Bond To Make

Dozens of times I had bit and licked gently at the neck of my various lovers. But in my dreams I feel the sudden burst of sharp smooth strong fangs. Before I use them to release the sustenance held within him, I run my tongue over the point. Down the elongated enamel of an eye tooth. I feel the tip slip between taste buds. Thoughts jumble and pass through my mind, is this right? Is it too much? Too intimate for the connection we have? We have allowed ourselves to physically link. But this is more, this is a union. But with his sent filling my mind and his hands pulling me close, nothing seems more right. I can feel his pulse on my lips, his heart beating, pushing oxygenated iron through him. And I want it. I want to take part of him into me in a way I've never allowed anyone to be a part of me.

So I pull back, I kiss him. Letting him explore. Allowing him to discover on his own what I want. Will he reject me? Will he tell me I'm too much, too greedy? Will he tell me that this is simply too much for him? Could he ever accept me for the monster I've grown to be? If he asked, if he was this kind and needing, I'd let him too. If he could only understand that this is all I think about every hour of everyday. Every time I feel the hallow ache in my stomach. I want him. I want to feel him running down my throat, dripping slowly down my chin. If he needed me like I need him, I would give him anything.

I expect him to pull back. Tell me No. Instead his eyes lock with mine. His head turns slightly to the side, like a puppy seeing snow for the first time. Inquisitive, but excited. His hand pushes a loose strand of hair out of my face and lingers momentarily on my jaw before settling on the back of my neck and pulling my face to his exposed neck. I settle in now, straddle him in his chair. My legs on either side on him, his erection pressing against the heated, moistened area between my thighs, I lean in. He always told me that my lips were perfect, a pastel image of innocence and geniality. But now my lips were hungry. They were grazing the artery searching for a place to break the skin. A place to sink in. I feel him arch beneath me. Pushing up against my jeans. I know he wants them gone. But here, now, I am in charge. So I rub against him, allowing him to feel the need I feel too.

The need becomes too much so I pull my lips carefully back exposing the fangs I'm finally able to use. I mean only to test the tension. Unsure of how much pressure I'll need, how strong can skin be? So I push lightly, but they are sharp and easily pierce his warm flesh and the blood begins to run. I wonder briefly what to do. But instinctively my lips lock a seal around the wound. Not wasting any of his gift to me. My tongue dances picking up drops, playing with the inconsistent stream. It pulses in my mouth, warm and sensual. The exact same way his seed spills into my mouth. Tangy and bright, but earthy and musky—he tastes the way I always thought he would. He tastes the way the very best dream feels. As if nothing could stop the perfection.

This power, this control this penetration, is this why men search for a maiden head to break. Breaking the perfection of his skin, that is his gift to me. But it's more than that. The rupture, the puncture is almost as intoxicating as the blood filling my mouth. It feels strange, almost wrong to be on the puncturing end. Not the one being invaded, but the one storming the shore. My mind begins to go blank, moving into a primal place. My eyes un-focus and I pull my lids together. Shutting out the visual world. But I cannot shut my ears to the sounds. His words are rushed, but are only mumbles to me. The joy is evident, almost crooning, like a mother cat urging on her kitten. He can feel the bond too. Between the gasping breaths his sweet moans fill the room. As his life runs over my lips and down my throat, I feel his soul flooding into me and entwining with mine.

I slow my sucking and bring my fangs from out of his neck. I lap at the wounds I've inflicted on my love. The blood begins to stop and I reach to clean the drops clinging to my lips. But his hand takes mine, and instead he kisses me. I feel more. More than I thought one person could feel. I feel his tongue wrapping 'round mine, the familiar taste of my love in my mouth mixing with the new taste of his life force. My tears start running softly down my face. A surge of emotions consumes me. Allowing me to be one so fully with a person who has changed my life and my soul seems to be more than I can handle.

Our kisses slow and he wraps his hands around my back. His fingers dip into the back of my pants, gently pulling up on my thong to rest on my hips. He starts to trail kisses on my neck down to my collar bone and I begin to realize that while I may have sated my hunger, his is just beginning. He strips my clothes from me and removes his own. Carefully pushing me to the ground, and climbing over me. A smile spreads across his face. A smile I have come to associate with a good time to come. He presses his warm lips down between my breasts, tugs at my nipples with his teeth and lips as I writhe beneath him. I almost lose my composure when he dips his tongue into my navel and pushes further south. He coaxes my clit from beneath the hood, and closes his lips around it. Sucking and teasing me until I stop seeing, until the world around me ceases to exist, and I lose myself against him. Rocking my hips on his face and pulling his beautiful curls to get him closer. After I've finally cum, he eases himself into me. Positioning the head against the tender, but filling g-spot. I know he is waiting for it, knowing I'm close to squirting. A pleasure he only gives me, when feels I have earned it. Because here, now, he is in control. He is, just as he always has been, my master. And when I finally squirt, he kisses my forehead and allows himself to push into me harder and faster until his seed spills into me. Such a loving master, allowing me to feed and fulfilling my needs.