Confessions of a libra

Your mouth is mine | Credit: Here

[ Content Warning: You will kneel. You will serve. Foot worship, service kink, predator–prey energy, marking, explicit erotic content. If you keep reading, you’re already mine. ]

10.08.25

He knocked on the open bedroom door, with the reverence of a parishioner approaching a house of worship. I finished my little routine first, placing some perfume oil behind my ears. I took a final look at myself in the mirror, at the way th[e light hit my collarbones just right. The shimmer from the shea butter slathered lovingly on my skin, and just enough golden highlight to tantalise the roving eye. I wore a deep burgundy lace-trimmed velvet camisole, which seemingly begged to be both touched and thrown to the wayside.

“Come in, my love.” my voice sliced through the silence, like a soft assassin.

I turned and saw him standing there, eyes seeking clarity.

“You said you needed me?” he asked, unsure.

“Yes. Fill that bowl over there with warm water. It needs to be safe enough for my feet. Can you handle that?” my head tilted, waiting.

I watched his spine straighten, “Yes not a problem. I’ll be back.”

I watched his retreating form with a smirk. This was going to be fun. As he collected the water, I laid out some oils and settled on the edge of the bed, legs crossed beneath me. All I wore was my camisole, and some lacey underwear in matching black lace. I heard his footsteps as he climbed the stairs. Even, steady and sparking excitement in my body with every step. He came into the room and stood before me.

“Kneel,” I commanded, in dulcet tones.

He knelt, careful not to spill any of the water. With all the gracefulness of a man seeking redemption. I gestured where he could place the bowl of water and he did as instructed.

“Are you ready to serve Mama tonight?” I asked.

He looked up at me, eyes pleading for nothing more. His energy signature changed to erotic focus. I felt it deep in my belly.

“Yes, Mama.”

I leaned forward, gripping his chin. “Then wash my feet. Slowly, take your time. And when you’re done, use any of these oils to consecrate your work. Let me feel your devotion in your hands.”

He took my feet in hand and lowered each one into the water gently. I had just showered so this little ritual was less about cleanliness and more about maintaining sacred order. I wanted to feel his submission, before I decided if it was worth letting him consume me. I felt his palms under my feet, creating pressure as he put the work in. My eyes closed as though on their own and my breath deepened. There was another small splash of water, then his voice coming from beyond.

“I forgot to get a towel,” his voice came through concerned.

“I didn’t.” I said as I grabbed one from just behind me on the bed.

He dried my feet, carefully wrapping each one individually as he did so. I saw him have a read of the bottles, and a sniff before selecting one of the oils. I raised my eyebrows slightly amused at his choice. The oil he chose had a musk to it. It certainly was the most erotically charged of the oils he could have picked. It told me his state of mind before he could even articulate it. The oil hit my nostrils, then his fingers were in deep, stroking the skin while pressing deeply.

My hands steadied me behind and I moaned while leaning my head back. A total unrestrained feeling of wild abandon. The air was getting more and more charged. Thicker, hotter and my mind beginning to fight its fluency.

“Ah, right there! Hold that spot!” I found myself whimpering in his hands.

His hands grounded me, I felt the release of tension from the past week. I felt his energy coax tension from my cells, and I felt him absorb it. Like a blacksmith’s anvil, he took the hits and let the energy itself transform while he remained sturdy. He took care of both feet and I couldn’t let him continue his diligence. My whole body was preparing to take him and his hands on my feet were no longer enough. The hunger was growing, and it needed to be fed.

“Thank you my angel, that will be all.” I spoke breathily.

The last phrase was my favourite to use to deflect from the pleasure that was addling my mind. His eyes looked up into mine. Big, bold, expectant. He raised one of my feet and kissed it lovingly while looking straight into my eyes. A gasp escaped me despite myself and I felt my cunny tingle in recognition.

“Whatever you need, I’ve got you.”

I straightened up and slid my fingers through his hair. I leaned in, until our faces were inches away.

“Who’s Mama’s good boy?” I practically whisper into him.

“I am. Always, yours.” His head leaned into my touch, and his body twitched when I gave him light scratches on his scalp.

“Want to help me stretch?” I asked.

He nodded vigorously, mouth slightly open from the weight of erotic longing that was building between us. Every breath between us felt more and more earned. I pushed myself further on the bed and watched him scramble to follow. I laid back, with a leg pre-emptively held up into the air. He joined on his knees, near my thighs.

“I want you to push my thighs further into my chest just to help ease my tension, both sides. No inappropriate touching. Can you handle that, Baby boy?” I said with a cheeky smile, thumb resting playfully between my teeth.

“I’ll be good,” he said with barely-hidden arousal laced into every syllable.

He secured himself between my legs. With his hand secured beneath the back of my knee, he pushed his whole body into me. The sweet release of my muscles, the feeling of his weight, the temptation of our pelvic dance was invading my senses. Instead I just breathed into the position. He joined me, pacing his breaths with mine. We both felt my leg start to shake and he started easing the pressure with excruciating slowness.

I let the sounds of ecstasy burst from my throat unencumbered. I watched him re-adjust himself before starting on the other leg. This lean in was even more sensitive. I felt the release in my thigh, my hip and my self-control ebb away. I needed to see his expertise for the deeper knots. The ones only his sceptre could reach. The leg shake resumed again and he released my leg. There was a little pant from both from both of us with filled the silence between us.

“Are you ready to devour me, Little Wolf?” I purred.

My foot slowly sliding down his abs, edging towards his zipper. He caught my foot right before I reached him, raising it instead and sucking my big toe into his mouth – eyes closed and reverent. He gave me a little nip of danger which sent shockwaves up my system, making my nipples ache with need.

“Yes, Huntress. My mouth is yours.”

“Then settle between my thighs, like the good little pet you are.” I exerted my dominance with every note that escaped me.

I let my legs wrap around his waist as he settled over me. Letting his body weigh me down, but absorbing some of that weight through his arms. I looked up at him, fingers tracing his mouth – building anticipation.

“I hope you know I’m marking you tonight. Are you ready to be so deeply mine, that you radiate my energy signature wherever you go? Can you take the commitment?” I asked softly.

His tongue darted out to taste my fingers. “I’m ready.”

“Then come inside,” I dared.

Was it an invitation, or a warning? There was no time to think, his hands were already fiddling with his zipper, his forehead shiny from devotion. My wetness met him warm and inviting, my back arched as he filled me with precision. As my hips bucked to meet him fully sheath – my mouth clamped on his shoulder. I bit into him, hard and claiming. I felt his body absorb the shock, felt his hands grip me tighter, heard his mouth groan as my body accepted his grounding himself through me.

“Now you’re mine. And the feast is all yours.”

Written under Lilith’s juridiction.

Signed in bone and brilliance.