Megan moaned in helpless need when Isla took a firm grip on her dark, damp hair and jerked her mouth more tightly against her mound. Megan whimpered with each grinding motion of her Mistress' hips down onto her mouth and tongue. It did not hurt though it did crush her lips against her teeth. No, Megan made plaintive little noises because she was jealous. Jealous that her Mistress could simply take what she wanted and use Megan to drive herself to orgasm while Megan had to live in a state of ever increasing need, teetering on the edge of orgasm. Only the threat held Megan back...<i><span style="color: olive">"You slip..you cum...and -thats- all you get from me tonight. You get to go home to a nice wet spot and your hand...knowing you let your mistress down..A failure." <br/>
</span></i><br/>She clung to the belief that Isla would relent and let her cum if only she tried hard enough, if only she was good enough. So she dove into her task, lapping and slurping as Isla rode her face, and tried to give her very best to this woman that she barely knew. It should have frightened her, terrified her even but it felt natural. It felt like this was finally exactly where she should be. It felt like she had known Isla for a lot longer than the few scant hours that she had. The intensity of the night's events took her breath away and that she could simply give herself to this woman, to serve her selflessly... well almost selflessly, there was still the burgeoning matter of her orgasm that she was hoping to resolve. Her eyes looked up, savouring every moan or intake of breath that her Mistress favoured her with and she saw a fire, a possessiveness in Isla's eyes. It made her shudder in delight under the slender woman. At least she was fairly certain that it was not a one sided desire. Isla wanted her, and not just for tonight. Megan's tongue and mouth moved more aggressively, keeping pace with the erratic, rough grinding of Isla's mound.<br/><br/>The first taste of Isla's orgasm on Megan's tongue made the lawyer freeze. She kept her tongue working but other than that she let Isla ride out her peak. Her focus was divided between giving the woman straddling her head the best orgasm that she could and keeping her straining need and desire from taking her over the edge. Even the words push her closer to the edge until she is staring into the abyss. It was not "girl" and "whore" that had her desperately clinging to the last ragged shreds of self control.  It was "MY girl" and "MY little whore". Even the savage grip on her hair and the harsh way Isla used her to get off further aroused her. She was beginning to think this woman could drive her wild discussing the weather or making toast. Her eyes stay riveted on the punk woman's face, rendering the command to not look away pointless. She is determined to commit every last bit of that gorgeous face in the throes of passion to her memory so that she would never forget.<br/><br/>It was degrading to have Isla's musky wetness smeared across her face and Megan instinctively squirmed. A pitiful little mewling sound escaped her when the scent filled her senses though and suddenly she craved more. Isla's fingers push into her openly panting mouth and Megan's lips tighten to lightly suck at them. She wants to be good for her Mistress so that she might be found worthy of her own orgasm. The fingers slide out and the disheveled girl gives a yelp when her face is lightly slapped.<span style="color: indigo">"Y-yes Mistress I am a whore, I am your whore." </span>She mumbled, the words tripping over each other in their haste to escape her mouth. Another slap, harder this time made Megan hiss but her thighs pressed together as the throbbing of her cheek seemed to resonate with the throbbing between her legs.<span style="color: indigo">"Yesh Mistwess, pweasseeee!"</span>Megan pleaded in response to the question, slurring cutely as she tried to talk around the fingers filling her mouth. It was amazing to compare the softly sobbing sticky-faced girl with the streaked mascara to the prim and proper professional woman that Isla had delivered the note to only hours earlier.<br/><br/>Poor Megan shook uncontrollably when the fingers from her mouth traced a trail down to her mound. Isla felt the hot, soaking wet flesh when her hand cupped between her legs. She shook her head, breaking down completely into full out sobbing when Isla's finger slid into her. She had nothing left and still she struggled against the need she felt. Her thighs squeezed together hard enough that Isla's hand could not move. Still sobs wracked Megan's body, her own motions wiggling those slender digits inside of her. The use of her name in that purred voice made her whole body tense again and it seemed like the little submissive was afraid to breathe. Still, she knew better than to not answer the question. "<span style="color: indigo">I need you permission Mistress. Please... please let me cum. I don't want to go home to my hand. Please fuck me."</span>She did not answer the question of how badly she needed to be fucked as her Mistress had asked but Isla knew that the girl needed that more than she had needed anything else in her life. She knew that she had taken Megan to the absolute limit.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>