It's his longest stint in chastity yet, and isn't he doing such a good job? He begs to come out for edges constantly but hasn't been properly smothered in days. He deserves a little escape, and it's time for Me to have a little fun Myself. Only one cock to torment in isolation, and I'm making the very most of it.

He's buried under My ass in high-waisted shorts with a perfect seam that lets him shove his face deep into Me while I graze My stiletto nails over My skin and his and wait for his slave mind to take over. Every breath I allow him, he breathes me in a little more.

Isn't he so lucky to have the Mistress who made him tending to his every aching desire? I remind him, in excruciating detail, what most submissive males have to do to get their kicks with vanilla women. The trickery. The suggestion. The hoping that if she straddles your face while you eat her out, she'll grind down on you when she climaxes.

And here he is. Having to do none of that. He doesn't even need to ask anymore. When he articulates his wishes it's because I like to hear him beg. I know what he wants before he knows he wants it himself. So when I want him to the chastity device off with his erection, I know what he'll need: Me, sliding down his torso and shoving my feet in his mouth.

Then I edge him, and sit some more, and stroke, and let him know that I'm not listening to his cries for mercy. I'll know to stop when I see signs that he's close. Drip for Me.

Drip for me

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