Novel & Cerita My Mistress's Eyes

“Now ride him. His face. While he’s still soaked.” Liane dropped, mounted Gabriel’s face, and cried out as his tongue found her again. Mistress sat back on the throne and spread her legs. “All of you. Watch me cum.” They did. Her fingers circled her clit, slow, precise. She watched Liane tremble, watched Eren sag, watched Gabriel give every last bit of himself. Then Mistress threw her head back and moaned — low, guttural, victorious. Her orgasm rolled through the room like thunder.

“Send for Dennise.” She arrives without ceremony, which means I trained her correctly. Black on black, silk that drinks lamps, leather that forgives movement, hair a river down her back. The violet in her eyes has deepened since her waking; it catches candlelight like the inside of an amethyst. She bows, not low, not humbled. A recognition of rank, not a mistake of identity. “Mistress.” I turn the dossier toward her. “You will end this house of cats in seven nights.”

I see the hunger in all their eyes, but I will trust her because she has yet to lie to me. The dishes being pulled away draws my attention, and my Mistress taps her leg. I stand up and sit on her lap, but she doesn’t want me sideways; she wants me to face her guests. I look at everyone and then look at her. “Mistress...” “What did I say about being a good girl?” She lifts her brow at me. My eyes go to the pendant that rests between her breasts, breasts that I have had in my mouth in order to please her. I lick my lips, because of the candy I know is inside the necklace. She shakes her head no, though.

I turned off the shower but I still couldn't get his scent off me. Wrapping myself in a robe, I went to my closet to pick an outfit for my interview tomorrow. I didn't want to be late. I needed this job. I ended up chosing a deep blue straight gown and a pair of red heels. I laid in bed and wrapped myself in blankets trying to sleep but I couldn't. Everytime I closed my eyes I was met the same set gold eyes. Haunting me and pulling me away from sleep. By the time it was 6am in the morning, I had gotten little to no sleep and my eyes were dull.

His eyes burned balls of hatred. Chris cried softly as a tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn’t believe what had become of him. He was nice. He was so nice to her. He treated her like a delicate flower… and the love he had for her in his eyes… was beautiful. Alas, all she could now see in those silver eyes was hatred. “You have no rights, Christina. None.” “You lost the right to touch me the day you walked out on me.” He gritted out. She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his.

Evelyn, Mistress, forewarned. She swallowed softly. "Perhaps you believe that you are the world's greatest person because you are the Mistress. Dig out my eyeballs and watch him f*ck you to death.” She glared at the mistress sharply before turning her head. “A whore! Keep dreaming of being his Luna…” She gave a loud hiss and moved forward, but Evelyn stopped her. Her face twisted. "Hey, let go of me; I have a mission to complete that I was sent on, so let me finish it."

My eyes travelled all the way up her body from her toes to her face – fucking perfect. I think my lustful stares were to intense , as she suddenly looked my way. Her eyes latched on to my own. I licked my lips , sending her a message of exactly what I want. Her eyes stir with a hint of mischief and storms with lust and desire. Message received! She bats her eyes at me in acceptance – attempting to look innocent or attempting to look cute , however she horribly failed.

The lack of a direct acknowledgment only intensified the strangeness of the situation, leaving Dryzza to wonder how much more the mistress knew and what game was truly being played behind those calm, unreadable eyes. "I see," the mistress whispered, finally shifting her gaze to meet Dryzza's. Her voice, soft yet probing, carried a weight that cut through the silence. "But seeing that you are here, you must have come with a mission." The statement was neither a question nor an accusation, but a simple observation—one that left little room for denial. Dryzza hesitated, her mind racing through possible responses. She knew that any attempt at deception would be futile. The mistress had a presenc

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve only been feeding him crumbs. Tonight, I’m going to remind him of the feast he married.You almost forgot who I am Their gazes locked in the mirror ,not as enemies, but as rivals who understood each other's hunger too well. Damian was pacing the living room by the time Lydia returned home. She walked in with the same calm composure, as if she hadn’t been meeting his mistress just an hour ago. Her eyes slid to him, unfazed. “Where were you?” His voice cracked slightly, the question sounding pathetic even to his ears. Lydia didn’t answer. She dropped her clutch onto the couch, removed her earrings, and walked past him toward their bedroom.