Chapter 2: The Night Before His Breaking In
Mmmmmm…
Such delicious orgasm can come in the privacy of personal space. Her body was alive beneath her caressing hands as she soaped and refreshed in the powerful warmth of her shower. Reliving the night before and the day since the memories flashed through her. Of him, after his time of waiting and wanting, coming to her at her invite, dining on the simple meal with her in the kitchen.
Of their first hungry kiss, her desire matching his. Ravenous mouths intense in their craving. Of him, stripping away his clothes, to reveal a hard proud body, forged of his craft. Full balls; a cock of proportions that she made her flood to see that her intuition had been correct. There would be many types and sizes in the future, many that would satisfy her in countless ways, but this one she had picked and lured to her, unknown to him, from pure instinct. She had known, almost without doubt, when she had first seen him at his craft in the town and seen his arrogant manner with those that he engaged. Then seen the dark need that even he hadn’t fathomed, blazing in his eyes as he displayed his proud cool compliance to her when she entered his place and with dominant grace ordered from him her first item. The silver handled whip with the hard leather tails, the livid lashed memory on his flesh in his taking. Soon after that he had come to her, entered into her employ, living at her estate, compelled there by his need, not knowing yet what that need was, or why he had followed it.
Her mind wandered back to the night before, mirrored by fingertips that wandered between her labia once more playing her lust through the remembered vision of him, stood there, transfixed, almost nervous. Urgent and eager at the sight of her removing her dress to reveal the naked voluptuousness of her body beneath, hardly bearing to think he could touch her. And then reaching out to touch.
She remembered his mouth so urgent and eager, feeding his lusts from her breast and her body. His hands, his legs, his chest, his tongue and teeth all concurring to have his pleasure. His whispering of her name into the thick night and her arousal. His pleasure, bringing her hers a hundred fold, in ways he would never imagine. And of the satisfaction of his penetration, as she allowed him to enter and enjoy her, she dancing to his rhythm, almost imperceptibly controlling his responses. So subtle, that movement, he barely knew it was happening, but even as he fucked and rode, he was growing as hers hers, deep in his sex and soul.
Their storming orgasm as each came, together and alone in the same moment – strangers but held in that space and mutual storm.
His breath as he lay there, sleeping in the after lust of his animal passions. The memory of that moment filled her with a rush of knowing and pleasure – the peace after the pure wild sex, before she tamed the beast. She had no intention of losing the animal in him, only of taming it to her.
When the Smith had woken, deep in the night, there in her bed, it was to her caress, her kiss – and the throbbing insurgency in his cock. And to a realisation that there was a rope around his neck, attached to the wrought iron bed head he had crafted for he the week before. Not holding him in one place, just constraining him lightly. Like a stallion, lightly haltered. He had groaned, surged, and needed – a single rope opening up a chasm of being that he had hidden form his reality all his life.
And then. She had taken him. For the first time she had shown him what this could, and would be. She had altered the press of her palms on his chest to a squeezing, powerful pummel, she had held his testicles and squeezed so excruciatingly firm and gentle he had thought they would explode. She had turned him on the pivot of his lightly tethering collar, raised him up and explored his buttocks and the cleft between, before sinking a single finger sudden and deep inside him, pressing her pelvis to his left buttock as he screamed and yelled in pure sensation.
Then, turning him once more, she had ridden him. Hard and long, there in the indigo darkness of the jungle night. No moon tonight, only the unadulterated knowing of her physicality consuming his. As she had mounted his splayed-back body, holding his hands above his head, positioning himself he had felt the heat and wet of her arousal at his cock tip. Her large, full nippled breast had sought its pleasure at his mouth as she had circled his glans with her cunt entrance. Slowly, at first, letting him feel her. God, he had never felt a woman like this before, had never stopped to know , always plunging in and having his fuck, because that was what he knew. Until then. The slow pulse of her inner sex taking his shaft in inches, to the root, taking his soul to the core.
Then up, off and plunged back down so hard he thought his body would break. Except it didn’t…it all but exploded as she started to gallop her body against her human steed. Until once more, and once more and once more she had come, and finally he had erupted, as a tiger released, deep into her vagina.
And then she had tied him – binding him taut, he puppy like in the soft compliance of his satiation. He had slept in fitful profundity, there in her huge, deep bed, bound to her now in more than his body.
In the morning dawn there had been more. She had woken him, left his bound ankles tied and loosened his wrists. She had moved him with her hands navigating him to pleasure her body, whispering her wants in the silence of the room, until they were his only focus. His balls filling, cock straining, he wanted, and didn’t want. Now all that he knew was her, and her desires. She had cum and cum, and he had watched and felt her pleasure in the half light.
Then she had pushed him to the floor, the long leash at his throat still tied to the bed, told him he had woken her well, and had left him there, while she went to urinate. He lay on the boarded ground, dazed by the truth of this, his ears filled with the stream of her being, and slowly fought back into the truth of the day.
As the reality hit him he found himself yelling to the room that he could not, would not be possessed. Fighting the bonds, screaming his resistance, confronting the power of her possession in the individuality of himself. How could this woman, with half his physical strength have got him here, and made him feel this way. His body lashed against the floor as his roared defiance broke the day into some kind of madness.
