Dance: Dance of the Seven Veils

by Cris Anson

  He shrugged. “I’ve hosted a Society affair or two. It could have been anyone’s. But we’ve gotten off the subject here.” He tunneled his fingers through her disheveled hair and gifted her with a long, leisurely kiss that had her toes curling. When they broke, both were breathing more heavily and she was lying more or less on top of him, half tangled in the sheets.

  “The ring,” he murmured against her temple. “You could wear it on your index finger.”

  She pushed herself up on her elbows to look into his eyes, the ring feeling warm and alive in her closed palm.

  “I’d like you to wear it any time you go to the Platinum Society,” he continued, “to remind you of me. I’m not insisting on an exclusive relationship. I know you’re just discovering your sensuality and would like to explore what you want out of yourself, out of life.”

  He tucked a tendril of blonde hair behind her ear. “But before you choose to fuck another man, I would ask you to look at this ring on your finger, remember the man who gave it to you, and go from there. I won’t stand in the way of anything you want to do. I just want you to make a conscious decision.”

  Lyssa could feel tears stinging the backs of her eyes. He understood her better than she understood herself. She blinked several times before she was able to lift her gaze to his.

  The look on his face almost undid her. Tender, passionate, little-boy-insecure. Vulnerable. A word she’d never before associated with Savidge.

  Could it be that she really meant something to him?

  She could barely swallow around the lump in her throat.

  “Savidge.” His name ripped from deep inside her. She lifted herself off him and sat up. Clumsily she fitted the ring onto her left index finger, as he’d suggested, even though her first thought was to wear it on her ring finger. Then she turned to him, arms open to welcome him. They met in a crushing bear hug in the middle of the bed, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the life-changing experience that Savidge had wrought in her.

  “Will you let me help you explore the possibilities?”

  Lyssa drew back from his embrace just enough to see the intensity of his gaze. His pupils were so dilated that only the merest hint of their chocolate-brown color showed in his irises. She felt like she was being drawn into their endless depths and hadn’t the slightest desire to be rescued.

  “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” Her lips quirked up in a coquettish smile. “In front of an audience of masked, naked revelers? On a desk in a Philadelphia lawyer’s office? In a corporate bathroom high above Billy Penn’s statue? Scalding phone sex? None of which, I assure you, had even occurred to me before I met you.”

  He tightened his hold around her shoulders, a movement which shifted his awakening cock to press against her thigh. “That’s only the beginning. Do you remember the Indian brave? The man handcuffed to the ceiling?”

  Lyssa’s breath hitched. Did she ever. She also remembered wondering how it would feel to be captive, to be teased and dominated by someone who would bring her to the brink time after time and not allow her any release. Her insides tightened in anticipation—and anxiety. Deep down she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Hadn’t he watched out for the guests as majordomo? Still, to be totally helpless before him…

  “Let me show you what they experienced. Submit to my will.”

  Did she dare? Did she really, really trust him?

  “Let me make you truly free.”

  Yes. She trusted him, wanted to experience everything he could teach her. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Show me how.”

  The next thing she knew, the sheet had been tugged to the foot of the bed and she was flat on her back, trapped under the sinew and muscle of a man who was all heat and arousal. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled both her arms up over her head so she was stretched out as though on a rack, then reached over to the nightstand again and retrieved an object that tinkled metallically. She felt something cold encasing one wrist, then the other.

  Instinctively she jerked her arms. They didn’t budge.

  With a satanic grin, Savidge rolled off her and, nudging her legs wide apart, knelt between them. “You’re in my power now,” he growled.

  Handcuffs. She twisted her head to catch a glimpse of the headboard. He’d slipped the chain around a spindle so she was helpless to move. She could feel their cold bite on her heated skin, the pressure of hard metal against soft tissue.

  For a moment he just knelt there, his gaze avidly roaming her exposed flesh, all soft shadows and luminous highlights from the bedside lamp. Gooseflesh prickled wherever his gaze touched her.

  He leaned forward, licked a path on the outer edge of her cunt lips, then blew soft puffs of air on the moistened skin. Bolts of electricity shot through Lyssa.

  Savidge laved the other side, adding a nip here and there during his leisurely path.

  Unconsciously, Lyssa lifted her hips to follow his mouth, but he moved just out of range.

  “Uh-unh. I have not given you permission to move.” With an open palm, he slapped the fleshiest part of her hip in reproach.

  Lyssa’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, just concentrated on breathing normally. She would not beg.

  His big hands grazed cloud-soft down her sensitive inner thighs until he reached her knees, then stroked their way back up, up toward the nub that throbbed with the need for his tongue, his hand…

  And stopped inches away. Hovered. Teased her with its nearness.

  She waited, silently begging with a hungry look in her eyes, but staying motionless.

  “Good girl.” He moistened his index finger with saliva and feathered a touch up and down her exposed slit.

  A moan escaped her, she couldn’t help it. She was wet and ready again. The sight of his cock, hanging hard and thick between his thighs, made her lick her lips. She devoured it with her eyes, the strong, purple vein running from the thicket of black hair to the crown, the pearly drop at its tip.

  She drew her legs together until they were embracing Savidge’s knees.

  With a swiftness that made her blink, he grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs up high enough that her knees touched her chest, exposing the backs of her thighs as well as her ass cheeks pulled tight against her pelvic bones. And slapped her with more force than before, first on one thigh, then the other, then down to her ass, one whack on each cheek.

  “I told you not to move.”

  Over her bent knees, Lyssa gauged his expression. He wouldn’t really hurt her. Would he? She decided silence, stillness were called for.

  Especially since her skin tingled wherever his palm had smacked her.

  “You should see your skin. It’s as red as—” and he ran a finger across her cunt lips again “—as this.”

  Lyssa felt her inner muscles contract in an involuntary desire to have his finger, his cock, his tongue, anything, inside her.

  “Poor, abused skin,” he murmured, strewing moist kisses on every inch of skin that he’d stung with his palm. He licked, stroked, took little nips with his teeth, circling in ever-narrowing spirals until he was licking her cunt lips again. Still he gripped her ankles with one strong hand, holding her legs immobile, but no other part of him touched her except for his mouth.

  Lyssa bit the inside of her cheek. Need was building in her, hot lava coursing through her veins and getting ready to erupt. She hadn’t had nearly enough of his cock when he’d wakened her with his deliberately slow fucking. She’d come so quickly because she’d been without him for too long, and she was primed for an encore.

  “Savidge,” she pleaded.

  Smack! “You disobey me again, wench? When I ordered you not to move, that included moving your lips. Do you want me to leave without…”

  A whimper escaped her, a cross between a sob and a sigh. She didn’t need him to finish the sentence. He wouldn’t, couldn’t leave. She needed him to fuck her, right now!

  After another slow, thorough traversing of his tongue on the newest red mark on her ass,
Savidge gently brought her legs down to rest on the sheet. Perspiration had accumulated where her thighs had pressed against her calves, and the shock of the cool sheet under her skin contrasted with the furnace within.

  Savidge positioned himself to straddle her, his knees aligned with her breasts. His cock, rampant now and pointing its thick, dark crown to the headboard, was tantalizingly close. If she lifted her head a little, she could capture it in her mouth. If he refused to stick it in her cunt, she knew she could still derive enormous pleasure by sucking him.

  But she dare not. If she disobeyed, perhaps he would leave without satisfying her.

  His eyes glittered as he loomed over her. He bent forward and gripped the headboard, forming a triangle—she the base, the headboard on a vertical, and Savidge the angle. The exact angle to position his cock a few inches from her mouth.

  “Don’t think about moving.” His voice was a hoarse rasp.

  Dipping his torso, he trailed the tip of his cock across her face. Lyssa felt her eyes cross as she followed its motion. So close. So tantalizingly close she wanted to swallow it, bite it, suck it dry. Instead, she held back, although she couldn’t control the way her breathing had accelerated. Her breasts rose and fell noticeably; her arms trembled with the need to hold him.

  “Open your mouth, wench, and take your punishment.”

  On a groan, Lyssa obeyed, capturing his cock with a desperate eagerness she couldn’t control. Hot steel assaulted the warm recesses of her mouth. She lifted her head to take all of him, but her lips only came up halfway, he was so big. She drew him in, retreated, rolled her tongue around the ridge of its head.

  He hissed, and began to move his hips to fuck her mouth. She tensed her cheek muscles to offer resistance as he pushed in, let her teeth scrape his skin as he withdrew.

  And again. And yet again. She had a hard time breathing, her mouth was so full of him. Her heart was pounding, the blood surging to her cunt in yearning. Her arms ached from trying to free herself so she could touch him, hold him. She could feel the coarse hairs of his legs as he moved them closer to her body in a kind of embrace.

  She lifted her gaze to him. He was watching her intently, his expression one of utter possession and mastery.

  Suddenly he pushed back from the headboard, his cock slipping out of her mouth with a wet popping sound, and clambered over her leg. In a swift motion, he flipped her over onto her belly. The cuffs clanked as the chain criss-crossed in the spin.

  His strong hands gripped her hips and lifted them up until her knees were more or less centered under her. She scrambled to brace herself on her hands.

  “Not like that.” He pressed a palm between her shoulder blades. “On your elbows.”

  She complied, aware that the movement made her ass stick up even higher, as if in offering. He paused a moment, his breath coming in harsh pants.

  “Spread your legs, wench.”

  She did, then with a rough nudge from his hands, her knees moved even farther apart. His hands tightened their grip on her hips. He spread her ass cheeks until she was sure he could see all of her, from the cunt lips and the moist passage between them, to her other opening that had never before been exposed to another’s scrutiny.

  Then…nothing.

  Oh God, he was torturing her. She didn’t even have the pleasure of looking at him; she couldn’t see him when she turned her head to glance over her shoulder. If he didn’t fuck her soon, she’d die. It was as though every synapse, every nerve ending had gravitated to the core of her and was on fire. A fire that could be extinguished only if he pumped enough juice into her.

  She felt totally exposed, totally at his mercy, with her ass high in the air, blonde hair flowing around her face like a curtain to pool on the mattress, wrists shackled, legs spread wide almost to the point of discomfort. Her breasts hung unfettered, swaying with every gasping breath she was able to manage. Still, she was expectant, eager. Behind her, he remained still as a sphinx.

  “Savidge!”

  Her raw, undisciplined cry was immediately answered with a resounding smack against her ass.

  “Please,” she whined, “I need—” Smack!

  “Silence!”

  “Savidge, don’t tease me, I can’t stand it any more. I need you in me!”

  “I will teach you to wait, my love.” He pitched his voice low, the vibrant rumble echoing within her very bones, kicking her desperate passion up another notch. “Don’t fight me on this. Don’t think about the destination. Just enjoy the journey. Give up your will to me.”

  “Please…”

  “Lyssa.” Sharp with command. “I forbid you to speak.”

  Lyssa’s breath hitched. Their previous couplings flashed through her mind. Their first encounter, with her naked and writhing in full view of a dozen people. The frenzied way he fucked her on his desk. The bathroom threesome, where he had the presence of mind to pull out when he remembered the missing condom. The taste, the feel of his cock in her mouth when he climaxed all too soon. The sweet, rocking possession from behind just a short while ago, the most delicious awakening from sleep she’d ever experienced.

  Why didn’t he want to fuck her now, when she was so primed? When he was hard as a ship’s mast?

  She felt the mattress dip, then spring back as though he’d gotten off. No! He couldn’t leave her like this!

  “Don’t move.”

  He came into her vision then, standing at the side of the bed, gloriously virile and male, his cock rampant, a length of white silk in his hand. “Recognize this? It’s one of Salome’s veils. The last one she discarded. The one that covered the most exquisite pussy I’ve ever seen. This veil holds fond memories for me.”

  A lump formed in Lyssa’s throat. Was he really that sentimental to have saved it?

  Leaning across to the center of the bed, he wrapped the veil around her eyes and tied it at the back of her head.

  “Now all you can do is feel.” She felt his lips graze her cheek. “Let yourself go.”

  That tender kiss broke her resistance. With her sight gone, she concentrated on her other senses. The lingering, slightly salty taste of his cock in her mouth. The scent of her cunt juices, of his aroused male smell. The luxurious feel of the sheet under her knees, elbows, forearms. The way her fingers and toes dug into the soft layer of cushion overlaying the firmness of the mattress. The harsh rasp of his heavy breathing, her own quick, short breaths.

  The rough texture of his—tongue?—running up the curve of her slit. To Lyssa it felt as though he had touched every single nerve ending between her legs.

  She arched her back like a cat, offering herself to his mouth. He growled then dipped his tongue between the folds of her cunt lips. A hint of stubble lightly scratched the insides of her ass cheeks as he moved his tongue up and down, laving her slit. His fingers felt like feathers as they stroked her inner thighs, drawing abstract designs on her tingling skin.

  Whimpering with the need to climax, she forced herself to relax and simply enjoy, letting the sensations flow over her like warm summer rain.

  A long finger looped round and round, circling ever closer to her clit. When he finally touched it, a mewling sound escaped her. She wiggled her hips, needing more, begging without words.

  He chuckled deep in his throat then tormented her with short, teasing strokes of that finger on her clit in between endless seconds of waiting.

  “Savidge, please!”

  At last, at last, the glorious feel of a finger or two inside her, his thumb resting at the top of her crack, at the entrance to her asshole. He reached an arm around her hip to caress her clit, gradually rubbing it harder while he began finger-fucking her. His teeth took nips of her skin at her hip, her waist, her back, all the while bringing her to a higher and higher pitch.

  She could feel the sexual lava bubbling to the surface of her consciousness, her vagina contracting, her cunt oozing juices. More frenetic now, she wiggled her ass in counterpoint to the motion of his fingers, felt his th
umb pressing into her asshole.

  The volcano blew. She felt every muscle go rigid as fiery sensations exploded across her body, from the center outward. She let out a long, incoherent moan that came from the visceral core of her being.

  Before she had time to take a gasping breath, she felt his cock shove hard into her cunt again and again, heard the slapping sound of moist skin against moist skin, and she climaxed again. Still he kept thrusting, his fingers digging into her hips as he pounded into her. She pushed backward into him, wanting more and harder, and he gave it to her, holding nothing back. Her breasts jolted back and forth viciously with each impact. Her hair swung in wild abandon as she tossed her head about.

  He slowed his rhythm, his strokes becoming less frantic. No! she wanted to shout. She wanted it as fast, as brutal as he could give it to her; she knew she was more than a match for his ferocity.

  “Go with the flow,” he murmured, as though he’d read her mind.

  Obeying, she concentrated on the feel of each stroke as he slid the hard, burning cock into her slick passage, then pulled out oh-so-slowly. Felt the tug on one breast as he rolled the nipple between his fingertips. Felt the dribble of her juices down her leg, the bead of sweat rolling down her temple to disappear into the silken blindfold. Inhaled the intoxicating smell of sex in the air.

  Felt the shock of his finger, strangely cool, slipping into her asshole.

  She tensed, tightening up the opening. “Savidge, I don’t think…”

  “Shh, it’s all right. I put a lot of lube on my finger.”

  He continued leisurely moving his cock in and out of her cunt, then gradually began to move his finger in a similar rhythm in and out of her asshole. The sensation of the latter was different, but most pleasurable, she decided. As she relaxed into the moment, she felt her breathing quicken, and realized she was making those little purring sounds in her throat again.

  Savidge stepped up his tempo in both orifices. She pushed into him, glorying in the new, delicious sensations he was evoking. Suddenly she felt his cock withdraw from her cunt. His hands grabbed her hips in a vise-like grip and she felt him seeking entrance to her asshole. “You’re so wet, my cock is covered with your sweet juice,” he murmured. “I promise, it won’t hurt. Do you trust me?”