Summer, with delight

A consciousness pulled out of shape as its attention skitters from pussy to teat and back. Her body had turned the sex organ she always hoped for...

Raising my head, with difficulty. Will my presumption in watching Master spoil the moment? My field of vision grasps in a teat, my teat. My own suckable parts, clamped with Master's metal. Clutch at His gaze, follow it down to His fingertips. Tugtug, teatpinkpurple pulling white and red, sucky bit reddy bit. Teeth grip. GRIP. GRIP AND PULL. Oh my darling Master, you're pulling me out of shape, discovering me in the shapes you want me to take.

Sweet liberation. And a smile flows out of her face as teat trips free of Master's metal, slut's delight in the moment inching her closer to her prize. Her nipple, proud of its hardness, reaching up to the ice, patiently eyeing the cool stickiness that her Master is so careful to lay onto His slave.

Drip-pinkywhite froth, Master's cool collation tipping her closer and closer to where HIs slut wants to go. Slut flexes, slit juices. Master artist, painting His slave with the colours of her self, painting her with melt, releasing clamps to juice her up, then on again. Ice-clamp-ice-clamp. Teat free, teat unfree. Tight pain, smooth release. Flat slithering froth, commanding strokes of ice colouring in her by numbers; pushing ice down, sticky nipple, drawn off centre. Slut smiles, pleads to be told to disobey her clinging come wish.

A cool stare, sweeping in the beautiful abundance of her, but quietly:

‘No, slut. Not yet’

A cool, slow, glance is sufficient for her to control herself? Yes. Smooth belly shivering shadows of muscle, iced navel overflowing with colours, a warm pee-dribble rolling round off her belly and onto the pvc. She’s so meek, so disciplined, so worshipping, so worthy of worship herself. Slapbelly, sticky cunty hairs stand up. Mound smooth trimmed, smooth foam flavoured and teased to attention. Cunt smell too, for Master to scent attention-seeking pussy. Slap hard, stick close, marble cool hood tasty flavours. Of cunt lolly? Yes, now.

My rolling thighs, my widening legs, feeling me open for Him, knowing where next He’ll be. All of me between me to wait for Him. My teats calling me away from my cunt, I don’t know where to think next. My pussy perfume to meet the flavour of the ice? My adored darling Master, fuck me.

Hotlycooling cuntly me. Twitch and buck, juice to fuck. Colours of my day, colours drooling over me. Colours in my head and heart, twist me inside out as I scrabble my soul towards my Master’s joy.

Calm. Draw breath, drawing her in, icepussy perfume in my nose as I spread her over her treat, lips splayed wide and stuck open in their glossy sugar bloatedness. Fucking plump and fucking gorgeous. Such a delicious mess, I think I'll have to insist on cleaning her up myself.

‘Slut, why don't you taste yourself, you’re scenting well today.’

The blunted tip of the ice just in contact, I pull it over her nose, across her mouth. Slut’s tongue flips out to savour it.

‘No, take more. You’re especially good today, believe me.’

Oh, but I do so love to force things into her. Clamp her tight and go down into her mouth. Sweeping the ice round her face: sweat, fruit and juices. What kind of flavour is that? The sorry remains of the ice break off around the stick, flaccid with their efforts - how I sympathise! - falling onto her face, rolling onto the bed as she wipes her cheeks over them. Slut’s so special, a woman who thinks with her skin. Remarkable. She deserves all the pleasure I can bring her. For that though, we need to change gear. Smiling at her, I reach for my spare.