***
**ACT I**
***
The Woman glanced upward, now seeing the Man’s face distorted through the bottom of his glass tumbler. When viewed from this strange perspective, his normally handsome features appeared momentarily monstrous; his charming smile was rendered suddenly sardonic, twisted and unsymmetrical.
The Man drank the last of the remaining whiskey in his glass, then lowered the tumbler toward the Woman curled up in his lap. While swirling the half-melted ice-cubes around in contemplative circles, he announced: *”You taste good”*, speaking in a guttural whisper which was more felt than heard.
The Woman opened her mouth to respond, but found no words worth speaking. Instead, she lowered her head back down onto the man’s lap, letting her lips naturally wrap back around the head of his swollen cock.
She laid there that way for some time, feeling profoundly exhausted, with her bare legs spread out along the couch, and with her cheek resting on the thigh of the Man’s soft dress pants. The Woman’s tongue never stopped lazily running circles around the ridges of the Man’s cock, feeling it swell and retreat in size. The Man stroked her hair with his free hand, occasionally letting it wander down to the tight valley between her ass cheeks, where his probing fingers sometimes found themselves temporarily stuck.
Her pussy ached from earlier, but although it was *still* sore to the touch — and painful so — the feeling of the Man’s finger-tips grazing it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The Woman felt her labia flare, then the sensation disappeared beneath a gentle tingle. *How did he even come up with something like that?*, she wondered, letting the tip of her tongue glide under his foreskin. *The imagination of it all…*
***
**ACT II**
***
When the Woman had arrived at the Man’s residence earlier that day, she had been greeted by an odd sight — *to say the least…* After having spent a number of months in the Man’s company, she’d become acquainted with a great many things she’d never known of before: *gags, floggers, whips, restraints, plugs, chains…* But even so, there was nothing that could have prepared the Woman for the strangeness of this particular sight.
It was an ice-cube tray; a simple, everyday ice-cube tray, with what appeared to be a *Hitachi Magic-Wand* attached to it with duct-tape. The true purpose of this make-shift device had only become obvious to the naive Woman after she’d been instructed to lower her poor cunt onto it. Within seconds, the Man could hear the steady *drip, drip, drip* of the Woman’s wetness slowly filling the ice-cube tray.
The Man stood over her, savouring the medley of delicate expressions dancing across the Woman’s face, with one hand pressed down gently on her shoulder. When she attempted to squirm away from the contraption he’d made, the Man gave her a short moment to catch her breath, before pushing the Woman back down, forcing her pussy lips to envelope the throbbing, vibrating wand again…
***
**ACT III**
***
…But now, the woman is laying in the man’s lap. His deflated cock is still between her lips. The woman’s tongue is lazily lapping away at it, as if coating it in with delicate strokes of paint.
The Man leans back in his sofa-chair, after picking up his glass tumbler, which was perched on the small of the Woman’s back. The woman has watched absently out of the corner of her eye as the ice-cubes inside melted, leaving only one small chunk left, floating in her whiskey-diluted wetness.
And that’s when the Woman sees the Man’s fingers dipping into his glass tumbler, reaching for the last piece of ice. She let his cock fall out from between her lips, just as his hand slowly moved toward her mouth, dripping cold droplets of ice water all over her body. The Man ran the piece of ice along her lips in circles — like the second-hand of a particularly slow clock — until it had melted away to nothing…
“What does it tastes like? — *Your submission…*”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/88uhrb/the_taste_of_her_submission_mf_bdsm