Mara the Sexist

I feel like an empress, I feel like a mistress, I feel like a lover of myself, of my own escapism from affable whim.


I love commanding sin, succeeding in creation and being flexible in fame, seeking out challenges.


I delicately caress my body with a feather filled with blood and lick the path traced by the touch.
Sublime, growing reserve of my extreme suffering, floods me with shivers like a yearning sphere.
He is on the chair, tied behind with handcuffs, wearing a mask and my fuchsia lipstick.
I have my long, tousled blonde hair, fuchsia lipstick on my lips, and heavy eyeliner.
Naked, me and the others... I want only the bodies and my allowances on them. Purity must not suffer...
He has an almost perfect physique and is already getting excited by his hard-on.
She is breathtaking, with breasts as full as mine.
I order the slave to kneel before me and kiss my "Red Head," and she gets busy licking me madly.


They are my slaves, my filthy outlets of deception.


I stand there, touching her red hair with my hand and following her lead.
I am a suspended cloud preparing to acclaim an audience, and in the exuberance of a chalice, I catch the eyes of a mask that lights up like a candle, waiting to blaze and go out.


I come. I faint. I order her to bring my flavor to my lips, and we kiss frantically.
As I brush against her pussy, I realize she was a river in full flow.
I grab her by the hair and bring her to my slave's hard-on, and she begins to suck, making him come.
The sperm is a chalice of unquenched thoughts, a praise to the precept of continuing.
She kisses him with her scent, and I too participate in the dark mockery.
I grab her forcefully, slam her against the wall, and begin to penetrate her with my fingers, with my mistress's confidence. I bite and scratch her everywhere. Her moans and the
pain are infectious nourishment for me. We end up on the floor where we continue our vile bruise.
She's come several times, and the last one will be when I indulge in an ancient art called "clitic depth."
I love to bite, scratch, and lick. Her pussy must have remembered me and my lips.
He's bursting with pleasure.
I stand up, tease him with my feather, touch myself, scratch, and bite him. The marks allow me to act.
Then, damn it, I slide inside his hard-on and ride the sea wave.


This time, his scent is touched by the feathers, between blood and perplexity...