He looked over me, watching me as I laid weakly on the floor, every muscle trembling from the brutal fücking he’d just given me. I was weak, completely spent, and just his cūm bucket.
I watched through half-lidded eyes as he adjusted himself, the slow, deliberate drag of his zipper. “Who is your master, Margaret?”
If he'd asked this question a month before I weeks before, I would have barked a laugh in his face. But now, I'd learnt my lesson, and I knew the right answer to give.
"You are master, Sir.”
A flicker of satisfaction passed through his eyes. He nodded slowly, then gestured with his chin to a spot on the floor between my parted legs. A single, pearly droplet of my own release glistened there.
“Lick it up.”
His command was vile, and without a slight hesitation, I rose up on
