The Mistress and Her Slave
In the dimly lit chamber, the beautiful mistress named Princess Betrie I reclined on a luxurious chaise lounge, her eyes glinting with mischief. She was dressed in an elegant gown that hugged her curves perfectly, the fabric gleaming in the soft light. Beside her, her slave cowered, his eyes fixed on his mistress's every move.
Princess Betrie I was feeling particularly bored that day, and so she decided to amuse herself by playing with her slave. She leaned forward, her lips curling into a sneer as she watched the pathetic figure before her. He looked up at her, hopeful, waiting for his mistress's next command.
"Slave," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "Come here."
The slave scrambled to his feet and approached her cautiously. With a flick of her wrist, she motioned for him to kneel before her. He obeyed without hesitation, his eyes locked on hers.
"Do you remember when I told you that my saliva was worth more than gold?" she asked, her voice low and menacing.
The slave nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He had heard her say this many times before, but he still couldn't comprehend the logic behind it.
"Well," she continued, "prove to me that you're worth my time by showing me how much you desire it."
With that, she leaned forward and opened her mouth, letting a long string of saliva dangle from her lips. The slave's eyes widened in awe, unsure of what she wanted him to do.
"Taste it, slave," she hissed. "Prove to me that you're worthy of my attention."
Slowly, the slave extended his tongue and touched the saliva with the tip. He felt the warmth of her spit on his tongue, and immediately he felt a strange sensation coursing through his veins. It was a desire unlike anything he had felt before - a desire to please his mistress, no matter what she asked of him.
"Now," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "I want you to beg me to spit on your face."
The slave's eyes widened in horror, but he knew better than to disobey. "Please, mistress," he begged. "Spit on my face. Please, mistress, I beg you."
Princess Betrie I smiled, a cruel smile that sent shivers down the slave's spine. With a flick of her wrist, she spat directly into his face, the saliva splattering against his skin. He shut his eyes tightly as he felt the warm liquid hitting him, but he didn't dare wipe it away.
"That's a good slave," she purred, running her fingers through his hair. "Now, lick it off."
Slowly, the slave opened his eyes and looked at her, confused. "Lick it off, slave," she repeated impatiently.
With a deep breath, the slave leaned forward and tentatively licked the saliva from his face. It tasted bitter, but also oddly intoxicating. As he licked, he felt himself growing more aroused, more desperate to please his mistress.
Princess Betrie I watched with amusement as the slave continued to lick her saliva from his face. She felt a strange sense of power over him, knowing that she could reduce him to this pathetic state with just a few words.
"That's enough," she said finally, sitting back on the chaise lounge with a satisfied smile. "Go back to your corner, slave."
The slave hesitated for a moment before scurrying back to his corner, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that he had pleased his mistress, and that was all that mattered.
As he lay there, exhausted but satisfied, he heard the familiar voice in the background. "New sexy girls! 4 girls domination! 155 Princess Bertie spitting pov for clips similar to this click here."
He knew that he would do anything to please his mistress, no matter how degrading or humiliating it might be. Because, in the end, it was all worth it to please her.
