It was summertime, just days before Katrina and her husband would head for the mountains for a couple of months... a quiet summer escape they were looking forward to.

However, before they left, there would be some time spent with Giselle. The three of them had been getting together for years, and the evenings were always full of surprises: something new, something risqué.

A few weeks prior, the three of them had come together in their roles as Master, Mistress, and Slave. They all shared an evening that none of them would forget. An indulgent, sensual night where Giselle was not just a guest but their beautiful plaything, their gorgeous sex-toy, their submissive. Their Sex Slave.

The focus had been all on her.

On that evening, after welcoming Giselle into their home, Katrina and her husband took turns in a little game of erotic question and answer. Questioning Giselle about her sexual experiences and fantasies. Drawing out her secrets, desires, and turn-ons in a game of titillating confession that only intensified the mood.

Giselle even leaned in to whisper the fantasies she’d saved just for Katrina—intimate, explicit things meant only for her—speaking just softly enough to keep Katrina’s husband from hearing, knowing it would leave him burning to know them.

How exquisitely tantalizing were the secrets that slipped from Giselle’s lips.

When Giselle was flushed with desire from her own revealing confessions, she was stripped bare, stretched across the dining room table, and covered in whipped cream and berries—her body a canvas for pleasure. Katrina had been the first to enjoy her—eager, hungry—licking the sweet cream and berries from Giselle’s skin with slow, decadent delight. Her husband had followed, savoring every inch of her, every moan she gave in return.

Then they moved to the bedroom, where Giselle repaid the gift, coating Katrina in berries and cream, then worshiping every inch with lips and tongue until Katrina trembled beneath her touch, breathless and wanting.

Katrina’s husband participated fully in the evening. He didn’t just enjoy it, he relished it. The raw, unfiltered sensuality between his wife and Giselle. He knew the way Katrina and Giselle kissed was exotic and full of hunger. He saw how Katrina’s hands moved smoothly over Giselle’s firm body. How Giselle responded—and pleasured Katrina in return. They melted beneath each other’s touch. He loved watching them. The sight of them together, fully engaged, fully knowing one another, was one of his deepest turn-ons. Watching Katrina take her time. Watching Giselle kiss and caress his wife. It wasn’t something he needed to be part of to enjoy. The thought of them together without him was equally as hot—his fantasy. They were sexually perfect for each other—a storm of heat and desire. He understood how fortunate he was, and he thanked them for every second of it.

It was only a while ago that Katrina and Giselle started getting together alone with each other. Just the two of them experiencing the intimacy of their bodies. What once began as shared play with Katrina’s husband had deepened into something more intimate. The three of them still came together often, as experienced just last week... uninhibited, playful, and always eager to push boundaries. But there was a growing rhythm between the two women who had become entirely their own. A connection shaped by trust, chemistry, and heat that lingered in them.

Now, with only days left before Katrina and her husband would escape to the mountains for their summer retreat, something else took precedence. Katrina and Giselle both felt it building, a steady, urgent need neither could ignore.

They wanted an evening together, deliberately and just the two of them, knowing it would be their last chance for a few months. Plans were made, messages exchanged with simple clarity, and the anticipation of what was to come settled between them like a promise. The evening wasn’t just about connection; it was about claiming what they both wanted—raw, unfiltered, and entirely each other.

The last time the two of them were alone together, there were no roles, no titles—just bodies, desire, and the kind of raw, mutual pleasure that left them both wrecked and wanting more. Giselle had teased about taking the lead next time, but Katrina already knew what she wanted. She didn’t want to return fully to her role as Mistress—not anymore. Their bond had deepened, grown more intimate, more personal.

But the craving was still there. For one night, she wanted to wear that title again—on her own terms, without her husband present. The thrill of control. The rush of command. The way Giselle surrendered so completely when she called her Mistress.

She had messaged Giselle a few days prior—simple, direct: “Next time, I wear my Mistress collar. You’ll wear nothing but obedience and your Slave collar.” Giselle’s reply was immediate, and exactly what Katrina had hoped for: “Yes, my Mistress”.

The last time the two of them were alone together, they enjoyed one another equally—no roles, each as themselves, just mutual pleasure. But this evening would be different. This wasn’t about equality. It was about control. About stepping back into the roles they both knew well—Mistress and Slave.

In the past, their roles had always carried a relaxed, playful edge and included Katrina’s husband. But tonight, Katrina wasn’t playing. Tonight, she wanted her Slave to herself, and she intended to take everything she wanted—and leave Giselle begging for more.

The evening had arrived. They met at a luxurious resort suite. Giselle had entered and quietly went over to the bed as instructed. Katrina stood at the foot of the bed, dressed in black silk lingerie, her leather collar gleaming against her skin—proclaiming her position as “Mistress”. Her long, toned legs were framed by lace stockings, a black garter belt, and high heels. Her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, and her eyes burned with hunger. Giselle knelt before her—nude, save for her own high heels and the matching leather collar at her throat, proclaiming her position as “Sex Slave”. Her breath came shallow, her long, wavy red hair spilling down her sculpted back, eyes obediently downcast.

Katrina stepped forward, her fingers sliding under Giselle’s chin and lifting it with purpose. “You’ve been waiting for this all day, haven’t you, my Slave?” she asked, her voice thick with authority.

“Yes, Mistress,” Giselle whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

Katrina leaned in close, her lips grazing Giselle’s ear. “I touched myself earlier today thinking about how desperate you'd be to please me. Now I want to watch you come undone.” With a firm push to the shoulder, Katrina guided Giselle onto the bed and climbed over her, straddling her with slow, deliberate weight. Her lips trailed down Giselle’s neck, each kiss a tease—lingering just long enough to leave her trembling.

“Place your hands above your head, Slave,” she ordered. “If they move… I’ll punish you.”

A soft whimper escaped. “Yes, Mistress.”

Katrina’s mouth crashed down on Giselle’s—fierce, claiming, hot. Her tongue plunged deep, her hand sliding down Giselle’s body until it cupped her breast, squeezing hard enough to make her arch with need. Every nerve in Giselle’s body lit up like a live wire.

“You’re mine tonight,” Katrina growled against her mouth. “And you won’t cum until you scream my name.” She kissed her again—deeper, slower, controlled. The kind of kiss that devours. One hand twisted into Giselle’s thick red hair, tugging her head back slightly, claiming her mouth fully. Katrina pressed her hips down, grounding Giselle beneath her, making her feel completely taken.

Giselle whimpered, her body squirming with need, but her hands stayed obediently above her head, grasping at the headboard. Mistress tied them there with a soft rope, securing her Slave to the bed. The discipline only made the ache sharper, sweeter. Katrina broke the kiss just enough to whisper, lips brushing hers. “Feel that? The way your body begs for mine?”  

“Yes, Mistress…” Giselle’s voice was hoarse, lips kiss-bruised, her pulse wild.

Katrina kissed her again, this time with open hunger. Their mouths moved with wet, gasping need, tongues colliding. Giselle clung to the edge of control, lips parting like she’d been starved for Katrina—because she had.

Katrina’s hand traced slowly up Giselle’s side, dragging across sensitive skin until her fingers found her nipple and pinched. Giselle cried out, her back arching. Katrina’s teeth found her lower lip next, biting hard enough to claim it, then soothing the sting with her tongue.

“I could keep you here forever,” Katrina murmured, mouth drifting to her jaw. “Pinned, aching, dripping for me… with no release in sight.” Giselle nodded, dazed.

“Please, Mistress… I need your body.”

Katrina smiled, slow and wicked. “Oh, you’ll get me,” she purred. “But only when I say. On my terms.”

She sealed her lips to Giselle’s again—slow, consuming. Time blurred in the press of heat, the rhythm of breath, and the unspoken promise of everything that hadn’t happened yet. Her hands moved lower, possessive and slow, fingertips tracing every inch of Giselle’s trembling body like she was memorizing her. She slid one thigh between Giselle’s legs, pressing it firmly against her sex.

“You’re already soaking, my little Slave,” Katrina whispered into her neck. “So eager for what you can’t have yet.” Giselle shuddered.

“Please, Mistress…”

Katrina smirked and rolled her thigh just enough to make Giselle gasp again. Then she gripped her waist hard, holding her still. “Not yet,” she warned. “You’ve been a bad girl and must be disciplined. You don’t move unless I say.”

Katrina’s mouth crashed down on Giselle’s again—hot, commanding, wet. Their tongues tangled, every kiss laced with control. Katrina’s hand slid up again, cupping her breast, pinching her nipple between her fingers until Giselle whimpered like she couldn’t take another second.

Katrina pulled back to look at her—flushed, panting, needy, beautiful. “I could torture you all night,” she said, voice like silk wrapped in steel. “Keep you right at the edge. Let you feel everything… except release.” Giselle met her eyes, lips parted, desperate.

“Please, Mistress… take me.”

Katrina tilted her head slightly, eyes sharp with intent. “Oh, I’ll take every inch of you,” she said. “But not yet. Not until I’ve broken you open with want.”

Katrina dragged her tongue slowly along Giselle’s neck, savoring the tremble it drew. Her lips traveled lower, kissing a line down her chest, then pausing to circle a nipple with her tongue. She flicked it once—slow, deliberate—then again, rougher, until Giselle whimpered beneath her. Katrina sealed her mouth around it, sucking deep, her hand kneading the other breast in rhythm. Katrina knew her Slave’s forbidden red zones—the raw sensitivity of her nipples, generally treated tenderly—but that only made Katrina’s bite more deliberate. Giselle arched into her, her hands pulling against the rope above her head.

“Good girl,” Katrina murmured around the nipple, her voice low and thick with praise. “You’re learning.” She switched sides without mercy—nibbling harder this time, teeth grazing the swollen peak. Giselle gasped, hips twitching beneath her. Katrina noticed and pinned her down with a hand to her stomach, pressing her still.

“Don’t move,” she said again, more firmly now.

“Yes, Mistress,” Giselle breathed, her voice shaky and thick with need. Katrina kissed her way lower, her tongue sliding over Giselle’s belly, lips claiming every inch of skin. She settled between Giselle’s thighs, spreading them slowly with both hands, admiring how wet and open she already was.

“Look at you,” Katrina said with a dark smile. “Dripping for me. Just from a few kisses.” Giselle was shaking now, breath shallow.

“I’ve been aching for your touch, needing your discipline, Mistress,” she said, barely a whisper.

Katrina leaned in, close enough that her breath brushed hot over Giselle’s slick folds. “I know,” she said. “And I’m going to make it worth every second you waited for your punishment.”

She lowered her mouth and licked—one slow, flat stroke from bottom to top that made Giselle cry out and jerk against her grip. Katrina moaned into her, savoring her taste, then did it again, firmer, with more pressure. Her tongue circled Giselle’s clit once, twice, then sucked it into her mouth and held it there, working it with slow, controlled flicks that made Giselle shudder.

Giselle whimpered, her thighs trembling. “Mistress—please—” But Katrina didn’t respond. She simply slid her arms beneath Giselle’s thighs and locked her in place, tongue moving faster now, her lips sealed around her clit, mouth relentless. Every moan Giselle let out made her work harder, deeper—lips and tongue coaxing her to the edge with ruthless precision.

Katrina pulled back for just a moment, lips slick, eyes dark. “You’re not allowed to cum,” she said flatly. “Not yet.”

Giselle sobbed out a yes, but her body was right there—quivering, straining, bucking, aching for release. Katrina smirked, then dove back in, licking lower now—slow strokes between her folds, teasing her entrance with the tip of her tongue before dragging it back up, flattening against her clit once more.

“Keep still,” Katrina commanded. “Or I’ll start all over.” Giselle cried out, desperate and obedient, her whole body tight, her skin flushed with frustration and need. Katrina’s mouth didn’t relent—licking, sucking, commanding her pleasure without granting her release.

Every flick of her tongue against Giselle’s pussy was a taunt. Every second of denied orgasm drove Giselle deeper into submission, and Katrina relished every moment of it.

Katrina looked down at her with a satisfied smile, fingers still gripping Giselle’s thighs. “You’ll have my reward,” she said, her voice like a slow drag of silk across bare skin. “But only when I decide you’ve earned it.”

She lowered her mouth again—slower this time—drawing her tongue up through Giselle’s folds with calculated pressure. Every stroke was measured, merciless. She wasn’t there to comfort; she was there to command. Her tongue circled Giselle’s clit, never quite landing where it was needed most. Giselle whimpered, her body arching despite herself, but Katrina’s hands held her legs open, still, obedient.

“You taste like desperation,” Katrina murmured, lips brushing the slick heat of her sex. “I could spend the night teasing you until you sob.” Giselle moaned, pulling at her hands that were still bound above her head.

“I need to cum, Mistress… please,” she gasped, her voice raw and shaking, each word soaked in need as she clung to control by a thread.

“Then beg for it,” Mistress purred, her tone low and commanding.

“Please, Mistress,” Giselle stammered, breath hitching, hands straining against the ropes. “I need to cum—please let me. I’m trying—trying to hold on, but I can’t. I need it—I need your permission. I can’t think. I’ll do anything, just say yes. Please, Mistress… please…”

Her words tumbled out, unsteady and frantic, each one more desperate than the last. Her body trembled, legs tensed, breath shallow and erratic, caught in the rising storm she was no longer able to quiet.

Mistress exhaled a low, satisfied breath against her. “Then you may cum,” she allowed, and her mouth closed over Giselle’s clit with full, focused intensity.

There was no teasing now—just direct, unrelenting pressure. Her tongue worked in tight, fast circles, lips sealed around her, sucking, licking, claiming. Giselle let out a strangled cry, hips bucking, but Katrina’s grip only tightened—pinning her, keeping her exactly where she wanted her: exposed, throbbing, helpless.

Giselle’s thighs quaked, her breath catching in a sharp gasp as Katrina’s mouth pushed her past the edge. Her back arched high off the bed, hips jerking, muscles locked in a violent tremor as the orgasm crashed over her—raw and consuming. She cried out, the sound breaking from her lips in a helpless, primal release.

Her hands, still obediently tied above her head, twitched and clenched, clinging onto the headboard as wave after wave rolled through her. Her body writhed, overwhelmed, as Katrina stayed with her—relentless, steady—lips and tongue drawing every last pulse from her trembling core, refusing to let her slip away too quickly.

Giselle sobbed through the pleasure, breath shattered, nerves on fire, caught in the delicious helplessness of being undone, again and again, until she collapsed back against the pillows—boneless, shaking, utterly spent.

When Giselle finally stilled, breath ragged, chest rising and falling in uneven waves, Katrina lifted her head slowly, eyes gleaming bright with satisfaction. A glint of wetness still glistened on her lips as she licked them deliberately, savoring her.

She trailed a hand up Giselle’s smooth thigh, letting her nails drag just enough to make her shiver again. Then she leaned in, her mouth brushing Giselle’s ear, her voice low and commanding. “That’s it, Slave… every last bit of you. Mine—just like you were meant to be.”

Giselle lay wrecked beneath her, lips parted, eyes dazed and heavy-lidded, her body quivering with the fading tremors of climax. Her arms still tied obediently above her head, but her hands twitched, aching to touch, to anchor herself in the swirl of sensation and surrender.

But Katrina wasn’t finished. She rose slowly, skin flushed, her body glistening with the unmistakable sheen of Giselle’s desire slick against her. She paused above her lover, the light catching the curve of her breast, the commanding tilt of her chin. One hand settled on her hip, the other trailing with purpose across her own body, tracing the heat that still simmered there. Her gaze didn’t leave Giselle’s trembling form, sharp and possessive and hungry for more—an unspoken promise that this was far from over.

Katrina untied Giselle, then stood and had Giselle remove her lingerie, leaving them both fully naked except for their high heels and collars. “Now,” she said, her voice low and commanding, “You’re going to kneel. And you're going to make me cum until I forget who I am.”

Giselle’s breath caught; her body already shifted, obeying without question. “Yes, Mistress.”

Giselle pushed herself up, muscles weak but obedient, and slid off the bed to her knees. The carpet was cool beneath her, a contrast to the heat still radiating from her flushed skin. She looked up at her Mistress—towering, beautiful, naked, her collar gleaming at her throat. Katrina leaned back onto a large bedside chair.

Giselle’s voice was low, reverent. “May I please you, Mistress?” Giselle moved forward, slow and deliberate, until her face was just inches from Katrina’s thighs.

“You may,” she said. “But make no mistake—this is for me. Your job is to worship. Nothing more.”

Giselle nodded, her breath catching as she reached for Katrina’s legs, touching her glistening skin as she spread her thighs. She didn’t rush. She wanted to savor it—this moment of submission, of purpose.

Giselle leaned in and pressed a kiss to Katrina’s inner thigh, then another, higher, trailing her lips closer with reverent hunger. Her hands gripped the backs of Katrina’s legs, holding her in place as her tongue flicked out and tasted her.

Katrina hissed softly through her teeth. “That’s it, Slave. Show me how desperate you really are.” Giselle obeyed, flattening her tongue and dragging it up through Katrina’s slick heat. She licked slowly, firmly, savoring every taste. Her lips closed around Katrina’s clit, sucking it in gently, then flicking her tongue against it in quick, shallow strokes.

Katrina let out a low groan and threaded her fingers into Giselle’s hair, gripping tight. “Deeper,” she growled. “Don’t tease me.”

Giselle responded instantly, her tongue diving lower, swirling between Katrina’s folds, then lapping back up with increasing intensity. She used her whole mouth—sucking, licking, tasting her pussy with purpose, with need. Her tongue moved with rhythm and control, tracing circles, switching to flat pressure, adjusting with every gasp Katrina gave her.

Katrina's legs tensed, her hips grinding forward against Giselle’s face as she chased the sensation. Giselle moaned into her, the sound vibrating against her clit, and Katrina’s grip in her hair tightened.

“Don’t stop,” Katrina commanded, her breath sharp now. “I’m going to cum all over your mouth, Slave, and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.”

Giselle’s hands slid up the backs of Katrina’s thighs, gripping firmly to steady her as her mouth worked with growing urgency. Her tongue flicked and swirled with relentless precision, exploring every sensitive curve with heated devotion. She sucked harder, deeper, drawing a shuddering gasp from Katrina’s lips.

Katrina’s breathing grew ragged, uneven, each breath filled with need. Her thighs began to tremble uncontrollably, muscles tightening and shaking as waves of pleasure surged through her, pushing her closer to the edge with every relentless movement.

Her orgasm came in a fierce wave—hips bucking, fingers pulling tight at Giselle’s long hair, her moan raw and unfiltered as she climaxed against her mouth. Giselle held her, mouth sealed to her, licking and sucking through every pulse of it, her own body reacting to the sheer power of Katrina’s release.

When Katrina finally exhaled, her body trembling, she looked down and smiled darkly, lips still parted, sweat glistening on her skin.

“You’re filthy when you’re obedient,” Katrina murmured, her voice thick and hoarse with satisfaction, every word dripping with delight. She traced a slow finger along Giselle’s jaw, eyes smoldering with pride and possessiveness. “And I crave every bit of it.”

Giselle’s head lifted from between her thighs, lips glistening with heat and desire, eyes heavy-lidded but shining with hunger and reverence. She gave a small, breathless smile, her voice soft but full of devotion. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Katrina rose from the chair and the two collapsed together onto the thick rug at the foot of the bed, the soft fabric catching against their skin like a warm invitation. The rich, wine-colored pile pressed beneath them, lush and sensual, the kind of surface that begged for skin-to-skin contact. Giselle’s cheek rested against Katrina’s shoulder, their chests rising and falling in sync, the quiet hum of satisfaction pulsing between them.

Neither spoke at first. Katrina’s hand drifted lazily down Giselle’s back, fingers trailing over the curve of her spine. Giselle let out a slow breath, her body still buzzing, when she turned her head, their eyes met—and something passed between them. Not words. Just need.

Katrina rolled toward her, their breasts brushing, legs tangling. Giselle’s lips curled into a faint, wicked smile. Their mouths met again—this time slower, deeper. No commands. No roles. Just tongues and breath and shared urgency. Giselle pressed in close, her thigh sliding between Katrina’s legs.

Katrina mirrored the motion, hooking her leg around Giselle’s hip, dragging her in. Hands moved with growing hunger—Katrina’s fingers tracing Giselle’s waist, down to her hips, and then sliding between her thighs. She was still wet. Still open.

Katrina moaned softly into her mouth and pushed two fingers inside her, slow at first, then deeper, curling them as her thumb brushed against Giselle’s clit. Giselle gasped, her hand finding Katrina’s sex at the same time, fingers slipping in with ease, stroking her with the same rhythm—deep, deliberate thrusts matched beat for beat.

They breathed each other in, moaning into the same kiss, hips rocking in time. The rug muffled the sound of their movements, but not the wetness, not the soft gasps and sharp cries as they fingered each other harder, faster, slipping deeper, circling tighter.

Katrina broke the kiss, her forehead pressing to Giselle’s, their noses touching. “You feel so good,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “So sexy around my fingers.”

Giselle groaned, her voice thick with arousal. “Harder. Don’t stop. I’m so close.”

Katrina continued, thrusting faster now, fingers sliding in and out of Giselle while her thumb worked her clit with practiced, relentless pressure. Giselle mirrored every movement—curling her fingers deep, rubbing hard against the spot that made Katrina’s hips jerk and her moans break open.

Their bodies were slick now, skin sliding together, breasts pressed tight, thighs flexing with every rhythm. Katrina’s breath hitched as Giselle sucked at her neck, then moaned right into her ear, her fingers pushing harder, stroking faster, hitting just right.

Katrina gasped, ready to cum, her whole body shivering, muscles tight. Giselle was already there. Her body convulsed, her climax breaking in a sudden rush as she cried out Katrina’s name, hips grinding into her hand. The sound pushed Katrina over the edge—her thighs clenching around Giselle’s hand, her orgasm tearing through her in pulsing waves.

They came together—raw, loud, helpless—fingers still moving, mouths parted in gasping, tangled moans. Their bodies writhed against each other, hands trembling, heat flooding between them as they rode the high to the last wave.

And then they collapsed again, breathless and undone, still touching, still pulsing with aftershocks. Fingers slowed. Kisses softened. The only things left were skin, breath, and the deep hum of satisfaction that only came from giving everything at once.

The quiet settled in slowly, thick and warm, like the air after a thunderstorm. Katrina and Giselle lay side by side on the rug, still catching their breath, skin flushed and damp, fingers occasionally brushing, but neither in a rush to move.

Their bodies still pulsed with the echo of everything they'd just done—mouths, hands, the tension that had built and snapped and built again. The silence indicated the evening was near complete, their intense desires vanquished by one another.

Katrina let out a short, satisfied sound, then reached for a nearby throw blanket and dragged it over them. Her hand settled on Giselle’s thigh—firm, relaxed, and possessive in a way that didn’t need to be explained.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Giselle rested with one arm across her stomach, her chest rising and falling more slowly now. She let her fingers trail lightly along Katrina’s hip, not needing more but not ready to break the contact either.

They stayed there—bodies close, skin cooling in the hush that follows after everything has been shared. Eventually, they rose. It was time. Katrina’s summer retreat loomed, but there was no rush. This evening had been everything they wanted. And when they came together again, it would be even better.