Moonlight

I can see it when I close my eyes...

You're lying in bed, asleep. The only light in the room is the moon, filtered through curtains. I can barely see your silhouette, peacefully composed; barely hear your breathing, quiet and rhythmic. I touch your hair, lightly stroking it, twisting the ends between my fingers ever so gently. Sharp, sweet longing pierces through me, and I lie quietly, just drinking in your presence, my hand resting on the bed, not quite touching you.

I lie there, still and silent, for what seems an eternity before reaching out, stroking your spine with one finger, right between your shoulder blades, without even moving my hand. You sleep still, unaware of how much your resting body has captivated me, and I repeat the motion a few more times, caressing you, channelling all the wonder, all the joy in me, into that one small simple motion.

My other hand moves as if of it's own accord, touching your shoulder, cupping it, squeezing softly. Your only response is a quiet murmur as you shift imperceptibly closer. I lean over and leave a lingering kiss on the back of your neck, then lay back, withdraw my second hand, and watch you sleep. I don't want to wake you, just savor the moment of lying here, next to you.

Eventually I can hold back no longer, and I kiss you again, lightly, then find myself doing so yet again. One hand is playing with your hair, the other stroking your side in long slowly sweeping motions as I cover your back with kisses: taking my time with each one, letting each little motion express not only the desire that is smoldering inside me, but the tenderness that threatens to overwhelm me.

I run my hand over your shoulder, and down your arm, nuzzling the side of your neck, kissing your ear, forcing myself to move slowly, to keep my touches light. I want you, and yet this moment, lying in bed next to you, is too precious to interrupt. I stop frequently, leaning back, watching you sleep, waiting out the insistent waves of physical longing, letting them fade a bit, then returning to you, fondling you affectionately.

At some point as I brush my thumb against the back of your hand, I feel you squeeze mine lightly. I try to withdraw, hoping simultaneously that you're awake and that you're still asleep. As I pull my hand back, you turn, rolling over, still holding it, until you're facing me. I stammer quietly, shyly, and try to pull away from you, but you raise my hand to your lips and kiss it soothingly.

I can see a hint of moonlight in your eyes - just enough to know that you're looking at me. I feel myself blushing, and you chuckle softly, move my hand to my side without letting go of it, lean over, and kiss me on the lips, lightly at first, and then harder, letting go of my hand to hold me. My arms circle around and I hold you close, one hand stroking your back, returning your kisses hungrily.

You toss the blanket aside with one hand, and push me gently to my back. I open my mouth to tell you - something - what, I have no idea. It doesn't matter. You cover my mouth with yours, drowning out the mere thought of words with the intensity of your kiss. And then you lie next to me, head propped up on one hand, the other hand resting lightly on my stomach. I reach out to you, caressing your cheek with the back of my hand, running a finger over your lips. I can feel you smiling and suddenly notice I'm doing the same.

Suddenly shy, I withdraw my hand and look away, perfectly aware of the heat rising in my cheeks. You lightly stroke my hair, waiting patiently until I turn back to you, hunger in my eyes. I reach up and take your hand in mine, kissing the back of your palm, and suck slowly on each of your fingers, nibbling at the tips. You lean over and bite my ear, making it hard to concentrate. I focus, trying to show you I'm worthy of your attentions, and you kiss my cheek and lay your head next to mine, blowing softly along my ear. You cradle me in one arm, holding me close, and trace small complex patterns along my shoulders and down my chest

I bite your neck, growling under my breath, and for the first time I hear your voice, asking what I want. I pull you to me, squeezing your butt with both hands, and whisper fiercely in your ear one single word, "You."

You smile, capture both my hands in yours and hold them over my head, balancing above me. Is that a trick of shadow or a smirk on your face? Very slowly, you lower yourself, till the tip of your very erect member touches my clit. I gasp involuntarily and shift, lifting myself, trying to get you inside, gazing into what I can see of your eyes, wondering if you can see both the reckless abandon and adoration in my eyes. You move back up, away from me, and chuckle, obviously amused. I grunt a bit unhappily, but settle down, waiting. Still, you hover above me expectantly. Slowly, I lower my eyes and bow my head, wordlessly acknowledging your control.

You give my wrists a gentle squeeze, still holding them firmly, and again lower yourself, rubbing the very tip of your penis against my clit. I sigh deeply, moving with you, revelling in the feeling but letting you set the pace. You let go of my wrists to play with my already hard nipples, rubbing them, rolling them between your fingers, tracing circles around them. Always gentle, slowly stimulating them until they're hard enough to hurt even without a touch. All the time you're teasing my clit, working me to fever pitch. Always waiting for the signs my body gives away, obvious even in the dark.

It doesn't take long before I cry out, ready to climax, hands clenched but still in the position you left them in. You immediately pull back, denying me release. You kneel between my legs, your hands on my hips, holding me still. I bite my lip and whimper angrily, reaching down to move your hands away, unthinking, lost in a fog of desire.

Your voice cuts through, centering me. A single word: "Pet, " just a warning. Your voice is filled with the promise that you WILL make me obey. I move my hands above my head again, but cant stop myself from pouting. You wait a few moments, letting my breathing get back to normal, and then you start stroking my inner thighs, asking me if I truly think I should be allowed release, after waking you up. I smile a bit at the amusement I can hear in your voice, even though you've tried to cover it. You move your hands up, tracing along the outer lips, asking if perhaps I should be punished instead. And then, you flick your thumbnail against my clit, hard, when all I do is whimper and squirm, torn between the instant gratification my body is screaming for and the more intense pleasure I know you are offering.

You cup your hand around me, pressing your palm against my entrance, and demand an answer, grinding it against me. I close my eyes, closer to climax than I think you know, and respond, my voice shaky. "Yes, Sir. I deserve punishment." Then, pressing against you, unable to stop my body from trying to take what it needs, I let you hear the passion in my voice as I ad a rather demanding, "Please," dropping the demure act long enough to confirm what you suspect - that I am in the mood for this and not just doing as you ask. You withdraw your hand, and I think I catch a brief smile of acknowledgement in the faint moonlight.

All thoughts are driven from my mind as, without warning, you slide three fingers in me, moving them in and out, brining me back to the edge, while telling me sternly not to come. I clench my teeth, moaning and grunting with the effort of controlling my reactions. You touch each of my nipples in turn with your free hand, confirming by the twin winces that they are still painfully hard, and then move to my clit. You rub it roughly, pinching it, all without missing a beat with your other hand. I hold on, crying with the effort, and you change your angle, driving deeper, pausing to move your fingers against that too-sensitive spot inside me, and then continuing.

I am begging - both for you to let me climax and for you to stop before I can't control it, but you pay no heed, continuing until my muscles contract around you, then abruptly remove all contact. I shudder several times, coming down, catching my breath. I feel so empty, and want that orgasm so much more after being denied a second time. I wonder idly how many times you will do this to me, both anticipating and dreading the answer. Before I fully recover, you ask for my hands. I hold them out to you, a little surprised at the request. I have a moment of true terror, wondering what on earth you will do to THEM as punishment, before you pull me to a sitting position and then move next to me.

You arrange the pillows and lean back, lounging comfortably and begin giving instructions. I turn on the lights at your command, find the vibrator, and bring it to you. Now it is my turn to kneel between YOUR legs, ankles together, knees spread. You smile at the view I can't possibly hide, and note the liquid trailing down my leg. You tease me about enjoying my punishment and I flush scarlet. At your command, I turn on the vibrator and slip it in, nodding confirmation that I understand I was, again, NOT to orgasm. Then, with a grin, as I kneel there, struggling to retain my composure, you take my hands in yours, tell me no such rules apply to you, and then guide my hands to your ready and willing cock.

I run my fingertips slowly along the sides of the shaft, caress your balls, then hold them in one hand while running my thumbnail along the bottom ever so gently. I press my palm against the tip of the head and stroke between your balls with a single finger. I draw a finger around the head, circling inward, and flutter two fingers quickly against the tip. I form a circle with my hand and run it quickly up and down the shaft while squeezing your balls carefully. You grunt, your breathing turning rapid, as I pick up the pace.

I move both hands along the side of the shaft, one moving up, the other down, back and forth, pausing at each end to stroke the tip and squeeze your balls. I keep it up, changing speed and tempo, moaning throatily and squirming myself, grateful for the focus you are providing, distracting me from the incessant buzzing inside of me. As I lean down to lick a drop of pre-cum from you, still stroking, you push my head down onto you, holding it there with a hand, and come inside my mouth. I obediently swallow it all, then lick you clean before sitting back up.

You lay there, temporarily spent, watching me struggle to stay kneeling without the focus you had provided. You wait, catching your breath, while I both try to keep the vibrator in AND keep it from affecting me. Again, you wait until the very second I lose the battle, then reach down, pull it out, and switch it off. I teeter for a moment, then look you in the eyes. "Please, Sir. Haven't I been punished enough?" You grin at me, and respond with one word: "No." You send me to go clean the toy, and I do so, putting it back where it belongs and returning to you, handing you the ropes and clamps you request. I start to kneel on the floor, but you motion me to the bed and push me back, tying my wrists together, then binding them to the headboard. Each of my ankles you tie to one of the foot posts, and then you sit next to me and blindfold me.

You fondle my breasts, listening to me breathe, and stroke the nipples until they hurt again. Then you pinch them both, hard, brining tears to my eyes before pulling them away from my body, until I cry out. You do this over and over, till I am panting with the pain, on the edge of utterly sobbing. You pick one, lick it, bite it gently, and grind your back teeth against it before attaching a clamp. Then you repeat the entire process on the other. You stroke my hair, brushing your fingertips along my ear, until I become accustomed to the hurt and calm down. You kiss me deeply and move your hand down me, making sure to tap each clamp on the way, until your hand rests between my legs.

You slap me lightly, directly over my pussy, cupping your hand to strike the most flesh. I jump, straining against the bonds in surprise, and you smack me again before I can recover. I buck again, then flinch from the expected blow that never lands. You wait until I relax, and then pick up your leather belt and bring it down against the inside of one leg, then the other. You alternate, back and forth, working upwards. You keep the strikes slow, giving me time to feel each one. Then, several, in quick succession, impacting directly at my entry. I cry out at each, and start begging you to take me, to fuck me, to please please please be inside me. You continue, alternating now between my pussy and my clit, listening to me beg. I am moaning, tugging and my bonds. My skin is raw, my breath ragged, my need for you growing, my pleas becoming more insistent.

When I feel surely I can take no more without my own passion splitting me in two, the rain of blows stops, and the blindfold is removed. You remove the ropes from my ankles, rubbing them a bit, and then perch above me. I look into your eyes, quaking all over, and you lower yourself onto me, into me. I close my eyes in relief and joy, as you hold still, just letting me feel you. You remove the bonds on my wrists, and I move my hands to your shoulders, stroking them. You move out of me, then back in, very slowly, and I rise to meet you. You smile, and follow my rhythm this time, letting me take what I need. Each stroke rubs against the inflamed skin, and as you thrust into me I cry out, climaxing quickly. You continue, not even pausing, guiding me through wave of orgasm after orgasm - some mine, some yours; some together, some apart, until we are both utterly spent.

You move off of me, I reach over flip the light off, and you hold me in your arms as we both drift contentedly back to sleep.