Good To The Last Drop

Liora ground her cunt down onto your mouth with deliberate weight, the slick heat of her coating your lips and chin in a single wet smear. You licked automatically—long, flat strokes through her folds, tongue pushing between them to find the swollen bud of her clit. She tasted sharp and musky, already dripping, and every time your tongue flicked harder she rewarded you with a low, throaty hum that vibrated straight through her thighs.

“Good,” she murmured, rocking her hips so her wetness painted your face from nose to chin. “Clean me properly. You don’t get to waste a single drop while that pathetic little stump is still leaking on the floor.”

Your shrunken cock—barely an inch and a half of rigid, glistening flesh—twitched against your belly. A thin string of precum stretched from the tiny slit to your stomach. The sensitivity was almost unbearable; every pulse of blood through the reduced shaft felt magnified, as if the entire organ had been concentrated into that short, useless peg. Your balls, now tight and small as a pair of walnuts, ached with the leftover pressure of the orgasm she had already milked from you.

Liora reached down without looking and pinched the head of your miniature cock between two fingers. The contact was electric. You jerked, a muffled groan vibrating against her cunt. She laughed and rolled the tiny head slowly, smearing the fresh bead of precum around the slit until it shone.

“Still hard,” she observed, voice thick with amusement. “Even after coming. Even after being reduced to this. Does it hurt, being so small and still so desperate?”

She lifted her hips just enough to let you breathe, then turned around so she faced your feet. The new position settled her dripping cunt back over your mouth while her hands and mouth hovered above your ruined cock. You felt her warm breath first, then the soft, wet drag of her tongue across the entire length of what remained. She could take all of it in a single lick. She did—again and again—coating the stub in saliva while her fingers gently squeezed your reduced balls.

You licked harder, greedily, pushing your tongue as deep into her as you could. The more enthusiastically you serviced her, the more deliberately she toyed with you. She closed her lips around the tiny head and sucked with light, focused pressure, the kind of suction that would have felt mild on a normal cock but felt overwhelming on something this small. Your hips bucked. Another weak pulse of precum leaked onto her tongue.

“Mmm. Tastes the same,” she said after pulling off with a soft pop. “Just less of it. And so much easier to handle.”

She shifted again, rising off your face and straddling your hips instead. Her knees planted on either side of your waist. With one hand she reached down and angled your shrunken cock upward; with the other she spread her folds open. The head of your tiny cock kissed her entrance—hot, slick, and impossibly large by comparison. She lowered herself a fraction, just enough for the head to nestle between her lips, then stopped.

“Feel that?” she asked, looking down at you with a slow, cruel smile. “That’s as far as you’re going. You’re not even big enough to stretch me. You’re just… pressure. A little bump I can grind against if I feel like it.”

She began to rock. Your miniature cock slid back and forth through her wet folds, the head catching on her clit every few strokes. The friction was intense and humiliating at once—enough sensation to keep you throbbing and leaking, nowhere near enough to feel like real penetration. She controlled the angle and the pressure with casual precision, sometimes grinding down hard enough that your entire stub disappeared between her lips, sometimes lifting so only the tip kissed her.

“Look at yourself,” she ordered, nodding toward the mirror.

You turned your head. The reflection showed everything: her full, pale body rising and falling, heavy breasts swaying, and the place where your cock should have been buried deep inside her. Instead there was only the brief, intermittent glimpse of a shiny pink stub vanishing and reappearing between her folds. Your face was still shiny with her earlier juices. Your chest rose and fell in shallow, desperate breaths.

Liora reached down and slapped your thigh lightly. “I said look. Watch how little of you there is left to fuck me with.”

She picked up the pace, grinding in tight circles, using your tiny cock like a personal toy. Every time the head dragged across her clit she let out a soft, satisfied sigh. Your own pleasure built in sharp, almost painful waves—too concentrated, too limited by the reduced size. You could feel the orgasm gathering again, but it felt smaller somehow, as if even your climax had been diminished along with your cock.

“You’re going to come again,” she said, reading the tension in your body. “From this. From being used as a little clit rubber. Go on. Show me how pathetic it looks when a shrunk cock finishes.”

She tightened her thighs and ground down hard, trapping the entire length of you between her folds and her clit. The pressure and wet heat were too much. You came with a broken, high sound—thin jets of cum spurting uselessly against her skin, most of it immediately smeared back over your own shaft and balls by her continued motion. The orgasm was sharp and short, leaving you twitching and oversensitive while she kept rocking, milking every last weak pulse from you.

Only when you were gasping and half-hard again did she lift off. A string of mixed fluids connected her cunt to your shiny, spent stub for a moment before breaking. She looked down at the mess with open satisfaction.

“Still hard,” she noted, giving the head a dismissive flick with one finger. It bounced and leaked one final drop. “Good. I’m not finished with you.”

She moved up your body until she was kneeling over your chest, then higher still, settling her cunt back over your mouth. This time she faced forward so you could see the full length of her body above you—breasts, stomach, the wet, used lips of her pussy descending once more.

“Clean every drop,” she ordered. “Mine and yours. Then you’re going to stay hard while I decide how else to use what’s left of you tonight.”

You opened your mouth and obeyed, tongue working through the slick mixture of her arousal and your own thin cum. Above you, Liora reached back and gave your tiny cock a slow, possessive stroke between two fingers, keeping it rigid and aching.

The night was far from over.