Ginkle Morkle

“Do not concern yourself with the likes of voyeurs.” She then demanded, the voice honed closer to what face lie behind the mask. You stared up and hummed in revere, “Yes, sister.”

She held the goggles fastened to your head, tilting them to have you peering upwards. The pressure made you wince, hands on her thighs to stay balanced as you continued to trace the curve of her jaw with wandering, wondering eyes. The surprisingly human rise and fall of her chest and the rasps between near silent motion of her breathing.

“Now join me,” She gasped out, “At the mouth.”

Your hands remained on the outside of her hips, gently playing with the fluffy lace at the end of her stockings and eyes sinking back down to the display. She was exposed from the navel down; a special outfit for the likes of a hungry follower. A lucid remnant wondered how many toy soldiers such as yourself got the privilege to be intimate with Prime Assets, and the fact Sister was to your liking in particular…You almost felt lucky if not utterly propelled down into a pit of troubles that somehow could go longer and stretch farther than Sinyala’s walls.

Your mouth started against the cold, smooth skin of her inner legs. Too intimidated to touch the surface of her cunt, her unclawed hand pressed against your jaw as a response and she whispered, “Do not be frightened. You shall kiss God with your entriety.” Eyes peered up again, the mask was faced down with a crick in her neck. The golden curve of her headdress glinted in the warm firelight in the room, a mere cradle against one side of your body with its heat. You whispered a thankful prayer as you kissed her corset-laden stomach, above her pubic bone and close to the hem leading below.

“Lavish, this tongue.” She babbled, the following inhale shaking her body to its core. She was warm despite a notion in your mind that she wouldn’t be, and you kissed the entrance deeper with a weak hum.

“Yes. Take it in,” She gasped as your lips touched hers, once near silent but unable to stop herself. A lick up the slit, feeling her exhale and her knees part slightly as she continued to stand. “More. Know that I am with you.”

You keened, flexing your back and begged between another sloppy kiss, “I-I only want to do you right, Liliya.”

“Then go,” She beckoned, her hand cupping your jaw as you stuck your tongue past her entrance, shivering with her in joint motion and her clawed hand on the back of your head. Her breaths even, prying hisses that you couldn't quite place behind the mask still but didn't mind either. You cradled her backside with a framing of your hands, the stretch from thumb to index holding the chilled skin as she started ministrations of her hips against your cheekbones.

The walls could go on forever. Sinyala's torment on your soul could go on forever for the moment against your senses paired with a pressure on the back of your head to keep you stuck to her was all you chased.