by Eryn Black
“And your hands,” he clarified, adding to his instructions.
Hesitation pulled at her shoulders, keeping her in the seated position for a moment as she took a long deep breath before bending forward and positioning her hands below her shoulders. Blood rushed to her face, painting her cheeks and the ridge of her nose exposing what could easily be interpreted as shame or rage, but he knew the furious expression in her eyes was born more from sexual excitement… he knew her. She placed one hand forward with a knee following behind and then the other, making her way across the room, the soft fibers of her robe were caught up by her knees with every step creating a tight resistance.
“There is no need for that anymore.” Azrael waved a hand in front of him, over his view of her body and the robe fell away from her, falling intact, similarly to before as though she simply emerged from it.
Aurora looked down for a moment, to see her legs pass over her discarded robe, taking note of her nakedness, but then turned her head back up, with her eyes focused on his and she continued on. She moved with confidence in her decision, not complacent, but more affirmed that this was what she wanted. If Azrael’s heart were still alive it would have leapt from his chest in excitement. Every step her hands and knees took toward him sent her breasts to sway side to side. In flight, her body defied gravity, never hindered by the need for restraints worn by human women, but here on the floor and filled with the heat of growing passion her body took on a more sensual, human aspect moving with gravity rather than above it. And he liked it very much.
“Halt.” The instruction brought her to an instant halt and she waited with one hand and one knee forward, like an animal caught in headlights, frozen mid-step. Azrael waited to see what she would do next, would she remember her role, or had their four-hundred-year absence been too long for her to retain the trained instructions.
“Present to me.” There was a monotone level to his voice, eliminating any sound of praise or discipline. Had he needed air, as though breathing were necessary or a common function, he would have been holding his breath, and the thought only served to remind him of how they had come to this moment.
In a moment that felt like it would drag on forever, she blinked twice, her heavy lashes closing over her eyes revealing the catlike line of black eyeliner. Often she had enjoyed indulging in the mortal customs of adornment, and makeup was something she had often played with. Azrael never approved of her changing her natural beauty, she was perfect just as she had been created, but he appreciated how happy she would appear when made up.
Aurora took her time, centering herself in her current position, slightly rocking back and forth over her hands and knees. He was certain that she would either decline his instructions or have forgotten the meaning of his words entirely, but before he gave up hope, she crouched back, sitting on her feet and dragging her hands over the floor keeping them stretched out ahead of her. There was a long pause that made his chest tighten for fear that she would reject him now, but before he could say anything or repeat his instruction she pulled her hands close to her, and up on top of her knees, straightening her arms and pushing herself up, straightening herself to an upright position.
A peace swept over her face, softening her expression, she rolled her shoulders back easing her tension and turned her hands over, resting the back of her hands on her knees. With a deep breath through her nose she arched her lower back pulling her shoulders farther back and raising her breasts presenting herself to him for inspection, just as he had to her over seven hundred years ago. She was perfect, the ideal offering, beautiful in every way and for one night she was his.
“Good,” he complimented her as he walked away, but looked back over his shoulder to confirm that she kept her eyes obediently forward.
The room was well equipped, for being a long-term kept hotel room, but he had an arrangement with no checkout date. Fitted with all of his needed necessities including proper UV protection and insulation for the occasions he had particular overnight company. Tap, tap, tap he walked his fingers along the chair rail that ran the perimeter of the room, setting a rhythm that matched the beat of her heart. Over his shoulder he could see the gooseflesh rise over her arms and chest, the prickly indication that he was striking a response in her. Azrael smiled to himself with pride and paused at the hidden seam in the wall, with all of the delights hidden inside. Pressing into the chair rail, a small square of polished wood pressed in under the pressure of his thumb and just like with the bar a lock clicked, releasing a large panel in the wall that stretched from floor to ceiling. Taking one more look over his shoulder to ensure that she was still looking at the opposing wall he pulled the panel open. The hinges were well-oiled and well-used, not making a sound as it swung open to reveal a hidden closet of sin.
Azrael snapped his fingers, lighting a candle standing on a black and brass wall sconce. Black crystals dangled from the pedestal that the candlestick stood on, similar to the trim on the shelves of the bar. He breathed in the risqué aroma of the candle wax, forcing his lungs to expand so that he could enjoy the scent. Sandalwood and oiled leather had been a preference of his for centuries, long before he had been cursed, but as the Angel of Death he had not permitted himself to indulge so much. They had explored the world of pleasure, and Aurora had introduced him to the sensual power in dominance and the pure exchange of trust given in love to each other. Long after being cast out of the only home he had ever known, Azrael took up the practice, but with a less formal attachment, women passed by his bed with no lingering endearment, blonds and brunettes served his purpose in the moment, as submissive donors, and he fed from them taking what they could safely give, always being given erotic compensation before they departed. But never a redhead, never a woman who could remind him of the only one he had ever loved.
Presented with an array of whips, riding crops, floggers and one very frightening cane he looked at the erotic wardrobe and reached a hand out to run his fingers through the strips of leather that fell from his favorite flogger. There was so much he wanted to show her, instruct her in what he had learned since the last time they had embraced, but he had only one night, and enough time had been wasted in talking. The flogger swung from the hook, batting at the riding crop and flogger on either side of it.
At waist height there was a brown leather covered counter with a row of shelves beneath it. Intricate boxes and candles littered the counter that each held a sentimental memory for him, but it was one candle in particular that had his interest. Round, thick and red, the pillar candle had carvings etched into it depicting a Greek mural of men and woman dancing around a Bacchus. The fictional stories of cultures from around the world had always been a recreational enjoyment for him and this one in particular had the added pleasure of sinful indulgence. But a candle alone would not serve his purpose and he looked up at a coil of red silk rope hanging to his right, the perfect addition to this appetizer.
He left the candle behind, turning to her with the coil of rope in one hand and a loose tail in the other, she was presented for his pleasure and he intended to take his enjoyment to the fullest. Bare chested, he walked up to stand in front of her, holding a length of rope between his hands for her to see. It surprised him at how well she had retained her training from their previous time together and found it almost endearing that she would remember so well.
“Eyes down,” He paused to see that she complied and grinned when she did so quickly. “Let the games begin,” he announced with a playful upturn in his voice.
Holding both hands in front of him, with the rope still strung between them, he gave it a tight pull and focused on his first task. Walking behind her, he told her to stretch her hands out to her sides and he took one wrist, then the other, bringing her hands behind her back for him to tie together. Four clean rows of woven red silk rope wrapped around her wrists making a clean pattern to start with. He lowered her hands to the center of her back, giving her elbows a comfortable bend keeping her shoulders relaxed. Kneeling
down on one knee, he reached around to wrap the rope three times around her waist, locking the rope through the ties around her wrists, securing her hands in place. He gave her wrists a gentle pull, ensuring that the knots were holding before moving on and up her torso. Crossing over her chest in an X, the rope formed diamond shaped boxes to frame her breasts and then looped around her soft perfect globes in a figure eight that bound them tight at the base, forcing them to balloon out in round spheres. The bindings made her breasts hard and her nipples puckered and erect. A thrill rushed through him when he accidentally grazed the side of her breast with his hand, Aurora shivered in response and he grasped her intending to fully enjoy the feel of her. Soft yet firm, like the petals of a rose placed over smooth marble. The rope kept her breasts presented up, making them weights when he cupped his hand beneath one, cradling it. Aurora gasped when he brushed the pad of his thumb over her nipple, toying with her.
In an aggressive move he pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it like a leash and bringing her to stand up. Azrael released his pinching hold on her and leaned forward to lick her nipple before sucking her into his cold mouth. His lips formed a seal over her breast and he playfully scraped her skin with the points of his fangs, but never risked a nick that could break the skin.
“You do not fear me?” he asked looking up into her face. Aurora’s eyes were closed tight and her expression was tense under the strain of sexual stimulation. Slowly she breathed out with a whistling sound and lifted her eyes to meet his. A smile played on her lips that was intoxicating and alluring and Azrael suddenly felt his chest restrict simulating the feeling of suffocating.
“Fear is such a simple word for something so complicated.” Lust hung heavy in her voice, like the evening fog rolling in, filled with mystery.
“Then, do you despise me?” he used his words to test his boundaries.
“It would be simpler if you would just fuck me.” Her playful tone had a growing confidence.
“Such crudeness for such a pleasurable experience.” He grasped the tail end of the rope that dangled from the knot between her breasts, tightening the figure eight and pulling her in a jarring motion. “I have already fucked you tonight, and it was most pleasurable, but now I want to play, I want to savor and let your body feast on the delights of sensuality.”
He took a step back and swooped one hand down low and then up again, slowly mimicking the sudden rise of Aurora lifting off of the floor. The tail end of the rope ran through his other hand, maintaining a constant connection between them, like a leash. Slowly shifting, her legs came up behind her until she was lying face down in midair, with her head almost at Azrael’s height.
He walked with pride around her surveying his work, she struggled a bit against the bindings, trying to move her hands, but the rope held tight and she quickly ceased her struggle. Azrael ran his fingers through her fiery hair, feeling the silky sensation sooth him and then he dragged his hand down the back of her head, letting her hair fall free from his fingers as he moved down her back, over her hands and to the perfect, tight, round rise of her ass. She had the perfect rear, round, shapely, firm, but soft to touch. He squeezed her rear and watched the gooseflesh rise over her skin, pulling his hand back he brought it down quickly sending the resonating sound of a fleshy smack through the room. Aurora threw her head back in response to the punishment, and he released the rope to grasp her hair, holding her head in place he landed another smack over her rear, but this time his hand landed at the center and two fingers hit her wet sensitive entrance. He flicked his fingertips in for only a moment before pulling his hand back and hearing the soft moan of disappointment. She was more than stimulated, she desired him, and he was prepared to make her beg for him before they were done.
“Are you prepared to take flight?” he asked, her eyes darted to the side with a perplexed look.
Aurora was propelled overhead, flipped head over heels winding the rope between her legs and over her body. Azrael conducted her movements with a wave of his hand taking extra care to detail, bringing the rope to tie a knot in itself then running between her legs planting the knot against the pink peak of her sensual core, tapping the sensitive target with tormenting accuracy. A wicked grin spread across his face and Azrael’s delight fed from the sight of her pleasure. The knot kept her suspended in a purgatory of pleasure, with no promise of release and soon she began to call out to him, licking her lips and struggling to maintain her composure while her body was electrified with sexual stimulation.
“You wouldn’t wish for our games to end so suddenly?” he asked enjoying the sight of her pleasurable torture.
With his hands reaching over his head, he motioned for her legs to spread wide in a sideways split, opening her entrance wide and forcing the knot to press in harder. The pink, plump lips of her sex kissed the knot, embracing it tightly with every shivering pulse that shook her from limb to limb. Aurora was exhausted from the constant state of arousal never being given the sweet relief of an orgasm. Direct and focused, he was determined to draw out all he could from her, before surrendering to her pleas.
The tail end of the rope was looped around a heavy black iron ring that hung from the ceiling, tied and knotted, the rope worked as an anchoring point supporting her by the thighs and shoulders. It moved over her like a red silk snake, winding itself around her thighs, torso and arms, securing her with mild, but welcomed discomfort. Aurora hung face down, suspended only a few feet off the floor, her naked ass presented and primed for his special attention.
Azrael studied his prey, studying her every move, the slightest patch of color in her cheeks from the blood that rushed to the surface, the pretty way the fine hairs on the back of her neck curled into fine ringlets, like one would see on a girl a century before, the fine hairs on her arms, back of the neck and over the rise of her subtle ass in response to the gooseflesh that tickled her skin. She was not only the subject of his desire, but the center of his universe, and it was absurd to imagine the power that she had over him. The tables had to be turned, he could not permit her to wield her power over him while he remained helpless.
Placing a hand on her upturned rear, he let the fine hairs standing on end, tickle the center of his palm, an indication of her growing anticipation. Azrael smiled to himself, well aware of how he must have affected her to draw out such a reaction. Bending his fingertips in he closed his hand, drawing his nails over her subtle flesh, leaving five trails of white lines that quickly changed to a pleasurable pink. Lengthened more than what would be considered fashionable, his fingernails were not quite claws, but they did resemble the essence of an animal rather than the refined man he normally presented. If he wished it he could tear the flesh from her skin with no difficulty, but he had no desire to harm Aurora, nor did he wish to harm any other person or angel, Azrael was compelled to consume their blood but in doing so he could see the true nature of their heart and it often sickened him, knowing that they were walking around enjoying life while there were still a few entertaining distractions.
He lifted his hand away from her skin and dropped it over her ass, then pulled back his hand, taking in the delicious smacking sound of skin against skin. There was a pink handprint left in place of his hand which served as a beautiful target when he pulled his hand back and brought it down once again in the same place as before. The soft flesh of her ass moved under the weight of his hand like a cushion bending under the weight of a person. His hand lingered in place and her whole body shivered, pressing her tingling ass into his hand. Azrael squeezed her tight, bending the tips of his fingers and pressing his sharp nails into her.
“You are more responsive than I remember.” He complimented and spanked her again, this time drawing his nails over the pink handprint he’d left behind. Over and over again he administered the pleasure filled punishment that left her panting from her quivering response, but she never said a word, never indicated that she would break or respond before he first gave her permission.
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Memories rushed through his mind as he took note of what they used to participate in, making references to their past relationship so he could check off all the boxes with his Angel. Aurora was unlike any other woman he had ever taken; her heat and soul were pure while her body could withstand more than any human and, to his surprise, welcome far more than any vampire or lycan desired. Commonly influenced by sexual prowess and desire, innocence can be cast away or mislabeled, but in Aurora, her heart always possessed an innocence that could not be defined and possibly was unshakable. Azrael feared that once he had changed that in her, that he had destroyed her innocence which allowed her to see good in all people, but even his crimes couldn’t shatter the pure goodness in her.
“I think perhaps it is time to change things up a bit. Bring a little heat into our games.” His announcement was welcomed, and she turned her head toward his wall of torture finding the candle at once.
Azrael extended a hand out toward the candle and bid it to come. He caught it in a tight grip, his cold fingers squeezing tightly around the carved wax. With a snap of his finger over the clean wick a flame sparked to life and the orange, yellow tongue danced with a flicker. Azrael prepped her ass with two stinging spanks that had the added wicked delight of his nails striking a scratching mark right after. He swirled the candle a bit watching the red wax pool around the burnt wick and paused, letting the cold air in the room keep her skin awake before he tilted the candle over her, pouring a stream of hot wax. The long trail of wax cascaded from the top of the candle, hitting her pink ass with a splatter. It cooled in an instant on her skin, but not before the hot burn of the melted wax penetrated her tenderized skin. Involuntarily she let out a cry and trembled under the instant release that shook her to the core. Azrael stood back and watched as Aurora came apart under the power of her orgasm, filled with pride that he had brought it to her, but at the same time he was tragically struck down by the power of the love he still had for this woman, the same woman who had betrayed him and led him to his downfall. Azrael was weak at her feet, incapable of denying her anything and he feared in that moment that he would lay down the ultimate sacrifice if she wished it.