She gently suckles, moving over him, lips pushing delicately against his holding fingers as she moves down. He then drops his hand away, giving her the full length and she takes it eagerly. She maintains the hold on her heels, her hands gripping tightly, her body moving, trembling as she continues to drive him to greater heights. She moans, her voice producing a buzzing hum, a light whimper. He eventually steps back.
Her breath comes out louder now, her body all but gasping, moving with the respiratory need, and he eats up the sight.
“Thank you, Skot,” she says, and those words almost make him melt.
“You are welcome, Pet,” he returns. “The bed is to your left, crawl up onto it, hands and knees, point your rear out away from the bed.”
She nods, and he sees the suggestion of a shudder to the expression as she moves her lovely, lithe body, steadying her lack of sight with her left hand, moving atop the bed, crawling slowly until she is fully atop it, on all fours, her firm derriere presented outward.
“I want you, Pet,” he eventually speaks.
She nods her head, “I want you.”
“Are you mine?”
And again she nods, her voice not much more than a heated whisper, “Yes, I am yours, Skot.”
He then reaches forward, and she feels hands on her buttocks, touching softly, moving fingertips about until the digits splay, palms going in to caress of that silken skin, squeezing, moving in so that the tips of his thumbs tease so very close to the outside of her delicate folds. Her breathing again increases.
He then moves his left hand up, taking a tighter hold on the side of her trim waist, using that as leverage to pull back with the other hand and deliver a sharp, loud spank to her right butt cheek. She yelps, and he rubs where he has struck, only to pull that hand away and deliver another sharp slap, and this one brings forth a stunted exhale of breath, almost a groan, and he caresses the area again.
“Do you like that, Pet?”
She nods, “Yes … yes” her words rushed out, carried on the hot breath of need.
He moves his hand back and another loud strike is delivered to her right side and another and more until he has spanked her several times in quick succession, bringing a pink response to her already flushing flesh.
She has gasped and moaned many times, her breath now coming even more rapidly.
“Ahh, beautiful Pet,” he says, his own voice terse with the breath of obvious arousal as he rubs his hands over her, finally again taking hold and delivering a spank to her left side.
She cries out, more in surprise at having been lulled with the gentle pettings. And then he resumes, delivering spank after spank to her lovely left cheek, each hitting harder, louder, giving forth a buzzing sting.
Then he stops, leaving her breathing heavily, again just looking at her there atop the bed, on elbows and knees, her rear presented, her delicate flower swollen and wet with a nigh undeniable invitation. He somehow manages to resist.
He walks around to the other side of the bed, eyes on her the whole time. She realizes some time has passed, her breath coming in a more manageable way now and not as loud. She cranes her head about as if to see through the blindfold or perhaps hear better, feeling the pressure as he sits on the bed, across from her head. He slides in closer to her, stroking her hair with his left hand. She moves her head into it, returning the gesture as best she can from her position.
“Give me your hand, dear Pet,” he says, touching her right, and she does, raising hers in offering.
He takes it, a smile on his lips, guiding her gently.
“Good. Now lie on your back,” he bids, and she does, now resting in the center of the bed, her head atop a pillow.
He leans over her, coming in close, slow, to place a deep kiss on her lips. She responds readily, pushing up against his mouth, tongues entwining, more hums and moans emerging to accentuate the kiss.
He then pulls away, retrieving the lengths of bindings already affixed to the headboard, and he secures her wrists. She whimpers a bit, the sound barely audible, but he hears it, and it gives a thrilling surge. Once both wrists are held tight, arms stretched out at an angle but loose enough to not hinder circulation, he binds her ankles, securing a nice part to her slender legs.
He moves away again, standing beside the bed, just looking at her. The sheen of her arousal mingles with the motion of breath and candlelight, such a beautiful sight. He then retrieves the nearby crop, and he brings it over, moving the tip of it along the contours of her torso, the tongue descending atop her belly, off to her left side, touching gently.
“Good girl, such a good Pet,” he compliments, for she has not instinctively tried to pull away from the feel of the tool, merely giving forth a shudder of movement and breath.
He moves the crop, the tip gliding down below her navel then back around to the left side over her hip and to her leg, further down and inward, stroking back and forth lovingly along her inner thigh. She emits a breathy gasp, her breathing again beginning a slow, steady rise, her lips parted with this needful passage of air.
“Do you like that, Pet?”
“Yes,” she manages, the single word almost becoming a moan.
He brings the crop back along her thigh, but this time he draws the leather tongue inward over her mons, bringing forth a light gasp from her. He lets it sit there, moving it against her sensitive folds with the motion of his wrist. She begins to move her hips in response, a lovely sight to behold.
He stops just long enough to bring the crop up and slap it down against her, and she jerks, yelping, and then he slides it back down and in, resuming the wiggling against her. But before she may settle back into this pleasure, the crop is back up, and again, her delicious pussy is spanked. Another whimper and moan comes forth from her, a writhing of hips.
She brings her tensed thighs together as much as possible as though to shield herself, but, of course, the bonds keep her legs spread sufficiently. He sees a rise to her tendons as she experiences the pleasurable pain, her hips twisting as she moves her body, and then he finally stops, moving the crop to his left hand and reaching down to gently touch her with his right.
“You are very wet, dear Pet.”
She nods, her breath coming out in short gasps, accenting the motion of her head. He adds to this by leaning in more to her, sliding a finger inside, and her head arches further back, her lips parting more as she feels the penetration.
“Do you like that, Pet?”
“Yes,” she gasps as the finger continues its motion, sliding in and out, then once all the way back in, curling up, moving about to seek other sensitive places within. “Oh, gods,” she adds.
“Mmmmm, yes,” he agrees, nodding, and he pulls his finger out slowly, causing a tension to her bound form.
He gently slides his hand up, still pressing against her, stopping fingertips over her clitoris, the delicate nub of flesh risen to prominence in the carriage of her delectable folds. He rubs there in short, circular motions, and her tension rises further, her body pulling taut, head pushing back again into the pillow, her luscious lips allowing another building gasp to escape, her breath coming out faster, much more audible even as he increases the rapidity of movement.
“Oh, gods,” she calls out, “Gods,” again, and he keeps at it, looking at her as her body shudders, “You’re going to make me cum.”
He stops, leaning in, close, looking her over, watching the passage of heavy breath within her. He lets her feel his breath, so close to her now, and she tilts her head, angling her blindfolded face at him.
“We can’t have that yet,” he whispers to her, “Though you are welcome to beg for it as much as you like.”
He then moves to between her bound legs, knees moving up under her legs as he leans down, taking hold of her, moving in closer to kiss her hungrily, deeply on the lips. She moans into it just as he emits his own humming sound of pleasure, lower, more guttural, even as hers takes on a somewhat similar cast. Together they emit sounds that make up a universal lan
guage that grants depths of understanding. Their senses are tuned, heightened to each other.
The kiss lingers, his hands on her neck as he moves his head about through the exchange. She greets it with as much hunger as he shows, their tongues writhing sinuously together as lips move in a quickly increasing desire. He has begun moving his hips, grinding against her, and he feels a similar return from here, a motion of her pelvis in response to his own as best she can manage in her bonds.
He pulls back from the kiss, leaning over to undo the bonds at the footboard, releasing the hold on her legs. He then reaches down, gripping her thighs and pushing up her legs. Her own flexibility evinces itself in how easy this is done, and he presses her legs up and out, bent somewhat at the knee, feeling the backs of her heels brushing against his shoulders.
She moans at this, gasps coming out as he presses his crotch against her, letting her feel his own turgid arousal.
“Do you want me inside you, Pet?” he asks, teasing her in more than one way.
“Yes,” she breathes, her need as evident as his own, “Please.”
And so he grants her desire, and his own, sliding inside her.
She takes in a lengthy breath at this, her chest then slowly falling with the release of that respiration, and he takes better hold of her legs, beginning to slowly move in and out of her. Their breath rises, moans and hums escaping both as they continue this movement. He leans more over her, pushing her legs back further, going as deep as he is able. She pulls her arms against her bindings, and he cannot resist, so he reaches out to release those ties. She immediately grabs at him with newly freed hands, grasping out at his arms, moving over them, then to chest and abdomen, as though she has gained vision anew through her fingers, and she wishes to desperately partake of the sight.
He continues to move in and out of her, savoring the feel, faster, then slow again, leaning down atop her, and she moves her hands aside, wrapping him in her arms, her legs also going tightly about him. Her hands rub over his back, even becoming claws with the surge of more intense moments, scratching into flesh.
“Do you wish to see, Pet?” he asks, breaking free from kisses just enough to pitch this near-desperate sounding question.
“Yes,” she breathes her own need, nodding, and he slips his hands up to remove the blindfold.
And then he sees her eyes, and the sight is almost enough to take his breath away. He smiles, and she returns it.
But the hot call of their loins shall not be denied, and they soon trade smiles for the tensed-up expressions of coaxed arousal, eager to explode. Their eyes stay locked as they continue moving together, their need burning. They are so close, holding each other, and she hitches, gasping in a stuttering fashion, and this almost sends him over.
“Do you want to cum, my Pet?”
“Yes, please.”
“Cum for me.”
She nods, “I will, and I want you to cum. Will you please cum for me, Skot?”
And it is his turn to nod, “I will, all for you, dear Pet.”
Their motion continues anew with a fresh intensity, and he feels her take an even stronger hold, pushing herself against his movements, a deep clutching over his member, a feeling like no other.
He looks her deeply in the eyes, losing himself in that promised world of beauty and love. Her face is enshrouded by her vibrant red hair, her lips parted, her culmination so very evident, her breath rising to a frantic pace, and her orgasm finally takes her amidst moans and sharply pitched intakes of breath, tightly clutched hands, arms and legs. He feels the pulsing climax within her, the spasmodic flexing of muscles at her loins, and it is more than he can bare, and he groans, tensing, feeling the undeniable surge and clench within as he expends inside her.
It takes some time for her orgasm to pass through her, hips bucking, and the pulsation of it is a torturous lure to his spent member still held within her. She holds tight, hugging him, and he returns it, both trying to catch their breaths, feeling the hot mingling of flesh against each other.
“Thank you, Skot,” she says, amidst the warm, eager kisses they now share.
“You are very welcome, Lily, and I thank you,” he replies, looking her deeply in the eyes.
Again, they share that warm smile, and then kiss again, and it feels as though they melt into one another.
It is bliss.
*****
This is not her first night out doing this, and though it has not yet been that many, she is quickly beginning to realize why she is a much better cyber sleuth than more conventional detective. She just doesn’t have the patience or talent or whatever it is that makes this sort of investigation useful.
She knows the parts of town that may yield the most potential, and thus armed with the intelligence she is able to gather from the digital domain, she prepares to disembark from the subway to venture forth this night into a less than savory part of the city.
First, though, she’ll need to do something about the two guys who have taken an untoward interest in her.
They boarded a few stops back, and their exchanged words and grins mark them not only as good friends but also troublemakers. Something in their glances, their attitudes, and she knows they are not just putting on a show. For all her social isolation, she is decent at reading people. Still, though, she finds more comfort in the electronic, finding bits of data to be firmer and much easier to coax than the muddled, confusing chaos of the offline world and its all too human inhabitants.
These two noticed her, despite her being huddled over within the raised cap of her hoodie, covered in the usual, bulky layers of black leather, thick cotton, worn denim. She peers over, wearing no make-up tonight, though her piercings are still evident as is the angling of her black hair from beneath the edges of the gray hood. She could probably pass just as easily for a teenage boy as a young woman, but whatever those two see, they think of her as potential prey.
They whisper, sometimes speaking louder, though they are still far enough away that she does not make out much of anything tangible. Their looks, though, their grins and smirks and laughter, that is all evident enough. These two bullies intend something for her.
Of course, they also exit the tram when she does, obviously intent on following her. She stabs her fists into the front pockets of her leather jacket, the heavy garment zipped and buckled up, encasing her skinny torso, and she moves at such a fast walk as to almost be running. She notes out of the corner of her eye, giving a quick glance to her right as she speeds up, that one of them has nudged the other, motioning toward her with jutting chin, and they also pick up their pace. She’s carrying a small blade, but she’d rather it not come to that. As she prepares to reach the stairs, looking up to see what lies ahead, she spies the camera. Of course. She is quite familiar with these, having even hacked into some before.
She stops, turning, defiant, daring, boring her eyes into the two, and they shuffle to their own halt. They are confused, for a very brief second, then they return to their hyena-like nature, grinning, moving closer. She notes the flexing of fingers on the part of one, likely the more dangerous of the duo.
“You see that camera there?” she bobs her head up, indicating the device hanging high up on the wall, light blinking to signify its life, as she now stands below and forward of it a few steps.
They pause, eyes going up, and it is obvious they do indeed see it.
“It’s a police camera,” she continues, “Put down here for security reasons,” and so said, she reaches up with her left hand, pulling her hood down and turning, putting on a faux smile and waving to the camera for a short moment, then looking back, “And now it’s gotten a good look at me … and both of you.”
They blink, looking from her to the camera then back. She just stares.
“So, now, if anything happens to me, they’ll run a routine check on these records, assuming I took the tram to get here, and they’ll see me.” She turns and gives the camera another look, though this time without the fake smile
and movement of her hand, then looking back at them, that stone expression, which seems much more natural for her, still on her face. “And they’ll see you.’
“They’ll see you two standing here, squaring off at me. If either of you have an ID, any sort of license for work, driving, school, anything, any sort of records, fingerprints, prior arrests, they’ll find you, and they’ll come looking for you.”
And so declared, she stands there, silent, staring.
After a moment, the two head up the stairs.
She’s not stupid, though, so she walks over to a nearby bench, sitting in full view of the camera, calming and collecting herself, waiting for a good half hour before carrying on. She’s not on any sort of schedule, anyway.
She’s careful as she leaves, going to street level, keeping an eye out not just for those two but anyone who looks suspicious. She doesn’t see the two guys from the subway, which is good. She spies plenty of ladies who look like they might be in the line of work that brings her here tonight, but she wonders if she is just seeing what she wants to see. She finally notes a somewhat decent concentration of them in a particular area, so she finds an open coffee shop, heading in to find a spot from which she can observe.
The place is better lit than she’d like, hearkening somewhat toward an American diner aesthetic, but she does manage to find a booth against the wall, giving her a nice view through the large window of the goings-on outside.
She sips of the strong, overly bitter coffee, not seeing much of interest out there, save the mundane passage of people, some stopping to talk, cars driving about - the very things one might expect to see in a busy enough part of the city at night. She again realizes why she is not a conventional private investigator. Ilona had told her once about all the waiting, and if you’re not the type of person for it, you’re not the type of person. She feels a stab of disappointment at thoughts of Ilona, though it has blunted somewhat since the P.I. refused to help her. She supposes she can’t blame her, but she’d much rather have the assistance. Ilona’s also a lot more intimidating in person than she is, despite her gruff bravado.
Dance of the Butterfly Page 24