Servicing Helena

There’s very little I adore more than having my boy service my cunt with his tongue and fingers.


Tonight, he was going to do a particularly good job. He had allowed one of my stockings to develop a tiny snag when he was washing them; he knew he was going to have to pay the price, starting now.


We were in my dungeon in the sky. There were treated windows all around us; we could see the brilliant lights of the city, but no one could see in. No one could see the many pieces of furniture arranged across the floor or the myriad toys hanging on the walls and displayed on tables. Only I could see the gleaming ebony St. Andrew’s cross in the corner to my left; only I could see the stocks in the corner to my right. 


Only I could see my girl, kneeling in the corner straight ahead of me, her forehead to the floor, her hands stretched out before her. I left her wrists unmanacled; she was utterly submissive, utterly delectable.


These things were invisible to my boy. To him, the only sight in the room was me above him, raised on a platform in the center of the room, commanding the city. I was seated on my throne: my red leather Le Corbusier reclining sling chair, the skins thin and elegant, crimson red, smelling of leather and my sweet pussy. 


My legs in their high black boots were spread wide over the arms, the flower of my sex opening under his gaze. I could feel the slickness oozing out of me at the very thought of what I would do to him later.


At the moment, he was obeying my unspoken command. He was crawling toward me on his belly, his hard cock rubbing painfully against the red-and-black carved wool rug that surrounded my dais. 


He crawled up onto the shining black platform, his tongue already stretching out to stroke my outer lips. I seized his tongue between my sharp, lacquered nails and pinched it. He tried to smother a cry but didn’t quite succeed.


“Do you think you deserve to taste my sweetness tonight?” His eyes widened. I knew he had hoped to lessen his punishment by servicing me until I was sated. I wasn’t going to lessen the punishment, although I would certainly use him for my needs until I’d wrung out of him everything he had to give.


“I don’t think so.” I opened my legs wider and leaned a little farther back in the chair, bringing my ass to the edge of the seat. I drew his tongue in my pinching, painful grip toward my asshole and placed it directly on my rose. “Lick me there. Use your tongue—ahhh!”


If there’s anything I like better than having my cunt serviced, it’s having a slippery, thrusting, desirous tongue worshiping my ass.


I threw my head back, the dark, curly mass of my hair spreading over the blood-red back of the chair.


“Yesss . . .” I was thrusting myself onto his face and tongue. His nose was smothered between my labia, the bridge of his nose pressed to my throbbing clitoris.


My nipples were tingling, and I was hungry for sensation that night. 


“Girl! Come here!”


She was instantly on her feet, eyes downcast, taking the tiny, hurrying steps toward me that I had finally trained her to take, after much exquisite torture. She dropped instantly to her knees again once she reached my throne and pressed her forehead to the floor.


“Mistress?” Her voice was only slightly muffled by her position.


“My nipples. Attend to them.” I was gasping. My boy was outdoing himself, laving his darting tongue over and inside my sensitive hole, insistently and thoroughly, and rubbing his face into my greedy pussy.


She sprang up. Immediately, I felt her mouth attach itself to one sensitive nipple and her fingers begin to twist the other. I knew then that I would reward her later that night.


I reached down and seized my boy by the hair, twisting it painfully, using it as a handle so that I could use his face to reach my climax. My girl kept up the subtle and delicious sucking and pulling.


My stomach began to flutter; my hips began to thrust by themselves. I was smothering him with my wet, swollen pussy. I could feel through my hypersensitive tissues that he was moaning from the pleasure he was giving me. That little extra vibration was about to send me over the edge, but I wanted more.


“Boy! Your fingers! Now!!”


Without removing his tongue from my sphincter, he slid two fingers into my slick cunt. He curled them up, stroking my G-spot insistently as he pistoned his fingers in and out of me. My moans deepened instantly.


He continued licking and thrusting into me for a few more moments, while my girl used her extensive knowledge of pleasuring my breasts to bring me ever closer to climax.


He used his thumb to rub my swollen clitoris.


“Ahhh, yes! Yes!!!” I cried out gutturally, my neck arching back, my hips thrusting into his head, held motionless by my grasping hand.


His stroking fingers finished me. I spurted onto his face, into his hair, his palm filling and overflowing with my cum. The liquid dripped onto the seat of the throne and onto the floor. I shuddered and moaned while his tongue and fingers drew the last of my climax from me.


Finally, my orgasm subsided to occasional tremors and quivers, and I relaxed into my chair.


My girl had quieted her mouth and fingers but hadn’t pulled away. My boy, to his credit, had also stayed in place.


“Mmmm . . .” I stretched luxuriously, and my girl dropped to the floor in a moment. My boy took his cue from her, and he too pressed his forehead to the ground.


I brought my knees together and hugged them to me, and then I extended my legs straight into the air and pulled them toward me, enjoying the stretch. I lowered them slowly, with perfect control, and rested my feet on his exposed back. He made a very convenient and comfortable footrest. I stretched again, making sure to dig my sharp heels into the tender flesh of his back.


I signaled to my girl that I wanted a drink. She scurried off to find a beverage for me.


I relaxed in my chair and mused aloud how I might spend the rest of the limitless evening ahead. 


Under my boots, I could feel my boy give the slightest shiver.



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