After 10

Have you held love in your hands?

When she comes released from the shackles and is given reign to reach for me. She is taken up in my arms and wrapped as she yet quivers. The delicate shivering I feel in each of her muscles as they melt into mine gives me wave upon wave of sensate delight. Her bowed head and fragile cheek placed at the base of my throat while she shakes as though at the very end of a sob. The little shimmying as the violence trails off and slips into beatific memory.

My arms encompass her trembling flesh as it melds with mine and I wonder that she has bone and sinew, so lithely does she slip into my encirclement and so fully does she fuse with my body. The ever so slight tremors give me such contentment that I would keep her here in my arms, limp and galvanized, spent and intense, until another dawn would come, but instead I will lay her gently to rest and we will sleep in dreamless, depthless satiety twined together.

Before then, I will hold love in my hands. It doesn't slip through fingers like water, nor dance at the edge of self like thought. Her tendered being flows into me like the fluid given to vessel and her opened ipseity washes through my nerves like idea given voice.

Her hair smells of henna and frail perspirance and my face buries into it without conscious urging. It overpowers me. Her shoulders shudder with the sigh of fulfillment and my lips find her scalp and caress their way to the back of her neck. They nibble a frisson from her and a soft "oohh!" slips out.

Her hand reaches up to move her hair fromout my way and I capture it gently. The wrist carries marks that my lips soothe. Red bracelet lines of tight bindings. They are heated to the sensitive touch of my tongue and I can't help but lick the chafing ever so slightly. The merest flicker of the tip against abraded skin even as a kiss is pushed against the entire circlet, arc by arc. Reminder of the restraints so recently removed and the way she had so uncontrollably pitched and lurched, jerked and squirmed. And screamed.

I let the arm go and it floats there, suspended in liquefied inertia before gradually releasing. My fingers braid with hers on the other hand and I bring that wrist to my mouth to salve the burning. The skin here is even more denuded as her right hand struggled on after the left surrendered in fatigue. Her upper arms shake with the movement and the spasms I feel through her body send molten want splashing over my senses.

I kiss her fingers before releasing them this time and her hand stays. Finally settling on my shoulder as my chin drops to her graceful neck and ever so slightly nudges bits of flesh. Her head falls back with a wracking silent moan and my mouth moves over the sweetly scented integument. The cords that would normally hold her head high are relaxed and sublimated. The muscles that stretched for me so often over the past hours now are pools of post fulminate tissue.

She hasn't the strength for more but hasn't the will to desist and if I demanded it of her, she would take me inside anew. I don't insist on this. It's much, much more that I take from her now. My kisses and licks and nibbles move over her collar - the bone (I don't collar my slave, my pet, there is no need) - and they move to the hollows beneath and at the base of her throat.

She ever so weakly writhes as I touch my mouth to the top of her breast and the feebleness makes me tender and yet strikes me as aphrodisiac as well. Her stirring is mimicked in my groin and my tongue feathers the traces left upon her by the quirt. The thin lines roughened by the leather that crisscrossed the plump and frail, delicious skin of her breast and my hunger drives me to flutter my tongue over every morsel of exquisite fullness. Breathless tickles of the delicate tracks and between, over the delicious moulds.

The tendrils had flickered across her heaving chest as I drove into her from behind. The mounds of her buttocks grabbed and raised while my relentless pole rammed and piled into her narrow tunnel wetness, and the strips of hide flicked at the wavering globes. Each snick leaving the thinnest rail behind as it raised for another. Just as the screams changed tempo and the shuddering reached crescendo, I let her hips fall. Pulled out of her grasping hole, gave one more lash on swaying breast, moved around and took her head in my hands to bring her mouth up and onto my throbbing member.

Twice more she felt the pounding and the flogging and the internal stirring and the shaking and twice more left to cry out and work to beg around the sides of the rock hard cock stuffing itself between her teeth and on into her throat. Twice more, then a break. A restful massage and whispered lovings. Then again and back to the merciless pounding of my rock hard cock and slashing welts of the leather straps. The memory of it drives me to suck the tender flesh into my mouth with vigor and need, but I hold to the sweet breezes caused by my barely lapping tongue.

Both breasts bathed with the gentlest of caresses, my lips move their way back to her neck and her langorous moans could easily stir my passions were I not so completely sated and so fully mesmerized by her indisposition. She is so well spent. Having given everything to me in her thralls. When my hands work their way through the puddled muscles and over the pooled tendons, she sinks further into me as though it were possible. As though she were not already so consummately mingled with my body that I know of nothing but the two of us together.

Her head droops onto my chest again as my mouth creeps up her neck and over her jawline and toward her lips. That beautiful opening that so willingly accepted my aching rod again and again. Where my hands pressed into the back of her head and my pulsating hardness pushed its way over the soft, firm surrounds. Where her mouth closed around my cock and it was so drenched with her juices that they were squeezed off and around and sent to dribble in a streaming down the cleft of her chin, thence to drip and splatter on the bed we share and as the hardness forced itself in and out of her throat, this intemperate battering tool of mine, the belt from my pants rose and fell over her round delicious bottom. Lifted and slapped, pumped and pushed, the rhythm sending me into near spasms of bliss before I could halt, gasping and panting. I know, sitting with her melded against me now, that should my fingers stretch out over her gorgeous globes of ass that there would be hot wheals between the cool firmness of tautened skin.

I kiss her mouth, nibbling at first the top, then the bottom, then both lips together. The briefest hint of tongue and hard muscle, then back to the soft chastising. She moans freely now, though it seems wan and listless. My hands roam and knead. Her shoulders, back, upper arms and sides. My fingers rove down her forearms and squint between her digits.

My kisses slip up onto her nose and over her cheeks. One, then the other. Her eyebrows, and the eggshell thin eyelids that close with repletion. Her forehead is chastened as I remember nudging her clit with my tongue and backing away until she screamed and pleaded. Over and over. Once, taking time to tell her a story of want and need before moving back to lap at her sweet nectar. She begged and sobbed for deliverance and when I placed my cock into her mouth, turned on the vibrator already stuffed deep inside her and tapped her clit with my belt, there was even a prismatic teardrop trickling from the corner of her deep brown pools of sensuousness. A rainbow filled dew that trickled over my spine and filled my balls to bursting with ache and anguish.

The chafing marks on her wrists will be mirrored on her ankles where she thrashed and undulated. And when she came, she screamed as I'd never heard from her before. An out of control vocalization that struck the root of my pole and made it leap with anticipation.

Driving into her wetness that time brought such preternatural delight that I shiver still with the vision. So wet that there was splattering against my thighs, so tight that slamming it all the way into her took such force and concentration that it seemed hours before I could explode. Hours with her wildly contorting, convulsing with orgasm after orgasm, one on another and my own coming on top of her screams and mad utterings such that I couldn't tell the difference between our selves.

Her orgasms were mine and the furious pumping had such reaction within her that it was surely her own ejaculate sending her into those spasms. As certain as it was mine alone, it was ours together.

By the time my mouth finds her ear, her body quakes and her throat constricts while merest whispered moans suspire and I think she would rise and welcome me inside her if I but gave indication of my want. Try, at least, to bring her self and her body to take me once more if I so needed. I do not. I need just this. Us. Together.

"You did so good," I whisper. "My, what a good little sub you are. My good little sub." I feel her last bit of self slip away and she is insensate in my arms.

Love in my hands. Not the liquid or the sensation, but the actual truth. The stark naked flayed openness of her. After. And with the help of my hands, she flows onto the bed and lies where I lie and some time tomorrow or the next day we will wake.