As Madame Marissa entered the room, she tossed her riding crop onto a nearby table, her expression a mixture of tiredness and satisfaction. She was bathed in sweat from her recent ride and still wearing her riding pants and boots. The sounds of hooves and horses had barely faded when she turned to face her slave.
"Get on your knees, slave," she commanded, her voice low and commanding. The slave immediately obeyed, his eyes wide with fear and anticipation as he watched her approach. Madame Marissa towered over him, her tall frame casting a shadow across the room.
She reached down and grabbed the slave's head, forcing him to look up at her. His eyes were filled with submission as he awaited her next order. "I've had a long day," she growled, her voice deep and gravelly. "It's time you paid the price for my discomfort."
Without further warning, Madame Marissa stepped back and slammed her body down onto the slave's face, her riding pants rubbing against his skin like sandpaper. The smell of sweat and horse mixed in the air as she sat heavily on his face, cutting off his breath.
"Smother me, slave," she groaned, her breath hot in his ear. "Make me forget about my aching body and let me relax under you."
The slave did as he was told, his hands clutching desperately at her riding pants as he tried to keep her from moving. "Harder," she hissed, slapping his hands away. "Don't worry about being gentle. I need the pressure to help me unwind."
Tears of pain streamed down the slave's face as he struggled to breathe under the weight of his Mistress. He could feel her body trembling with each ragged breath, her ass cheeks pressed tightly against his nose.
"You're not doing a very good job," she snarled, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back. "I think I need to teach you a lesson."
With that, she pulled her riding crop from the table and brought it down sharply across his back. The crack of the leather against his flesh echoed through the room, mingling with the sounds of their heavy breaths.
"Better?" she asked, her voice cold. The slave nodded, his eyes filled with fear and tears. "Then you'd better try harder, because if you don't keep me comfortable, I'll keep finding ways to make your life more painful."
She sat back on his face, her riding pants once again rubbing against his skin, and closed her eyes. The slave could feel her body start to relax, her muscles slackening under him. It was a very small relief, but it was all he had.
As Madame Marissa slept, the slave tried to ignore the pain in his back and focus on her peaceful expression. He knew that this was his purpose - to be at her command, to make her happy and comfortable. And he would do it, no matter how much it hurt.
