The Riding Mistress's Mean Facesitting Session
Marissa, the mean and dominant riding mistress, found herself unable to ride her horse due to maintenance on its saddle. Instead of letting the day go to waste, she decided to use an unsuspecting slave as her makeshift horse. The scene unfolded in her luxurious stable, where the helpless slave lay on the cold, hard floor, his eyes pleading for mercy as he awaited his fate.
Without a moment's hesitation, Marissa straddled the slave's face, her tight riding pants rubbing against his skin, and lowered herself until he was completely engulfed beneath her ample ass. The air was quickly sucked out from the room, and the slave gasped for breath as he felt the full weight of Marissa's ass pressing down on his nose.
"This is going to be a long ride," she growled, her voice echoing in the confined space of the stable. The slave whimpered in fear and pain as he struggled to free himself from beneath her imposing figure. But Marissa was relentless, relishing in her newfound power over him.
For what felt like an eternity, Marissa sat on the slave's face, grinding her hips back and forth against his cheeks, her thighs squeezing tighter with each passing moment. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and the cold hardness of her bones pressing against his skin. His face turned red from lack of oxygen, and spit dribbled from his mouth as he tried in vain to breath.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Marissa lifted herself off the slave's quivering form. She stood up, adjusting her riding gear, her boots clicking against the floor as she stared down at him with cold, hard eyes. "Now, get down on your knees and polish my boots with your tongue," she commanded, her voice filled with menace.
The slave slowly crawled to his knees, his body shaking with fear and exhaustion. He looked up at Marissa, his eyes filled with tears, and began to lick the shiny black leather of her riding boots. Each swipe of his tongue across the boots was met with a sharp intake of breath from Marissa, and the slave could feel her gaze boring into him.
As he worked, the slave couldn't help but wonder when this nightmare would end. But he knew better than to ask – after all, he was just a lowly slave, and Marissa was the one in control. All he could do was serve his cruel mistress and pray for mercy.
