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Well surprise, surprise. Look who’s back. The slut who I examined on my desk. I reached behind her head and bunched her hair into a ponytail in my fist and pulled her head back.
“It’s so good to see you again,” I said.
She looked at me from her tilted head and said “It’s good to be back, Mr. Saxton.”
She was wearing a pale yellow summer dress, straps on her bare shoulders and a skirt down to just above her knees. She looked very fresh and vital. She looked strong.
Keeping her head titled back with a firm grip on her hair, I reached up under her skirt and felt between her legs. I felt cotton.
“No, no, no,” I said, tightening my grip on hair. “You must keep this bare at all times, unless I instruct you to wear something. Remove them, please.” I let go of her hair and stepped back.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Saxton,” said the girl as she stepped out of her knickers.
“Call me Sir. Now, give them to me.”
I screwed her knickers up into a ball and stuffed them in my pocket.
I took her hand. “Come with me.”
I led her into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of champagne, which I left standing on the kitchen bench. “Would you like some?” I asked, holding the bottle up.
“Yes please, Sir.”
I put my curled finger under her chin and tilted her head back. Then I tugged down on her chin with my thumb and opened her mouth. Raising the bottle, I poured a small trickle of champagne into her mouth. I felt myself thickening in my trousers as I watched her throat moving as she swallowed it. She giggled and went “Mmmmm” and opened her mouth again, head tilted back. I poured a stream of champagne into her open mouth – far more than she could swallow – making it spill out of her mouth and run down her neck and chest, leaving a trail of sticky bubbles on her skin. She gurgled, then gasped.
I put the bottle to my lips and took a swig from it, then up-ended it over her head, drenching her hair with the remainder of the champagne. She looked like I had just thrown a bucket of cold water over her, with a look of surprise on her face, her fingers splayed apart on her hands at her sides. Her sticky hair was stuck in ringlets to her face.
I took a carton of milk from the refrigerator and popped the spout open.
“Where does milk come from, Slut?” I asked.
“From cows, Sir.”
“Yes, from their heavy udders,” I said. I pressed the spout of the milk carton to the top of her cleavage and poured some cold milk onto her breasts. It ran down between them and soaked into the front of her dress. I slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and yanked the top of her dress down, exposing her proud breasts. The girl trembled in excitement. I poured some milk on top of her head, and she sputtered as it ran down over her face, spraying some milk onto my suit. It didn’t bother me. I was already leaving a sticky smear inside my trousers from my weeping cock as I played with my toy.
Slut reached for my trousers, trying to undo my button, but I slapped her hand away. Grabbing her by her waist, I spun her around and pushed down on her shoulders, doubling her over and forcing her to collapse in a heap on the floor with a push of my body. She lay partly on her side, with her legs bent and drawn up to her chest. Her breasts rested on the messy floor. I reached down and roughly yanked her skirt up around her waist, revealing her fine round ass that I was so pleased with in my former inspection. I hooked my hand under her uppermost thigh and pulled her leg a little higher, affording me access to her plump pussy.
“Please, Sir…” moaned the slut.
“Please what?” I growled as I sat astride her, holding a jar of honey.
“Please…” she moaned again, and I scooped a wad of honey out of the jar with two fingers. I pushed my honey-coated fingers into her mouth, pressing her slippery tongue down, smearing the inside of her cheeks with honey.
“Please please please,” I mocked as I pushed my fingers deeper into her mouth. She sucked on them hungrily, slurping at the sweet honey, and groaned when I took my fingers from her mouth and wiped them clean on the side of her bare tit.
I leaned down and placed my mouth to the straggly hair over her ear and whispered “You’re fuckmeat.”
She moaned “Yes Sir.”
I climbed off of her and took a tub of margarine from the refrigerator, looking down at her white ass and darker pussy flesh poking out from under her sodden yellow dress. Her breasts were rising and falling as she breathed deeply, turning her head to watch me from the floor. Her pussy looked swollen, the greedy little slut. Should I piss on her? In my mind, I could hear my stream of hot urine splashing off of her soaked dress. “No, it might be too much,” I thought. I doubt I could piss at the moment, in any case.
Instead, I hooked a handful of yellow margarine onto my curled fingers and pressed my hand between her legs, coating her ripe cunt in melting margarine. I rubbed the yellow liquid into her pussy, smearing it over her lips and plunging two fingers into her hole. The slut squirmed on the floor and lifted her hips to accommodate my probing fingers. She was soaking wet and dripping with melted margarine. I pushed three, then four fingers inside her and coated her vagina walls with a liberal amount of margarine. I chased her buttery little nub around with my finger tips, feeling it pleasantly engorged.
Opening my trousers, I hauled out my long cock with buttery fingers and guided it to her greasy opening. My dick slid easily into her slippery hole, her buttery cunt swallowing me in one deep stroke. The slut started groaning and wouldn’t stop, her groans rising and falling in pitch with every hard thrust of my driving cock. I hunched myself over her slumped form, wrapping her tightly in my arms and pumping her pussy very hard. She slid across the floor with every push, and I had to inch along with her on my elbows and knees as I fucked her into oblivion. I emptied a huge load of creamy sperm into my fuckmeat, drenching her spasming pussy with my thick fluid as I grunted into her ear. When I was drained, I dismounted, wiped my cock clean on the hem of her dress and stood over her curled up body.
Her eyes were closed and her body was heaving. I watched her as I took my glass of champagne from the kitchen bench and sipped at it. The girl lay there, not moving. I reached out and offered her my hand.
“Get up,” I ordered.
The girl rose shakily to her feet, wet and bedraggled and flushed.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I said, and took her to the shower. I helped her out of her dress, and then stood leaning against the bathroom vanity as I watched her wash her hair and clean herself in the shower. She had become chatty as the warm water ran over her, soothing her, and I let her babble on, listening and offering a few words of encouragement from time to time. I smiled to myself as I watched her soap between her legs gingerly. When she was finished, I handed her a white, fluffy bath towel which she dried herself with. After patting her hair dry, still babbling and bubbling, she wrapped the towel around her head
. She was pink and clean and glowing. I pulled her close to me and held her body tightly against me, feeling her soft, naked warmth in my arms. I kissed her tenderly, and she closed her eyes and returned my caresses. I looked into her eyes and said “You are my fuckmeat, for my personal use of any of your holes, 24 hours a day. Do you understand, Slut?”
Her eyes sparkled up into mine. “Yes, Mr. Saxton,” she said.
“Call me Sir” I told her as I gave her ass a squeeze.
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Location: My House | Roleplay: Master/slave
Fulfillment: I will tell you later | Nature: Agressive