MISTRESS ISABELLA - 088. Pissing, drinking piss
Mistress Isabella, dressed in a black leather dominatrix outfit, stood over her naked slave. She had just finished her meal and was now ready to provide him with an unexpected treat. With a smirk, she unzipped her fly and positioned her shiny black panties to one side, revealing her glistening puddle of warm urine.
"Drink it up, slave," she commanded, her voice thick with amusement. "It's your privilege to taste my golden nectar." The slave, his heart thumping in anticipation, lowered his trembling lips towards the pool of amber liquid. Mistress Isabella watched as his tongue flicked out tentatively, tasting the sweet, tangy flavor of her piss.
"That's it, slave," she encouraged, "drink deeply." And so he did, his mouth opening wide to accept more of her piss. She watched with satisfaction as he gulped it down, his throat working convulsively as he struggled to swallow. When he finally pulled away, she could see the traces of her piss on his lips and chin, making him look even more desperate and degraded.
"Now, you can clean me up properly," she ordered, her eyes glinting with mischief. The slave knew what she meant – he had to lick every last drop of her urine from her body. Slowly and methodically, he began tracing circles around her legs, his rough tongue rasping against her skin. He worked his way up her thighs, lapping at the thin rivulets of urine that trickled down.
As he neared her pussy, Mistress Isabella's heart rate increased. She couldn't wait to see him taste his own cum mixed with her piss. And so he did, his tongue darting into her slippery folds and coming out coated in their combined fluids. He lapped at her clit, sucking it into his mouth and teasing it with his teeth.
Mistress Isabella moaned softly, the feeling of his tongue on her most sensitive spots sending shivers of pleasure through her body. She watched as he dutifully cleaned every inch of her, his tongue working tirelessly to please her. When he finally looked up at her, his eyes filled with submission and adoration, she knew she had him right where she wanted him.
"Good boy," she murmured softly, reaching down to stroke his hair. "Now you can rest." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him alone on the cold stone floor. The slave watched as she disappeared into another room, his mind reeling with the events that had just unfolded. He lay there for a while, trying to process what had happened and wondering what she had in store for him next.
