A dark night waits. Not leaping like a tiger, but patient like a spider.
She knows it sits, that night, somewhere ahead. She has glimpsed the stars that twinkle in the black velvet dreams of her heart. She has seen the glimmer around the corner as it slips away from her. Far enough away that she doesn't fear this coming dusk, near enough that she feels her freedom as an aging friend who filters off to another life.
She breathes deep. The sounds of the blackness ahead fill her senses. She peers into those shadows and goose pimples quicken over her skin. Moans swelter through the gloom. Deep groans of lost desires. She shivers. It feels like the movies where she needs to go down the dark basement stairs, yet knows only too well she should not. She should stay in the sun. Safe until her dreams drag her down to that whispering gate.
Like the lost heroine, she is too late. She has walked that path too far to turn back and when that cloth is drawn over her eyes and tied behind her head, she has no choice but to bow to her fate. She has been his since that first kiss stole her will.
She lies limp in his arms. Her curves, full and lush, have sighed into his body. Sated, taken and torn, she flickers between astral planes.
Somewhere in another world, he kisses her eyebrow. She stirs. His lips touch her too heavy eyelids. She shimmies her body without raising her lashes. The room is cool, but she is cozy in his arms. His breath warms her. Cinnamon and sex invades her dreams and she sighs.
A touch of her cheek, a slight of her ear. He snuggles closer, his neck reaching around for a tender nip at the back of her scalp. She leaves her eyes settled in repose as another sigh rustles through her twilight mind. A smile languishes upon her lips, left there by the night's pleasures. His fingertips stroke her back. Delight her spine in tingles of discovery. Her body anticipates each move. The skin tightens in hopes of being next, then slips into delicious murmurs as his touch passes. From neck to hip takes a lifetime.
When his fingers stretch their way across her bottom, she moans and lets her eyelashes raise enough to fall into his gaze. There are marks under his hands that will give her thrills of remembering for days to come. He traces them lightly and she shivers in utter abandon.
Her moan speaks of those lines of red. Of hanging from the door, rough hands pinching her nipples, leather straps and strands lashing across her ass in between his gentle kisses and delicious touch. Goose pimples flow over her body, up and down, back and forth; as memory floods her senses and desire fills the air.
Every time she sees or feels the red markings - months and years after they fade with time - she knows she will moan just like this. Her sex will open and her need will flower. How he has done this to her, she no longer knows. Merely that she cannot live without the ministrations of his whip.
She can no more give up the feel of his hands on her than she can stop her heart from racing to his voice. No more give up the light kiss on her neck than the struggle of finding herself bound and at his mercy. She can no more stop the flow of excitement at the sound of his belt snapping through the loops of his pants than she can stop her moans and pleadings as he sends her beyond her boundaries.
She knows all these thoughts one by one as his fingers slip over the marks left upon her delicate skin. When his fingers bunch the muscles of her ass and pull her sharply into his kiss, she gasps with sheer joy. His tongue takes over her mouth, shoving in and out in a simulation of animal lust. It slides over her lips in luscious waves of taste and tease. She groans and lets her body melt.
The dark of a blindfolded can't stop her eyes from peering into the night. Her senses sharpen and her every feeling is feral and sharp. His pinches become agony and his kisses utterly absorbing. Her body twists upon the edge of a razor, her nipples so stiff that even his lips bring her back arching into a full spasm. His lips nibble their way around her breasts, down onto her ribs and the sides of her belly. She squirms. Dangles at the end of the cuffs holding her hands above her head and her back against the hard, cool wood of the bathroom door.
His fingers knead her taut muscles. They dig into the flesh and untie the knots of her anxieties. She has come to fear this part of her torment as much as any other. She loves the way he relaxes her tension, but knows it leads to her complete surrender. Opens her very soul to the deep thrust of him. He softens her, takes her will, then drives his brute force into her heart. Penetrates her every defense and inner barrier.
She vaguely struggles. Resists herself as much as his mastery. He grasps her ankles one at a time and straps them to something held in place by the closed door. It feels like the soft wrist restraints he sometimes uses on her. Or maybe he has tied her with her robe belts again. She shakes her head side to side. A half hearted attempt to ward off her need. Her craving for his treatment.
Her heels bump against the solid wood. Her ass gets pushed on so that her sex is prominent and open. Her shoulders can't relax and her tits are forced out. Already heavy with need, they sway with her every shift. They act as weights, keeping her off balance. She cringes inside, knowing they are too prominent. Feeling them too acutely. They are begging for his attentions and she knows he won't ignore them.
He presses his lips on hers. Softly. Works them side by side until she feels her body give. She is left hanging limp as the kiss goes on and on and on.
She knows the dark night that lies ahead. She feels it as a part of her that has yet to develop.
Her body gives itself over to him. His sweet kisses give her thrills of delirium. Desire washes over her. His hands moving on her skin flushes her from chest to scalp. His fingers twine with hers, smooth her face, delight her lips. It is gentleness now and their mutual excitement thickens the atmosphere.
Still facing her, his lips penetrate her soul. They slide over her neck and play with her collar bones. She can barely keep herself able to kiss back. His hands grab her and hold her against him. Take the air from the room.
She feels him harden and finds herself so needy that she will do anything. Over and over. Whatever he needs. Whatever he wants. As surely as though he has her still tied to the door. Or the bed. Or the mast.
His lips rake her ear. "Do you want to sit on top of me?" He doesn't speak it as a question. He talks as though he knows every wish and thought of her heart.
"Take my cock all the way inside?" He's panting. It gives her deep warmth to hear how she stirs him. "I want you to fuck me, come on me, stop and lick my cock clean. Then sit on me again."
He has her pulled hard against him. His breath ragged and gasping in her ear. "I want you to shove your beautiful tits in my face and kiss me with your cum on your lips." She squirms in desperate need. "Do you want that?"
