Miss Dula - Mc Pissing
The scorching Italian summer sun beat down on the city streets, causing sweat to bead on the foreheads of those brave enough to step outside during the hottest part of the day. Inside an air-conditioned apartment, a gorgeous young woman sat at her vanity table, carefully applying makeup to enhance her already stunning features. She was clad in a revealing red bikini that left little to the imagination, her toned body glistening in the artificial light.
As she finished getting ready, she turned her attention to a male slave who knelt before her, head bowed in submission. "Go out and get me a sandwich," she commanded, "and make sure it's good quality meat." The slave nodded obediently, eager to please his mistress even though he knew he would be punished if he failed to meet her exacting standards.
The slave left the apartment, hurrying down the sidewalk to avoid the worst of the blistering sun. He found a sandwich shop and ordered the most expensive sandwich on the menu, hoping to please his mistress with the quality of the meat. As he waited for his order, he felt a sudden wave of nervousness wash over him – what if he screwed up this time? What if he brought back something she didn't like? The thought made him shiver, and he tried to push it from his mind.
After what seemed like an eternity, the sandwich was finished. The slave quickly paid for it and returned to the apartment, his heart pounding in his chest. He knelt before his mistress once more, holding out the sandwich and a drink. The mistress took one look at the sandwich and scowled. "This is not what I asked for," she snapped. "I told you to get a sandwich with good quality meat, and this looks like it came from a cheap deli."
Her tone was icy, and the slave trembled in fear. He had failed her, and he knew what that meant – punishment. "I'm sorry, Mistress," he stammered, "I thought I chose the right one." The mistress stood up, her eyes glinting with anger. "You're an idiot," she hissed, "and now you'll pay the price for your stupidity."
She walked over to the coffee table, where a bowl and a soda can sat waiting. She took a swig from the soda, then poured the contents into the bowl. "Drink it," she ordered, pushing the bowl towards the slave. The slave knew what was in the bowl – he could see the glint of liquid gold reflected in the light. With trembling hands, he carefully picked up the bowl and tilted it towards his mouth, taking a tentative sip.
It was cold and refreshing, washing away the heat of the day. He took another sip, then another, finishing off the contents of the bowl. His mistress watched him with a predatory gaze, her body language indicating that she was ready for the next phase of her punishment.
"Now," she said, "since you can't even get a simple task like this right, I'm going to have to make you enjoy it." With that, she knelt down next to the sandwich and began tearing off pieces, chewing them thoroughly before spitting them into the bowl. The slave watched in horror as she repeated the process, each time adding another layer of saliva to the mix.
Finally, when the sandwich was nothing more than a wet, stringy mess, she stood up and handed him the bowl. "There you go," she purred, "a little something to help you enjoy your sandwich. Now get to it."
The slave took the bowl with trembling hands, still not quite believing what was happening. He picked up the sandwich and took a bite, then another, feeling the saliva from his mistress's mouth mingle with the taste of the meat. It was strange, to say the least, but he couldn't deny that it was also oddly arousing. As he finished off the sandwich, he took another sip from the bowl, savoring the mix of flavors in his mouth.
"That was... interesting," he said, his voice hesitant. His mistress smiled, a cruel smile that sent shivers down his spine. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she purred, "because now it's time for you to experience the next part of your punishment." With that, she grabbed his head and forced him to drink the remainder of the bowl.
As the last drop disappeared, he felt a strange sensation washing over him. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before – a mixture of pleasure and pain that made him feel both violated and strangely aroused. And then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. His mistress let go of his head, and he collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily.
She stood over him for a moment, her gaze boring into him like a knife. Then, without another word, she turned and left the room, leaving him to clean up the mess they had made together.
