Pantheress

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She points to the closed door, and I meekly pad down the hall. Steam pours out the cracks in the door frame, and I hear a quiet hissing, but I am unconcerned. My mistress wouldn’t command me to go to an unsafe place. I twist the knob and am lost in the superheated fog. My glasses cloud, but why should I need to see? She will tell me what to do. A vibration in the air behind me. The steam billows away from her, as if she pushes it with sheer authority. She does not touch, but her lips are right beside my ear. A sexy whisper. I obey and hold up my arms. Her cold scissors startle me, but I remain motionless. Razor sharp, an extension of her unquestioned authority, they deftly slash my shirt, my pants, my undergarments. Each article is carefully removed in pieces. I am indifferent; if she believes I don’t need them, I trust her. She nudges me into the room. Cascades of steaming water. Brass bowls of silky soaps and oils in the corner. A black silk sash covers my eyes, and I quiver in anticipation of serving. But no, I am to be served, gentled into peace.

The water is so hot! I scald, and then I am cooled by her hand. She is carefully washing me, piece by piece. I can’t see her ministrations, escort bayan çapa but I feel them acutely. Heat, lather, cloth, rinse and then she blesses this part of me with a kiss. I blush as she leaves my hidden areas, but she is unconcerned. She knows that I have no secrets from her, and she delights in reminding me. Her touch is sweet as honeyed wine. She kneads my scalp, tugs my hair, and an involuntary groan comes out. My eyes, my neck, jaw and forehead all tingle when she strokes them. My knees weaken with the sensual overload. It is a ritual of purification. A reaffirmation of ownership. When I understand this, I beam proudly.

Suddenly she speaks, quiet thunder. I’m so deep in luxury that I don’t understand, and I fumble my apology, begging her to repeat herself. A fingertip under my chin. I meet her grey blue eyes and listen as closely as I can, straining to hear her wish.

“Good boy.”

Again I moan in pleasure. So complete is my emotional release that I sink to my knees, unable to stand before her. I bow low, rubbing my cheek against her ankles. My ears are still ringing with her praise. Her words will echo escort bayan topkapı in this chamber eternally, and I will come every day to relive this moment of rapture.

I boldly put my hands on her muscular calves and massage them. They are firm and sweaty, and I fall ever farther into delirium. The room spins around me, but she stands fast. If I hold on, she will keep me safe. I kiss behind her knees, her ankles, her toes. I might have imagined it, but I’m sure I heard her moan her approval. My pious fervor is renewed. I worship her long ivory legs with my mouth, and I am dizzy with delight. Such a treat, to serve so wholly! If only I might be allowed to…but now. She puts her hand on my head and I gaze adoringly up into her eyes. Again, I strain to listen.

“Drink.”

I cry out in surprise and fear. Surely I misheard her? No. She has looked my in the eyes, bid me to open my mouth and taste her peppered honey cream. Oh, this is a beautiful day indeed. She puts on foot up on a stool, opening herself to me, and looks expectantly. How could I make her wait? I lean forward with closed eyes, lips quivering in thirst escort bayan fındıkzade for this most holy wine. As my lips find her, she thrusts her trim hips and mashes onto my mouth, purring terribly.

Nectar. Ambrosial liqueur floods my mouth, warm and buttery. I move it around with my tongue, tasting and savoring, before I gratefully swallow. Divine cream, milk of goddess. A rare liquid gift, warm, filling my mouth and drenching my senses. My eyes roll in delight at this new delicacy. I know deep within myself that there is no longer water, tea, or juice. There is only the Pantheress and her silky golden bowl. I am thirsty, and I drink my fill as she fucks herself brazenly onto my willing mouth. Even now, I smile and beam when she groans her appreciation. I do so love it when she tells me that she is pleased. Her affirmation is even more addicting than a sip of her cream. Her hips press harder against me, and I know she is nearing her satisfaction. We make eye contact just as the flat of my tongue hits her just right, and the dam bursts. She slams herself into my face, growling and screaming. Her face is red and contorted in lover’s agony. Torrents, floods of silky liquid gush over my tongue, and I swallow as much as I can. How could I possibly spill a single creamy drop? Her breathing slows, her hips are still. Still flushed red, she leans down and sinks her teeth into my ear. I yelp in happy pain, and when she straightens I curl up at her feet, nuzzling her ankles with the rich buttery taste of girlwine on my lips.

“Pantheress.”

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32