clipped one wrist into a pair of handcuffs and attached the other end to a hook at the far edge of the table.
I was now forced to bend over completely as she then took my other wrist and fastened it into another cuff on the other side. Shona bent down and quickly cuffed my ankles, one to each of the nearest table legs. Thus bent over, I must have presented a delicious sight from behind. Both women moved round behind me and began to stroke and caress my ass.
I was now completely naked and completely at their mercy. Their fingers started to play close to my pussy and they soon began dipping into my juices, murmuring to each other all the time. I had noticed a lump in the middle and now wriggled my body so that the lump moved until it pressed against my clit.
That sensitive button was already tingling with excitement and the pressure now put on it by my wriggling had me gasping within a few seconds. Yes, Briget had been right — my pussy juices just oozed out and dribbled down the insides of my spread thighs and some dripped onto the floor too.
When I came back to my senses after that cum, I saw that Briget had moved up beside me. I now realised what the special belt was she had on. She had taken off her stick, which looked like a long smooth and thin truncheon, and clipped it to that belt, so that it looked like a long prick. She walked behind me again and I felt hands prizing my ass cheeks apart.
Fingers played at my asshole and I thought, Oh no, not there! But it was impossible to do anything about it. I felt the round head of the stick touch my asshole and start to press against it gently at first. I relaxed, actually being one who likes the back door, and soon felt the thrill of that long stick starting to travel into my little hole. I grunted with pleasure as she began to thrust it quite hard in and out of my ass.
I knew that I was going to cum again with that stick in my ass, while she was doing it to me. When I came this time, I writhed around so much that I hurt myself against the metal cuffs. But the cum was delicious and fulfilling. Briget pulled the stick out and came round to me, showing me the juicy end.
This was authorised rape — but I was enjoying it very much so far. Groans of delight followed as the boys saw my ass sticking up in the air. There was the noise of zips and clothing being hurriedly pulled down. Hands pulled at my ass cheeks again and a set of rough man fingers pulled and pried at my pussy lips until I almost came again.
Close to my face, I suddenly found the large pink head of another prick, from Sven. It was throbbing and looked quite superb. Could I turn my head enough to get it into my mouth. I struggled to get my body closer to him and managed to touch the hot head with my tongue. He now leaned close to me so that I could get some of the shaft between my lips.
He tasted wonderful — clean and sexy, just as he should. I was pushing back as Jonas screwed me beautifully in my pussy, his long strong thrusts pressing my clit against that lump and driving me up and up. With a sudden very deep thrust, he groaned loudly and shot a huge load of hot cream deep inside me, his prick thrusting and spurting for a long time.
I came just as the last pulsation left his prick and my spasming pussy muscles milked him completely dry. He stayed inside me for a while, letting his prick throb out the last of his orgasm, and my pussy kept squeezing on him until he had to take it out.
Sven decided to take his prick out of my mouth before he came. I was a little disappointed as I love the taste of man cum. But, my disappointment turned to pleasure when I realised that he was moving round behind me. Would he be brave enough to get into my asshole, I wondered. Although my asshole must have still been quite open from the reaming that Briget had given me a short while ago, Sven gathered up some of the cum and juices cream with his fingers and smeared it liberally around my tingling asshole.
The girls were getting excited watching this and they moved so that they could see my face. The girls would enjoy this! He greased me up well, slipping one and then two fingers through the sphincter a couple of times to ream me open. I wanted him inside me desperately and I wriggled my body on the leather, almost cumming again from the amazing pleasurable sensations on my clit.
I felt the head of his hot prick touch my asshole and then he started to push. In fact he only just managed to get the head through the rim with a lovely sounding plop when he held himself rigid. With a grunt followed by a sudden forward thrust that drove his prick straight up into my ass in one go, his prick exploded and I could feel the warmth of his cum streaming into my asshole in huge jets.
I wriggled my clit against the table and managed to get into another orgasm before he completely stopped throbbing. Now my pussy wanted a prick again — it was aching badly. I wake up curled in a corner, shivering despite the blanket that was thrown to me. My mistake last night weighs heavy on my mind as I crawl to Master in His bed.
I can tell he is still mad, but I hope to correct myself this morning. Master gets out of bed, and I rush to start breakfast while He showers. Today is a work day, so I know to make a light breakfast. It is done just as He enters the kitchen and sits at the table. Placing His food in front of Him, I hope for a good word. When I get none, I am content to clean up the dishes.
Somehow, because of my mistake last night, I know He will not take me to work today. That means the house must be perfect when He comes home. I begin to prioritize my tasks in the day ahead. Today will be spent trying to atone for last night. I wonder if sleeping alone will be my only punishment. Probably not, I decide while doing the morning dishes.
Sure enough, Master tells me He will be home for dinner. He tells me what He wants served and then departs, coat over His arm. Each task is done slowly, methodically to exactly how He showed He wanted it done. I can not skip a single step, because Master will know. I still wonder at the few quirks Master has. My mind roams over how they might have come about as I move through the house.
Laundry is put in the washer. While the machine works, I dust and vacuum the house. Smiling, I also wonder how many carpets Master has gone through. As if in answer, I run over my toe with the machine and spend a few seconds hopping on one foot. Realizing my continued punishment might well be to go hungry for the day, I drink extra water to fill my stomach.
After carefully washing the glass, it rejoins the others back in the cupboard. Before transferring the clothes, I carefully clean the lid of the washer. While the clothes are drying, I sweep and mop the kitchen floor. Halfway through, I chew myself out for forgetting to make the bed. I finish the floor anyway.
My next task becomes the bedroom. Making the bed, I hospital corner the sheets. Master never showed me this, but it is ingrained habit from my hotel days. I check for dirty clothes and put them in their place. Again the vacuum runs as I hum whatever songs come to mind.
The bathroom is next. Where I wipe out the tub and shower with bleach water. The toilet gets a quick rinse with the water left in the bucket from the tub. After stowing the bucket, I wash my hands. I also brush my hair and pull it back into a pony tail. Once my hair has stopped annoying me for the day, I clean the sink and vanity. Before I leave the bathroom, the mirror and floor get a quick check.
The grit on my feet makes me decide to sweep and mop this room as well. I am curious as to how this much dirt got on the floor in the first place. Using a hand broom in the smaller area takes about as long as a stand up broom in the kitchen. I use a rag to mop the floor.
My mind seems stuck on one particular song, so I force myself to find another to hum. Looking at the clock, I have about three hours until Master comes home. The dryer is not done, so I grab a school book and curl up on the couch to read my assignment. Setting a mental alarm clock for fifteen minutes, I sigh as I dig into the boring material. Glancing up, I can see my alarm clock needs tuning.
Thirty minutes have passed. I am lucky, the dryer is still turning. I check the clothes and carefully fold or hang them up as needed. I notice that my mind has once again settled on the same song, and mentally growl before choosing another. With about an hour left, I begin the dinner Master has ordered. Looking at the recipe, I frown.
Unsure if I can handle this one, I take a deep breath and read everything again. Attentively, I pull all of the ingredients from their places and line them up on the counter. After double checking those as well, I set the oven to the stated temperature. Washing my hands with extra care, I delay the start of this task. With one last deep breath, I begin to make the meal.
I am afraid to ruin it. When I have reached the last ingredient and followed the last direction, I stare at the dish in front of me with trepidation and a little amazement. Wonder what it will taste like? Mentally kicking myself, I set the table. I hesitate, unsure if I will be eating with Master or not. My last few moments alone are spent nervously checking dinner, taking out the ponytail and brushing my hair.
When Master steps through the door, I wait in view by the kitchen. I want to hug and smell Him to see if I can figure out where He has been today. I also feel regret at not being able to go to work with Him today. I can see Him smell for the dinner in the oven.
He hangs His coat by the door and looks at me. My eyebrows go up and I wonder what He wishes. There He can see dinner is not on the table, but I am saved from harsh words by the buzzer on the oven. The dish awaits on the table while Master goes to the bathroom and cleans up. I stand in the kitchen by the hallway and wait quietly for him, once again nervous that I might have failed the recipe.
Relieved, I set a place for myself. My stomach grumbles noisily as I wait for Master to finish dishing His portion. Forcing myself to slowness, I take but a small share. I know He will allow seconds if I am not too piggish with my first helping. I space every bite with a sip of water. I also watch Master for any hint of what may be in store tonight. I am slightly worried when I get no indication.
Dinner is finished and Master goes to the computer while I clean up.
I know I deserve a correction, but am uncertain how hard of one will come. She was afraid of him and could smell her fear on her like a blanket of shame. The new man of the new millennium wants more and now. I had never thought of using a woman in such a way. There was something about the lilt of her voice; she was not a local girl. I am a Canadian woman thirty years of age, as of last month, and hopefully the wiser for it.
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