The House of Lesslie Part 2

Clear and thick girl cum rushed past her cunt lips as she watched me delight in the taste of her shit, flaking on my lips as I slid my cigar past the brown stains and let the tip of it burn brightly, in deep orange and red, a glow that only seemed to be surpassed by the hellish spark she could see in my eyes.

"Oh.. god," she whimpered as the floods of her own hellish lust rushed through her to overwhelm any kind of decency that may have been still there, holding it all back, but no more. Her body expelled it, with such force that it gushed through her cunt and out of her body, squirts of depravity that made her legs tremble.

"All of you tastes good," I told her.

I leaned in and brought my lips to hers, looking for a sign of revulsion. But there was only acceptance, with our lips locking around gaping moths and tongues licking each other. And Caroline's body shuddered under the newfound sensation, newfound tastes, just as I had hoped, greedily lapping up that warm goo from my lips that had come from deep within herself.

Between us was now filth, shared.

I left it in her mouth, allowing a string of spit to connect us for a moment longer as I withdrew, like a shiny temporary chain that had been wrapped around her soul, before I wiped it off from my lips.

"Do you want to become?" I asked her.

"Like you, Mistress?" she whispered back, shivering at the thought.

"Is that something you aspired to, darling?"

I laughed.

"Is there cruelty in you, dear Caroline?"

"I don't..." she began. "I don't know, Mistress."

"Would you like for me to find out?" I lifted her chin and forced her to stare up at me, her goddess, her lover. The answer was a pain-filled, lustful hiss.

"Yesss."

"Then squat for me."

There was a moment of hesitation, quickly remedied by a kick against the inside of the Irish girl's calves, forcing her legs to re-adjust to a new stance, making her squat on the carpet in mother's former office.