Mistress Zora strutted into her office with a smirk on her face. She was in control, and she knew it. Behind her, the door closed, sealing off the hubbub of the busy office from her private sanctuary. Her gaze fell on the young, bespectacled man huddled beneath her lofty desk - his eyes wide with fear.
"Well, well, well," she purred, savoring the moment. "What do we have here?"
The slave cowered beneath her, his body trembling. He knew what was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He managed a meek plea between his quivering lips.
"Please, Mistress Zora," he whimpered. "Don't make me your footstool today."
She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sinister smirk. "Oh, I don't think you get to decide that, slave," she chided, her voice dripping with condescension. "You're here to serve me, remember?"
Without further ado, Mistress Zora slowly stepped over the trembling form of the young man, silently daring him to make a move. She reached down and, with a sickening pop, bent his spine until he was folded in half. His lower body was now completely submissive, his face pressed firmly against the cold, hard floor.
"There you are," she said, her tone cold and unyielding. "Now you're ready for your punishment."
Slowly, Mistress Zora walked back over to her desk, her hand deftly slipping between her thighs. She spread her nylon-clad legs wide, daring the slave to catch a glimpse of her wet, eager crotch. He tried to hold his breath, to block out the smell of her arousal, but it was no use.
"You're going to love this, slave," she purred, her hot breath tickling the back of his neck.
And with that, she effortlessly lowered herself onto his face, her nylon-clad ass coming to rest squarely over his mouth and nose. The young man tried to scream, but all that escaped his lips was a muffled gurgling sound. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he struggled for breath, but Mistress Zora remained indifferent to his suffering.
For what felt like hours (but in reality, were just minutes), Mistress Zora sat upon her helpless slave, her powerful thighs compressing the very air from his lungs. He felt her body heat radiating onto his face, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils. As he thrashed weakly beneath her, she remained perfectly still, her face expressionless.
Finally, with a sigh of contentment, Mistress Zora rose from her throne, her nylon-clad ass leaving a trail of saliva on the young man's chin. She didn't even glance back at him as she walked away, leaving him gasping for air and drenched in his own filth.
The door opened, and the sound of voices filtered in once more. The young man struggled to his feet, his body shaking from the traumatic ordeal. He knew that he would be back here tomorrow, ready to serve his sadistic Mistress once again.
But for now, he had to live with the consequences of his submission, and the terrible knowledge that Mistress Zora could go on like this forever.
