Isolde's POV
I swallowed once around the c*m still coating my tongue, careful not to close my mouth fully. Another guest was already stepping forward. The fourth. The fifth. Each one stroked over my upturned face and the soft, heavy weight of my t**s. Each one emptied himself in thick, visible loads that painted my skin in fresh layers. The marble beneath my knees grew slick where excess fluid ran down my thighs. My heavy breasts swayed slightly with every breath; the perpetual drip from the collar never paused.
One of them spoke while he came.
“Look at her…those t**s, that soft belly. She’s made for this.”
“She was made for permanent ownership,” the Master corrected. “And tonight the claim begins.”
He stood again and continued his slow circle. Every few steps he paused to gather more
