Missy Van Licks - Facesitting with 3 Femdom
The sun was shining bright, and the sand was warm beneath our feet as we walked towards our unsuspecting slave. He lay on his back, soaking up the rays and enjoying the peacefulness of the day. Little did he know that his relaxation was about to come to an abrupt end.
We arrived at his side, our dominant energy palpable as we stood over him. Missy Van Licks, the leader of our trio, spoke with a cold, commanding tone. "Get up, slave," she ordered. "You're not here to relax. You're here to serve us—and that means offering us your face to sit upon."
Her words sent shivers down his spine, and he rose slowly to his feet, his eyes darting between us nervously. We each took a step closer, our bodies pressing against him, trapping him within our feminine power. "Now, slave," Missy continued, "you will learn what it truly means to be at the mercy of three dominant women. Kneel before us."
Our slave hesitated for just a moment before dropping to his knees, his shoulders slumping in submission. We stood over him, each of us towering above him in our high heels, our bodies leaning in close enough that he could feel our breath on his neck.
"The festival of facesitting has begun," Missy announced with a sultry smile. "And you, slave, are our first willing—or unwilling—participant." With that, she lowered herself onto his chest, her ample behind settling comfortably into the crevice between his pecs.
As she began to grind her hips back and forth, our other two dominatrixes followed suit, each of them claiming a spot on his body to press their weight down upon. He groaned, unable to move as the combined force of our bodies pinned him to the ground. The feeling of each of us sitting on him was exquisite, and we each took turns murmuring words of encouragement and instructions into his ear.
"Take a deep breath, slave," Mistress Licks purred, her warm breath tickling his ear. "Feel the power of three dominant women filling your lungs."
"You're ours to use as we please, slave," Mistress Blake growled, her thighs vibrating against his chest with every word.
"And we're going to use you until you can't take anymore," Mistress Licks added, tugging on his chin until he was forced to look up into her eyes.
Our facesitting festival continued for what felt like hours, the sand beneath us gradually becoming damp with sweat and saliva. Our slave struggled to keep up with our demands, his breathing growing shallow as he fought against the urge to pass out from the overwhelming sensations.
But we were in no hurry to finish him. Quite the contrary—the more he struggled, the more we enjoyed the power we held over him. We took turns varying the intensity and duration of our facesitting, sometimes grinding our hips together in unison, other times rubbing our naked breasts against his chest, using him as a living, breathing pillow.
Finally, when we judged that he had endured enough, we released him from our grasp, allowing him to collapse onto the sand. He lay there, gasping for air, his eyes filled with fear and awe as he tried to comprehend what had just happened to him.
"Remember this, slave," Missy Van Licks said, her voice ringing with authority. "You are ours to use as we please, and we will never grow tired of your devotion. Now, get up, and prepare for your next lesson."
With that, we turned away from him, leaving him alone to contemplate his fate. But deep down, he knew that he would endure anything—anything—to please his mistresses once again. Because in our world, there was no escape from the allure of female domination.
The End
