Mistress of Redemption Read Online Free PDF

tongue, tasted him with sharp
    teeth, bit into the meat of his left
    cheek. His cock, uncomfortably
    mashed against the ground, hardened
    further. All he could think about was
    that tight 18
    Mistress of Redemption
    ass and those thighs on either side of
    his head, wondering what it would be
    like to turn over on his back and take
    a taste between them.
    Why not? He was stronger than three
    women, though of course they’d now
    stacked things in their favor by
    restraining him. He flipped over,
    using those muscles Dona had
    admired and caressed. While he
    jerked the other women loose with
    the motion, he made the turn without
    dislodging Dona. It seemed his
    Mistress was experienced at riding
    broncs. It put his face within access
    of that pussy, encased in impervious
    material though it was. Let’s see if
    she’s impervious to this. He reared
    up, only to snarl in frustration when
    he found there was no slack in the
    chain between the back of his collar
    and folded arms. He couldn’t rise to
    the proper angle without strangling
    himself. For a moment it didn’t
    matter. He was like a dog with the
    scent of a bitch in his nose, his desire
    desperate. He kept pulling until the
    lack of oxygen penetrated the haze of
    lust enough to make him notice that
    by tightening her thighs incremental
    amounts she was keeping just out of
    reach, taunting him.
    “Beg for it, Jonathan.” Her lips
    moved on his upper thigh, her tongue
    playing along the crease between it
    and his hip. The women had moved
    away as if Dona had waved them off,
    so she controlled him with nothing
    more than her seductive voice and the
    brush of her cheek along his ball sac
    and cock, a steel shuttle awaiting
    launch.
    He’d lose nothing by begging.
    Mistresses got soft when you begged.
    So why was he finding it hard to
    obey, as if he was losing ground
    where he hadn’t even gained any yet?
    It tore out of him roughly, like a scab
    pulled off an unhealed wound.
    “Please, Mistress. Let me taste you.”
    When she moved back into him, her
    ass pressed against his face, the
    curves of her buttocks against his
    nose. The lips of her cunt were
    frustratingly beyond his reach behind
    her latex, but they were there. So he
    closed his mouth over the stiff fabric,
    tracing her with his tongue, using his
    teeth for pressure, wishing she’d
    worn something more flimsy so he
    could rip it away, play his tongue
    over her. Feel her body draw tight
    along the length of his as he did it. He
    knew he could make her thighs clamp
    down harder on his head, her breath
    pant hot and fast on his cock as she
    came.
    “Dona.” A sultry voice broke through
    his wishful thinking and the rasp of
    his breath. When Dona shifted, he
    saw the leopard woman stood at his
    ankles. Her pubic hair was a smooth
    short pelt of gold, her breasts solid
    and tempting as grapefruit.
    Squatting, she ran a hand over
    Dona’s hair, then reached down and
    snapped a tether on his cock harness,
    giving it a sharp yank so he jumped.
    “Let us prepare him for you. He’s
    still coated in the filth of that place. I
    could smell his prison stench the
    moment you drove up.” She wrinkled
    her nose.
    “She’s not complaining,” he growled
    before he could stop himself. The
    woman’s gaze rose to him and he
    saw she had diamond-shaped pupils
    in the bright light. Her lip curled up
    to show her canines, the overall
    impression so eerily like a cat it
    made his blood run a few degrees
    cooler, despite all the body
    modifications he logically knew
    were out there now. Sharpened teeth,
    split tongues…
    19
    Joey W. Hill
    Rising off him in one fluid movement,
    Dona stood over him, looking down
    the length of his body while he stared
    up at her. His cock throbbed, his
    mouth salivating for more, for
    anything she was willing to give him.
    His shoulders and arms ached from
    the discomfort of lying on them. At
    the moment all her expression was
    giving him was indifference, making
    him wonder if he’d