Exploiting you by selling you like a whore. Selling your dick sucking skills at a party, where you are blindfolded and wearing lipstick, with a sign around your neck, your cock stuffed into tight spandex so your manhood is totally hidden. Objectified to the degree that you suck, and suck, and suck, earning me $20 for every load of cum. But you do it all without complaint, and you beg for more – just to earn $100 in a night to buy me a pair of shoes.
Good morning my corporate slut,
Humiliate.
Objectify.
Exploit.
Just a few simple words that have been on my mind lately.
What are these things? These are things I want to do to you. I picture you there in your office reading this email, and I picture the look in your eyes and hear the creak in the leather as you move in your chair. The discomfort and hesitation.
I picture you, and I want to hurt you.
Not many women, I think, send “love letters” quite like this one. Make no mistake, I am sending this email with the ultimate affection and desire for you. I send it with lust, amusement and desire. I write these words alternating through pauses to fantasize about you, pauses to feel the warm moisture between my legs, pauses to contemplate whether to finish it and hit send, or just discard it entirely and go off to masturbate with my ideas.
So what is it about you?
Why do I get a distinct ache in my pussy when I think of your eyes on the bulging, thick strap-on cock I am wearing? Why do I imagine how your muffled whimpers feel between my legs, and I can think of nothing else but the feeling of your tongue sliding up and down my ass cracks, as I humiliate you, call you names, cut off your air and menace your balls all at the same time?
While I don’t really know the answer, I can surely tell you more about the three words, and give you a few interesting instructions to make the email more exciting. Well, for me, at least.
Consider it a test. A test that requires you to start stroking, right now, with two fingers, but never actually climax. Feel the stiff shaft, feel the oozing precum from your tip, but know that my property is not allowed to cum. Know that your dick still belongs to me, and all you can do when you start leaking into your panties is scoop the precum onto your fingertips and lick it delicately off your skin.
And know that as your tongue moves carefully, I would be so wet watching you; making you swirl little circles around the tip of your finger just so I can long to have that talented tongue flicking against my clit.
So what is it about the first word, “humiliate”?
I suppose it is because I see you as quite competent, and strong, and even powerful at times. When I see you at your strongest point, as I have lately, I so long to degrade and humiliate you by making you feel intense shame. I like what it does to the skin tone in your cheeks. I like how your otherwise strong eyes turn puppydog-like, and you hold your head down in dismay, your shoulders down.
When I humiliate you, it’s like I am stripping you naked and making you show me your bare insides, and you feel totally helpless and vulnerable. The way your body reacts to the stripping of your pride is just totally erotic to me; it’s no wonder that when you are fully degraded, with the full length of my dick in your mouth, I just want to mount your face and order you to pleasure me. Alternating between tonguing my pussy and worshipping my cock.
What is it about the second word, “Objectify”? Oh, this is an easy one.
You see, I see you, ultimately, as a sex toy for me. When I want to fully embrace this feeling, when I want to objectify you to the core, I long to strap you into a double-sided dildo and mount your face, fucking you as if you are just an inanimate object for my pleasure.
I get so hot when I think of how this must feel to be you. Used that way. Knowing that my pussy is so close to your face, my juices are literally dripping down onto your skin, but I am fucking you like you are a dildo. I am even calling you “my cock face” and “hole,” when I fuck your ass. When I spread your ass cheeks and tell you to be quiet, to shut up, because you are my hole. When I reduce you to an object for my pleasure, I feel like I possess you more than any other time. I feel like you are my property, a piece of meat. I long to piss on you to mark you as my territory, to brand your ass. I think of such extremes.
But those extremes are nothing, really, when compared to the extreme ideas I get when I consider the third word, “Exploit.”
Your total exploitation is what I long for at the peak of my intense desire and need for pleasure. When I fantasize about exploiting you, it’s when I have successfully reduced you to more than owned property or an object for my pleasure. It is when you exist so much to please me that your own essence does not matter anymore. When my pleasure becomes more critical to you than your own livelihood. How could this not make me soaking wet with lust?
My exploitation fantasies are pretty dark, I will confess. But what is most dark about them is that I intend to fulfill them – deliciously slowly – one at a time.
Exploiting you by selling you like a whore. Selling your dick sucking skills at a party, where you are blindfolded and wearing lipstick, with a sign around your neck, your cock stuffed into tight spandex so your manhood is totally hidden. Objectified to the degree that you suck, and suck, and suck, earning me $20 for every load of cum. But you do it all without complaint, and you beg for more – just to earn $100 in a night to buy me a pair of shoes.
Exploitation at the level of me putting together a virtual slideshow that I can make the screensaver on every single PC in your office, thanks to the fact that your geeky but delicious IT intern is infatuated with me. Just one press of the button, remotely, and every screen in your office would be filling with pictures of you on all fours sucking cock. In pink lingerie. Licking your fingers with your legs spread and hamming it up for the camera – remember the photo shoot I made you do when you had to pretend to be a porn starlet?
Exploited to the level that you not only suck dick for me, but you go out and find me men to screw while you sit in the corner sucking on my moist panties. More than that, though; the fact that you long for it, enjoy it. And need it.
Because you need to please me more than you need air itself. And this is most apparent the times you find yourself smothered under my ass cheeks as I dial my phone and set up the next date night, fingering my pussy as your air runs out and laughing richly while my plans pan out.
Is it all too much for you? I think not; and this, my dear corporate slut, is why we are a match made in heaven.
Affectionately,
Mistress Akasha
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