Tea and a blowjob is exactly what I’d love to wake up to.”

Tea? pretty feminine red nailed hands hold a classic floral teacup

I am filled with need at the thought of serving him a steaming cup of tea, made to his fastidious standard, kneeling at his feet.

I dream of the day when I can present him with the perfect cup and wait, relaxed and content, between his knees. Sometimes I imagine that he sips it pensively, leaned back in his chair, and beckons me closer until my chin is resting on his crotch. He tells me to unzip him and pull out his cock, I comply, and it is so smooth and warm in my hand that I immediately crave it in my mouth. He sips his tea and runs a hand through my hair, nudging me mouth-first onto his bobbing dick. His elbows rest on the arms of his chair, the cup hanging between his beautiful hands above my head as I suck and moan, my hand between my legs tapping and pinching my self as his hips begin to thrust.

I think of the tea, sloshing back and forth in the belly of the cup, cradled in his hand. I chose a pretty cup, imagining something delicate and feminine in his hands while his filthy bitch gags on him, eager to serve him, utterly. His other hand is in my hair, he’s rough, tugging and forcing himself deeper, bruising the tender flesh of my throat. I know that I’m his dutiful and worthy slut, slick with devotion.

I know that I’m his dutiful and worthy slut, slick with devotion.”

I his hand leaves my head suddenly, and I feel his fingers and thumb on either side of my throat as he pushes me off. I watch in agonizing arousal as his cock erupts. He catches his own load in the tea cup, his semen clouding and marbling the tea. He pulls me towards him again and holds my chin firmly, looking into my eyes.

“Tell me whose you are.”

“Yours. All Yours.”


He pushes the cup towards my face, his hand firm on the back of my head. He presses the warm porcelain to my lips and I open my mouth to him once again. The tea is still very warm, and I swallow it all in one go. I look up and he’s smiling as he bends forward to kiss me warmly, his hands on my cheeks.

My hand is still wedged between my thighs and he pulls it free, bringing my fingers to his mouth, sucking them wet my, tasting me.

“No more of that, little slut.”

I dare not pout so I nod instead, licking my lips. As if he’s reading my mind, he shoves his wet fingers into my mouth and I am immediately soothed, all need to come begins to fade as he pets my tongue with his finger tips and exhales my name into the space between us. My head is heavy but the chipped cup in my hand reminds me of my  duties, so I force my eyes to focus and I look up into his calm, benevolent face.




Violet Fawkes

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.