Your mistress is here

Kathia stands over him, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a crop she taps against her thigh. Come closer, she orders, her voice low and exact. He sinks to his knees, palms up, cock already hard and twitching. She lifts the crop, strokes the leather tip along his jaw, then drags it down the center of his chest until it rests at his groin. Kiss them, she tells him, guiding his face to her breasts. He presses his mouth to the warm flesh, tongue flicking each stiff nipple as her fingers twist through his hair. When she is satisfied, she turns, parts her cheeks, and presents the tight rose of her ass. Tongue only, she warns, so he leans in, breathes her in, and begins to lap at the forbidden opening with slow, wet strokes. The crop lands across his shoulders each time he falters, leaving sharp red lines that make him whimper and work harder. She reaches back, spreads herself wider, and lets the tip of his tongue push inside, her moan low and pleased. Good slave, she murmurs. Keep going until your mistress is dripping.