Suck, Slave


She had followed the instructions down to the T.

Her outfit was a tight pair of black boyfriend shorts and a black sports-bra that pushed her breasts upwards. Like an offering of the most promising fruit.

The shorts were a couple of sizes too small, and they rode into the crack of her a$s, parting the lips of her pรนssy.


That was the second part. Isabella’s legs were parted slightly, the cool air of the wooden floors a breathy kiss against her wet cรนnt.


Suspense wrecks havoc on her nerves, and she swallows.

Why wasn’t he here yet?

Yet a part of her couldn’t help the shiver of anticipation that made its way up her arched spine.

Time trickled by…

Seconds fell into minutes.


There it was.

His presence.

She felt it the moment he entered the room. His presence enveloped her, and somehow she could feel the strength in him. The dominance. The utter knowledge that she is on his turf. Playing by his rules.

Soothing her nerves, yet somehow intimidating her further.

Silence ignited tension. and then

“Hmm… I see someone decided a lesson was in order.” He spoke.

His loafers squeaked against the wooden floor as he made the slowest circle around her.

Inspecting. Criticizing.

“Your form needs a bit of.. adjustment,” he mused.

She felt the tinge of disappointment almost immediately. She didn’t mean to disappoint him… yet somehow that was the only thing she seemed to be good at.

He ran his fingers along her spine, causing her to tense and arch her chest out further.

Pressing his hands gently against her shoulders, he forced her shoulders to relax slightly.

“One thing you have to understand, Isabella, is that my goal is to guide and nurture you. There are certain things in your training that will hurt you, yes… but trust that I will never cause you harm. Do you understand, mio piccolino?” His voice was a soft hush in the silence.

[My little one]

She nodded. Barely.

“When I ask you a direct question, I expect I direct answer.” He grouped her hair into a fist, yanking it down with a firm hand. She met his probing gaze. Uncertainty and a slight tinge of fear could be detected in the chocolate irises of her eyes. He stroked her face with one hand, watching as his touch soothed her inner fears.

“Y-yes s-sir.” She whispered in a breathless, hesitant voice.

“Very good, Isabella.” The small praise and smile meant millions to her. She smiled softly, and he let her hair fall back down.

“Now. A few rules before I start; one, you are allowed to be vocal. I want to be able to hear you moan, so communicate with me as you please. Two, no eye contact. Three… I want you to be as still as possible unless told otherwise. Four… trust me to know your limits. Five, listen and obey. Do you understand, piccolo?”

“Yes sir.”

“Very well.” He moved away from her, taking a seat in a leather chair in-front of her. she kept her eyes focused on the floor, tracing the grains of wood as it dilated and floated in waves. . She could only see the top of his loafers so she kept her eyes trained on them. A focus point of sorts.

“Spread your legs.” His command was direct and decisive. “I want to see how wet you are, slave.”

She inched her legs apart wider. Her modesty a direct reflection of her innocence.

“I said spread.” His tone was tense, a tart nip of displeasure.

And so she spread her legs as wide as they could go. And even wider then that. Until her clit could nearly touch the cold floorboards.

He hummed. “Deliziosi… Sono lieto, mio carissimo.

[Delectable… I am well pleased, my dearest.]

A soft moan fell past her lips as the air nipped into her, an intimately cold grasp. It thickened the smell of her arousal.

Damiano flared his nose. Inhaling the sweet musk of desire as it leaked down her thighs.

His next order came fast, “Crawl to me.”

And crawl she did. She placed her hand in front of her, her muscles changing into a crawling position. And then she felt it.

The friction between her thighs. The material pressed against her clit. rubbing slightly against her vagina

She hadn’t yet taken half a step forward before the moan escaped.

“Ohmigod,” she gasped, struggling to keep her eyes open and just… focus on the task.

“Crawl, Isabella. I never said you could stop…” He tsked.

Damiano knew exactly what was happening. He could see the desire that was etched on her face and sculpted in the tenseness of her body. His cock was pressing hard against his belt, straining for her to relieve the tension.

He watched her take a deep breath in, focusing herself. And then another short step. She bit her lip hard, trying to keep the sound of her pleasure in.

“Crawl.” He bit out, clenching his teeth.

And so she did. Taking agonizingly slow steps forward, her tits heaving.

She was gorgeous. And so damn perfect.

It was only when her forehead was about to touch the head of his cock that he told her to stop.

yes. That’s it.

Isabella resumed her kneeling position, eyeing the front of his trouser hungrily.

It was an animalistic desire the one to take and fuck into oblivion. But it was a beautiful one too. The need to own and shelter. To protect and guide.

He placed his shoe beneath her legs, rubbing it slightly to catch just a little of the moisture gathered there.

“Oh…” she gasped, swallowing heavily.

When he moved his shoe back, he smirked when he saw the mess of cum on it. This was by fair, his favorite shoe.

“Tsk, tsk. Look at the mess my little cunt made for me… aren’t you a bad girl? Spoiling your sir’s shoes with your filthy cum. You should clean it up…” He trailed off, watching as her nipples beaded even more beneath that tight bra. She moaned slightly, reaching out a hand to wipe it off but he stopped her.

“Uh uh, take of your bra first. Let me see those t1ts first.”

She froze, chest heaving. He watched as she battled with herself, her modesty and self-preservation.

Would the obedient slave prevail, or her shyness?

But he watched. Smug, as shaky hands began lifting the tight fabric, before drawing it over her head.

Her t1ts hung free. Heavy, plump yet perky. her n1pples were a dusky pink, mingled with brown with just the smallest beaded pebble at the front.

“Beautiful…” He whispered hoarsely.

Shy eyes glanced up fast, before she swung her head down.

“Isabella… look at me, carissimo.” He lifted her face with two fingers, gauging her emotions and studying her reaction.


Uncertainty shaded her face, and he knew better than to take disciplinary actions. For she hadn’t glanced at him out of mere disobedience or defiance; but to try and detect if he actually liked what he saw.

“I think you are beyond gorgeous. You have amazing tits, and I can just imagine sucking them… flicking them…” He leaned closer, “biting them.”

He chuckled when her eyes went wide, anticipation and hope shining through. “You’d like that, won’t you? You want me to suck on these fat tits… on my fat breasts?”

Isabella nodded eagerly.

“Words….” he trailed off. He had to be lenient. Lenient yet strict. A firm, yet giving hand was needed for a beginner.

“Please… please..” She begged. A delectable sight of neediness and lust.

“Tsk tsk… naughty girl… you forgot to clean my shoe…” He taunted watching her.

She glanced down, and once again went to wipe off her own cum with her hand. Quick as a flash, he tugged at her hair, halting her yet again.

“Use your tongue.” He smirked as her pupils grew wider.

She bent down, hair falling forward as her tits touched the floor. She lapped lightly at his shoe, tasting the salty-sweet taste of her cum, whilst the smell of leather invaded her nose. It rose, mingling with the smell of heady arousal.

When she was done, Damiano had unzipped his pants and was staring at her with a smirk.

“Suck, slave.”


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