174 lines
10 KiB
Plaintext
174 lines
10 KiB
Plaintext
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DARK PASSION
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She lay across the low padded bench, arms outstretched,
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chained bracelets holding her in place. Knees on the floor,
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lashed down to the sides of the bench, spread wide, her gown
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pulled up above her bottom exposing all of her pleasures. Her
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skin glistened with sweat from the heat of the firelight and her
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own trembling. Her hair was bound up on her head, showing the
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graceful curves of her neck and shoulders.
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He had left her like this, after first forcing her to strip
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naked in front of him. He had put the collar and bracelets on
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her, his eyes holding her in a trance, attaching the chains of
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bondage.
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At his command, she knelt before him. Her slender hands
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trembled as she reached up to part the folds of his robe. Her
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mouth slack, she wet her lips as her eyes remained fixed on his
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erection.
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He had made her ask, made her ask to take him into her
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mouth. Finally he had consented and slowly her hands caressed
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him, chains faintly clinking, fingers wrapping around firmly, one
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hand cradling and gripping beneath, to draw him deep within, hot
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and firm within, as deeply as she could manage.
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His hands drew her from him and he pulled her to her feet.
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He told her to put on her finest nightgown, and after the silken
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folds had settled over her figure, motioned her to the bench. He
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locked her bracelets together and grasping the chains at her
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collar, forced her to her knees, this time before the bench. He
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drew her down, stretched her out, arms first, across the bench
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and chained her into place. He bound her legs at the knee to the
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legs of the bench, drawing her thighs apart. Slowly, ever so,
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his hands raised the silken gown. Gently, it slid along her skin
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until the folds rested piled up on the small of her back. The
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same hands freely felt her, felt her silken curves and warm
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softness and discovered that she was very, very wet.
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He said, "I am pleased." rose and left her waiting and
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wanting his return.
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Silently, he crossed behind her, and with no forewarning,
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his hands spread her thighs and his erection slid deep within
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her. She made soft sounds at the feel of it, the pleasure
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stretched her with a slight edge of pain. Then just as suddenly
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he withdrew, leaving her for the moment empty and wanting, her
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breath coming quick and shallow.
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His fingers closed over her hair and pulled her head up from
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the bench. His eyes again held her mind as the chains held her
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body, in bondage. His mouth drew closer as her lips parted in
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anticipation, then her mouth was covered with his, open to his
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forceful searching tongue. As he drew away, his hand came up to
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her face holding a leather whip.
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The handle was dark, decorated with white ropework and brass
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rings. A cat-o-nine tails, it swayed gently in his hand in the
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firelight.
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Her eyes widened slightly but remained fixed on the whip as
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he brought it closer. He caressed her face with it, drawing it
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across her cheekbones and down her throat to her breasts. She
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felt it's smooth softness and inhaled the scent, the touch of
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leather a velvet threat.
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Slowly, lingeringly, the leather strands slid across her
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nipples, straining erect under the touch.
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He stood, straddled the bench and with one hand guided his
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erect phallus to her mouth with the whip. He stroked deeply
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within. She was held fast, arms and legs contracting against her
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bonds. Her excitement flowed, hot and trembling, from deep with-
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in.
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The whip lightly struck her bottom and remained there, the
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leather strips trailing across the sensitive skin. It struck
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again, lightly as he thrust hard into her mouth.
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He stood back, moved around her, gazing deeply at every
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curve and valley of her bound figure.
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Softly, a kiss where before the whip had fallen. A warm,
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wet tongue licked and kissed it's way to her wet heat, toward her
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center, stoking her trembling fire, almost to the breaking point,
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and then was still. He rose, and placing the head of his erec-
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tion at her entrance, was quickly deep within her, stretching
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her, filling her deep.
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Within her, he played the whip slowly across her back and
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bottom. She felt the strands slide across her skin, the leather
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creaking softly as it moved in his hand. She felt the cold brass
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rings in the handle when he reached underneath to caress her
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stomach and breasts. The handle brushed across her nipple and
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pressed against warm softness in contrasting sensations.
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He began. Long, slow strokes, hard strokes. Strong hands
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roughly grasping her hips, he pulled himself deep, driving her
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body into the padded bench. She shook with the force that pound-
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ed her body, face to the bench, arms straining against the bonds
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about her slender wrists.
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The shock waves caused her hair to fall, soft about her
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face, covering her lips drawn back in passionate strain.
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The force within and without was building, each thrust
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driving her higher until the peak came, and came, she clenched
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and straining, begging him please no more, but he did not cease
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until his heat had blossomed deep within her.
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He released her from the bench and drew her to her feet.
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Her hands still bound, he led her to the bed, raised her arms up
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to behind her head and bound them to the bedpost.
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She leaned back against the bedpost, body slack and open
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after her release. A drug-like trance filled her and deep mov-
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ing, trembling sensations flowed over and through her body.
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Slowly awareness returned and she saw him moving about the room
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in preparation, black silken robe flowing in the firelight.
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Her gaze was caught by her own reflection in the mirror
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behind him. Slender arms bound in bracelets above her head, hair
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in wild disarray, deep shadows about her face. The flickering
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firelight danced and played about her breasts and strong thighs,
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casting her figure in sharp relief, a shadowed, sensuous lady in
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the night.
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He sat back in the chair, legs crossed, sipping a glass of
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wine. His fingers played around the lip of the glass and his
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eyes slowly caressed her body, missing nothing. He covered her
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every inch, took in all.
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Never before had she felt so exposed, so naked, and as her
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eyes dropped from his he softly laughed, enjoying her feeling.
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He rose, lowered her hands and locked them together before
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her, and returned to his seat. "Now," he said, "Take one step
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toward me and turn around...slowly. No, do not cover yourself,
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let me see you. Let me look at every part of you, every curve.
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Show me...everything. Now."
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The tension in her stomach grew under his gaze and as she
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fought to control her trembling hands she turned. Slowly, ever
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so, she turned, her awareness of his gaze intense, feeling the
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exposed side of her body like a summer chill.
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As her eyes returned to his she saw the whip, slender dark
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and menacing in his hands.
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He opened his robe. "Now kneel...and take me in your
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mouth." She did so, eyes closed as her bound hands reached for
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him.
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He felt hot in her hand, and as she leaned forward doing as
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he wished, she again felt the whip, this time it softly slapped
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against her back and shoulders. She heard his voice above her
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head, softly, "Do well, my lady, for later you shall be well
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rewarded." His hands caressed her head, rubbing her temples and
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the back of her neck and shoulders as she took him deep. He
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lifted her head.
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He put the whip around her neck and pulled her up to him.
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She closed her eyes as she felt the rigid heat against her be-
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tween her breasts. He leaned forward to kiss her, long and
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searching, his tongue moving in gentle caresses. Slowly, he
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kissed her, lingering on every movement, capturing her, surround-
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ing her, enveloping her with a gossamer veil as if time seemed to
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slow, flowing like honey. She lost track of time and space. A
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slow fire began to burn low down in her belly. Different from a
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quick flare of passion, this heat was slow-building and deep, the
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kind of fire that builds white-hot coals, a searing heat, a shim-
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mering white heat from a furnace of molten lava. The heat of a
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woman whose nerves are filled with flowing fire.
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He released her, and as the tension in her body burned, he
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reached one hand up to her face and caressed her flushed cheek-
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bone. His hand felt cool upon her face. Her mouth hung slightly
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open. Her hands slowly ran up either thigh and met in the middle
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to grip him once again. She pumped once, twice, thrice before
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her head bowed once again and she engulfed him in her mouth, a
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wisp of hair hanging down over her forehead and across her hol-
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lowed cheeks. Deep she took him, drawing him down into her
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mouth, her hands running everywhere, sliding, gripping, kneading,
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fingers searching for ways to release. She was no longer her-
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self. She was a firechild, out of control, a berserker warrior-
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woman holding nothing back in the battling that was the cresting
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wave of the moment. Her soul wailed like a banshee flowing
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through her mind like the molten lava flowing between her legs.
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He pulled her hands from him and placed them behind her
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head. Reaching down, he grasped her breasts, roughly, and lifted
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her to her feet. She could barely stand, but there was no need,
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for he lashed her to the tall bedpost, her hands raised above her
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head, the soft ropes crisscrossing across her chest and between
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her thighs, holding her open wide for him to see. She sagged
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against the ropes, the wet heat flowing out of her.
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He reached into a small wooden chest and brought out two
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small clamps connected by a chain. She stared at them, thinking
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that he couldn't mean to do what her suddenly burning erect
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nipples told her he was going to do. He slowly reached for her
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nipples and squeezed them.
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