Hold your tongue

I tightened the loops so the bar held my mouth open. Cute with just an air of gormlessness.

“Mouth open at all times.” she’d said, and I wasn’t going to let her down. She appreciated the photo of me, naked with the device secured.

Play did not come easily. My mouth filled with saliva and my cunt gasped and slicked with come but something – the toy between my thigh or the lack of another person there to guide me or the knot of frustration twisting in my chest. I came in spite of myself, subdued and tired.

I relayed this to her, my tongue restrained and my mouth a pool of spit.

“Let it run down your chin and cheek” she instructed.

Being debased turned me on more than touching myself had. Watching saliva cascade from my lips, a bubbling, endless mess created by my obedience.

Anything for her.

She shows me off to her husband. His approval, of my silent, shallow messiness. My even devotion to his wife’s instruction, makes me blush. When she tells me how far his approval reaches – the thickening in his groin, I blush harder still and wish there weren’t the miles between us.

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