Yes Mistress

It takes some effort to work your slimy tongue around and swallow enough to respond, which leaves a pronounced spice on your taste buds. "Yes, Mistress," you whisper, admittedly satisfied with the piquant treat. "Thank you, Mistress..."

Her eyes remain fixed on your as her loving hand trails down the side of your face, the slight tickle evoking a shudder through your sensitive flesh. "Good girl. You've earned a reward." Her husky voice echoes behind you as her attention turns and she stalks around, back to your dripping rear.

There's an agonizing lull of heavy panting and the occasional wet patter on the stone floor, but as you begin to seriously worry she's forgotten you, the Crimson Queen lets out a hot sigh directly upon your nethers. Your breath hitches, hers followed by the touch of a sinuous tongue, tingling and tantalizing you from tailbone to clit. Your sore holes are treated to the delicate yet deviously deft ministrations of a long, hot, wet appendage, and soon her soft lips as well.

A squeak escapes your spice-breathed throat as the heat continues to build between your legs, straining up to your toes before the Crimson Queen's lavishing mouth. It soon turns to the moaning you've grown accustomed to voicing as one kiss is planted on your ass and her tongue invades with thrilling precision. You're driven to the heights of pleasure as she snakes her way in and out, and downward to your soaking pussy, where her lips on your clit, her tongue in your folds, and her vibrating moans and fiery breaths push you over the edge and beyond.

Your body quivers, tense and hot, gasps broken by cries of ecstasy elicited one after another. You try voicing your appreciation again, but aren't sure if it comes out as anything more sensible than the mewling of a nymph in heat. She seems to know exactly how to use her serpentine tongue to pry the maximum amount of pleasure from your burning pussy. Amid the torrent of bliss, you exert every ounce of energy you have to ride out the orgasm to its fullest.

Somewhere in it all, you're left spent and bent over the pedestal, unlocked from the stocks to hang limp draped atop the cushion. You're vaguely aware of sharing a passionate cinnamon kiss before falling fast asleep. When you come to, you're in your own bed, the memories of Halloween night a spicy blur. It had to have been a dream, you think, until the hint of cinnamon follows you into the morning.