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~O~
The blindfold rests delicately against her skin, but it might as well be ironbound. In this moment, all she knows is darkness. Not just the kind that has become her life, the very same shadows she embraces as her own with an eagerness to match his. No, this is part of a different ritual, a sensual game between her Master and herself.
This darkness is rare, crafted wholly to suit their needs, mirrored as they are in one another, and she craves it. It courses through her blood with a voracious anticipation for what's to come. For what's been promised. And, she knows how he will deliver. He always does.
So, she sits there, resting on her laurels on the center of the bed as the satin tie swallows her world, forcing her to listen, to breathe, to feel.
She is as bare as the day she was born, save for her new eyewear, naturally. The cool breeze slipping in through the open window slithers across her skin, and she shivers. A breathy little sound she knows he loves escapes her, and there is no effort on her part to subdue the slow smile that creeps onto her lips. He tells her so very often how much he enjoys the sounds he elicits from her. The ones he coaxes from her with touches that begin soft, gentle. Slowly morphing into firm, swift strikes that lead her into a blissful haze of pleasure.
Somewhere in the room, she hears Astarion move. Her love. Her Master. Her beloved. His footfalls are as silent as a whisper against the floorboards. But there are other tells. The creak of leather. The jingle of buckles, the meeting of metal and wood, the slide of fabric, and the soft, familiar hum of his approval.
The beating of her heart flares wildly in her ears, threatening to rob her of the one sense that will alert her to what's next. The sheets beneath her grow too warm, clinging to her shins and the dampening heat between her thighs. A bead of sweat traces the curve of her spine, achingly slow, a phantasmic touch where she desires the ardent trail of his fingertips. Perhaps his tongue. Preferably both.
Finally, mercifully, he speaks, and she bites her lip in response. Her body already calling to him, tensing and relaxing in time with the rhythmic flow of his voice. She imagines the sight that greets him when he comes to a standstill. His gaze roams over her nakedness, studying the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, and the delicate slope of her throat. She imagines him admiring the dark, tumbling mass of her hair, tousled and unbound by pins, spilling like ink down her back, her shoulders.
He makes an appreciative sound, low and deep and thrilling.
“My, my, how obedient, my sweet, little pet.”
Silk and sin. That's what his voice is to her. His words wash over her, wrapping her in a suffocating thrall of desire so intense, she can't help the way her chest rises and falls, faster, shallower. She can’t tell where he is yet, not exactly. That should frighten her. Maybe it would have once upon a time, but never now.
No, he takes such good care of her. So benevolent and generous is he with his love and care. His heavy and soft hand. It thrills her. Fills her with a delicious sort of dread, knowing the punishment she will receive if she disobeys. Knowing that the reward will far outweigh the risk, the pain, the anguish. The way that pain feeds her desperate need for a release nothing else can satisfy.
Her body betrays her. But maybe not so... it wants this so badly. Yet, her breath catches when she thinks she feels him enter her orbit. There's a whisper of movement that stirs by her cheek, but the touch never comes. The fine hairs along her arms stand on end, sparking along her skin, her nerves firing wildly in their wake.
With a useless flutter, she blinks behind the blindfold. He likes to play his games, but so does she. Even though he has her at his mercy, but that's how she likes it, is it not? The answer comes by the way her thighs press together, desperate for pressure, the friction of his touch, or tool. For a relief only he can provide.
The bed dips, and she lets out a breathy laugh. Excitement and apprehension melding into a potent cocktail, surges through her veins.
“Do you know what I see?” he murmurs, his voice spilling over her like a dark caress.
She can feel the shape of his lips hovering just above her skin as he lets out a pleased sigh.
“A well of temptation. A feast, laid out just for me.”
Then there's a shift and a tickling, teasing stroke of his tongue against the hollow of her neck.
"My darling, little love." He nips at her flesh, and the sharp graze of his teeth causes her core to pulse instinctively. Her body arches, abandoning any pretense of grace, in a reflexive bid for more.
When his heated touch ghosts along the nape of her neck, she moans. She simply can't help it. He laughs, a rich, velvety tune, and it's clear how much he is enjoying the sight, the sound, the feel of her.
"So eager and responsive. So beautiful, my darling bride," he groans and wraps his fingers around her neck, tight, as leans her back.
One by one, he stretches her legs out before him and ties each ankle to the corner posts.
Her breath hitches in excitement, the opaque fabric covering her eyes shifting as she does. She has to bite her lip to stifle the greedy moan threatening to tear its way from her throat, all at the feel of his hands binding her wrists above her head.
"Such a good girl," he purrs into her ear, trailing an ardent path of wet heat down her neck with his tongue.
Gods below, it feels like her entire body is an exposed nerve. She's helpless. Defenseless. Utterly, and completely under his control, his whims. And his mercy.
"Now, what have we here?" His fingers walk along the graceful length of her throat, gliding over her jaw before brushing her lips. "Such a perfect little mouth. All mine for the taking. Isn't that right, my dear?"
She nods frantically, chest heaving as her core clenches in anticipation.
"Words, darling," he chides, but she can hear the playful sternness in his voice.
With a smile, she breathes, "Yes, Master. All yours."
He hisses, the kind that tells her is more than pleased. And she feels him straddle her chest, crawling over her until her face is cradled by the warmth of his thighs on either side.
"Good, and so very true, my lovely, little slut." He grasps the back of her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her throat to his ravenous wont. Her mouth hangs open, her breaths stilted, shallow pants.
"Open wide, darling," he commands.
Her obedience is instant, marked by a moan as she lets her jaw drop wide, knowing his next words.
"You may have your treat."
His thick, long, hard shaft enters her mouth, overwhelming her senses until all of her thoughts coalesce into one thing. Him. Pleasing him. Tasting the sweet and salty brine of his velvety flesh, his musk filling her nose as she takes him deeply. She closes her lips around him, laving her tongue along the underside until he pulls out and runs the length of him over her chin, her lips. Bucking his hips and pressing down over her cheeks, her throat.
Her heart hammers against her ribs, the scent of his arousal filling her lungs.
"Such a pretty little mouth. Such a pretty, little pet."
Then, he thrusts forward, back into her open mouth, and she can do nothing but take him. She is feverish for him.
And even though his girth and pace are gagging, she doesn't dare pull away. This is his favorite way to fuck her. And her favorite form of worship. It's a ritual they engage in often and with gusto.
"That's a good girl. Fuck," he moans.
The sound of his voice is her guiding star, her anchor. And her reward.
She can feel his muscles straining and contracting beneath the soft, smooth expanse of his thighs, and she wonders if he is gripping the headboard for leverage. Hearing that he is by the creak of the wood beneath his hold, she knows the answer.
"Oh, darling. My dear, little love. I will never tire of your mouth," he sighs, his words falling like a benediction as he moves, stroking, grinding.
It's a maddening rhythm. She's not sure she can hold out much longer. He must know because he increases his pace, fucking her face as his balls press down over her chin, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat.
"Look at you, swallowing every inch of me."
She moans, her walls pulsing frenetically, achingly, desperately. The sheets are a mess, and she can smell her desire mixing with his own.
"Fuck, just like that. Good girl. You're close, aren't you, my love? And I haven't even touched that pretty little cunt of yours."
His thrusts become harsher, punishing, and her hips match his rhythm just below. Her feet tug at the bindings in vain, and her back arches off the bed as a scorching tension coils tightly in the pit of her belly.
"Not yet," he husks, and she whines a muffled cry. "You'll save that for my cock, do you understand?"
A broken moan is the only response she can give him, but that seems to please him.
"I can't hear you," he groans.
"Mmhm."
"Good girl," he pants, pulling from her mouth.
"Please, Master," she begs. "Please. I need you."
"So beautiful and desperate." She can hear how he strokes his slick length.
"Astarion..."
"Tell me who you belong to."
"You, Master. Only you."
He kisses her, growling against her lips as he sucks on her tongue with a voracious moan. "Gods, you are divine, my sweet."
"Thank you, Master," she whispers, a hot, breathy sigh, as a fresh wave of pleasure rolls through her.
He chuckles and strokes her hair. "I'm going to fuck you now. I want to feel that tight, wet heat choking my cock."
"Please. Fuck yes, Master. Please."
With a gratified hiss, he situates himself between her thighs, and the heat of his cockhead smooths up and down her drenched slit, gathering her essence and spreading it. She's so ready, and she tries to lift her hips, begging him silently to fill her.
But a swift slap to her breasts, and the harsh pinch of her nipples, make her whimper in need and frustration.
"Don't make me restrain you further, darling. Keep those legs still."
"Yes, Master. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
"Good girl. Now, where were we, darling?"
The bed shifts, and before she can even try to deduce what he might be doing, his mouth is over her cunt, his tongue lapping at her clit. With a broken moan, she cants her hips into the rhythm of his fingers plunging deep inside her, curling, demanding.
"Fuck!"
"Ah-ah," he admonishes. "No coming unless I give you permission."
"Yes, Master." She moans, on the verge of tears as her body struggles to obey.
"What's that, love? I can't quite hear you. Tell me how much you love this, love me." His mouth is over her again, his teeth grazing her most sensitive flesh.
"I love you, Astarion. Gods, so much. You are all that matters. You're all I need," she rambles, babbling incoherently as her mind fogs with an overwhelming pleasure.
He chuckles before suckling at her clit with a sinful slurp.
"Please, Astarion," she gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her orgasm is threatening to spill out of her.
"Yes, darling," he pants, kissing his way up her body.
"Take me. Take all of me. Please. I'm begging you, Master."
He snarls, and the bed shifts again, and her body quivers in anticipation.
"Are you ready for me, my pet?"
"Gods, yes. Please, Astarion."
And with a quick snap of his hips, he sheathes himself to the hilt in her soaked clench.
They both cry out, her with a gasp, him with a strangled groan, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck.
"By the gods, I will never tire of feeling you wrapped around me," he moans, sliding almost entirely out before plunging forward, tearing at her blindfold.
"Nor will I ever of feeling you inside me," she sighs, her gaze meeting his.
Her vision swims, her pupils constrict, her heart leaping at the sight of him. Of his eyes, burning with an insatiable, fierce hunger and love.
"You're stunning," he breathes, leaning down to kiss her, fucking into her mouth and cunt at the same time.
So are you, she thinks, moaning against his lips.
His tongue tangles with hers, and his hands cradle her jaw. He moves faster, harder, and she feels the coil in her gut wind tighter.
"Fuck, my little pet, you're so close. I can feel your greedy cunt ready to milk my cock. Tell me how badly you want it, darling. How you want me to fill you up."
"More than anything, Astarion. Please, please," she cries out, her voice rising higher, unhinged.
"Then let go, my love. Break for me."
Her body goes taut, and a silent scream escapes her throat as the dam within her finally breaks.
She can feel her cunt contracting, milking his thick, hard length. With a few final thrusts, he reaches his own, his seed filling her.
"That's my good girl," he sighs, easing his pace before finally pulling free.
"Fuck."
She lets out a slow, shaking breath as his seed spills out of her onto the sheets, and she watches, as she always does─mind in a lustful daze as he slides down her body to lap at her entrance. His crimson gaze never leaves hers as he licks up their mixed essence.
"Oh, Master," she groans.
"Let's get these off, hmm? But first." His eyes twinkle as he leans over her, bringing his moist lips to hers. She can taste herself, and him, and when he pulls away, he is smiling wickedly, his fangs glinting.
"I can't tell if you're a cruel man or a generous one," she murmurs playfully.
It's the warmth in his eyes that gives him away, the genuine smile curving his lips.
"For you, my sweet," he says, reaching out a hand to caress her cheek, "I'm just the right amount of evil."
He releases her wrists from their bindings as well as her ankles and curls himself behind her. Peppering her shoulder with kisses, he laves at her flesh with his tongue before sinking his fangs in her with a guttural moan.
With a sigh, her lashes flutter, eyes struggling to remain open as she presses back into him. The sharp sting of his bite quickly ebbs as a familiar euphoria courses through her. His will made manifest in her veins. She is all too willing. Always.
Groaning against her skin, his lips seal around her with a pleased, hungry grunt. His hands gliding down her curves. Over the swell of her breasts, his fingers kneading her flesh, tweaking and tugging her nipples.
"Master," she breathes, her voice hoarse, as her limbs tremble. Her core is slick and ready for him again.
But he quiets her with his wrist before her lips, and she knows what he wants. So, she complies, eagerly, zealously as she sinks her fangs into his pale, perfect flesh.
As his blood flows into her mouth, coating her tongue with his divine, salty and godly taste, she whimpers in delight. Gods, he is insatiable, and she relishes his appetite for her as his other hand strokes her.
Tearing his mouth away from her shoulder with a wet smack of his lips, he whispers into her ear, "Be a good girl, and drink up, darling. And I promise to fuck you until you break all over again. Until you forget everything but my name."
She moans; her thighs quake and her core pulses at the mere promise.
Because he delivers. He always does.