#thoughts...

Imagine her with her dark blue uniform. Blouse a bit messy, half open. You can glance at what's beneath, hardened nipples and a heavy chest.

She won't say it out loud, but the effect she's having on you is mutual. And in any other circumstance, she would be whining on your neck.

She's got you on your knees. Legs and arms tied enough for you to move and hurt, but not too much.

You're almost completely naked, just a pair of lacy underwear– way too thin for her liking. "You wanted this didn't you?" She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. The right amount to reveal more of her breasts to you.

You could feel her soft blue strands of hair brushing your face from above. A hateful look on her face.

"You think you're smarter than me." Her tone a mix of fake curiosity and pity. "You're not."

You only nodded, looking at her through your lashes as you felt the edge of her cold, thick boot slide between your legs.

"Don't waste my time, love." Her nails digged into the soft of your neck. Fingers tightening enough to leave you breathless the second you started to grind your hips against her shoe.

She looked proud. Having you like this, on your knees and so whiling. It was all she wanted, all she needed. Her pretty girl– her favorite girl, desperate to use and be used.

Caitlyn waited. She was calculated, so precise, and always in control. You would never be an exception, not even when the one dripping wet was her.

She observed how your brows tightened in a weak curvature right above your nose. How your lips quivered open each time the edge of her boot touched your clit. She clenched her jaw at the obscene sounds you let out. How you eventually started to call for her name. And only there she let go of your neck, allowing you to breathe once again. It was brief, of course. No punishment of hers would last this little.

You saw and heard how she tilted back. How the chair of her office matched the loud of your wet folds. How she took the perfectly displayed rifle from her office and pointed at you. It wasn't new, but each time it caught you off guard.

"You never learn, do you?" Her mockery was almost as if disappointed, a fake pout similar to disgust at the sight of you. But you knew better than to believe this. She couldn't hate you, not really.

If she did, you're sure she would've never allowed you on her office nor her room.

Caitlyn was always so tidy, so controlling. You knew everything about her was a privilege.

"Open." She commanded like she had been waiting for hours. And you locked your gaze before doing what she asked. A bit of saliva connecting your lips before the cold entered your tongue.

It seemed to soothe a pain in her, a discomfort.

"Good girl."

You kept on grinding against her boot. It's sharpness fitting you just fine. At one point, in a silent act of gratitude, she allowed her boot to provide friction, too.

Her hand pushed the rifle deeper inside your mouth, admiring the sight. Admiring the sounds.

Your whines turning into moans, your stomach tightening each time you got too overstimulating and too close to cumming. Your mouth fighting to follow the depth, the saliva dripping down your chin and into your chest.

"You wanna cum?" It was almost sweet how she spoke. You nodded eagerly, hoping and praying she would feel bad and let you have it at least once tonight.

Her hands adjusted the rifle between her legs as she mocked a manspread. "Work for it... I know you can."