“Do you like my costume, Master?” I asked.

“Very much so,” he said. “A sexy little angel, hmm? And angels are good girls, aren’t they?”

“Yessssss,” I said, shuddering in pleasure at the sound of my trigger.

“So like all good girls, angels kneel?”

“Yeeeeesss,” I moaned again, scrambling to get on my knees on the bed. The pleasure coursed up my spine from my already-wet pussy, like a jolt of electricity right up into my brain. I could feel the heat flowing outward.

“Good girl,” he said, and I moaned again, already unable to make words. My brain was melting in the heat, my vision blurring. My thoughts thickened and slowed in the sticky golden molten fluid that was all that was left of my mind.

My body moved on its own, a puppet to programming installed long ago and reinforced night after night. I leaned forward eagerly, opened my mouth, and stuck out my tongue, ready for Master to fuck my face, my mind, use his little slave toy for his pleasure.

I was a good girl, his little slave toy, bound in service to his Cock. I was in Heaven.

for Master @echoesofasongforgotten because i need to obey