Work Text:
you can tell that she's enjoying herself, despite how her mouth is shut. she's gripping the leash like a lifeline, holding you close to her core. you're licking all of her juices up, like a good girl, you hope she'll tell you.
she brings a hand to your shoulder, letting her fingers rub over your skin as silent praise. it'll probably bruise tomorrow with how tightly she's holding it, but that doesn't matter. the only thing that matters is pleasing your sweet owner, who lets a moan slip right when you push your tongue in a certain spot.
you repeat the action. she grunts out a curse, digging into your shoulder. you really wish you could use your hands to make her feel even better, but those are tied behind your back to avoid any misbehaviour. she's at her most beautiful, like this. lying down, letting you make her feel good.
but she needs to be more relaxed, still. even now, she's trying to keep herself quiet. that's no good.
you kiss and lick and suck wherever you can, testing out what makes her facade crack the most. she's getting close to the edge, hand leaving your shoulder to grip the sheets instead. you refuse to be as quiet as her, letting out all of your satisfied and curious hums.
you barely let yourself breathe while talking, in favour of continuing to break stratt's mask. “’m i bein' good, master? am i?” her leg twitches, just barely, and she forces it down with a quiet grunt. “i'm bein' good, right, madam? good for you, always f'you, yeah?”
she does her best to breathe while answering. you take the chance to increase your assault on her body. “y—yes, pup, you're being—mmf! v—very good, yes.”
she's still coherent. you don't like that. the best praise she can give you is being breathless. you give a few woofs as a response, which she seems to laugh at.
it doesn't take long for her to reach an orgasm. you keep at it, wanting nothing more than to bring her pleasure. she has to force the leash backwards enough that you'd choke if you didn't follow to get you to stop. she's panting, blushing, so cutely. you commit her face to memory, as best you can.
you lick your lips clean, and she seems enamored at the sight. you speak up again. “can i do that again, madam? ’want to make you feel good. please.” when you tilt your head downwards, she releases her tight hold on the leash, sits up, and lets you start all over again. you want to hear her german cursing, again. that, and every last noise she makes.
