Erotysia Breas in Her New Toy

For the briefest moment, Adon's mind rebels when milk begins to flow from Mistress Erotysia's perfect nipple. Only for the the briefest moment, before he realizes anew how hard Her newly-claimed cock is to think of what comes next. Never does he cease his suck, nor does he allow a drop of that precious nectar to go to waste. Immediately his lips seal around her gushing nipple. "Yes, that's My good slut," Mistress Erotysia coos, pinning Adon's face to her breast. "Drink, slut. I want you to swallow every drop."

Her milk is creamy and sweet, like liquid candy filling his mouth. When he swallows his first mouthful, he can feel Mistress' milk flow down into his belly, becoming a part of him forever. "Excellent," Mistress Erotysia says, stroking his hair. The slice of her nails against his scalp prods Adon to bury his face deeper against her breast, begging for more milk the only way he can--by suckling harder. Mistress moans her delight and pulls at his hair as she strokes his head, and her ambrosian lactations again fill Adon's captive mouth. So sweet, so satisfying, like eating strawberries in cream on a warm summer day as a boy. If she only feeds him like this for the rest of his life, if his sole sustenance for all the days of his captivity to her that lie ahead come only from this suckling, he will be content, and never beg for another morsel.

"You have such delicious thoughts, My slut," she purrs as Adon feeds. "That is part of why I picked you. But there's another reason I decided to make you My bitch. Would you like to know?"

Yes, Mistress,

Adon thinks, knowing full well she can read his mind, and fearing to let a question go without a response.

I thought you might, slut,

her voice responds inside his head.

Just like that Mistress Erotysia pulls her breast free of his mouth, and despite his best efforts, a trickle of that precious cream dribbles down Adon's chin. Feeling like the slut she's named him, Adon chases that holy nectar with his tongue, managing only to wet his face while her milk drips to the oak floor between his knees. With a smile that makes her violet eyes look all the more dangerous, Mistress snaps her fingers and points to the wasted milk. "Lick it up.

Now.

"

"Yes, Mistress," Adon hears himself say, and lowers himself to obey. The chain rattles as he prostrates himself, but it gives him just enough slack to press his face to the floor and lap up her wasted milk with his tongue. As Adon licks the floor clean, Mistress Erotysia plants a spiked heel behind his shoulder blades, forcing his head lower still and his bare ass to rise in the air as a counter-balance.

"Good boy. Lick it all up. And what does Mistress' slut say when She feeds him from Her breast?"

"Thank You, Mistress," Adon cries as her heel grinds into his skin. "Thank You for Your milk."

Gods, this is delicious, even off the floor.

The thoughts run through Adon's head unbidden, but he knows they're his own. Or he's pretty sure.

I wonder what her cum tastes like? Her piss?

As he thinks it, he realizes the curiosity is deep, needing to be satisfied. Can she project thoughts into his mind in his own mental voice, beyond the way her projected voice violates his naked awareness already? No, he's almost certain these are his thoughts--his desires. Which just opens a whole new series of questions he's not in the place to answer at the moment.

Satisfied he's cleaned up his mess, Mistress removes her heel and pulls Adon back to his knees by his hair. "You're learning so quickly, My slut. You make your Owner proud. Now..." Those violet eyes sparkle with evil intent as they run over the length of his naked body, chained and bowed before her. "I asked you before: would you like to know another reason I chose you to be My bitch boy?"

Understanding she'll know if he lies, Adon tells her the truth. "Yes, Mistress. Why me?"

Mistress Erotysia runs her hands along his cheeks, laughs. "Because you were so determined not to beg. Because you held fast to your identity, to your mind. Because I want to break you, and I want to hear you beg your Owner like the fucking bitch slut that you are. What are you?"

"I'm a fucking bitch slut, Mistress."

She slaps him, cocks an eyebrow.

"I'm

Your

fucking bitch slut, Mistress."

"Mmm, very good." Her hands leave his face and she walks away to poke through a pile of leather straps and gods know what on a nearby table. Instantly his body cries out for her presence, for her touch, and his mind wobbles to think he's so quickly becoming completely addicted to her attentions. Mistress isn't even out of sight, yet it feels like a part of him has just been ripped away.

What is she doing to me? Is this some form of magick, to have so quickly turned my will and every instinct against me?

If she hears his thoughts--and Adon has no doubt she does--then Mistress gives them no thought of her own. Instead she returns bearing a silver ring slightly larger around than two of Adon's fingers, and a chain leash with a clasp at one end and a leather handle at the other.

"In a moment I'm going to unchain you from the wall, My slut," Mistress Erotysia informs Adon as she pulls him to his feet. "But first, I'm going to ensure you remember whom you belong to once I do. First, I need you to go limp." And as she wills it to be so, Adon's cock--Her cock--loses its vigor and shrinks. Soon as it goes, Mistress slips the metal ring over and down his shaft to the base, and loops the balls through it as well. "Now you may tribute Me your erection again, My slut." At Mistress' command, Her cock instantly hardens again, trapping the ring where it lies. In moments Adon can already feel and see the ring's effects--the arteries in Her cock bulge, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, and he's so sensitive that the very air in the room feels like a lover's caress against this exposed sex. Grinning, Mistress runs her fingers lightly up and down Her cock, tickles the glans. Then she attaches the leash to the ring at Her cock's base and gives a tug--playful, yet enough to let Adon know she means business.

Once her slave is properly leashed, Mistress Erotysia unlocks the chain from Adon's collar, and guides him down to his hands and knees. Giving the cock leash a tug, she encourages Adon to crawl prostate behind her as she leads him into the farther reaches of this combined imperial bedroom and dungeon. As Adon crawls across the floor he focuses his attention on the way her wide, luscious ass bounces in her red and black latex. Feeling filthy, he wishes he could lick the crack of that ass, kiss the cheeks, even worship her yet unseen asshole with his tongue as he did her nipples earlier. Rummaging about in his mind, Mistress Erotysia gives a throaty laugh.

Oh, My slut, you are a treasure. Why didn't I claim you earlier?

Perhaps he should feel ashamed, but Adon instead feels pride. If there is any shame to be mingled in with that pride, it only turns him on to feel both at once, and to know She knows he feels it.

Mistress Erotysia gives the cock leash a sharp jerk and brings him to a halt. "Up," she commands, and he stands. "Raise your arms, wrists together," she orders, and he complies, unsure whether by his own will or through her telepathic command of his body. His wrists she binds to a wooden cross with leather cuffs, then having done so, she turns a crank to lift the cross off the floor, leaving him to dangle slightly. Off balance, unable to defend himself in any way, his backside exposed to her, Adon can barely see Mistress by turning his head, and soon as he does she slaps him and orders him to face the wall.

"Now, My slut," Mistress Erotysia says, her voice ice. "Now you're going to learn just whom you belong to, My bitch boy. Now I'm going to hurt you, and I'm not going to stop until

long

after you've begged Me to do so. I want to hear you scream until you're hoarse."

Many have been the whippings Adon's taken in the quarries over the years since he was enslaved. None have felt like this. The masters aimed to subdue, to humiliate, to prove that they could do whatever they liked to you and you were helpless to resist. If they wanted to kill you, they could. Adon gets that same old net of sensations as Mistress Erotysia takes her whip to his back, to his buttocks, to his legs. With every fall of the lash, Adon understands the more how helpless he is, how alone he is, how bereft of hope for freedom his life has become. At the same time, there's an art to Mistress Erotysia's lashing--she focuses on certain parts of his body that, as someone who's been whipped plenty in his life, Adon recognizes as "safe" places for the whip, targets for punishment that risk neither permanent injury nor even temporary immobility. Sometimes the masters came close to killing him, whether they meant to or not, and a few of those whippings left him unable to move for days. Yet this whipping--Adon knows all the more with every lash that he is Owned, that She will do with him as She will, and yet, an insane part of him feels safe, valued even. And he

likes

it.

She's driving me insane,

skitters the thought across his mind as Mistress Erotysia lays into him with the whip.

She's taking my mind from me, and leaving me...

What? He can't think of the word.

Whole,

Mistress Erotysia purrs within his mind.

I am completing you, My slut. I am remaking you in My vision, as you were ever meant to be.

Gradually his mind slips into a pleasant fog, not unconscious but not entirely aware, and the pain becomes little more than a warmth deep within. At some point he begins to sob and beg, but the part of him crying and pleading is distant, an other outside this peaceful bliss Adon has found within himself. Vaguely he's aware of Mistress Erotysia unbuckling the cuffs round his wrists and guiding him down to kneel on the floor. "My good boy," she coos as his very essence oozes into a puddle on the warm floorboards at her feet. "You did so well, My slut. Your Mistress is very proud of you. Come."

Adon's thighs burn as he again crawls across the floor behind Mistress Erotysia. Slowly his awareness returns, and all the reddening stripes across his back and lower extremities make their presence known in a wild clamber, like a thousand children all trying to form a line and every one wants to stand at the front. Were there far to go he might not make it, and damn whatever power Mistress has over his mind--even her control couldn't make him do things that are physically impossible, Adon is sure. Or if he's not sure, he suspects.

Luckily, Mistress leads him to the bed, parts the leopard print curtain and guides him atop the matching sheets within. The mattress--or what he thought was a mattress--rolls and swishes with a sound like waves as Adon crawls toward the center of the bed. Hearing his confusion within her own mind, Mistress smiles. "It's called a waterbed, My slut. They were more common in the times before the Sky Fires. I find them enchanting, and so fun for fucking on." Pink tongue runs round her black lips as he looks down at him. "Let's have that leash off so I can play with My cock properly. You've been a good boy so far, and you're going to continue being a good boy for Mistress, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," Adon says at once, feeling more himself again. Or, the himself he has become since she brought him here. How long has it been since he awakened? An hour? It feels like a lifetime has gone by since he was another, quietly defiant, slave in the quarries. Already, so much within him has changed. "I want to be a good boy for you, Mistress."

"Mmm, excellent." Mistress unhooks the cock leash and tosses it to the floor beside the bed, but she leaves the cock ring in place. A vague worry of what long-term effect it might have on his circulation passes through Adon's head, and Mistress laughs. "I wouldn't break My favorite toy, would I? There is magick in this ring, My slut. It will keep you hard--and you'll find it has other purposes--but it will also keep My cock nice and healthy so long as you wear it for Me." Lightly she tickles the glans, grinning as Her cock twitches between her fingertips. "Mmm, I might not even ever take it off you."

"Please..." Adon begins, unsure of where he's going with this. All he knows is that he needs to beg. Just what he's begging for, he couldn't say. But she's reduced him to begging, and begging is the only thing his mind can handle in this moment. "Please, Mistress..."

Perhaps knowing Adon's needs better than he does at the moment, Mistress Erotysia sidles up alongside him and sets a perfect brown nipple to his begging lips. More of her sweet cream fills his mouth, and he drinks greedily, wanting it all. Will her breasts still be so fantastic if he sucks her dry? But no, he suspects he never could suck her dry. There is deep magick in his Mistress, and part of him knows the milk that flows from her breast must carry its own... blessing, or curse? The two concepts war within a part of his mind, yet the scent and taste and sight of her glorious bust is all he can focus on, and such cares drop aside, forgotten.

"Very good." Mistress strokes his hair, laughs in delight. As Adon drinks, perhaps it's his imagination, but he feels as if his hurts from the whipping lessen, as if the open wounds on his back were knitting together and healing with every gulp of his Owner's precious cream. "My good boy. Let it go. All is Me. I am Everything." She breaks him off one nipple just long enough to guide his lips to the other. Even this moment with his lips removed from her breast is agony of a sort the whip could never match. "Drink your Mistress, My slut, and submit to this peace. You want this. You know you do."

I do,

Adon feels deep within himself as he swallows another mouthful.

I always did.

After what might have been an age of the world for all Adon could say, Erotysia again pulls her breasts from reach of his mouth. She draws herself up on the sheets, violet eyes running over his naked and bruised body. "My turn," she purrs, and directs Adon to lay flat on his back. He expects intense pain when he goes to the sheets, though he never hesitates to obey. But there is no pain, and he wonders again if her milk really has healed his wounds, or if through some other magick she's suppressing his ability to feel pain until she's done using him for her pleasure. Either way, he has no time for such thoughts, as Mistress Erotysia's knees take up residence against his ears, meaty ass toward his nose, leaving Adon with little doubt of what comes next.

"Worship your Mistress, bitch," she coos as the Meaning of Existence descends upon Adon's face. Glorious gaping pink, already dripping sweetness upon his needy cheeks that feels like the first drops of rain to a man dying of thirst in the desert. Her juices give life; he knows this in an instant, in the same instinctive way he knows water is wet.

Worship,

her voice echoes in Adon's mind, but as those fantastic pink lips meet the inferior ones ringing his slave mouth, he needs no direction. How could he

not

worship her? As her thighs tighten against his cheeks, trapping his face, Adon strains to bury his lips, his tongue, his face--his soul;

Her soul

--between her folds, in a mad lust for all the unholy power and majesty that has descended upon his unworthy mouth. If her breasts were his whole world before, now he has died and found heaven in Her cunt.

Even more than the whip, the firm grip of Mistress Erotysia's thighs around Adon's face makes him feel safe, treasured, claimed, Owned. Somewhere far above, in a higher realm of heaven than the one Adon finds himself, Mistress screams her pleasure, and her precious squirt flows into Adon's mouth and down his face. Desperate to taste her, he swallows every drop that makes it in his mouth, wanting more, please,

more

. Her cum is like an aged wine on his tongue, and like her milk he feels it become a part of him as it slides down his captive throat. "You're Mine," Mistress moans as she marks him, drenches him, and never has Adon felt such perverse pride. Her body quivers atop his face, and she grinds down harder as she rides his tongue, rubbing her cunt and asshole along the length of his face, leaving her cum in streaks across his skin. "Mine," she repeats, a mantra of Ownership. "Mine. My slut. Mine."

Never before has Adon wanted anything half so bad as to make Mistress Erotysia cum, again and again. No matter how many times she vibrates atop his face, no matter how much of her squirt he swallows, still he wants more. At first he's barely even aware of her fingers wrapping round Her cock and beginning to stroke. Never does he want to get so lost in his own pleasure that he should neglect hers.

Yes, my pleasure comes first,

she purrs in his mind.

Such a good boy. Yet good boys get rewarded.

Her gyrations atop his face settle, and Adon finds her engorged clit with his lips. Hoping to please her a new way, he takes her clit lightly in his lips, lovingly, sucking at it like it's a cock.

Her moan in response is the greatest reward he could have hoped for, short of another mouthful of her sweet squirt. Yet just as glorious a reward is the way her grip tights around Her cock, and her strokes pick up speed. Pre-cum oozes from the head of that cock, which Adon is sure must only be at her telepathic permission, a boon to lubricate this milking.

Just like that,

she commands within his mind, her will absolute.

Just like that, My slut.

His tongue flicks at the head of her clit where it has slipped beyond his lips, teasing her like he wishes a mouth would tease his glans. He blows her, like the slut he is, wishing she would cum in his mouth. Wishing she would mark him again as her property.

"Goooood," Mistress Erotysia purrs aloud, and a fresh wave of sweet squirt washes over his face. Her dominant hands milks him frantically, and finally she gives the command he's secretly prayed for. "Such a good boy. Cum for me, My slut. Cum for me

now

."

Adon couldn't resist her command if he tried, and not just because he aches to his very soul to obey. He realizes as Her cock explodes that she was telling the truth earlier--he will cum whenever she desires, however she desires, as much as she desires, whenever she wills him to do so.

Yes, surrender your cum to Mistress, My good slut,

her voice coos within his mind.

And know that with every drop you spill for Me, My control over you grows deeper still. With every drop of My milk you drink from My breast, with every squirt from My cunt that trickles down your slave throat, with every ounce of seed you spill in My service, you are bound the more to Me, enslaved through My power, addicted to My presence. So cum for me, My slut, and know that every time you do, My power over you grows more absolute.

"I want you give you all my cum, Mistress," Adon moans. "All of it, forever. Please." Already, he knows she has broken him, for as he says these words, he knows they're true. He is Hers, to train and brainwash and use as She pleases.

Mistress Erotysia owns me,

he hears himself think.

My good slut,

her voice purrs back within his mind. Her mind.

Yes, My good slut. I Own you.

"I am Your property, Mistress," he hears himself say, knowing it's true. And not because She holds him captive. Never has such surety been so terrifying, nor felt so right.

Telling Adon how proud she is, what a good boy he's being, Mistress Erotysia spreads his cum--Her cum--about her breasts, and pulls Adon up by his hair to lick and suck and worship them clean. Beyond clean, till her engorged breasts glisten with the waters of his mouth, and thought of escape has long fled from any vestige where it might still have hidden within Adon's mind.