Thank her

The words come out breathless, grateful. "Thank you, Mistress."

You're still bent forward, hands flat on the floor, ass in the air. Morgan's hand rests possessively on your lower back, her fingers warm against your skin. You hear her breath catch slightly at your words.

"For what?" she asks, her voice dropping into that husky register that makes your cock throb. Her hand slides down over your ass again, squeezing firmly. "Tell me what you're thanking me for."

You have to think through the haze of arousal clouding your brain. "For making me yours, Mistress. For accepting ownership of me. For collaring me."

Her other hand joins the first, both palms now gripping your ass as she examines you in this **** position. "You designed yourself to need this," she says, and there's wonder in her voice. "To crave my control. And now here you are, bent over and exposed, thanking me for dominating you." She releases you suddenly. "Stand up and face me."

You straighten immediately, turning to face her. The blood rushes to your head from the change in position, but your enhanced body adjusts quickly. Morgan stands before you, her wings spread slightly, the arousal glow intensifying across her breasts and down her stomach. Her nipples are visibly hard.

"You're welcome," she says, reaching out to hook one finger under your collar's front D-ring. She pulls you closer, forcing you to take a stumbling step toward her. "I'm going to enjoy every moment of owning you. Every command. Every time you kneel. Every time you call me Mistress." Her free hand wraps around your cock, stroking slowly. "And judging by this, you're going to enjoy it too."

Your hips push forward into her grip automatically. "Yes, Mistress."

"I think we should give our viewers a proper show," she says, glancing toward one of the bedroom cameras mounted discreetly in the corner. "They've been very patient, watching us explore this new dynamic. But they paid for porn, didn't they? They paid to see my property used." She releases your cock and steps back, walking toward the enormous bed. "Come here."

You follow immediately, your smaller frame moving quickly to keep pace with her longer strides. She sits on the edge of the bed, her legs spreading slightly, and gestures to the floor between them. "Kneel."

You drop to your knees without hesitation, settling between her spread thighs. From this angle you can see everything—her perfect breasts with their hard nipples, the defined muscles of her abdomen, the neat strip of blonde hair between her legs. The scent of her arousal is intoxicating, mixing with her pheromones to create a smell that makes your mouth water.

"I want you to make me come," Morgan says, reaching down to stroke your hair almost affectionately. "Use your mouth. Show me how grateful you are to belong to me."

You lean forward immediately, pressing your face between Morgan's thighs. Her scent is overwhelming—arousal mixed with those engineered pheromones that make your hindbrain light up with need. You start with your tongue flat against her, dragging slowly upward from her entrance to her clit, tasting her for the first time in these new bodies.

"Fuck," Morgan breathes above you, her hand immediately moving to grip your hair. Not gently—possessively, fingers twisting in the dark strands to control the angle of your head. "That's it. Show me what that mouth is for."

You circle her clit with your tongue, then suck gently, and her thighs immediately clamp around your head. The muscles are powerful, enhanced, capable of crushing if she wanted. But she just holds you there, trapped between her legs, while you work. Your enhanced stamina means you don't need to breathe as often, can focus entirely on the rhythm and pressure that makes her hips shift forward against your face.

"Harder," she commands, her voice already getting breathless. "I want to feel it."

You increase the pressure, alternating between broad strokes of your tongue and focused attention on her clit. Her grip in your hair tightens almost painfully, and you realize she's using it like a leash, pulling you exactly where she wants you. When you slide your tongue inside her, she moans—a low, guttural sound that makes your cock throb between your legs.

"God, you're good at this," she pants. "Such an eager little thing. So **** to please me." Her other hand moves to grip one of her own breasts, squeezing hard. "Don't stop. Don't you fucking dare stop."

You don't. You keep working, reading her body's responses with your enhanced sexual intelligence—when her breathing quickens, when her thighs tremble, when her grip in your hair becomes almost violent. You can feel her getting close, the muscles of her abdomen tensing, her arousal glow intensifying until it seems to pulse with her heartbeat.

"Yes," she gasps, "yes, just like that, right there—"

Her orgasm hits like a wave. Her entire body goes rigid, thighs clamping around your head so tightly you can barely move, her hand nearly tearing your hair out by the roots. She cries out—not words, just raw sound—and you feel her pulsing against your tongue. You keep working through it, gentler now, drawing out her pleasure until she finally releases your hair and pushes your head back.

"Stop," she pants, her chest heaving. "Too sensitive."

You sit back on your heels immediately, your face slick with her arousal, looking up at her. Morgan sprawls back on the bed, wings spread wide, her perfect body flushed and glowing. She looks down at you with those enormous pale blue eyes, and her smile is pure satisfaction.

"Good boy," she murmurs. "Very good boy."

You remain kneeling between her spread thighs, your face still wet with her arousal, looking up at her flushed and glowing body. The words come naturally, reverently.

"Thank you, Mistress," you say, your voice soft but clear. "Thank you for allowing me to serve you."

Morgan props herself up on her elbows, those enormous pale blue eyes focusing on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. Her wings are still spread wide across the bed, white feathers disheveled from her orgasm. For a long moment she just stares at you, and you can see something working behind her expression—pleasure, satisfaction, and something deeper.

"You're thanking me," she says slowly, "for letting you lick my pussy until I came on your face." It's not quite a question, more like she's testing the words, understanding their weight.

"Yes, Mistress," you reply without hesitation. "For letting me please you. For using me."

She sits up fully, swinging her long legs over the edge of the bed so that you're still kneeling directly between them. Her hand reaches out to cup your chin, tilting your face up. Her thumb brushes across your lower lip, still slick with her.

"You really mean that, don't you?" she asks. "This isn't roleplay. You genuinely feel grateful that I let you service me."

"I do, Mistress. Serving you is what I exist for now."

Her expression shifts—wonder mixing with something darker, more possessive. "Say it again. Tell me what you exist for."

"I exist to serve you, Mistress. To please you. To be used by you however you want." Each word sends pleasure cascading through your rewired brain. "That's all I am. Your property. Your toy. Your possession."

Morgan's grip on your chin tightens. "And you're grateful for it."

"So grateful, Mistress."

She releases your face and leans back slightly, her eyes roaming over your kneeling form. Your cock is still rock-hard between your legs, untouched and aching. She notices immediately, her gaze lingering there before returning to your face.

"You haven't even asked to come," she observes. "You're kneeling there, hard as steel, thanking me for using your mouth, and you haven't once asked for your own pleasure."

"My pleasure comes from serving you, Mistress," you answer truthfully. "If you want me to come, I'll come. If you don't, I won't. It's your choice."

Her smile is slow, predatory, delighted. "You really did make yourself perfect for me, didn't you?" She stands abruptly, forcing you to tilt your head back even further to maintain eye contact. "Stay there. Don't move."

She walks toward one of the closets, her perfect ass swaying with each step, leaving you kneeling on the floor with your face still wet from pleasuring her.