Friday, April 18, 2008


Her skin ripples, a soft whisper of movement as awareness of his presence embraces and surrounds. Beneath the blindfold, her eyes flutter as her heartbeat drums a staccato against the pale flesh of her breast. She breathes deep and whimpers in pained ecstasy as his unique scent fills her senses.

The small hairs on the back of her neck stand straight as warmth reaches out and almost caresses. Swaying, she undulates towards his presence, yearning for his touch.

The room is comfortable. He is always so careful of small things, things that make a difference, things that won’t distract or remove attention for even one second from what really matters. She is naked, her arms pulled tight behind her back, encircled with soft leather cuffs, strong with a velvet underband that caresses a translucent blue-veined wrist. Her shoulders tremble slightly, pulling her hands tight like this behind her always strains but she welcomes the small pain and offers it to him with unspoken gratefulness.

She kneels, thighs spread wide as told; she takes pride in not needing the spreader bar but instead keeping his dictates to keep herself open and available with pure devotion and determination. In the muted vanilla scented candlelight, her silver rings glisten, drawing the eye to the delicate pale pink labia, already dewed with moisture and proof of her arousal. The small breasts, tip tilted with swollen, crimson nipples tremble, as she moves restlessly on her knees. She straightens, thrusting her soft breasts out for his use.

Cool, soft braided leather slip along her cheek causing her to start and stifle a cry. She can smell her own odour on its twisted cool surface and moans. Slowly, gently, barely touching, he caresses her face, following the contour of jaw down the sweep of neck with its thick collar, touching and slightly flicking the straining shoulder blade then dropping to the plump, swollen breasts.

She gasps as she feels the long slender stalk of the crop push in under her breasts, in the crease where the soft flesh meets the broad ribcage. As if weighing their bounty, he lifts the breasts away from her chest, digging in with a sweet sharp pressure that makes her cry out …

Her breasts, swollen, the nipples aching, are suspended for a moment and she cries out almost in despair as she suddenly feels his soft tongue sweep across their swollen tips.

Between her legs she feels her arousal swell in a trickle of glistening clearness that trails a teardrop of diamonds across her inner thigh.

Her breasts fall back against her chest as he pulls the crop from beneath them.

She strains beneath her blindfold, eyes fluttering, ears straining as she tries to ascertain where he stands. She feels warmth, as suddenly, she senses him behind her. She sighs as his long slender fingers tangle in the muted carmine of tumbled curls. Tugging, she sways back, the back of her thighs trembling as she seeks her balance.

She feels his warm breath against her ear, not quite touching, a teasing promise that makes her shiver, goosebumps rippling the pale freckled skin.

She feels the promise of the crop again, trailing down the wings of her shoulder blades, pulling slightly at the bound hands, then suddenly, shockingly, she feels its leather kiss between her legs. Panting, she keeps her thighs spread wide, although instinct pushes her to pull close, to protect that delicate inner skin against the intrusion.


She moans as the fall of the crop snaps against her spread inner lips, flicking the swollen nub of her pleasure and torment.


A wet sweet sound as moisture spatters against her long, pale lips, as the flick of the crop licks at her perfidious body, then again, soft, then hard and she feels his hand at her neck, holding her still and breasts trembling, she fights to still herself as he silently demands.

The hot sweet lick of pain against her most delicate parts sparks fire in her soul. She moans quietly, pushing back against his fingers which dig cruelly now into the slender neck, grasping the collar which declares his ownership.

She feels his breath against her cheek, laced with vanilla and coffee, flooding her with an atavistic rush of memory and want.

A sharp nip at her ear brings her back to the reality of sensation. Consciousness floods back in a delicious wave of pain and pleasure, so inextricably entwined she cannot differentiate where one starts and the other ends. She gasps as he kneels behind her, his hands coming around the trembling torso to cup the heaving breasts. Lost, she cannot stop herself from leaning back against him, the feel of his hard chest against her back so all encompassing she panics as she feels the heavy, painful pressure deep inside so intensely that she fights for control.

Words, almost inaudible, felt through the sweep of breath into her ear, the rumbling of his chest against her straining back, resonating deep within ..

She pants, desperately, harshly, her breath loud in the quiet air.

He grasps the firm breasts, their sweet flesh barely filling his palms, the nipples, thick, engorged with blood, deliciously swollen. She stills as his hands cup, squeeze, and then pull … his thumb and forefingers grasp the crimson tips suddenly, pinch and pulls them away from the softer breast flesh.

Between her spread thighs, the taut flesh trembling uncontrollably, she feels a warm, hot stream of liquid trickle from the swollen, aroused folds of her most intimate place.

She pushes back against the firm, hard chest of her Beloved, her skin singing with desire and lust, relishing the feel of hard pebbly nipples scraping along her shoulder wings, the push of muscle and sinew hard against the soft, giving skin of her back.

Rich, earthy, the air is perfumed with their arousal, hot, rich female scent, clean and astringent, the darker, richer scent of his arousal, thick and delicious, melding and flowing together in a symphony of lust as their bodies burgeon and flow, hot sweet trickles of desire and preparation bedewing thighs, swelling breasts and engorging nipples.

Deep within, the hot sweet ache of lust, the familiar heaviness building deep in her groin, she trembles on her abraded knees. The building, the pushing, the urgency of her need begins to overwhelm and she trembles, her strong body weak and disoriented as he plays, pulls and pinches, abusing the soft breast flesh of his plaything with delight.

The tugging in her groin is almost painful now and against the taut skin of her buttocks, she feels the hot, swollen proof of his desire, throbbing, firm, the tip trailing a glistening path down the deep crevasse of her firm buttocks, probing but not pushing.

Tears etch acid trails of despair, squeezing beneath the snug blindfold which focuses her mind and body to trail a crystal trail of regret along the flushed cheeks. She breathes deep, seeking her center, seeking her control as she has been taught and finds a shaky, tremulous hold over her treacherous body. She wants to push back against the throbbing proof of his arousal, she wants to feel its slippery, hot length push inside, force apart folds and sink deep within. But he has not indicated she can do so, and moaning, she trembles violently as she fights for control.

Even thinking about his beautiful body inside hers sends her perilously close to where she cannot go. Ruthlessly, she mentally pushes back the hot heaviness which wants to explode from her abused flesh, grasping the dissipating threads of determination to exert a terrible control over what she cannot have.

He stands and she moans in despair as she feels the warmth of his body leave her, her breasts bereft as his hands release their sensitive tips.

Then she feels his beloved presence in front of her and his hands are at her eyes and the leather loosens and she blinks even in the muted candle lit glow of the room, her great eyes luminous, their green depths glittering with the sheen of tears.

He stands before her, capturing the supplicating gaze of his property and smiles a rich, lazy smile of ownership. Like a beautiful snake, green captures green in a tangle of lust and control. Keeping her eyes captive, he sways forward, the ivory column of his cock bobbing enticingly close to her mouth, the foreskin taut, tight around the crimson bulge of the tip, glistening in the muted light as fluid oozes from the winking eye and trails a glistening trail down the throbbing shaft.

She licks her lips, which feel dry and swallows, her eyes entangled in his green gaze. Swaying closer, he brushes the tip of his arousal against the small mouth, trailing a translucent ribbon of want from the oozing tip to the bow lips which glistens in the muted light of the flickering candles.

She moans and begs with her eyes, swaying on her knees which ache now against the hard floor, but wanting to feel him in her mouth with an almost physically overwhelming need. He moves back and a tangy, sticky tendril of fluid elongates then breaks and she feels on her lips his taste and her tongue darts, licking.

He moves behind her and she struggles to keep her eyes facing forward, resisting the desire to twist and see where he is. She feels him, a looming, physical reality behind her, and the skin on her back prickles as if his very eyes stroke the long sweep of spine.

Behind her, his eyes caress the elegant line of back, the sweep of waist and slight swell to the narrow hips. Her buttocks are small, firm globes, with a deep dimple in the right cheek, honed and sculpted by daily yoga and long-distance cycling. He watches as they flex involuntarily, as she rocks slightly on abraded knees, conscious too of his gaze, which seems to caress her like a warm palm.

Kneeling, his hands grasp the broad yet delicate shoulders, fingers pressing deep. She sighs, a long moaning cry of want and need and hope and without conscious volition, sways back against him. Her breath catches as his throbbing prick slips up between the deep crevasse of her buttocks, hot, muscular, damp.

She feels his hands tighten and then stiffens as his teeth suddenly fasten into the meaty part of her shoulder.

He closes his eyes, relishing the feel of flesh and muscle between his teeth. He has an almost overwhelming desire to bite down harder, to feel his teeth sink deep into the hot, meaty flesh, to feel the tart, iron rush of blood in his mouth … but he resists, fighting his own impulse, his cock aching and throbbing between the warm clenching cheeks. Pulling back slightly, teeth still biting gently, he pulls his hips back and then crouches slightly, letting his prick bob between the spread thighs and slide between the slick, slippery folds of her sex, sliding into the furrow.

He closes his eyes, his mouth pressing against her shoulder, sliding himself rhythmically slowly back and forth through her wet, swollen folds, along the crease, the delicate scratch of her silver rings sending shivers of lust as they kiss a promise into his aching shaft.

He bites down firmly, not breaking the skin, imprinting her, branding her with his mark, knowing to his soul he could, if he chose, bite down and break the skin, sink his teeth deep into muscle and flesh and she would not gainsay him, she would not refuse. Knowing this, knowing he could do this if he choose to, makes his heart swell with a painful intensity of emotion that brings wetness to his eyes, squeezed tight as he allows his skin and sinew, muscle and tendon to feel the moment.

He feels breathless and the feel of her back against his chest enchants him, dragging his nipples, engorged and hard against the soft skin of her back, he suckles at her shoulder. Her buttocks, so soft and firm push into his groin, and his cock, hard, throbs between her spread thighs, slippery, wet and the smell of her sex wafting on the vanilla-scented air, mingling with the smoky candlelight to form an intoxicating medley of scent and feel and crouching slightly, he pulls back, releasing her shoulder from his clenched teeth and pausing, admires for a second, the perfect indentations of teeth marks, pale against her ivory skin, then flushing pink as blood under the skin rushes into the marks, glowing pinkly.

Reaching down, he grasps his cock at its thick base and angling it slightly up, prods delicately, pushing slightly with his hips, probing until sighing, the spongy tip of his prick slips into the clinging swollen folds and sinks deeply into her.

She moans, trembling, panting slightly as she feels him push into her, his throbbing hot column pushing aside folds, invading, claiming, almost painful as although she is wet and swollen, it is the first time he has entered her tonight and she is tight and somewhat tense from the time spent on her knees, from the moments waiting for him, from the anticipation.

She feels his hands at her neck, gathering the tumbled red curls and twisting, he winds the long, silken strands around his fingers. He leans back, pulling at the hair tangled in his right hand, still joined at the groin, and turning his eyes down, he watches as his engorged shaft thrusts in and out from between her spread thighs.

He watches her buttocks clench and unclench as he sinks into her, deep, his groin smacking against their soft skinned, firm spongy flesh, then back out, his cock glistening now, droplets of pale white arousal from her bedewing its throbbing pinkening length.

He pulls harder and her back arches, her head pulled back by his insistent fingers, and over her arched neck he sees the small, trembling mounds of her breasts, nipples deep red and engorged.

He feels his own breath speeding up, his groin feels heavy and full and he can feel his balls tightening and swelling. Groaning, he pulls back and with a sensuous, sucking sound, his cock pulls out from its warm pulsating prison.

Panting, he sways back, releasing her hair and slowly, she straightens. His cock bobbing, damp, staff glistening, its spongy head a deep crimson, engorged and swollen, he stands.

He stands behind her, tall and straight and drinks in the kneeling figure. Her back is long and lissom, long, sleek muscles sweeping to waist, hips narrow, buttocks firm.

Leaning down, he pulls her up by her bound wrists. Then gently, he unhooks first the hook linking one hand to the other, then unbuckles the leather cuffs, first the left, then the right. Throwing them to one side, he runs his hands up and down her aching arms, massaging them, digging gently into her shoulder blades, loosening her protesting muscles. She shakes her arms slightly, and turning, smiles at him, eyes downcast. Reaching up, he gently moves the spill of red hair which tumbles down the pale ivory back almost to her waist and using it like rope, pulls her lips to his, soft, sweet, barely a touch, breathes mingling and the soft press of him against her sending tremors of pure joy resonating through her body.

Taking her hand, he leads her to the wall and indicates how he wants her to stand. She leans forward slightly, bracing herself, legs spread hip width apart, buttocks thrust out, her breasts hanging free, jiggling slightly as her breath increases in anticipation of what is to come.

He gathers the silken strands of her hair and pushes them over her shoulder, leaving the long, muscular back bare, sweep of spine and waist, curve of hip

Legs a little unsteady, he walks to the table to the side of the room, choosing a red and black leather flogger with knotted tails, then pads back, sinuous as a panther, his prick swollen and bobbing, his mouth twisted slightly, his eyes predatory.


The flogger comes down, no warning, a lick of leather against her back and she cries out, startled, then braces herself again.


She jumps at the next blow of the leather thong. Light as a whisper, the supple tongues of the tooled leather flogger flit along the flesh of her back, barely touching, hinting a promise of what is to come. Again it comes, a sweet supple caress of flesh, the steel tipped fronds barely stinging.

He stands tall behind her, around 4 feet from her braced figure. In his hand the leather tooled flogger becomes an art form as he expertly plies it against the sensitive skin of her back, trailing sweet trails of heat from the shoulder blades down to the firm buttocks, his expert hand avoiding the spine and kidneys, concentrating on the fleshy pads of shoulder, licking just barely along the taut waist. Almost imperceptibly, he begins to stroke harder, patterning an intricate quilting of colour and texture along the human canvas.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she fights for stillness and then as the thud became a staccato pattern, she begins to calm as the familiar feel of the whip caresses her. Her mind flits and then quietens as sensation floods through the nerves of her body from the tip of her neck to the sweet, intense ache which begins to gather deep within her groin. Sweetly, her body a mass of sensation, she quietens and slips deep within her mind, a form of meditation she craves and waits for with hopeful intensity and want and need.

In the muted light of the room, smoke from the candles wafts insubstantial and lazily, and the currents of air stirred by the snap of leather and the sweep of arm stirs the golden diffused light of the candles to brief flaring life.

She wakes as if from a dream as she feels his breath against her neck. Her back burns with a delicious intensity, the skin fluttering and alive, her buttocks aching slightly. She feels his hands at her breasts, squeezing and moans, wanting more, more intensity, more sensation, for her body floats still, feeling light and insubstantial and the feel of his hands grounds her to a reality she struggles to re-enter.

He pinches her breasts, and looking down, she watches as livid finger marks bloom against their blue-veined pale surface. He turns her and his lips meet hers, his tongue plundering the inside of her mouth, twining with hers, breath to breath, his body hard and hot against her.

His hands reach down to her hips, lower, until he is cupping her buttocks and his knee is between her thighs, forcing them apart, pushing up against her swollen, wet folds, his hard muscled leg rubbing, pulling at the silver rings with a painful intensity that brings a gush of fluid from her, dribbling down his leg, glistening in the musk of the room.

And then bracing, she feels his heavy prick between her spread thighs, probing, slipping in the damp fecundity of her sex and hopping, as he thrusts, she wraps her legs around his thighs and climbs his braced legs until he is there, pushing aside swollen layers of flesh, probing deep inside, feeling too big, too much, as if he is going to split her open, reveal her and then her inner muscles relax and he pulls out and she clings and she moans, tightening her thighs around his hips, pushing her groin tighter against him, rubbing the swollen nub of her need against the wiry hair at the base of his prick and he surges into her once again and the pressure builds, builds, builds and her groin is heavy, aching and he thrusts faster, harder and her head bangs against the wall as he thrusts harshly into her and her abraded back sings with sensation as it rubs against the wall, a painful intensity which seems to push deep within her mind and wailing, she feels herself burst open and her muscles contract and he feels her squeezing him, muscular contractions and yelling, he feels himself burst deep within in and thrusting even harder, empties himself deep inside her, his cock twitching and throbbing, his balls tight up into his body, a molten stream of his need pumping rhythmically into the hot embrace of her womb.

Panting, breath harsh, he leans against her, his legs trembling, feeling for the first time her weight as sweat streams down his back, dripping off his nose and leaning into her, he laughs breathlessly and captures her mouth in his and kisses her deeply, sweetly and pulling her up close to him, he takes her weight into his arms and staggers to the couch, where he sits down, pulling her onto his lap, careful to protect her abraded back, pulling her close under his chin, replete in mind and spirit and cuddling her to his heart, rests.


Cannon said...

Amazingly hot. My wife and I thank you for the sensual mood you story has sparked in us.

selkie said...

thank you cannon - I am VERY flattered that you two found this enticing!