The Fire in Starlight

by Maria Isabel Pita

When she didn't say anything he turned his head, and the sternness of his expression as he looked searchingly into her eyes again scared her a little even as it excited her. She leaned forward and carefully set her wine glass down on the table. She could no longer bear to hold its fragile shield over her heart. She longed to expose all her feelings to him. She was aching to show him her very soul, and after what felt like so many centuries, words were too time consuming, too heavy, like all the tombstones littering the dark journey between this peaceful night and that violent one so long ago ... She stood up, pulled her dress off over her head, and flung it away. She wasn't wearing anything beneath it, physically he could see all of her now by the fire's flaring light, and it was an intense relief to let her body speak for her silently and eloquently. She watched him set his glass next to hers as his eyes moved slowly from her face to her breasts and down her legs, their intangible yet arousing touch lingering on the smoothly shaved space between her thighs on their way back up. She got up directly in front of him, deliberately letting the flames gild her hair and figure so her beauty shone as brightly as it could for him. Instead of embarrassed or nervous all she felt was an immeasurable glowing pride in who she was.

  He stood up, grabbed her by the waist, and pressed the lower half of her body hard against his. “You seem very sure of yourself, Sofia, but this isn't safe.’ He ground the hard bulge of his erection into her soft belly. “You know that, don't you."

  She was glad it wasn't a question because she couldn't possibly answer. Of course she didn't want him to do anything bad to her and yet, in an inexplicable sense, she did; her heart beat this ultimate paradox more and more urgently the longer she remained submissively silent. She clung to his shoulders, the buckle of his belt biting into her skin, and this sharp little discomfort deepened the dangerous languidness possessing her.

  He slipped an arm around her waist and gripped her face, tilting it roughly up towards his. “How can you be sure I'm really you're friendly neighbor, Sofia?” His tone was deliberately sinister. “How do you know you can trust me?"

  "Because, I told you ... I feel as if I know you somehow ... “

  "Do you?” He let go of her face and thrust his fingers through her hair, getting a firm grip on her head. “Tell me about myself, Sofia. What do you want me to do to you? More importantly, what do you think I feel like doing to you?"

  The stab of fear she suffered was disturbingly indistinguishable from excitement. “Please, John ... please don't make me talk!"

  "I'll make you do whatever I want to."

  "Yes, please, John..."

  His grip tightened excruciatingly on the roots of her hair. “My lord'."

  Two logs collapsed in the grate and began burning together even more fiercely as the same thing mysteriously happened inside her—his masterful behavior made her so hot that dreams and reality were effortlessly fused in her sex. Her pussy wasn't just wet; she felt hauntingly invulnerable, as if how aroused she was in the dark space between her legs was another dimension where anything was not only possible but desirable.

  "I don't know what your dreams are like, Sofia, but I'm warning you,” his eyes bored remorselessly into hers, “you're not safe. I've never felt this way, like I could do things to you I've never done to a woman. I'm tempted not to hold back with you, and if you knew me at all, that would seriously concern you."

  "I'm not afraid of you, my lord, I can't be..."

  "God!” His arm tightened painfully around her. “You're not helping yourself, Sofia."

  She held her breath. Crushed against him, his hand firmly gripping her head, his penetrating eyes assumed the dimensions of the universe itself above her. The fire flickering in his black pupils, and in his almost equally dark irises, was the spirit of every star burning in the sky. This was where she belonged, roughly, possessively cradled in his arm, her thoughts indistinguishable from her hair threaded through his fingers. She knew she had risked a dangerous shorthand by stripping, and putting him in a position he could not fully understand since she had not told him a single thing about her dreams. She realized then more clearly than ever how there was a part of her which was much more daring than her cautious reason, and this part of her had wanted to test him, to see if in his blood he too remembered what had happened between them in the past. If she simply described her dreams to him it wouldn't be the same; she would be influencing his perceptions and who he was outside of her own mind. If a few weeks from now, after they had gotten to know each other better, he helped her live out her kinky fantasies, it wouldn't feel the same at all. It was impossible to communicate all of this to him in words, she could only pray her eyes were as eloquent as she longed for them to be as she gazed up at him trustingly. It wasn't just the wine she had drunk that made the fire burning in his eyes read like a language she somehow understood. His body was hard, and with every inch of hers she could feel the dangerous strength in his muscles, she knew she would be wise to be afraid, but she couldn't be, not with his aura also enfolding her. Embraced by his honest energy, which he attempted to make threatening, she felt perfectly, paradoxically safe...

  He let go of her so abruptly she stumbled backwards, gasping at how intensely she immediately missed their breathtakingly closeness. She became uncomfortably aware of the heat of the fire caressing her exposed flesh as the distance of a mere few inches between them felt like a chasm she didn't have the power to breach.

  "Go to your room, Sofia,” he commanded in the tone of an adult punishing a little girl. “And walk slowly, very slowly. I want to watch you, and I also want you to have plenty of time to think about the position you've put yourself in with a complete stranger."

  She stepped past him, deliberately brushing her arm against his, reassuring herself with the contact. The sensation of her skin caressing his was electric, almost unbearably thrilling because of how much more it promised. She hated losing sight of him; she kept resisting the urge to turn her head and glance over her shoulder to make sure she hadn't only imagined the reality of his presence in her home. It seemed to take forever to reach her bedroom. The house was dark, yet she sensed he had no trouble making out her naked flesh moving before him like the moon obeying its orbit. She thought about how Orpheus must have felt preceding Eurydice out of Hades even as she felt herself drawing closer to a fearlessly hot dimension with every step she took in obedience not only of his command but of the force shaping her dreams. She told herself he was following her, but she had to strain to catch the subtle sound of his boots against the wooden floor because he moved as silently as a cat—as a wolf—behind her.

  When she reached the bedroom she walked over to one side of her bed and then stopped, not knowing what to do next and not daring to face him until he told her she could. When nothing happened for nerve-racking seconds, the darkness began pressing against her and she couldn't resist whispering, “My lord?"

  "I'm here, Sofia."

  She fervently wished there was a brazier she could light as she suddenly, desperately missed the fire. The darkness was so absolute it was like being inside herself. She almost couldn't be sure this wasn't just another dream from which she might awaken alone with no sexy neighbor to look forward to seeing again, and how desolate this possibility made her feel caused her to moan as if in fear.

  "Turn around and sit on the edge of the bed.” His voice was quiet but absolutely firm, not in the least bit tender or potentially forgiving of her disobedience.

  She obeyed him, keeping her back straight and her legs together, her hands resting on her knees as she struggled to distinguish the shape of his body from the night. She wondered where the moon was. It had grown overcast as they drank and talked. Then at last she felt more than saw him move closer.

  "There's a lot we have to talk about it, Sofia, but it's too late for words tonight, you've seen to that."

  She tensed, afraid he was about to tell her he was leaving.

  "Lie back."

  A wave of exultation washed over her as once more she
did as he said, sinking gratefully back across the feather mattress not just because it felt so good beneath her bones, but because so far he was obeying the choreography of her dreams. She knew it could easily be coincidence—she had taken the first step in the dance herself by standing next to the bed—nevertheless, a hot rush of hope indistinguishable from desire stabbed her directly between the legs. She was about to fuck a complete stranger, an exciting yet inaccurate thought she pushed aside in favor of the much more arousing sense that she was magically embodying time and space as she spread her thighs for him, and then raised her legs around his impenetrable silhouette, the base of her spine dipping over the edge of the bed. She was more than ready for him, yet she still gasped when he roughly gripped both her ankles, straightening her knees as he forced her thighs together and rested the back of her ankles on his shoulders.

  "Do you want my cock, Sofia?"

  "Yes!” she breathed.

  He reached down and slapped her cunt with his hard, open hand.

  She cried out more from shock than pain.

  He repeated beneath his breath, “Yes?"

  "Yes, my lord!” She could scarcely believe it, but she knew it was true—this man was going to take her beyond her wildest dreams. A rush of fear mingled with the trepidation tingling in her burning labial lips which told her she should be worried, that she should say something, maybe even beg him not to really hurt her, but she still had no desire to speak. She heard him opening his pants, and she suffered her first real fear as she thought, What if he doesn't have a big cock? But that simply wasn't possible, she had felt the bulge in his jeans when he had her pressed up against him; his buried erection had dug into her belly in a way that promised she wouldn't be disappointed.

  He leaned into her, forcing her legs down between them as he braced himself on her breasts, crushing them cruelly into her chest beneath his hands. More than one dream was coming true as he pinned her down beneath a delicious mix of fulfillment and anticipation, the friction between the two feelings igniting as a flash of lust in her pelvis. Never before had her hole felt so warm and wet and ready to be penetrated. Absolutely all of her was starved for what was to come, for what she had dreamed about and imagined, but never really experienced in this body trapped now beneath an implacable force taken the form of a man she barely knew and yet wanted more than anything. In those moments the details that had shaped his personality were irrelevant because she was about to get to know him in the truest and deepest sense. Her tender breasts aching in the grip of his hard fingers, the muscles in the backs of her legs beginning to smolder from the strain of the totally vulnerable position he had put her in, she should have been uncomfortable instead of so turned on it made not being able to take a deep breath irrelevant. His shoulders were broad and strong, effortlessly supporting her desire to open herself to him completely. He made her wait just long enough for her to hear everything that wasn't being said between them, and there was no talk of protection. It was dark in the room, and yet her longing for him felt brighter than the fullest moon in the ocean of her blood. When he penetrated her, she made no sound at all; the fulfillment was too intense to express. He lodged his head in the heart of her hole for an excruciatingly suspenseful moment, then he drove his erection into her body with a fierce thrust. Her pussy was tight, the sensation was rending, shocking in its suddenness, and nothing had ever felt better. He groaned, but it was not a vulnerable sound; it was much more a growl of cruel satisfaction as he began fucking her violently. His relentless rhythm made her forget to compare him to her dreams as it drove all the thoughts out of her mind except for one final triumphant firework in her synapses—Steve never fucked me like this! At first her only fear was that it couldn't last, that he couldn't possibly sustain that level of energy without getting tired or coming too fast, but this worry soon dissolved as he rammed his hard-on well past her G-spot, mysteriously touching upon the absolute submissiveness of her soul and overwhelming her with a pleasure much more profound than her clitoris could ever give her. He didn't speak to her, not with words; he was telling her everything she needed and wanted to know about him as he banged her with merciless intensity; relentlessly. After a while she gripped one of his wrists, not to take the pressure off her breast but in a passionate effort to move his hand up towards her neck.

  As if he sensed what she wanted, he reached up and clutched her throat. “I'm going to come in you,” he warned. “I'm going to come so deep inside you, you're going to breathe my cum!"

  She struggled instinctively, but he was even stronger than the man in her dreams, and apparently more practiced as well. His thumb and fingers pressed against just the right pressure points in her neck to make even thinking about catching her breath impossible. She went perfectly still beneath him as he brought himself to a climax so deep between her thighs it might actually have been the hot rush of his cum filling her lungs as he ejaculated. His own breathing was ragged as he removed the pressure from her throat so she could savor the haunting oxygen of his orgasm filling her body, his cock pulsing in rhythm with her racing heart. His erection was still rampant when he pulled out of her abruptly and slipped her feet off his shoulders.

  It was too sudden, she wasn't ready to let go of him even though it was only her pussy that had clung to him, but the endorphin level in her blood had skyrocketed to the point where she was so languid with fulfillment that talking felt more irrelevant than ever. She was aware of the fact that he was closing his pants casually, as if nothing special had happened between them. Suddenly, she sensed it was imperative that he know something of what was happening inside her. She raised herself up on her elbows. “John, I've never...” She didn't quite know how to describe it. “I've never done anything like that before.” She was sprawled wantonly before him, her spread legs hanging off the edge of the bed while he remained a self-contained silhouette.

  "I told you, it's too late for words tonight, Sofia. Or did you really think I was finished with you? Get up."

  She obeyed him at once.

  "Turn around and bend over.” He didn't touch her, he simply waited for her to do as he said, adding beneath his breath, “God, what a beautiful ass” before he smacked her soft cheeks with such force she nearly fell facedown across the bed.

  Being spanked was not new to her, she had asked Steve to do it to her a few times, but this was very different; there was nothing playful or tentative about it. Steve had even stopped himself once, complaining that his hand was starting to hurt, but she knew right away that would never happen with this man.

  "Brace yourself,” he commanded, and struck her again even harder, his open hand making such vicious contact with her ass it seemed to impact the very bones beneath her burning cheeks.

  She cried out in pain, she couldn't help it, but all that truly mattered was that he was still there with her. He grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her head back as he slapped her again with even more terrible strength. He spanked her for so long that by the time he placed a hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her down across the bed she was sobbing beneath her breath. Her ass was on fire, and her sympathetically smoldering sex was so wet she felt her juices trickling down the insides of her legs more swiftly than the sticky warmth of his cum. She deserved to be punished. She should have described her dreams to him when he asked her to, not tested him like this, even though she didn't for one second regret it. Everything he was doing to her felt much more meaningful and important than words ever could, and the more what he did to her hurt, the more profoundly significant it felt.

  "You know why you needed to be punished, don't you, Sofia?"

  "Yes, my lord!” she whispered, sniffing back her tears. Her hair was covering her face, but she knew when he sat down beside her as the mattress dipped beneath his weight.

  "Listen carefully, Sofia. There's an old oak tree directly behind your house next to the fence. You're going to write your dreams down for me. You're going to tell me everything about them, not holding anythi
ng back. Are you listening?"

  "Yes, my lord..."

  "You'll write them out by hand and put the pages in that oak tree. You'll do this by tomorrow evening before the sun sets. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, my lord ... but what if it's raining, the paper will get-"

  "You heard what I said.” He cut her off by spanking her ass again, as a reprimand. “Put them in a plastic bag, do whatever you have to, just make sure your dreams are in that tree before nightfall."

  "Yes, my lord,” she repeated in growing wonder, and appreciation. She should have realized that writing about her erotic fantasies would be easier than casually trying to talk about them. She felt him get up, and waited for him to say something else, to give her another command, whatever; she was willing to obey him no matter what he told her to do.

  She's not sure how much time passed before she suddenly realized the silence behind her was both suspiciously deep and disturbingly empty. She pushed herself up and turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed and quickly looking around before getting up in disbelief. The room was empty. She was the only one there; her heart was the only one beating and giving life to the darkness.

  "John?” she called softly, for some reason not daring to raise her voice. She hurried out into the living room, noting the fact that the front door was closed as she prayed he would be sitting on the loveseat waiting for her, but he wasn't, he was gone, and even in the midst of her bitter disappointment she wasn't, for some reason, surprised. Their wine glasses were on the table where they'd left them, and she was inordinately grateful for this evidence that she hadn't only dreamed everything that had just happened. Beautiful red embers glowed beneath a heavy black log that had burned out, and she shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as she began to feel how cold it was in her house. Most of the cheese she had laid out was still on the plate along with wafer-thin crackers that already looked stale. Her inner thighs were sticky, her ass was burning, and her pussy was smoldering contentedly—there was no doubt he had really been here, but it was still hard to believe because of the way he had simply left without saying goodbye; without holding her tenderly for even a moment while he whispered something—anything—to help her feel good about what had happened. He had left as abruptly as she woke from her dreams. Yet it wasn't true that he had left without promising her anything. He had given her a command she had promised to obey by sunset tomorrow, and anticipating this task was the only thing that would help her sleep even as it kept her awake long into the night.