How Does It Feel to Be a Living Pillow?
Lady Luciana was enjoying a relaxing day in her lavishly furnished living room. As she settled onto the plush sofa, she eyed her loyal slave with an intriguing gleam in her eye. Today's task was simple yet unique - to serve as a living cushion for his mistress's comfort.
Without hesitation, the obedient servant knelt before her, his gaze fixed on the floor as he anticipated her command. Lady Luciana smiled cruelly and nodded towards the new seat cushion she had laid out on the carpet. It was time to find out how comfortable his slave face really was.
The cushion was made of high-quality fabric, smooth to the touch yet coarse enough to provide a slight friction against the skin. The servant knew what was coming next and braced himself for the impact. Lady Luciana placed her weight onto the cushion and slowly lowered herself onto it, her jeans-clad bottom pressing firmly against his face.
Her soft breaths were warm against his cheeks as he tried his best to maintain composure. It wasn't easy being used as a living piece of furniture, but he knew better than to show any signs of discomfort. His mistress's satisfaction was all that mattered.
"How's it feel, slave?" she asked, her voice devoid of emotion.
"My lady's comfort is my highest priority," he replied, his words muffled by the fabric in his mouth.
She remained still for a moment, analyzing the level of comfort she experienced on his face. It wasn't long before she sat up and shifted her weight onto him from a different angle. This time, her bottom was positioned higher on his chest, pushing his nose into the cushion.
The slave felt a stinging pain in his nose, but he refused to make a sound. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and the scent of her perfume was almost intoxicating. Lady Luciana's posture changed several times, testing the limits of his endurance and the effectiveness of her new seating arrangement.
Finally, she stood up and surveyed her handiwork. The slave remained kneeling, his head bowed in submission. He waited anxiously for her verdict, knowing that his performance would determine his treatment for the rest of the day.
"Hmm," she mused, tapping her chin in thought. "I believe I may have found my new favorite seat. You have served your purpose well, slave."
With those words, she turned her back on him and walked away, leaving the servant to wonder what else she had planned for him next. As he began to catch his breath and process the pain in his back and knees, he couldn't help but wonder how long he would have to endure such humiliating tasks.
