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ASIAN SLAVE SUBMITS 8 - TIT ABUSE
I began to settle down into my new life as Masters Rewan's and Greg's personal fuckslave. I admit that I owed the ease of this transition to my sexual attraction to both my Masters and hence my willingness to serve them. Their confidence and swagger appealed to me.
Personally, I thought that Master Rewan's rules were a little fragmented and lacking in details, yet the concept aroused me greatly. Perhaps it was a test in itself, to gauge my initiative and creativity as their slave.
Master Rewan was the ideal Master for me - kind, fair, patient yet firm - hence safely reliable. Master Greg was slightly more erratic - selfish, assertive, cold and remote at times, testy but highly intelligent - which kept me on my toes. Don't get me wrong, Master Rewan wasn't the good cop to Master Greg's bad one. Far from it.
Yes, Master Greg was aggressive, but I like it rough. Keeping up with Master Greg's inconsistent yet exacting standards, and fulfilling his extreme and sometimes absurd demands, was an achievement in itself and utterly gratifying.
Some opined it was too soon for the 3 of us to engage in an extreme sexual relationship, that we were too young. A fair observation. True, what we had was hardly a vanilla menage a trois. Even I found it hard to understand the dynamic of my Masters friendship with each other. Childhood friends, both dominant tops that shared the same kinks and quite specific taste in submissive bottoms, yet they did not engage in sexual acts with each other, exclusive- or inclusively.
Unusual, huh?
Despite all the various sentiments voiced by many, the simplest fact was the paramount one: that my Masters and me were all consenting adults engaging in consensual acts.
I strived to please and pleasure my Masters. Always. This meant being vigilant to their needs and preferences. Master Rewan communicated his orders effectively, matching them flawlessly to my comprehension and abilities. Rarely did he have to repeat himself or physically instruct me. I fell quickly into his routine, whereas I struggled with Master Greg's as he had none.
Well, none that were readily anticipated. I learned the hard way that Master Greg didn't really concern himself with lube, at least not with his personal cumdump. One balmy afternoon, Master Greg found me napping on the couch and shoved his fuckpole up my boycunt, dry. It was unpleasant and my arse resisted the invasion, so he spat on my hole and renewed the assault. Rather than pleading for lube, I took Master's cue and spewed out copious amount of my own saliva to coat his cock. It was one of a handful of fucking by Master Greg that I did not enjoy. I had never produced so much saliva in such a short time.
From that point onwards, I ensured that lube was always within easy reach. Always and all the time, especially when Master Greg was around.
It was a nuisance carrying packets of single-use lube. But Master Greg was insatiable and unrelenting. His sex drive recognised neither location nor time constraints: on a secluded part of the beach, toilet cubicle of a club and even in a department store's changing room!
I learned soon enough that he liked his sweaty pits licked and his body worshipped when he's back from the gym. Not suck or ride his cock, though I couldn't resist the temptation to bury my nose between his thighs and around his balls. That heady distinctive musk he gave off, especially when he was sweaty, kept me servile. It kept me rooted at the appropriate place, kneeling between my Master's leg like a loyal, hungry dog. When, and if, he's ready to receive a blowjob, he would grab a handful of my hair and shove his fuckrod down my throat. Otherwise he'd push me aside and hit the shower, leaving me unceremoniously high and dry.
Similarly, I gave Master Greg a wake-up blowjob every morning whenever possible. This was explicitly instructed to me the day after I moved in, failure of which would incur a punishment. I never let Master down. Most of the times I was rewarded with Master's morning spunk, sometimes a thorough fucking and very rarely a rough slap on my cheek as he turned over and continued sleeping.
If I was somewhere else and Master Greg needed to use either of my holes, he would simply send me a text message stating only his location. I was to drop anything I was doing and meet him immediately, the only acceptable excuse being work, no other exceptions. If I was delayed for whatever reason, a second text with a curt "NOW" was sent and I knew I was in trouble. It was all very arbitrary, but in keeping with Master Greg's unpredictable nature.
For the first couple of weeks, I spent most nights sleeping on Master Greg's bed, as Master would inevitably be offloading his evening cum in my arse before bed. Master Rewan would occasionally join us to breed me, but never to sleep there. Master Greg's room was quite spartan - wardrobe, nighstand, fitness utility bench and a few dumbbells.
No posters or prints, just a huge mirror on the wall above his headboard. Bit tacky, but it was a metaphorical and literal reflection of his vanity. Remember the scene in American Psycho where Patrick Bateman was watching himself in the mirror while fucking 2 hookers to the tune of Everybody My Dick Tonight? I would occasionally catch Master Greg flexing his biceps in said mirror while his cock pillaged my arse, exactly like Mr Bateman.
A long chain trailing down from a ceiling hook completed the decor, a chain that I had been attached to many times: my balls, my neck, my ankles but mostly my wrists. It was while attached to this chain that I subdued my gag reflex. I was riding Master Rewan's cock cowboy style while my wrists were cuffed above my head to the ceiling chain. Master Greg shoved his monster serpent down my throat and I took all of it without the aid of a spider gag. Master Rewan kept me pliant and immobilised by tweaking my nipples. Fun times.
At work, new colleagues helped ease me into my new position, despite the challenges of a different environment and work ethics. I kept up with swimming and joined a gay running club too. From there onwards, I built a small group of acquaintances that I socialised with. In hindsight, I was glad to be allowed these liberties - they provided a ballast to my otherwise alternative life with Masters, some semblance of normality.
To say that life in Masters' apartment was utterly extreme was perhaps stretching it. Yes, the dynamic was that of 2 Masters and their fuckslave. But there were evenings after a long slog of a hard day where we just collapsed on the couch watching crap telly. Yet they were few and far between.
Masters Rewan and Greg were open about our arrangements to a select few friends that share the same kinks - I wasn't their first fuckslave after all. But Masters also had a wider circle of friends that were none the wiser and I was just a new flatmate that moved into the spare room. I had a chance to meet these friends one evening.
Master Greg was away on business for a few days, so it was just me and Master Rewan. I was taken aback when Master asked if I fancied a few drinks with his mates, as I thought that Masters wouldn't want us to cross paths. I was anxious too, as I appreciate it might be difficult to break into an established social circle.
"It's about time you meet them. Plus Greg isn't here to boss you around. Come on, it'll be fun," reassured Master, shooting me his trademark grin.
My anxiety was totally misplaced. Rewan's friends were really nice and made me feel included as they spoke exclusively in English. They even made the effort to explain cultural references and in-jokes among their close knit group. They were a sterling tribute to Rewan's affable, gentle and humorous nature. In the absence of Greg, I felt relaxed and were able to engage them with ease.
We started the evening in a pintxo bar before heading to their favourite watering hole then to a club. It was my first night out in Europe and I was having a good time among great company. I was cautious to mind my drinks once I was merry and not try to keep up with Rewan and his friends. We also hit the dancefloor and Rewan even danced suggestively with me, to which I panicked momentarily.
I wasn't used to such close proximity, at least not in a non-gay club. Sensing my discomfort, Rewan laughed it off and placed his hands on my shoulders before saying, "Relax, it's ok, we're not in KL," and continued to dance with me.
We walked home at the end of the night while Rewan leaned on me, one arm around my shoulders, obviously had one too many. We were chatting animatedly about something or another when I suddenly realised, albeit in an opaque state of inebriation, that my cock had grown hard since we danced in the club. I could smell Rewan's sweaty sweet musk and it completely turned me on. Combined with the alcohol imbibed, I was potently horny.
I instinctively stripped off my clothes the moment we walked in the flat, as per Master Rewan's rule. Master was still talking but stopped abruptly to watch me undress. My hard cock was relieved to be freed of its constraints, bouncing to my movements as I clasped the slave collar to my neck and leather cuffs to my wrists. When I was done, Master handed me a nightcap and we sat down on the couch drinking and listening to music.
We attempted to continue our wandering conversation, but it was futile as neither of us could ignore my raging hardon. If Master Greg were there, he would already have me servicing his cock. Yet there was an awkward intention to continue talking and chilling, ultimately overridden by the mutual rising of lust. I wanted to play with my cock, but conscious that it was against the rule.
Master stared at me for what seems like ages, before snapping his fingers and pointed to the floor in front of him.
"On your feet, facing away from me and bend over," ordered Master. My heart was beating hard as I obeyed.
Master left, came back a minute later and then grabbed my balls, pulling them away from my body. A humbler went on after a few tries and my wrist were cuffed then linked together behind my back. Master then resumed his place on the couch while teasing my arsehole with his finger.
"Turn to face me and kneel," was Master's next command.
I did so with little difficulty, despite the humbler keeping my balls stretched and my upper legs bent at the hips. Master gestured for me to sit on the balls of my heels, keep my back straight and my chest out, presenting my brown tits to him. A few small accoutrement that I hadn't seen before lay on the couch next to Master.
"Some new toys... I was waiting until I have you all to myself before using them on your tits," said Master as he leaned forward to give my nipples a few firm tugs.
Squeezing from an unidentified bottle, Master spread some gel on my tits that gave a subtle tingling prickling sensation to them. A small slim cylinder was attached to my right nipple and Master twisted one end of it to create some sort of vacuum in the cylinder. This made the suction cylinder (a nipple sucker as I found out later) stick to my chest and suck my tits out. Master repeated with another sucker to my left nipple as I watched with absolute fascination as Master continued to twist both of them until my tits protruded about half an inch out from my chest. It was a strange feeling, not entirely uncomfortable, but heightened by the tingling effects of the gel.
Satisfied with the length of protrusion, Master paused briefly to allow for sufficient blood to fill my nipples. Then Master gingerly detached a tiny rubber ring from each tit suckers and surrounded the base of both my nipples, trapping the blood that flowed in them. Kinda like a cockring, but for tits. Bidding his time, ensuring that the rubber rings were adequately secured, Master gently de-twisted the nipple suckers and removed them from my chest.
I watched in trepidation as my tits remained protruded and engorged as the tiny rubber rings sank onto my nipples, constricting blood flow out of them. I couldn't take my eyes off them, unsure if I was utterly shocked or aroused. Possibly both. They were no longer my small brown tits, but now resembled an ewe's swollen teats bursting with milk for hungry lambs in spring!
"Eyes on me, boy," commanded Master Rewan, perhaps sensing my apprehension.
Master took off his top to expose his defined body, which never failed to entrance me. It was a suitable distraction. Master leaned back, sipped his drink, lit a cigarette and studied me, enjoying his handiwork.
I was fully aware of my enlarged tits, the combination of their erect state and the tingling gel heightened their sensitivity, ripe and vulnerable for more tit abuse.
"Best bits are yet to come," hinted Master, perhaps sensing my internal anxiety.
Stubbing out his cigarette, Master proceeded to playfully flick my exposed tits, sending burst of signals down to my cock, which flinched in response. I had totally forgotten about my cock, too preoccupied with these new assault on my boytits. I was surprised to find that my tits were as hard as my cock, if not harder! Master repeated his flicking, alternating between nipples then ending with a synchronised onslaught.
It was a tactile overload for me, a mini orgasm in itself. For the first time, I wanted to touch my cock desperately and furiously jack it. But Master had the foresight to restrain my hands behind my back earlier. In between uninhibited lustful moaning, I was close to beg Master to allow me to masturbate.
I gasped in sheer pleasure when Master applied my old friend the tit clamps. I had missed it digging sweetly on my now souped-up nipples. It was an upgrade for me as a titslave. I wiggled my lean torso to rattle the clamps on my hard erect tits, mimicking the earlier flicking, making them dig further on my raw tits. I must've looked silly, but I was in heat. Pure bliss.
"Enjoying this, titslut?" asked Master.
"Yes Sir! More please, Sir!" I begged.
"You asked for it."
Master added small weights onto the clamps, slowly and gradually increasing the bite on my abused tits. I adjusted my movement to compensate, increasing my speed to gain more tit titillation to reach a zenith before decreasing the speed as the weights continued to pile on. Slowly but gradually I came to a halt as Master added the final weight that proved one too many, as it started to get painful. One too many.
I gritted my teeth in pain, but kept my posture like an exemplary slave. I focused my sight on Master's defined body, on his muscles, and caught a noticeable bulge on his crotch. Obviously I wasn't the only one gratified by this exercise - the pleasure was mutual. Master lit another cigarette and gave me a drag, which calmed me, but it wasn't the welcomed respite I was hoping for.
Master rested the lit end of the cigarette just inches from my right nipple and gradually closed in the distance. Motivated by Master's arousal and enjoyment, I took the abuse with the obedience expected of a kept slave. As the embers neared, it seared my oversensitized tits, sending sharp agony that shuddered my lithe body. Master moved to my left nipple and, alternating between drags, gave both sides equal share of the abuse.
My tits had been spread with prickling gel, pumped, kept erect, flicked, clamped and weighted. The heat from the lit cigarette took the abuse to another level. I tensed my body as the cigarette came within a hairbreadth of my violated tits. Oh how it burned! I had lost track of how long I endured the pain, but it seem to last forever. I was proud that I did not flinch or beg Master to stop.
When Master ceased his vicious assault, the cigarette had burned down to its stub, leaving my tits looking angrier and darker. I was surprised that I didn't lose my erection at all. Yes, there was an undoubted connection between this tit abuse to my raging hardon. But was there a latent pain slave in me? Could I be? Could I really truly be?
I watched with abject horror as Master lit another cigarette and renewed his onslaught. I gritted my teeth and my body shuddered again. I glimpsed the fervent look on Master's face, before closing my eyes and endured. My inherent desire to please Master made me persevere. I focused my thoughts on the arousing aspect of Master's sadistic traits; on fighting the urge not to move or protest; before trying to embracing my quiescent masochistic side.
It felt like a red hot poker was rubbing against my abused tits. It felt like I was stuck in a timeless warp. It felt like forever, like it would never end.
A gentle slap on my cheek brought me back. Opening my eyes I saw Master's trademark grin and just as before, there was nothing left of the cigarette but its charred stub.
"You ok?" Master asked.
I nodded. Touched, in fact, that he even asked.
"You did well, boy. Very well. Come and claim your reward," said Master as he leaned back on the couch and whipped out his beautiful curved cock, now in full mast.
A reward indeed, as I edged forward and tasted Master's cockhead with relish, before greedily gobbling most of it in one go. It was a huge comfort to feel Master's big hard fuckpole filling my mouth and demanding entrance to my throat; a relief after the intense titwork. Breathing in Master's intoxicating musk and exhaling slowly, I went for the last few inches down to the base, opening up my throat for the intruder to take its rightful place.
I stayed down for as long as I could, massaging Master's cock with my throat. When I came up for air, I saw Master had tilted his head back, eyes closed and grinning lustfully, hands behind his head exposing his armpits. Oh the temptation to dive in on those pits and worship his defined body! I was spoilt for choice, but focused on the task at hand. Starting slowly before working up a rhythm, I withdrew Master's cock completely before going all down to the base.
Slightly tricky and quite taxing to do, especially with my hands restrained behind my back and my posture restricted by the humbler. But it gave momentum to the weights dangling off my abused tits, continued the stimulation, increased the pressure of the clamps, and sent waves of pleasure through my body down to my cock.
I could do this forever. It was the perfect reward for a cockslave like me, worshipping Master's perfect cumpole, a soothing sweet lollipop after the painful tit ordeal earlier. Being in cock heaven, the whole experience so far started to coalesce into a pleasurable one. Not despite of, rather, because of its extreme nature. Perhaps I was a masochistic slave.
But I was first and foremost a fuckslut, a submissive bottom always yearning for a massive cock to use and abuse my tiny hole. A greedy one at that. Now that my throat was rewarded, my arse was screaming for its rightful turn. The cockslut in me got impatient, bordering on impertinent, when I dared to abandon Master's cock completely to lick his abs.
Tracing the contours of Master's 6-pack with my tongue, I made my lingual journey up Master's hard pecs before burying both my mouth and nose in Master's exposed pits, lapping up the offered musk. My lean torso followed suit, as I straddled Master's narrow waist and teased his cock with my arsehole, knowing that I received the additional bonus of rubbing my neglected cock on Master's sculpted abs.
I wouldn't hazard such risky manoeuvre with Master Greg, wouldn't even dream of it. Driven by lust, I was inadvertently testing Master Rewan.
Grabbing the back of my collar to the point of choking me, Master Rewan pried me away from his armpit, looked straight into my eye and held his gaze. Fear took me, immediately regretting my weakness to allow my lust to override my primary duty as an owned slave: to obey.
"Got ahead of yourself there boy," said Master sternly, almost disappointed even.
I wanted to apologise, but decided against. I knew what I did was wrong and silently vowed not to repeat it. Releasing his grip on my collar, Master effortlessly lifted me off and onto the floor, then uncoupled the chain linking the leather cuffs to free my hands.
"My bed. On all fours," was Master's simple command.
Determined to appease, I obeyed immediately, crawling towards Master's bedroom as the humbler holding my balls hostage prevented me from walking upright. I followed Master's footsteps like a loyal dog, the tit weights almost slowed me down. I climbed onto Master's bed and faced the headboard, my arse presented to the opposite end.
Master offered me some poppers and I made the mistake of taking 2 liberal hits, as the heady daze accentuated the emptiness in my arse. It made me hungry for it to be plugged. Ravenous, even. Master kneeled on his bed behind me and slapped his rock hard cock on my arsehole several times.
It was very clever, a crafty punishment in itself, as I was gagging for Master's cock. Minimal effort, maximum impact. Master owned my arse, but I had no rights to his fuckrod. Simulating a fucking motion, Master humped my starved hole, but had no intention to initiate penetration. It riled the depraved fuckpig in me! I was ready for a savage pounding, but had to contend instead with the pendulum swings of my weighted tit clamps that sent titillating waves and arsehole.
"Please, Master," I begged, wriggling my arse.
Ignoring my plea, Master made an elaborate task of removing the humbler, perhaps deciding that it was no longer necessary. Then Master leisurely reached over the nightstand to leave the humbler there while resting his cock and body on top of me, teasing/punishing me further. More weights were added to my tit clamps before Master offered me more poppers. The delay in getting royally fucked by my Nordic prince was more torturous than the tit abuse I was submitted to earlier.
Finally Master applied some lube to my hole, long after the extra poppers hits made me docile. Lost in multiple lewd thoughts, I moaned in gratitude as Master fingered my hole, followed by a second finger. I was masochistically watching my engorged tits weighted down when Master replaced his fingers with his cock, while I edged backwards to urgently get all of it inside my hole.
Finally!
I rocked myself forwards then backwards, impaling myself on Master's big curved cock and swinging the weights on my nipples, a cockwhore in heat. Accelerating my speed, I was actively fucking myself with Master's fuckrod, forgetting completely my place as a submissive slave. It was incongruent with Master's slow and easy style.
Yet Master didn't stop me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Master utterly engrossed, watching his veiny milky-pink cock lasciviously disappear in my small brown arse. Like a true voyeur, Master spread my arse cheeks with his hands, giving his monster rod more access to my slavecunt. Finding myself in bottomslut heaven again, I rode Master's cock for as long as I was allowed.
A while later, Master flipped me onto my back and cuffed my wrists to the headboard. Master did the same with my ankles so that my legs rested on either side of my slender torso. As I was flexible, my back lay flat despite being trussed up this way, which gave Master unhindered access to my fuckhole. In contrast to my hasty impaling earlier, Master then fucked me in his usual sensual and steady pace.
I didn't begrudge this. I love being fucked missionary by Master, as his curved cock fitted perfectly in my narrow arse. In this position, Master's cockhead rested on my prostate when fully inserted, applying enough pressure on my G-spot. A slow and steady pace also enhanced and prolonged the stimulation. Soon enough I started to precum and it pooled generously on my abs.
I was slightly relieved that the weights rested on my chest and had optimal effect on my tits. Just right. Master was lost in his own world again, enthralled with watching his cock withdrew, then inserted completely. In turn, I was enamoured by the subtle contractions of Master's muscles. Gets me every time.
It dawned on me that this was the first time Master Rewan fucked me on his bed since I became Masters' fuckslave. Although Master Rewan had dominated and fucked me in the apartment, it was always in Master Greg's room in tandem. Also Master Greg had been hogging me every night since. At the risk of being creepy, I committed to memory every detail of this 1-on-1 moment as memento.
Master exhaled audibly a few times, an early indication that he might climax soon. The combination of visual and tactile stimulus proved too much for Master, as always. Taking his eyes off my boycunt, Master fed me more poppers, which was the perfect start to what would be quite an explosive ending.
In one fluid move, Master stood up while lifting my back from its horizontal to a vertical position. Lost in a poppers haze, I had no idea how my body was able to curve this way. Keeping his legs on either side of me, Master held the back of my knee and to maintain this new posture. In what I later discovered to be the "butter churner" position, Master continued to squat-fuck me.
The extra rush of blood into my head that increased my ecstasy. In this new stance, Master's cock applied even more pressure to my prostate. As my cock was aligned directly above my head, my precum started to dribble on my face. The close proximity made me want to suck my own cock, opening my mouth and sticking out my tongue in hankering greed.
This amused Master, as the corner of his lips curled into a smug satisfied grin. Master played his fuckslave like a fiddle, exerting complete dominance over me. I caught Master's fervent gaze that enthralled me. It was just as much a mental control as it was physical, and Master excelled at both.
I understood later why Master decided on this position. The angle of which Master's cock entered my hole was altered and provided more friction that pleasured his cock further. Eager for a more wholesome view of his cock pillaging my arse, Master straightened his legs just like he was doing push-ups, dipping his cock in and out of my hole.
"Ah yeah, perfect!" cried Master.
What a sight we must've presented! A blond caucasian master exerting his rights to use his brown asian fuckslave, in a domineering fuck-position befitting the master-slave relationship.
I was amazed by Master's vigour as he easily kept up his fucking motion. I lost count of the number of push-ups as the movements of Master's taut body hypnotised me again. I traced my sight from Master's broad shoulders to his hard pecs crowning a defined abs tapering down to a narrow V-shaped waist. It was utterly mesmerising watching his muscles tensed and relaxed in alternate rhythm.
Straightening his arms, Master pivoted his fucking motion to his hips, which gave him more precise control. Master could've kept going, and I wanted him to, but it was a strenuous position for both of us to sustain. My shoulders started to ache from supporting my body and beads of sweat formed on Master's body. Perhaps sensing our mutual limits, Master gave one final thrust and halted.
Keeping his cock buried completely in my arse, Master leaned forward to remove all the contraptions from my abused raw tits: the clamps, weights and rubber rings. Caught off guard, I let out a hoarse groan as circulation was restored to my tits. Tethering on that sweet point between extreme pleasure and pain, I reached a new lustful height as the powerful sensation centred me on the moment: being fucked by a hung stud in bondage.
It was to become one of Master's signature tricks, one that I looked forward to whenever Master worked my tits.
As if to emphasise my predicament, Master resumed his fucking motion, overloading my small body with electric bolts as I began to hyperventilate. Letting the excitement fade slightly before pausing again, Master unleashed his final ruse as he leaned forward and rubbed both my tits in circular motion, applying more pressure as he went along.
This sent me on a wild and buckling orgasm, something that I had never experienced before. My nipples emanated gigantic waves of continuous pleasure tsunami throughout my body, heightening my poppers haze, all the way down to my pillaged arse and spitting cock. My whole body was inundated with an angry frenzied thrill that I could not focus on one particular source of pleasure.
For the first time I screamed out as I came! The onslaught on my nipples triggered my balls to empty torrents of cum that rained straight down on my face and into my mouth. My ejaculation was so violent that it shook my body and produced an enormous amount of cum that covered my face completely and stopped me screaming as it pooled in my throat. Even the pillow was drenched!
I had no choice but to swallow them, the salty taste spurred my cock to shoot out more cum! It felt like an infinite loop that continuously fed itself. Yes I was a cumcrazed slut always gagging for manseed, but to savour my own cum was something else altogether.
But Master's shrewdness was self-serving. The magnitude of my climax caused my filled arse to clench down on Master's cock in a tight vise-like grip. Master cried out in triumph, almost laughter-like, as he bred me with his studjizz. I felt the familiar warmness of Master's cum as it flooded my tiny arse and slowly leaked out of my crowded boycunt. Some dripped down my back, while the rest soaked my balls and cock before trickling down to my awaiting mouth.
Master's sly tricks paid off handsomely as my arse bolstered Master's own intense orgasm. I could only imagine the feeling of warm wet tightness massaging his cock in successive spasmic surges. Master's skillful manoeuvres left him with precious little to do but sit back and reap the rewards. What a smooth operator.
As the last of our carnal spasms peaked and troughed, Master gently let my arse down and unmounted me. Squeezing the last few pearls of his cum into my mouth, I waited for no command to clean Master's cock. I swallowed as much of Master's white fuckrod as I could, eagerly lapping up what's left of his spunk.
Spurred on by my voracity, Master flicked my abused tits a few times, which prompted my slavepussy to spasm again and expelled Master's cum out. It was a simple yet significant act that exhibited Master's subtle knowledge and experience that defied his age. Collecting as much as he could, Master offered the cream to my awaiting mouth, and I licked Master's fingers clean.
My tits remained sensitive for days afterwards, an opportunity that Master wielded with great effect to satisfy our mutual tit fetish.