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Goosebumps rippled underneath Amethyst’s fur when Helga fished the ballgag from her mouth. She shuddered with her first breath, the saliva that pooled behind the rubber ball now free to slip out. Two callous hands gripped her face, pulling the latex vole in close.
“Open wide, bitch,” Helga commanded, her tone playful but heavy, “Have a taste.” She relaxed her maw on command, feeling her head arched upward as she did. Blinded by the leather across her eyes, Amy’s thoughts ran wild with what would come. The primal and familiar taste of the pig’s lower lips across her tongue? The acrid flavor of urine? The sharp tang of her Mistress’s finger slipping down her throat, pushing past the lost gag reflex that she’d trained out of her?
She kneeled in silence, mouth open and waiting. The cool basement air dried her tongue, enough that her body wanted to slip it back in. Ear ears twitched at two sets of movement. The latex squeak of her sister slave’s movements were the easiest to pick up. The tight breaths, how she ground against her cage. Even blind, Amy could perfectly picture the pitbull’s thighs rubbing together in envy and anticipation.
The second was subtle. The stretch of denim and the step of Helga’s boots against the floor. Then a taste. Soft, wet, but not too solid, slipped against her tongue and down her throat. Then came another, and another with a heavy spitting noise. The vole dared not shudder, letting her mistress’s saliva pool inside her maw like a turkey ready to drown in the rain.
“Swallow,” Helga commanded, and the vole obeyed, closing her maw and gulping down the pig’s spit. Disgust mixed with desire, debasing her inner thoughts. A living saliva receptacle, a latex spit pot. “Good girl.” Her mistress’s praise swept away the shame. “Now, show me your appreciation.”
“Thank you, mama.” Amethyst earned a slap across her face. The leather and latex absorbed the sting, turning the heavy hand blunt to her face.
“Did I say you could talk?” Helga chided. Amethyst shook her head, feeling a golf ball in her throat for such a mistake. The cold floor met with her face, forced still thanks to the pig’s strong grip. “That’s right. I said ‘show me your appreciation.” The scent of heavy leather reached her nostrils, followed by the taste of rubber against her lips. Quivering in anticipation, the vole pressed those very lips against the tips of Helga’s boot, dragging her tongue across to clean what she couldn’t see.
“That’s it,” Helga said approvingly, “I want those to shine before we continue. Not that it’ll lighten your punishment.” Nor should it. Her tail curled, body throbbing as she lathered her mistress’s biker boots. She’d both spoken out of turn and made the mistake of not properly appreciating her better. The vole deserved to be punished, she craved it. Any good slave would wish the same.
“Stop.” Helga pulled her up by her mohawk to her heels. Strong fingers wrapped around her throat, “I won’t gag you for what’s next. But I won’t hesitate to go harder if I get any lip.” Amethyst grinned underneath her hood, and from how the pig’s lips tasted, she could tell her mistress felt the same.