The Princess and Her Slave's Face
C H E L S E A smiled down at the bound figure beneath her. She had always been drawn to the submissive nature of her slave. Today, she had an especially depraved task for him. She had ordered him to lie on the plush carpet in their lavish boudoir, his head pressed against the soft cushioning of her bed.
"Now," she purred, "I want you to appreciate my shoes." She kicked off her heels and wiggled her toes. They were encased in a pair of bright red, wedge-heeled shoes that accentuated her flawless legs. Her slave's mouth watered at the sight of them. "Open wide," she commanded, and he complied, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water.
With a cruel laugh, C H E L S E A pressed one of her shoes against his face, smearing it with makeup and saliva. She did the same with the other shoe, grinding them into his cheeks and nose. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled not to choke on the scent of leather and stiletto.
Next, she slowly eased herself onto his middle, sitting on his stomach with her full weight. The wind was knocked out of him, and he let out a gasp of pain. "You like that, don't you?" she taunted, running her hands up and down her thighs. "You like feeling my weight on you."
The Princess grinned wickedly and leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of his head. "Now," she breathed into his ear, "watch what I do next." She lifted one of her feet, the one that was still encased in the bright red shoe, and rested it squarely on his chest. He felt the pressure of the shoe and the soft skin beneath it against his own naked flesh.
C H E L S E A's other foot then joined it, and she began to slowly grind her heels into his chest. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt the heat and pressure building between his legs. He couldn't believe how turned on he was by her dominance.
With a final sigh, she removed the shoes, tossing them carelessly aside. Her feet were now bare and perfect, with perfectly manicured toes and smooth, unblemished skin. She lifted one of her feet and placed it on his lips, forcing him to part them further. "Now," she purred, "you can worship my feet."
And he did. He began by licking the soft skin of her arch, his tongue tracing every contour and curve. He moved up to her ankles, kissing them softly before moving onto her toes. He licked and sucked each one, relishing in the taste of her skin and the feeling of her foot against his mouth.
As he worked, C H E L S E A leaned back on her hands, watching him with a predatory gaze. She could feel his desire for her, seeping into every pore of his being. And she loved it. She knew that she held all the power in this relationship, and she intended to keep it that way.
Finally, she pulled her foot away, and the slave's eyes followed her every move. She stood up, towering over him, and slowly began to unbutton her silk blouse. "Now," she said, her voice a low growl, "it's time for you to show your appreciation for my body."
And with that, she descended upon her helpless servant, their bodies entwined in a dance of dominance and submission. He could feel her breath on his skin as she whispered dirty words into his ear, and he shuddered with pleasure at her touch.
As the night wore on, they explored each other's bodies further, pushing boundaries and testing limits. And through it all, C H E L S E A's slave remained grateful for the chance to serve his Princess, no matter how depraved or humiliating the task.
