You lick it up

Your tongue extends instinctively, lapping at the mixture of your fluids. The taste is overwhelming—bitter and salty and tinged with her musk. Emma moans softly as you clean her, guiding your head with both hands now, pressing you harder against her as she grinds against your face.

"Such a good boy," she purrs, watching your every movement. Her hands move to cradle your head as she begins rocking her hips, fucking your face with slow, deliberate thrusts. The vixenite collar digs into your throat as she pulls you forward, but the discomfort only heightens your awareness of your submission.

She abruptly pulls your head back by the hair, making you gasp for air.

"Look at me," she commands, and you do. Her face is flushed, her expression showing how much she's enjoying this. She sees the glisten of your saliva and your own fluids on your face, and smiles.

"Perfect," she murmurs. "My personal fuckpet, dressed in diamonds and covered in my pussy and your own pathetic seed." She releases your hair only to trace the E.M. studded across your collar with one finger. "This belongs to me now. Just like the rest of you."

Emma steps back and walks around her desk, giving you a full view of her ass swaying under the short skirt as she moves.

You remain kneeling, chest heaving, face still slick with your fluids as Emma takes her seat behind the massive oak desk. The high-backed leather chair swallows her small frame, but her presence fills the space effortlessly. She crosses her legs slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric of her skirt ride up her thighs before finally settling. Her fingers trace the edge of the desk where you had been moments ago, collecting a smear of cum between her fingertips.

"You've done so well, my pet," she says, bringing the finger to her mouth. Her tongue flicks out, tasting you before sucking it clean with a satisfied hum. "I think you deserve a reward."

Emma opens the top drawer of her desk, her movements slow and purposeful as she retrieves a slender black velvet box. The soft click of the lid opening reveals a row of gleaming silver anal plugs, each one smaller than the last—graduating from slim to something that would make even a seasoned submissive pause. She runs her fingers along the lineup before selecting the middle-sized plug with a practiced motion, her manicured nails catching the light.

"Stand up," she commands, and you obey immediately, your legs unsteady from your earlier exertion. Emma rises from her chair smoothly, moving toward you with a hunter's grace.