Queening aka smother party aka breathless devotion...

A time ago I've had a memorable encounter. The centre of it.... was, you guessed it: Mistresses Temple Worship

My slave and lover....

He didn't speak when I summoned him. We looked in each others eyes for minutes... time passed, music played, the air was fragrant with lust. It didn't take him long and he knew his place. He undressed looking at me, he knelt, naked and silent, his eyes down. He longed for what was coming, for what was inevitable.
He knew this isn't just pleasure. This was a rite — a ritual of power, of worship, of breaking and bonding.

I had him lie down, his arms outstretched, body open. I walked slowly around him, clicking with my heels. Room filed with anticipation, letting him feel my presence, the gravity of my intention. I've been savouring every detail: his chest going up and down while breathing, his pulse in his neck, his lips parting... the blindfold made him sink even more into his other senses.

I could see his cock twitching, already aching, untouched. It pleased me. Just the sound of my breath, the scent of my arousal, and the knowledge of what I was about to do was enough to unravel him.
I'd touch him gently with my long nails, run my fingers though his hair, touch his face, almost kiss him...

I'd let him suck on my fingers one by one… slowly… as I whispered how they were just lost inside my sweetest secret, still warm and dripping from the way I clenched around them.

I was promising him the entry to that secret, that Temple of mine and would even squat above his face so he could almost kiss it. Close enough to catch my warm scent, yet far enough to be unable to kiss... his body was impatient, moving, aching for more. Sights and moans vibrated in the air, bringing smile to my face. I enjoyed his whispers: "Oh please, Mistress "... but no... that's my Queendom. I am doing this in my own pease, how I please. Teasing would only make him want it more.

When I finally straddled his face, I didn't rush. Oh no... I whispered down to him: "You breathe when I allow it. You worship." Only "Yes Mistress" was enough to seal his faith.

I sank down, deeper. My thighs locked around his face... I claimed his mouth. What a feeling... what a power... to take the pleasure to my own liking! Just exactly how I want and need. Isn't he a lucky one to be a tool to my pleasure?
I smothered him with my wetness, soaked his face with my scent, used his tongue like a tool. His moans vibrated against me, giving me even more pleasure. I was grinding myself into his face with slow, deliberate power. Just the way I like it. Watching his helpless arousal twitching...

I didn't let him breathe freely. I controlled it — lifting just enough, just in time, keeping him hovering between bliss and blackout. His body was moving, his cock leaking endlessly, untouched and throbbing, his whole beeing hooked into my rhythm, my scent, my warmth and my commanding voice.

Between every descent of my hips, I whispered mantras into his soul:
"You are mine."
"You exist to serve.
"Your only purpose is my pleasure",
"My toy".

He was beneath me, dissolving into pure submission, pure need. Our desires melted into one Eccstatic Eruption, ... just one, claimed, perfectly crafted...made for me and invoked by him. "Good toy", "Good serving" ... he was happy, blessed with holy waters of my Temple. Now he could feel pulsing, he could hear how my breath way a SENSATION ... of something Devine moving though me...
He was blamed with my scent, imprinted even deeper into his being, even a bit more mine. I love that invisible branding... only I and he knows.

I was glowing. Fed, nourished. High on power. Wet from the inside out. Connected with my purpose... soft, feminine.

Maybe next time I'll wrap my fingers around his throat.