Defiled Seduce Night

by Marie Cisneros

  I stood in the window watching him with my heart beating faster and my breath labored, remembering other times his breath was hot on my neck. My hand moved to my breast, caressing myself as if he were there.

  My nipples harden and strain to be free of my black lace bra. They yearn to be worshiped by his hands and tongue.

  My hand moves lower to the silky depths under my skirt, gliding into the soft moist folds.

  My eyes flutter closed as feelings of ecstasy overtake me. I am caught unaware that he has come inside the cabin until I feel his hardness pressing against my backside.

  My sweater is undone one button at a time. Slowly the pearl buttons pop out of the holes, aided by his skillful fingers, until the sweater slides off my shoulders, over my hips, and lands in a soft puddle on the floor around my feet. I can hear the teeth of the zipper as the pull glides down. Soon my skirt is just another puddle on the floor at my feet, forgotten in the passion of the moment.

  The sun is setting. I open my eyes for a moment and watch the brilliant oranges, reds, and gold reflect off the water. When the dropping orb makes its last appearance in the sky you can almost hear the sizzle as it hits the water. Or is that the sound of my blood heating, ringing in my ears?

  His hands take over the caressing of my breasts for me as his soft lips kiss a path along my neck, down my shoulders. On their own, my hands reach behind to hold his hips, firmly pressing his body to mine so I can feel the outline of his pulsing desire.

  Our hips join in the age-old dance of passion, meshing together as only long time lovers can. The kisses become hotter and more urgent, leaving trails of burning flesh in their wake.

  My body longs for satisfaction, for the empty places to be filled with my lover's hardness, touch, and desires. Ever so slowly I turn my aching body towards his, careful not to interrupt the contact of skin. My hands follow the waistline of his jeans, from his hips to the zipper in front. A zipper straining with the one thing I know will fill the void I have.

  My lips seek his as if they have a mind of their own, driven by want. As my fingers are unzipping his pants, and lowering them to join my clothes on the floor, his tongue is devouring my mouth.

  I run my tongue over his lips with butterfly like softness. He likes that. His hardness pulses in my hand, showing me just how much.

  While his hands explore my shoulders, my neck, and my beasts, my hands are feeling the silky hairs on his chest. A chest I long to feel pressed to mine in that dance of hot passion.

  My mouth reluctantly leaves his to work a trail of kisses down his neck, across his chest, seeking his already hardening nipples. He knows what is coming. He wants what is coming.

  My tongue flicks over a taught nipple. As my mouth envelops it, my fingers play with the other. Much as I love to make him feel good this way, I know what would make him feel better.

  The clothing on the floor at my feet makes for a soft cushion beneath my knees. I grasp him in my hands, stroking him. Teasing him for what we both know is coming.

  He is so filled with desire that it's spilling out, glistening on the tip of his fullness. My tongue snakes out from between my lips and snatches that glistening drop before it falls. He twitches in anticipation. I purr with want.

  My eyes look up into his with a seductive twinkle at the same time my mouth encompasses him. I go for the shock value as my lips meet the silky fine hair nestled at the juncture of his manhood and his pelvis. My nose is filled with his musky scent just as my mouth is filled with his hard passion.

  Slowly my lips make their way up the shaft until only the tip remains within the wet confines of my mouth. My tongue twirls slowly around the tip as my eyes close and his hands grip the hair at the back of my head, pushing me closer to him.

  My tongue gently surrounds the underside of his shaft, gliding up and down as my teeth rake lightly on the upper side. Each time my lips get to the top, and my tongue twirls around lapping up the pre-cum peeking out of the tip, I feel his man muscle twitch and throb. He's getting close.

  My head moves up and down his shaft, to the rhythm of a song played out only in our minds, and our bodies. His hands wind themselves tighter and tighter into my hair, guiding my mouth. I bring him closer to bursting with passions juices.

  The paces increase and frenzy mounts. My hands cup his balls and caress his hips and buttocks, guiding his manhood deeper into the recesses of my hot mouth. Soon his passion explodes to fill my mouth with hot juices that slide down my throat as the pace of my head slows.

  He gently guides me up off my knees to stand fully pressed against his body. I can feel the heat and racing pulse as his hard sweaty body presses to mine; his lips seeking mine. I feel the slight hesitation as he tastes himself on my lips and tongue.

  Our hands caress one another in the spots we know bring heightened desires as we move back to the big overstuffed chair in the corner by the fireplace. Once there he pushes me gently into the cushions, sliding my hips to the edge of the chair.

  My legs need no encouragement to open, inviting him to explore the recesses.

  As his lips taste mine once again his hands explore the hot pink folds between my legs. His fingers slide through the soft brown silky hairs, moist with desire.

  His lips leave mine to trail down my neck. His tongue seeks out my nipple, teasing it to hardness. As it puckers with longing his mouth surrounds one milky white orb and his hands gently caress the other.

  My hands grip the arm rests, my nails digging in. My hips are moving, my pelvis thrusting forward seeking contact with him.

  A hot trail of kisses is left behind by his mouth on my chest, my stomach, over my belly button towards my waiting folds.

  My eyes are closed, letting the orgasmic waves wash over my hot flesh and seeping straight through to the very core of my womanhood. A CD was playing in the background; the crescendo's seeming to correspond with the spasms of our bodies.

  His satiny smooth lips whisper sweet nothings on my thighs. My hands are gripping the back of the chair, above my head. They are frozen there as if held in place by silk scarves. My scarlet fingernails almost pierce the rough utilitarian fabric.

  Should I reach down and help his tongue find its way home? Should I guide his face to the musky silkiness that is the open door to my sex? Yes, I should but ohhhhhh it just feels too good to disturb; the way he takes little love bites on my thighs. These are soft, yet titillating.

  His hands have abandoned my breasts, making their way down to my hips. Closer and closer his hands move. His hot breath reaches closer and closer to the hot wetness that is my arousal.

  A low moan escapes my mouth, barely a whisper as the fingers of his right hand pass over my silky mound, on their way to wipe his face. Is his mouth watering in anticipation? My hips are circling in a dance of want. I can't control them any longer.

  Desire leaves my body in the form of moisture glistening on my private hair. The musky sent is calling for him to "come drink", and he does.

  The first wave comes crashing over me. I announce it with a scream that sends the little woodland creatures outside the cabin scurrying. My body shakes with the force and intensity as he holds me firmly to him; hands on my hips as he buries his face between my legs. He helps me ride this wave and continue coasting along on this sea of love. Or is it lust?

  Somehow my ankles have found themselves entwined behind his head. As his tongue licks my clit, two of his fingers probe deeper and deeper. I can no longer restrain my hands. Curled in his wavy hair, they are pulling him closer and closer. How he can breath with his nose so deeply pressed against me? He is breathing in my climaxed juices, which makes his own sex pulse.

  His fingers are moving at a fast rhythm very similar to that of a piston in a car -- in and out so fast and so smooth that you can't tell where one stops and the other begins.

  Just as fast is the movement of his tongue as it laps up the juices spilling from within. Every now and then a slurping noise escapes h
is throat to join with my gasps and my pleas for 'more'.

  Just when I think I can't take it any longer, and that I'll explode in an orgasm so strong it'll take me days to recover from, he swiftly picks me up and impales me on his throbbing manhood. So much moisture is present that this occurs without a hitch.

  I cling to his shoulders as I rise and fall, my actions match the waves lapping the shore down at the beach. He has grasped my buttocks and uses his hands to guide me up and down his rigid shaft. My ankles cling to the back of his thighs.

  Our bodies are crushed together and rubbing so furiously that I'm sure sparks will fly any moment. We are so hot to the touch our blood is sure to boil over.

  All of a sudden we open our eyes and gaze at one another. We are one, as only long time lovers can be.

  When our breath returns to normal and my vision clears, I see droplets of blood on his shoulders. They match the droplets on the tips of my fingers. I kiss them away as he slowly loosens his grip on my behind. His strong hands help steady me as I try to stand. My knees are as week as a newborn fawn.

  Reluctantly we begin to gather our clothing and tidy up the cabin, for it's time to go home. Time to go back to being the parents. Ha, but how refreshed we shall be!

  The End.

  Victoria's Parlour: Defense Rests

  She writhed and twisted and pulled futilely against the silken scarves that kept her hands suspended over her head. Her tormentor had blindfolded her before attaching her bonds to a large hook hanging from the ceiling; she could not see what he was doing, only feel his hands on her body, and she wondered if she'd made a mistake.

  A high profile defense attorney, Lana Forrester found it difficult to make time for herself to relax, let alone time to spend on nurturing relationships. Men were often intimidated by her strong personality, built from years of jury trials and legal wrangling in a male dominated world.

  Tired of dating services and personal ads, Lana wasn't really waiting for Mr. Right; she just wanted Mr. Right Now. In her late thirties, and at the peak of her sexual prime, she needed more than just a hand for release. On the rare Sunday morning that she allowed herself to sleep late and enjoy breakfast at a diner, she picked up a copy of a local independent weekly newspaper. An ad in the back caught her eye: Victoria's Parlour—the Modern Madam for Modern Women. Your wish is our command; your fantasy is our reality.

  Lana's curiosity was piqued. She headed back to her flat and called the number. A sultry voice answered. Lady Victoria assured her that many of her clients were career women, professionals such as herself who had specific needs and desires, and that at Victoria's Parlour, any desire could be fulfilled.

  And so Lana found herself, just at she thought she desired, in a situation out of her control and designed just for her. She'd arrived at the Parlour, been blindfolded and taken to a room where she was undressed by unseen hands, laid on a massage table and rubbed until the tension drained from her body and she was completely relaxed.

  The massage had her pussy tingling, and soon she was gently helped off the table and led to another room. Two sets of hands were on her body, one cupping her breasts, caressing them, the other rubbing her ass. Then, without warning, her hands were bound and she found herself on this hook, squirming and having second thoughts—did she really want to be this much out of control?

  A deep voice whispered in her ear "It's just you and I now. And you are at my mercy".

  He moved his hands over her breasts and circled her nipples with his fingers. Fingers were replaced with something cold—ice cubes. Rubbing nipples until they were hard and her cunt was dripping, and she was whimpering for more. Ice replaced by a hot mouth, sucking first one, then the other, while she moaned low in her throat and twisted, straining to get closer. "Please", she begged "more". "Oh, there's more". The nipples were pinched, hard, and she cried out from the waves of pleasure. She felt the wetness begin to trickle down her legs, the burning need to be touched down there almost overwhelming.

  Her tormentor continued his relentless teasing, alternately sucking and icing her nipples and refusing to move down her body, while she moaned, louder now. Panting, groaning, and wanting, unable to think and out of control Lana could only beg for release.

  "Not yet, you're not ready yet" came the voice. She felt a hot tongue slide down her body, down her taut stomach, followed by a trail of ice, slowly, excruciatingly slowly making the trip to the top of her bush and then, unbelievably, stopping before hitting the mark.

  He stepped away and she moaned, a low, guttural moan. "No" she begged "don't stop".

  "Don't worry", he whispered, his voice again in her ear "we're not done yet". He took her arms down and rubbed them gently as he led her to a large padded table. Lana found herself bound again, this time wrists and ankles. The table was split, so that her legs could be spread apart while remaining bound. Her tormentor teased her nipples yet again, bringing them quickly to hard points. By now, she was on fire, ready to explode.

  She felt his mouth on her, moving down her body until at last, his hot breath was on her pussy. He took his thumbs and gently spread her lips apart as she bucked under him.

  "Does this feel good?" he whispered, as he dragged the tip of his tongue from the top of her slit to the bottom, ever so lightly. Aaaaaaaaa……….her body jerked.

  "How about this?" and he took her clit into his mouth for just a second, and then released it.

  Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

  He lapped at her sopping wetness, but was careful not to touch her sensitive clit again yet; the bud was protruding from its hood and she was moaning, loudly now, thrashing on the table.

  Then, when she could take it no longer, he took her clit in his mouth and sucked, hard. She screamed as he took her close to the edge, begging him to let her cum. "Please, please, please, Oh God please" she cried.

  "Are you ready?" "Fuck yes, just do it, fuck me"

  He took her clit back in his hot mouth and rammed two fingers inside her dripping cunt.

  Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh she screamed again, cumming and cumming in waves of release, multiple orgasms racking her body as he worked his fingers in and out, sucking until finally, she collapsed, drenched in sweat and completely satiated.

  After her breathing returned to normal, he untied her and just as gently as he led her in, led her to another room. As were her wishes, she waited until he left the room before removing the blindfold.

  She was in the spa area, where Lady Victoria's clients could shower or enjoy a bubble bath before leaving the Parlour's reality and returning to their own. Thoroughly spent and completely satisfied, Lana opted for a soak in the marble tub.

  She wondered about the other women who would visit the parlour, and her thoughts drifted back to her own experience. "The defense rests", she chuckled to herself.

  The Dream

  How she found herself looking down at this man was beyond her. She knew him from the office, but now he was tied to her bed. How did this arrive at this point? She looked at herself in the mirror and saw a reflection of a woman she hardly knew. Dressed in all leather, her breasts bound tightly against her chest, only her pink little nipples poking through.

  She admired herself and once again felt the pain in her head. She withdrew from the mirror, returning her gaze to the naked male on her bed. Her lips watered as she looked at the horror on his face. He knew he had gone too far.

  She advanced toward him, a glazed look in her eyes. Her hand reached for the paddle she kept in the top dresser drawer and shook it in front of his pale eyes. She looked deeply into those eyes, and momentarily paused.

  She lifted the paddle over her head, and brought it down hard on the man’s thigh. He flinched, straining against the straps binding his legs to the bottom posts. She laughed and brought the paddle back up for the other thigh. She paused again, only slightly and lowered the paddle once more, hitting squarely on the inside of his other thigh.

  This time he didn’t
flinch, but lay motionless, his face red and his eyes bulging. She looked at him, anticipating the reasoning jolt he would soon experience. He did not move. His face was nearly purple now and she started to worry. Still he did not move.

  Panic began to dwell inside her as she moved from his legs to his torso. She let the paddle fall on the ground and moved her hands quickly to the gab in his mouth. She untied it, and threw it half way across the room. He still did not move.

  She shook him softly at first, then a little harder. Finally he moved, or did he? His mouth was open, but she could not feel any breathing. Did she kill him? It was all in fun after all. Suddenly, he let out a shriek so loud that it shook every nerve in her body.

  Anita shot up out of bed.

  “Again?” she asked herself. She was trembling terribly, and sweat poured out of every pore on her body.