Cordelia's Feet 9 - The Queen Bee's Deceit - Sex Stories

Cordelia's Feet 9 - The Queen Bee's Deceit

... asked so everyone could hear her. “Yours,” I replied, voice shaky and strangled, unable to lie. “And what am I to you?” she asked sharply, burying her fingers in my hair at the back of my head and tilting it back forcefully while her other hand kneaded my breast. My hips started to gyrate. She was reducing me to nothing but the need for her, to nothing but that yearning, pulling, all-encompassing desire that filled my heart and pussy. Then - clarity. There are moments in life when everything thought true crumbles to dust, and at first, the mind is unable to comprehend it. But then, like after a thunderstorm that threw you around, blinded you and made you deaf with its sheer force, you gradually become aware of a silence that settles over everything, and with it comes clarity. The bridge to what had been my life until minutes ago was burning to cinders and there was no salvaging it. I was left with nothing but my one desire, and I had to act on it, as it was all that was left. My fingers shook like mad when I opened the button and zipper of my skirt. I let it drop, kicked it away and slid my panties off while I lowered myself to my knees. I released all the love, need and worship I had futilely tried to contain inside my heart, and looked up at Cordelia as the goddess she was. “My beloved,” I answered her question loud and clear, so loud that it overcame the pounding of my heartbeat. “My Queen Bee. My Goddess. My...” I knew this was what she had been waiting for, and I saw her ...

... eyes light up the moment the first syllable left my tongue. “My Despot.” Even though she was completely clothed, she had never looked more beautiful than now, her face radiant with a satisfaction that seemed to originate deep inside her and her eyes misty with emotions. A soft shudder raced through her, and a delighted giggle rang out. “Your despot, yes.” She walked over to my desk and sat down on the edge, leaving me to shuffle around on my knees. She kicked off one expensive white sandal, and I knew her expectations even before she uttered it. “Show the rest of the class where your place is, Mrs. Wilkins!” And so I crawled through a swamp of embarrassment, my eyes transfixed by her pretty toes which were like shiny crowns on the most beautiful of legs, giggles and open laughter accompanying my way, until my lips could wrap around these objects of worship. My tongue danced all over them, and with the familiar taste came deep contentment. For a moment, there was nothing but Cordelia, the taste and feeling of her foot, and my own arousal that I could clearly smell. She withdrew her foot without notice, dripping strings of drool down my chin, and looked at me with a calculating gaze. I was breathing hard and tried to meet her eyes. She wiped her foot on my bared breasts, leaving wet smudges of saliva and burning heat. I wondered what she had planned next, but all became clear when she held out the photographs to me and winked. “Show the class what a slut you are. Show them the ...