Mistress Enola – I Decide How

You’re already trembling on the edge, weak and desperate. Perfect. Now, I’m going to press my filthy black ankle socks — soaked with my sweat, my scent, my dominance — right into your face. Every twitch of my toes, every slow stretch inside the damp, used fabric, is a command. Your hand? It’s mine. I’ll dictate every stroke — fast, slow, stop, go — making you edge until your cock aches and your mind shatters. Two hands. One finger. Two fingers. Fuck the floor. Crawl. Scream into the carpet. I’ll push you to the brink over and over, and you’ll thank me for every second of torment. And when I finally decide it’s time… your orgasm is mine to destroy. I won’t warn you. I’ll choose in the moment — ruin it, waste it, make you lick it off your own fingers. Legs over your head. Face in the mess. Whatever humiliates you most — that’s what I’ll make you do. You don’t get to decide. You don’t get to hope. You only get to serve.