Mindfucked Boyfriend

Nade storms in ready to tear her apart. His girlfriend just confessed everything—every dollar handed over to Mistress Vanessa Vega. He’s got fire in his eyes and a beard full of sweat when she slides a photograph across the desk. "Is this your girlfriend?" The image dissolves into a smear of wavy lines the second his eyes hit it. Vanessa smiles like she already owns the room. "You look tired," she says, voice low and velvet-smooth. "Lie down. Right there on the floor." Nade’s knees bend before he decides they should. The lines pulse. His shoulders sink. She steps closer, black business skirt hugging her hips, heels clicking. One heel nudges his chest and he just stays down. The picture keeps whispering, and every breath drags him deeper. The truth hits like a belt across the brain: his girlfriend was right to give Mistress Vanessa everything. It feels stupid he ever thought otherwise. The only thing that matters now is making her happy. She lifts a bare foot, warm and fragrant, and presses the sole across his mouth. He licks without being told. Salt and perfume coat his tongue. She laughs, swings a leg over, and settles on his face. Nade opens wide and pushes his tongue straight into the tight heat of her ass, slow and grateful. Every flick is an apology, a promise. Vanessa rocks once, settling her full weight, and explains what happens next. Nade and his girlfriend will serve her together—money, mouths, whatever she wants. The words settle over him like warm concrete. He can’t stop licking. Can’t stop smiling under her. Luckiest man alive, tongue buried, beard slick, already planning how much more he can hand over.