I needed to write an intense session for Alice, the book I call the never-fucking-ending-story. At any rate, I wasn’t able to get a start on the scene, and floundered around with it… writer’s block. Then #WickedWednesday came out with the prompt “TEASE” and my mind decided that was the very word I needed to kick it off.
So, in appreciation for breaking my block (yeah, I don’t like the way that sounds either), I give to you half of chapter nine of Alice, the book I despair of finishing.
He took her in his arms, wrapping her tightly in his grasp, imprisoning her in heavy corded muscles. He took her hair in his fist and pulled her head back, stretching her throat and lifting her mouth to his.
The kiss he took from her, the passion he gave her left her breathless and weak. His hands, sure and firm on her back and on her ass held her off balance, slightly back so she leaned entirely on his grasp.
Her arms pinned under his, she couldn’t reach him, couldn’t tear into the suit he wore, she was trapped in his embrace.
His mouth worked down her neck, his hands caressed and stroked and found her wrists. He pulled back from her a time and stared into her eyes. Each wrist raised, each hand coupled to the clips that hung from the frame behind her.
The click of the binding sounded like a small explosion in her ear. Again the other wrist was secured with the same report. He pressed her to the hard unforgiving wood, kissing, caressing, and stroking as though to mold her into the wood.
His lips played across her skin, down her neck, between her rising breasts, under the soft rise and up the delicate slope to the seize the nipple in his teeth and let his tongue play over the hard little flesh.
His hands found her hips and pressed them hard into the frame, his mouth released the nipple with a POP and his teeth scraped her aroused bud. He raised his head and looked at her once again and took her mouth with his. She felt his hand caress her swelling mound, tease the lips that ached with each pinch and scrape and caress of his touch.
He broke off the kiss and held his finger to her lips. It was wet with her fluids, glistening in the dappled sunlight. He set it on her lips but when she opened her mouth dutifully, he again took her mouth with his, sharing the wetness he brought her.
Rising from her mouth he looked into her eyes again. The expression was unreadable, but lust and adoration and love seemed to leak out from his eyes and his touch. Without breaking contact, he reached back and slapped her breast hard and followed it with a kiss so tender and delicate that the sting blended and melted and she lost track between pleasure and pain.
Again and again, always the same breast his hand burned across her and his mouth caressed and consoled and held her prisoner to his whims more effectively than the chains that bound her leather encased wrists.
Her legs turned and thrashed and compressed against each other, trying to use that pressure to come but he’d have none of that. Quickly, her ankle cuffs too were joined to the clasps on the bottom of the structure and he stood back to examine her.
A lever, a quick pull and the wood slipped back and lay like a table in which she was the center piece. His hands found her inner thigh, stroked her mound and went up her belly to her stinging breast. Her legs were chained too far apart to be useful to press her mound together and it left her spread to him, her swelling sex visible and vulnerable to his pleasures.
She watched as he reached for his buckle and slid the belt through the loops of his pants. That hisss was one of her favorite sounds and the promise of what was to come excited and frightened her. Her breath came in short gasps and she shivered despite herself.
His hand touched her again, soothing, caressing and calming her without losing any of the arousal. He knew the spots on her that caused her to reach through the flesh and fire the orgasm and he played her body like a fine instrument.
The sting of the belt when it caressed her inner thigh with a tongue of flame raised her off the table and the pain went straight to her clitoris and shattered in fragments that raced through her body.
Again, the belt laid another caress beside the first. Again and again. Each strike of the belt, and the light touch of the Master’s hand, ran through her helpless form, shattering her and firing bolts of electricity that flew from her clit to her breasts to her mind and back again until she became a single thrumming nerve, begging for something she couldn’t even remember.
She heard a growling, a cry of something wild and mindless and part of her realized it was her own horse, fiery throat making those sounds.
She writhed, slammed her ass on the table, desperate to find release. If she’d promised to hold it, that was a long time ago and someone else. She had no thought, no memory, no sense of anything other than the feelings that he passed through her.
The mindless, empty bucking of her hips as though to grab something, anything that would fire her madness and release the tension that he played with, the need he knew, the way the bastard took her to the edge and denied her again and again as his hands, the belt, the lips and the caresses took her mind away and left this squirming desperate animal.
She screamed, the words gone, the thoughts confined to one and only one. Nothing else existed, the light had gone out long ago, only the animal, the beast remained and it demanded release.
Without words, without sense or logic or thought,. She looked at her Master and begged, pleaded for his torture to end, to let her find the repletion the beast in her core demanded before it would release her. The gray was already coming on the edges of her thoughts, the cooling, loving nothingness that was subspace lay just on the horizon but the beast kept it at bay under Master’s orders, under Master’s hand.
He looked at her, under his touch, and he saw the beast, the basic essence of her revealed to his omniscient eyes. He nodded once and the beast screamed as his hand reached and found the trigger in her slit, the touch that gave her the final caress and the all-consuming wave took her.
The beast cried out into the night, a scream of triumph, of pain, loss, regret and pleasure. Her throat, raw with the grunting, growling animal sounds burned under the scream and her body arched, as wave upon wave tore through her. Her heart burst, her clit burned and tore and the beast broke free of the simple delicate flesh and screamed its freedom.
She fell back on the table, the grey of subspace took her away from the table, from him, but the beast ran free as she slept.
She woke once, as he took her down and held her through the night.
She cried and laughed and kissed her Master. It was all she could do for a long time