by Poppet
Pushing myself deeper into his hand, blindly I seek his mouth. Pulling him so that I can wrap both of my legs tightly around him. Needing this. Inhaling his fresh scent like a hit from a hookah, getting just as dizzy.
Finding subliminal refuge in the masculinity that breathes into me, presses teasingly up into me, with the hairs on his arms imprisoning mine, his weight suggestive of solid strength; this is both comforting and turning me inside out. I want him. Need him. “I want you …”
My body is lethargic; I'm unresponsive when he settles himself on me. I can feel the pressure, but coherence is drifting away. Slipping thoughts, can't think. Clutching on to random impressions. Stubble, lips, tongue, neck … Hand, skin on skin. Lost clothes? When … The last image, the sharp inhalation of breath when his warm body slips inside mine. It's a shock. Closing my eyes with my body's moist pulsating reaction to him.
•
Victor:
Dominance is established inside the first thirty seconds of meeting anyone. Subconsciously she submitted to me before she even knew my name, standing outside her door.
There are rules of domination. Biblical rules no longer in the Bible. Adam divorced Lilith because she would not submit to his sexual authority. She would not lie under him. The woman is of lesser stature. She cannot dominate the man. If she thinks she can, her thinking is deficient and must be corrected.
The first copulation engaged in must have the male dominating her, for success. I know Shauna won't remember any of this, but she is willing to submit. Submit to my authority. Women have a discrepancy hardwired into them.
They lust. I will not allow this woman to be on top until she has accepted her position in this relationship. She will kneel for me. She will lay under me in my shadow. I will cover her with my brilliance, overshadowing. Filling her with my purity.
Her earrings are back in. Her left ear wearing my father's A, for Alpha. In her right ear she wears my symbol. The omega. My father gave me the mark. It is biblical to wear the father's mark. Marking her as our servant forever. She will find joy in this servitude. Now I cover her. We follow the oldest ways.
A woman is not suitable for marriage until she has shown she is fertile. I will give Alpha no reason to put this lamp out, or hide it under a bushel. I will give her my mark under her skin. She shall willingly wear the omega. I have complete faith that this is the one. The angel sacrificed for a new beginning. Finally restoring the balance. Correcting the first sin. She has not tempted me, I tempted her. She fell to my temptation and finally trusts me.
I succumb to the temple open beneath me. Her youthful body pliant and willing. Juicy heat kisses my rod of command with the precision of the first copulation. I want her to hurt. To know this isn't about her pleasure. It's about mine. She was created to serve me. I want to tear her. So that for days she will remember who her master is. I am. The Omega. Vengeance the maker and taker. I made her. Now I take her. She must remember this bruising, the rupturing of delicate skin to accommodate me. I want her walk to loudly announce she' s owned. I'm claiming my lost property.
She feels so good. Petite and perfect. Her nubile body supple from dancing. Forcing her legs wider, I take the satisfaction of watching myself plunder hers.
Mine. You are mine. You will crawl for me.
I have two favourite cameras. One digital, the other Polaroid. I prefer the Polaroid, I derive satisfaction in the process of developing film. In the dark. With patience for the process it takes to create the perfect image. Hanging the Sony around my neck, my finger reflexively captures the victory union.
Rohypnol ensures the victim has no recollection of events. But under the influence, they are easy to manipulate and are responsive, depending on the dosage administered. I take her again. Power surges through me, keeping me hard. Hardening again and again. I know she's the one because each time I try to break her, she's more eager. Willing.
Opening her mouth, slipping her tongue around and underneath me. I grab fistfuls of hair, and she doesn't even whimper. Thrusting deep into her mouth, she simply closes her eyes, holding lazily to my body. One hand strays between her legs. I slap her cheek hard to get her to stop wanting her own pleasure. Taking another photo. Up to the hilt, framed with pink lips, her pixie nose inhaling me. Reluctantly I withdraw so she can breathe.
“Worship me woman.”
Her tongue snakes out, pushing into me as she sucks my head back into her mouth. She was born to be a whore. Convulsing into her mouth, I grip her head so she can't move.
“You are an evil whore. I must punish you.”
Thrusting her off the male rod of command, my grip is cruel. I feel it and am fighting myself. I don't want her to have bruises that I'll have to explain. Forcing her head into the bed, turning myself on as she chokes for air, I slam into her. Her knees give and I'm forced to hold her hips to keep my erection inside her.
“Discipline is what you need.”
Plunging hard and fast, her breath is ragged, moaning emanates from her.
“Shut – up – you – filthy – whore.”
Damn it. She's so hot, all around me, warm honey entombing me. I can smell her lust and hate her for ruining this. This is my moment. How can her body be so compliant and perfect? How am I to exact God's wrath on her when she's so eager to get a good fucking?
Gripping her body I force her skin wider apart, watching myself, taking random photos, the video cam is hidden and I can watch this all play out frame for frame when she's gone home. I need her to hurt.
Let me hear you cry out you bitch in heat. Finally the salve of her cry kisses me tenderly. I cum again, needing to mark her. In every way that I can. I take her anally, getting immense satisfaction from the cries that elicits.
I wipe off with her hair before sitting on her. It's biblical to be dried with a woman's hair. Rubbing the rod between her breasts. Watching pink nipples react with hardening, using her hands to tickle my sacs, pushing fingers into her mouth while giving her creamy neck a pearl necklace. Feeling mildly exhausted I lay down beside her, pleased with the marking of her.
Again I force her legs apart, pushing her knees up to expose the softness I want to hurt for days after this. Unchallenged power makes me hard; this domination is my reward for months of painstaking patience. Using my hand to rape her this time, knowing exactly which angles will inflict the most bruising from tedious years in medical school, I take her again.
“Let me hear you, Shauna. I can't hear you screaming yet.”
Using knuckles and brute strength, I fuck her. When her pitch sounds right to me, whimpers because she's unable to scream, I withdraw the hand with smug satisfaction. My bitch. My angel. Mine.
So hard with longing and arousal that I slip inside her a last time. Amazed that the suppleness of a body keeps it sucking moistly around me regardless of what I do. Finally content that she has been suitably disciplined using the only language she seems to understand, I leave the room, taking both cameras.
After a shower, I pick up my covert phone and text. “That is a better choice.”
I rearrange her in bed before lazing next to her. Tracing the nearest nipple with sensitive fingers. Glee grips me when it hardens pertly. Sucking it hard, my hand claims the other. Rolling it, teasing it, pinching it. Deriving nurturing from her enticing body, I wonder again what mother was like. Did she have huge breasts bloated with milk? Or was she petite like the handful in my embrace? Were hers pink like Shauna's? Or dark? Why did Father reject her? How did she sin?
Awareness dawns on me with Shauna's pained moan. I withdraw from biting the nipple. Licking it tenderly, to soothe it back in apology, tracing the hairless body with the hand on her other breast. Sliding between her legs, finding a reaction waiting for me. I knew she secretly loved discipline. Pain teases her erotically. She is the perfect angel for Vengeance.
Generosity overcomes me as I trace her folds, applying pressure. Watching her lips moisten tentatively with a shy tongue. Breath raising her chest closer to my fac
e, shuddering gasps emanating through parted lips. She responds to me. Both her lucid and unaware moments with me betray her. She desires me.
“The whore likes this?”
In mindless slumber her legs move eagerly of their own accord. I am her master and she responds to me beautifully. Leading the orchestra of her desire, I manipulate the succus response under my fingers. I can allow her some pleasure to hold onto. She took the punishment well, I will gift her this. My smile betrays me when she orgasms.
The smug joy quickly replaced with bitterness, “Don't you ever let that bitch touch you again.”
Rage moves me to chastise her once more, enjoying the bounce of her chest with the force of my anger. Her flesh trembles before me. Subconsciously she recognises her master. Deriving satisfaction when I finally see a trickle of blood with my withdrawal from her body; to coldly turn my back on her.
Changing my mind three minutes later, I roll to face her. Turning her by the chin to face me with slumbered eyes, “Give me a son and I will forgive you.”
~ Chapter 19 ~
A photograph is usually looked at – seldom looked into.
~Ansel Adams
Shauna:
Eventually the tickle on my thigh rouses me to move. Moving the duvet away to look at what is crawling there, the sight of blood alarms me. Shit. I can't be coming on now?
Mentally checking my last tablet, nope not for at least a week. Embarrassed I sit up to go to the bathroom when I notice he's not here. On cue he strolls in, pressing a button next to the light switch to open the curtains, flooding me with unflattering daylight, holding a black mug. Familiar music filters in. He even likes the same kind of music!
“Good morning. Made you some coffee.”
He puts it down on the beech table next to me before kissing my forehead. “I'm going to shower. You're welcome to join me.”
I must be dead. Vengeance dropped that flame last night and now I'm in heaven. Swallowing awkwardness, I can't help the magnetic trail of my eyes down his body. I really need to get to a gym.
•
Victor:
“I think you turned me into a virgin.”
Oh I did. You just didn't know it. “Why do you say that?”
Sheepishly I smile, “Just, the symptoms are there.”
Our blood covenant.
“You're a tight fit, princess. Enjoy that coffee.”
•
Shauna:
His smile is so flattering, with an expression that's smug and charming. I watch him stroll out, naked. I wish I had that kind of masculine confidence, without having the urge to suck my stomach in and stop my ass from moving when I walk.
Lazing back I sip from the matt black mug. Everything is wood and black in here. Even the closet doors are matt black. Clean lines. Angular. No fuss. Not too dark either. The hues compliment each other.
He's a heck of a lot neater than me.
Fingering the duvet cover, I realise it's silk. Must be nice being a doctor and having that kind of budget. The headboard is black suede. Moving, I examine the print hanging over the bed of a black and white female nude.
Well I fit right in. She could be me. I must be his type. Pity the head's missing. She has long dark hair curling sensuously around her breast. Sexy. One leg pulled up obscuring the leg behind it as she reclines on her side. Curvaceous hip highlighting hollows in shadow. I wonder if he took it?
How could I ever have considered him even remotely gay?
Feeling daring, I put the mug down on the leather coaster. I'm going to help that sexy boy shower.
“Hello minx. So I tempted you after all?”
“Minx?”
Stepping in with him, he commandeers my body under the water. Moving my hair to rub gelled hands over my shoulders, kneading me delectably.
Fuck me, I could get so used to a man like this.
“You're insatiable. I'm fit, but even I was beginning to feel it after the tenth time.”
I can't remember past the first time. “Really? Ten times?” I'm trying hard to remember but his hands are manipulating the muscles in my back with sedating precision.
“Put your hands against the wall so I can use some strength here.”
I brace myself as his soapy hands work froth up and down my back in languid firm strokes. “Hmmm. You are a god.”
“Don't you remember?”
“No, not really.”
“It must be post traumatic stress. It's common to have memory loss after a big scare.”
He lathers my hair, fingers rubbing massaging circles into my scalp. I could die happy right now. Hmmm, firm fingers relaxing my neck. “You are turning me inside out.” Soapy hands knead my breasts, covering every inch of me. Shit that burns. I haven't felt this since my first few times. He steals my breath as he moves me back under the jet-stream to rinse off. “How come you're single? I feel like I've stepped into an alternate reality.”
Stepping closer, he holds me against him; water running between us, as if to separate, but instead it causes a suction of skin on skin.
“How come you're single?” he challenges back.
“Meaning?” Staring up into treacle soft brown eyes, his smile is so fucking cute. He oozes sex appeal without even trying. He's perfect. Feeling oddly humbled I drop my eyes to stare at the crevice running down the centre of his chest.
“Any woman who uses her mouth like that should belong to a man. And he'd be stupid to let her go.”
My cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “Was I naughty then?”
“I wouldn't mind an encore.”
Chuckling softly I step away from him, he relinquishes his hold compliantly. Looking down, I blurt, “You are very intimidating to someone as little as me.”
“Intimidating?”
Holding him in a hand, I slide my grasp sensuously, “Yes. You are well built in every sense of the word. I wish I could remember last night, because I'm feeling decidedly nervous now.”
Tilting my chin up, his smile caresses my worries; soft lips cover mine. My free arm snakes up to encourage his head to stay with me. Firm hands hold my face as he walks me backward to the tiles, flat against them, invading my mouth with unrestrained fervour. My body reacts, chasing fear away.
I must have been bloody sensational last night. I'll do my best, if it keeps him with me. As he breaks the connection, I plant an exploratory kiss on the skin in front of me. Tracing my way down his body with soft kisses and a curious tongue. He tastes soapy. And I don't care. I'm alone, in a shower, with a god. Now let's see how much I missed last night.
Between the caressing, sucking behind, around, on top, in, out, and the tea-bagging, his explosion takes me quite by surprise. Dancing in the shower, he tilts my head back, the water spray cleanses again. More gel-soap, tender hands; I return the gesture, unprepared for the ease with which he lifts me, pressing my shoulders for sturdiness against the wall.
Distracted from the adoration of tensing arms and shoulders, I experience burning pain. My body conflicted between signals of pleasure and pain pulses. Wrapping my legs tightly around his hips, jolted, surrounded with water, skin, the noises alone make me want to laugh. One arm supports me as the other firmly holds the middle of my back. Pulling us out of the shower, he lowers me onto the floor. Sopping wet, water dripping off his nose into my eyes, I close them reflexively.
The running water sounds like a hollow waterfall. Stubble scrapes the skin on my neck. But my focus is completely side-tracked by the overwhelming pleasure. Jesus, this guy knows what he's doing.
Gripping his back, my body tenses. Gasping cry emanates. Vision vanishes. Momentarily blind. Tingles in my toes. Then the pain explodes. I feel like he's tearing me in half when his body tenses inside mine, widening for his own climax. Jesus fucking Christ.
I open my eyes to see him watching me intently.
“You okay?”
I should be more experienced than this. I feel like a newbie, caught off guard. “Yes.”
“You l
ooked like you were in pain.”
I hide behind a smile and lie, “It's my orgasm face.”
His eyes seem to be trying to read my mind with the sharp intensity trained on mine. He grins before kissing and sucking my left nipple. “You saucy girl. You're going to have to become a regular around here.”
For some reason even my nipple feels oversensitive. Rubbing my palms under his chin, “Only if you shave.”
His laugh is seductive and easy. Slipping out of me, he stares unabashedly at my body, “You're like a fairy.”
I smile, sitting up. If looks could fuck, I wouldn't be able to walk for a week.
“I'm going back in that shower.” A hand is offered as he stands. Accepting the grasp, he hauls me up so fast I experience vertigo. Supporting me, he walks me back into the shower, tenderly soaping me up again.
“I'm feeling dizzy.”
“You need food, baby.”
I watch him rinse off and step out of the shower after silencing the water. A towel wraps around me, embraced again, I feel the affection. This guy is so tender and sweet. Bloody thoughtful too. I thought men this fabulous were extinct.
Sitting down on the toilet seat lid I watch him fill his palm with shaving foam, in front of the mirror. He has an extractor fan on that prevents the mirror from steaming up. Lethargically I dry my hair, watching the way he strokes the razor over his face with precision. Catching his reflected gaze, I see he's smiling at me. “What?”
“I'm still alive. How many times have we done it? And he hasn't popped me off the planet yet.”
Frowning, I pause in mid hair squeeze, “Where's my phone?”
“Your place.”
Mesmerised I watch him rinse his face and come swaggering over to me, a towel hugging his hips sexily. He runs his cheek down mine. “Better?”
I nod, grinning back, until it becomes a wide smile.