The slave, barely even a man anymore, lay staring up at the ceiling. It had been hours since he'd last been allowed to move, and the aching muscles in his back screamed for mercy. His mistress, Mistress Jessy, was a notorious brat girl who took great delight in keeping him beneath her at all times. She'd constructed a crude cot for him to lie on, it's thin mattress offering little comfort against the hardwood floor.
As he struggled to catch his breath, he heard the sound of pages turning. Slowly, he turned his head to see Mistress Jessy sitting on a cushioned chair, completely engrossed in her book. The chair was elevated slightly off the floor, and her plump, nylon-clad bottom was raised perfectly for viewing. The slave could feel himself growing hard as he stared up at her, his eyes locked onto the rhythmic swaying of her nylon-clad ass.
Hours passed, and still Mistress Jessy showed no signs of tiring of her book. The slave began to lose track of time, his mind wandering off to more pleasurable thoughts as he gazed up at the wrinkled nylon of her ass. Just as he was about to drift off into a fitful sleep, he felt a sharp jab in his side. Mistress Jessy had set her book down and now reached down to deliver a sharp smack to his thigh.
"Don't you dare fall asleep," she scolded, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I said you would be here for as long as I pleased, and that includes staying awake!"
The slave whimpered in submission as another stinging slap landed on his chest. He forced himself to stay awake, staring up at his mistress's ass while fighting off the urge to beg for mercy. Time seemed to stand still as he lay there, his mind lost in a haze of pain and arousal. He could feel himself growing increasingly desperate, the pressure building within him as he struggled against the confines of his desperate situation.
Just when he thought he might go insane from the intensity of his desires, he felt something shift above him. With a gasp, he watched as Mistress Jessy slowly lowered herself onto the cushion beneath her nylon ass. Her weight dwelt heavily on top of him, pressing him into the cot and making it groan under her weight.
"There," she said triumphantly, "now I can read in peace."
The slave closed his eyes, tears of frustration and arousal streaming down his face. He felt the hot, damp spot on his cot growing larger as he struggled against the onslaught of desire. As he lay there, his breathing growing ragged, he could feel the warmth of his mistress's body seeping into him. It was a feeling he both hated and craved, knowing that he was completely at her mercy and yet unable to resist the primal urges that coursed through him.
As the hours rolled by, Mistress Jessy remained oblivious to her slave's plight. She seemed content to bury herself in her book, oblivious to the growing weight of her ass pressing down on her obedient servant. The slave welcomed the numbness that slowly began to creep over him, the only escape from the torturous abyss of desire that he seemed destined to fall into.
As dawn began to break, Mistress Jessy finally closed her book with a satisfied sigh. Feeling the urge to use the bathroom, she stood up from the chair, unaware of the tremendous weight she was placing on her unsuspecting slave. With a groan, she leaned over to grab a towel, giving the slave an unobstructed view of her plush, nylon-covered ass.
With a roar, the slave erupted in his pants, his pent-up release spraying against the cot beneath him. As he lay there, spent and shivering, he heard Mistress Jessy let out a disgusted gasp. Turning around, she saw the stains on the cot and narrowed her eyes in anger.
"You disgusting excuse for a slave," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Clean this up immediately, and then prepare my bath."
The slave struggled to his feet, his weak legs barely able to support his weight. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, his mind reeling from the intense mix of pleasure and pain he had just endured. As he cleaned up the mess he had made, he could feel the ache in his back beginning to subside, replaced by a dull throb.
Despite his fatigue and humiliation, he was filled with a strange sense of contentment. For despite everything, he knew that he belonged to her, and that nothing could ever change that. As he finished cleaning and prepared her bath, he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride in his submission. After all, he was Mistress Jessy's slave, and he would always be.
