As the day was winding down, Cleo strutted into her office, her face set in a determined grimace. She had been hard at work all day, constantly on her phone or laptop, barely managing to keep her eyes open. But as she looked to her hapless slave lying on the floor, she decided it was time for some entertainment.
The slave, who had been in Cleo's employ for several months now, was starting to recognize his mistress's signals. Whenever she entered the room with that look in her eye, he knew he was in for a rough time. And this time, it looked like it was going to be even worse than usual.
"Get up, slave," Cleo commanded, her voice icy and devoid of emotion. The slave struggled to his feet, his legs trembling from exhaustion. He had been in this position for far too long, always at Cleo's beck and call, always ready to please her in any way she desired.
Cleo watched with detached amusement as the slave struggled to stand. "You're pathetic," she muttered, walking over to him with a sneer on her lips. "But then again, you're also useful. So let's see what kind of use you can be for me tonight."
With a sudden burst of speed, Cleo pulled off her jeans and dropped them to the floor, revealing her tight, glistening black underwear. "On your knees," she hissed, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down the slave's spine.
The slave dropped to his knees, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew what was coming next - he had endured it countless times before. But despite his fear, he couldn't help but feel a twisted sort of excitement, knowing that this was what his mistress demanded of him.
Cleo positioned herself over the slave's face, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. She leaned forward, her weight pressing against him, and slowly lowered herself onto his face. The hot, heavy weight of her body drove the air from his lungs, and he found himself gasping for breath.
"Do you enjoy this, slave?" Cleo purred, her voice dangerously low. "Because I sure as hell do." She sat hard on his face, grinding her hips against his mouth, her underwear rubbing against his cheeks and forehead. Moans of mixed pleasure and pain escaped her lips as she took her pleasure, ignoring the pleas of her slave to be allowed some air.
The slave struggled to breathe, his face pressed into the crotch of his mistress's pants. He could feel her warmth, her wetness, and it both aroused and terrified him. He knew that this was what he was here for - to serve, to please, to give in to his mistress's every desire.
As Cleo sat on his face, her whole body trembling with excitement, she felt a powerful surge of dominance course through her veins. She was in control, and she reveled in it. Her slave was here to serve her, and he would do so whether he wanted to or not.
And so she sat, her weight pressing down on his face, her panties growing ever wetter as she took her pleasure. The slave could only look up at her, his eyes pleading for mercy, as he wondered when - or if - this torment would ever end.
