A Flame in the Night

THE FLAME (Act 2 of 3)

In the brief interlude, as I'm getting additional supplies to will my dominance over you, you are lying down on a bed--bound and subdued--and waiting to be disciplined for your wrongdoings. But even now, as you're blindfolded and naked, you deliberate in your own darkness while thinking about this evening. Moreover, you reflect upon the prior things and events, which lead to this predicament, especially including: the men whom, earlier, you inappropriately and inordinately danced with; the fragrant candle, now burning pleasantly at your side; and the leather bindings fastened to your wrists, constraining your arm movements.

Meanwhile, although you haven't any eyesight since your eyes are everywhere covered, still, even so, you're envisioning what you must look like from within the room's lighting; with your arms set high above your head and elbows spanning wide and level to the bedding, your private parts must be well-lit and highlighted, and entirely vulnerable to my hankering appetite. With that, oddly you ponder if your skin is glistening from all the kisses you've received to your breasts and further wonder, anxiously, if I can see how your slit has become wet and so heavily saturated that the beading water will soon dribble away from your crease. And as you sense the excitement growing in your crotch, humbly you're concerned with how well you're performing for me. You remember the strict instructions that I dictated to you, and now you're scrutinizing whether or not you've been keeping yourself still and motionless adequately enough for me to adore you.

Consequently then, hoping to atone for the lewd, suggestive acts you made, and woefully lax misconduct you showed, now, solemnly, you renew the vow you swore to yourself, which loans me total and complete control of your fate. And in addition, included in that pledge, you promise to remain still and quiet--no matter what! After all, you've convinced yourself that whatever punishment given to you by your master, you'll receive it and it'll happen because you truly deserve it.

Nonetheless, in spite of your resolve to be calm and passive, it's unnerving when once again you experience me groping above your topside. Every which way I choose, I fondle your outside trimmings, until eventually, I place my hands upon the tops of your hips. From there, slowly I glide my palms downwards and skim along your inner thighs. Gradually I knead and pamper the supple, cushiony meat in your groin and quadriceps and continue sliding my hands over and about your soft, wholesome skin.

Finally, I reach the ends of your shins, and by now, I grip and hold down your right leg only. I then place a leathery style shackle securely onto your ankle, and it's similar likewise to the ones that are also binding your wrists. And I tighten it, snugly, sealing it so that it can't be removed off your ankle. Next, seconds after, I affix another matching leathery band around you, and now this time, I make it so your left ankle is bounded soundly as well.

Thus, while you're waiting, you begin to visualize my next move, predicting that I'm about to plow my cock into your slippery, awaiting cunt. Your heart patters with clumsy, nervous beats as you're outstretched on the bed and utterly aroused. But then, instead of my cock laying siege to your wide open insides, you're caught off guard because now, without warning, I'm making out with your neck.

"Ah, that feels really, really nice!" You think about those tantalizing touches shimmying around on your landscape. And it compels you to breathe with larger and unsettled breaths, as it tickles some when I start tracing long, snaking lines with my moist, salivating tongue. I lay a foundation along your collar and casually ascend upwards alongside your delicate, gentle neckline. When I reach your ticklish underside jaw muscles, I do a turnabout and shimmy back down to the opposite side of your neck. And, again, I repeat my licking and tonguing to fully satisfy your neck and collar surface. Hence, indeed, you're won over and captivated by the soppy grazes you're receiving, yet also you're a bit perplexed that by now I still haven't clasped your feet together to the ankle straps.

Alternatively, in place of locking you in, I continue smooching round your shoulders and broadening my traces onwards to taste and sample the cusps of your earlobes. There, when I'm close, you hear the obscene, heavy pants of my manful breathing and feel the soft brushes of my tongue as it charts in and about your ear shell. And moreover, while I'm gratuitously licking your skin, I'm also massaging you and groping your breasts with my active, wandering fingers.

Thus, thoroughly and completely the obscure sounds and unseen touches have provoked you. And further, with it all summing together, the relentless taunting and teasing is sending you into a frenzy, making you want to grab my balls and heave me into your wet, cock-waiting cum-hole. However, if only you could do that--but you can't. Your arms and hands are tied down and presently useless.

In the meantime, over and over I continue tasting your earlobes and soothing your breasts with my hands. And I go on doing it, until you begin doubting your willpower and questioning your endurance, as you wonder how much longer you'll be tormented with ridiculously excessive foreplay. Then, when it seems that I have finished, at last I whisper into your ear with a long-drawn-out and patient voice, "I want to eat all of you. Look at this--you're my kind of woman!"

Goose pimples spike up from your skin, and my declared message has you dripping with bloated fantasy and tremendous expectation. Subsequently, I give you a deep and long, lingering kiss, and you take me in wholly while your mind simmers in high living. You want to return my kiss proactively and with more endearing passion, but at this instance you're totally overwhelmed. Currently, inhaling and exhaling is arduous and demanding, as your lungs are competing with a host of delectable feelings, and each brimming to near maximal capacity.

However, being unfazed and unbothered with the inconveniences of your struggle, I pull away my embrace for a time to monitor your dedication and to study your misfortune. But then to you, it's a cruel act of silence and full of more merciless, agonizing suspense. Again you're alone in your thoughts and lost inside a black terrifying darkness. One after another you've sustained emotional and physical uncertainty, having to second-guess everything I'm doing. So lesser is better, or to you, a shorter delay might improve your circumstance. It's been challenging enough recovering from bouts and bouts of roller-coaster riding, body fatiguing, mentally draining ecstasy. So holding on, waiting passively to suffer more of this silent commotion is turning you insecure and badly unconfident.

Accidentally and mistakenly, therefore, it slips out; desperately, you whine aloud, crying, "More! ... Please sir. Kiss me more."

I lean in and slap my dong across your beggarly-looking face and smudge my flesh gently on and around your nose.

"Shh!" I demand. Then lightly I pinch and roll your nipples while grumbling, "You know better than that."

So I censor you for your absentmindedness and restrict you from nagging for anymore of me. Then resolutely, once more, I remind you of your womanly role, which means you're to surrender completely and be dutiful and subservient.

Obediently, after I chide you, you sniff the pungent, manly odor of my cock; then slightly, you tilt your head back and broaden your mouth, suggesting I allow my elongated organ to plummet deep into your throat. It amuses me to see this, so I descend myself down into your kisser. And I give you a taste of my family jewel, thus letting you know I'm good and hard, and capable of fucking you at the flick of my wrist. But all the same, after you get a worthy 'bite' of my noble sausage, I withdraw my tangy stalk from your lips and step back to give you another of my passionate kisses.

For now, being pleased with your attentive manners and your loose-lipped, open-jawed girlishness, I commend you for your right-mindedness by saying, "Good girl. You've learned to do this well."

With that, you blush with satisfaction at hearing my charitable compliment. Though at this point, being visionless you're unsure of what you should be doing. Hence, once again you niche a hole in your mouth for me to thread my cock into your puckering lips; however, when I don't give you anymore and deprive you of my hardness, you think it best to let me lead and not say another word.

So you close your mouth and refocus on that oath you made, to be well-behaved and yielding. And rather, you sort through your convictions, hoping to regain a handle of what it means to be collared and leashed, and a completely submissive servant. Except, regardless of your good and fair intentions, when you realize I'm touching you again and solidly clutching your ankles, you grow overly concerned about it, and temporarily, a condition of fearfulness surrounds you.

From the sternness of my unyielding grasp, wildly and anxiously your body spasms everywhere, from the restraints on your wrists to the restraints on your ankles. Furthermore, in that short yet scary moment, you encounter me pulling your legs wider apart until they look like the prongs of a V. Moreover, then, strangely you hear something clasping to your ankle bindings, and suddenly you notice that I've just locked you in! And here from this position, a new breeze of air eddies between your thighs as the passage has been made clear and free of obstruction. Your ankles are cuffed and affixed with a steel bar lodged firmly between your feet, forcing your legs to remain spread out and gaping.

Ah, how your pussy's already in a frantic muddle! It's jittering uncontrollably with looming anticipation of it being manhandled and the target for abuse. You want to breathe comfortably again, however, your belly feels skittish. It's discernibly shrinking with tension and reacting as though it were knotted and twisted, making breathing seems unnatural and difficult to do. Nevertheless, you make an effort to compress your snatch shut by forcing your legs and knees inward. But it's pointless! It's locked opened, and you're fully exposed for me to do as I want.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" you burst into a trill of erotic phrases as I immerse my face between your lower limbs.

I see you quaking like a wet, nervous puppy, but I warn you again, "Your pussy is mine and it's nobody else's!"

With my face and chin embedded in the tangle of your V, my tongue pairs up with your lower lips and licks circular lashes outlining your narrowly slitted gap. A little to the left, some more to the right, my tip probes fanatically all around your perforation. I lick and glide over the boundaries of your sensitive, sensual tissues until finally I head to my destiny--and directly, I have a go at your middle.

I gloss it a little, and I buff it a lot. I taste a hint of you. I lap a dab of it. And I kiss that heavenly between thing and eat away at your beautiful little bump.

And by now, you're inspired by the earthy, floral scents of the candle burning not far away from you. The provocative herbal fragrance is altogether satisfying. It makes the mood seem light; it makes the darkness seem lighter. The night feels perfect. The time seems right and never better.

I observe the outcome of love-sweet-lust erupting inside you. Your body is more rigid, and contorting tensely and furiously in desperation. Your legs and feet are trying to jerk and wrangle free of the bindings bound to your ankles. But your ankles aren't going anywhere, they simply won't budge. Even to move them, or lift them, or to do anything different might cool or temper some of this nonstop, paralyzing pleasure.

So namely you're stuck here and compelled to endure everything. And rather than getting away or loosening your ankles, instead your toes are curling and your fingers stretching, symbolizing that you're at the limit and in the pinnacle of spine-tingling, nerve-shattering intensity.

Your face begins to pale. Uncontrollably you start giggling and protesting, and boldly pleading for dear mercy. Then daringly you cry out, "No! Please don't! ... Sir, please! Please, please, don't do it anymore!"

I hear you begging for me to go easier. I watch you squirming and getting wilder. But it's not mercy I intend to grant you. So I don't stop. I continue to eat and eat and eat. I'm into this. And badly, I'm into you and liking what I'm doing. Therefore, I feed myself with your pussy and do any freaky, deviant thing I want. Though comparatively for you, there's nothing to be seen in this debasing, depraving experience. With your eyes all the way covered, you only imagine all the naughty and perverted things I'm doing.

Specifically, I bear-hug my arms beneath your hips and yoke you into my lips. Then sufficiently my mouth covers the gash of your quim as I prepare myself to delve in further. You brace for me when you detect my spongy scooper getting frisky, becoming pushy, and so off-the-wall jolly to be tapping into your space. In fact, my sassy, swiping, slithering tongue slides on in there and starts burrowing and scavenging and going inside deep, to thoroughly lick and clean out your helpless little cunt.

And it tickles and it teases, and it simply feels wonderful. With me constantly, and continually, sucking and gnawing away at your entrance, you come to find the end is nearing. You can't hold on; you can't brush it off. Your balance has gone rocky, and your reserves are out the window. Suddenly, the only line of defense left for you to do is to express that pleasure and come into my bush-licking kisser.

Soon then, in your total darkness, with the sweet aromas in the draft and my erotic touches in your fold, your senses build and collide all together. A potent force is gathering causing waves of enthusiasm to rise and unite, and thus it inundates your interior with a torrential inflow of hot and tangy bliss.

Urgently you discover your pussy's been meddled with for far too long. Systematically you feel the repercussion of being mouthed inch by inch, tongued scrupulously inside and out, and devoured tirelessly all the way here to the cliff on the mountain, and to that crowning sexual ultimatum where there's no reversing back.

Thus, your ship is sinking. This battle to safeguard your virginal dignity is old-fashioned, behind the times and out-of-date, and surely a losing cause. So you give in and give it up, and take it like a woman. You close your fist and let your nipples stand tall, as high as they will go. And also, your knees relax and your legs go limp in genuine full submission.

Thereupon, I take my spoils of war away from you with my pillaging pussy-feeler. And while I do, triumphantly, I hear the surrendering shrill of you groaning and moaning; and plus, along with that, this wondrous seismic turmoil has you uselessly wiggling and rattling your extremities and vainly trying to shake free of my orgasm making trap.

Yet victoriously, I keep eating you round-the-clock, round-the-world, up and down, back and forth--and all inside your tiny wet wrinkle. I'm lovesick and turned on for this. It's a prized chance, a windfall draw of luck--to be orally on duty and tucked between your loins--when you're in the throes and in the spate of that sumptuous, glorious moment.

So I make good of it. I tear into this delicious, flavorsome opportunity, and I lick, kiss, and catch every drop of you, while hoping your fling is unending and never ceasing. Although apparently, however, that considerable claiming moment hits you way too severely. And I can say this because your legs are trembling and squeezing in toward my face. Your butt starts rocking and pivoting, and it does all sorts of herky-jerky circular maneuvers to steer away from too much of that lip service, too much of that vulva sucking, and too, too much of that ruinous, face-to-clit contact.

But there's no stopping your dainty cream from entering my mouth. Instead, I ignore your physical convulsions and forget how your butt is perpetually trying to shy away from my intrusions. So I whip my tongue thick and fast, repeatedly, over and into your pussy. I continue looting her resources and snatching up my nicely earned bounty. And when you hear all the lapping sounds while I guzzle and nosedive into your inlet, you're flattered by it and electrified with another jolt of exhilaration. It's good for another spree of tingles and makes you mist abundantly, yet again.

Consequently, it keeps you going and flowing as your torso quivers and crunches; which again, expresses another turning point, and additional out-and-out bodily fulfillment. But still, after a while the delicacy wanes and there's less and less for me to sip and swallow. So I finally let your tensions ease by slowing down my licking tempo. Except by now, your lady cum has made me very, very horny!

With the face of my hand, I deliver two crisp slaps to your watery damp cleft, and immediately, then, I climb on top of your shackled down body. Swiftly, I submerge my hard dipping-stick far into the barrel of your silky, slick snatch, and how unbelievably cozy and comfortable it feels to be stored inside there. Straightaway, my dick feels at home, as if it's placed exactly where it oughta be. Hence, my mad, crazy, excited cock howls like a wolf, bellowing at the rich, full, whiteness of the moon. Plus additionally, coded within that howling, hysterical rage, it orders me to whomp that sexy, wet banana-holder, which is hemming and hugging my unit.

So I listen to the hound of my dog and do as I've been told. I fuck it! I pound your slippery slot! I can't hold myself back, and I can't go any slower. I'm stuck at sprinting, going at 100-meter racing speed, where all I care to do is to lean in and break that first-place finisher's tape and jam my meat into your little pink taco. And gladly, you have to indulge me and let me play in your lair because you're fanned out, sprawled open, and girdled down to the bedding.

Then more and often, repeatedly I poke, punch, and plunge my end into your kitty and shag you like my member was meant to be used like a jackhammer. But after being so brazenly foolish grinding my knob into your teeny-size slit, and doing it with such an irrational pacing, fleetingly I know that this lively and wayward horseplay won't keep up, and soon I'll be in a whole mess of trouble. And sure as sperm swim in semen, I'm overpowered and outmatched by it: your oval entryway is like a prickly infernal pit; it's a hot, fiery trap designed to ensnare my affection and enslave my cock with all kinds of rapturous, sensuous pleasure. Indeed, my endurance is eroding from all that bitter friction, vigorously abrading the length of my erection. So sadly I understand I'm not going the marathon distance, especially when I'm continuously touching your body, holding your arms down, and endlessly shoving my hips into your middle.

Plus, even more bewildering, you still have that saintly perfect look--as though you'd just finished coming, from only minutes before when I'd been licking your mound to a climatically great ending. And I see it in your face, and sense it within in your body. You've got that submissive girly look, that splendid suggestive aura a woman has when she's just gone through a fraying orgasm. So I keep evaluating that--and watching your radiance--and it gets me more desirous, and that much hornier.

And as we grind our intimate possessions together, you extend your face upwardly, blindly seeking to kiss me. And although I can still taste your womanly cum in my mouth, I return my admiration and kiss you, the way you wish I would do it. Hence we share your otherly saliva on our lips and forever I'm reminded of your delicious sensuality.