Taking me higher

‘Lace will not protect you. It will only make it more enjoyable for me to cut it off of your deliciously plump body, my goddess.’ his voice deeper and huskier than I have ever heard, his lips almost grazing my ear. I know he has a knife, a silver dagger, blade adorned with ancient markings, a gift from his first master in the arts of the light and swordsmanship. I feel its coldness on the small of my back, tip resting against a small opening in the handcrafted lace.

‘It almost looks painted on you. So artful… almost untouchable… craving… just like you.’ the knife is barely moving, lightly, almost impossible to guess if its the cold metal or a whisper of air from the open window. Outside, the moon is shining through the tree branches, painting the floor in moving patterns, accompanied by the soft glow of the candles scattered on almost every surface.

I can only see our reflection in the glass wall that opens to the forest. Him, completely dressed in an Italian suit, black wool against my naked thighs and ass cheeks. Breasts pushed further up as one of his arms had caught both of mine in a strappado grip, elbows together, rendering me unable to move, exposed.

Nipples rock hard being dangerously close to the blade, the sensitive skin reveling in the sensation of danger that intoxicates my mind. I cannot think. I cannot form any trace of coherent words. I can only take the heady energy he gives of, the surrender, the anticipation.

His cock growing bigger as he teases me, as he ponders where from my body will he be drinking tonight, what part would he be feasting on as I will fall apart in wanting, as I will only pant and scream and beg for it to stop and never end, both true, both deeply felt.

This is beyond wanting, beyond need even. It is…

He pushes my knees, bending me forward suddenly, roughly, arms still tightly held, the knife at my side, traveling up my sides as I cannot do anything but kneel with my cheek on the hard ottoman, my ass up, exposed. He doesn’t cut the lace, careful only to keep me guessing, growling as he notices my wetness, the puffy lips of my pussy opening up, pushing against the tender confinement of the french lace.

Cold steel between my cheeks, pressing just a little harder. Wrists caught in leather handcuffs I cannot escape, same as my elbows. With both hands free I can only guess what he will do further… aaahhhhh not for long… a hard hit wakes my body. The markings on the blade imprint on my right cheek. An unforgiving hand tightens on my side, bruising, massaging.

‘Scream, kotik, I know you want to.’ he gently smiles ‘ Tell me how you want to attack me, tell me how bad you want to torture me for what I am doing to you. Tell me how much you like being treated like this, being forced to take it, to take the pain…’ whack! his hand coming down hard on my ass, making it sting, making it burn with pain and tingling all over. ‘You are damned temptation. You are the portrait of desire, yet you are powerless now. You are mine. You can only take what I choose to give you. Here, between these walls, you are free. Let me hear your moans, let me hear you coming undone from this pain!’

It hurts, it feels like hell, it feels like I am about to break, hit after hit, coming fast and slow, unexpected, with a skill only he possesses. It is heavenly, making my body sing with everything, pain translating as pleasure… ‘Please….’ I mutter with my head buried in the fabric of the ottoman.

‘What are you asking me for? Say it, or I will stop.’ I can’t have that. I can’t have the pain stop, the pleasure, everything all at once.

‘Please… do..not…aaahhh….stooop. More. I want…ahhh…more.. make it hurt… Please!’

‘Ah, sweet one, you are playing with fire… your ass dancing so beautifully under my hands… I almost want to stop and admire it, but tonight I might just listen to your begging.’ he stops, indeed, but not for long. A single piece of rope pulling at my waist, tight, making me lose my breath for a split second. He presses it between the lips of my pussy, resting with a knot just at my opening, only to pull and secure it to the ring fixed in the ceiling, partially raising my lower body.

‘Your hands can only tighten it, kotik.’ he smiles with a devilish grin, kissing me and taking in all my whimpers as the movement pulls at the rope and brings me further down in pain.

‘What should I do to you know?’ he muses, circling my nipples while his forehead rests on mine. My eyes are closed and I am lost in him, in the sensations going though me, in the pleasure of it all. ‘oh, I think I know’ he says as he catches my nipples between his fingers and tightens them unbearably. I scream, almost panicked by the sensation, but his presence reminds me to breathe, to focus, the spread the sensation. With each breath, the burning travels further down, straight to my pussy, making it burn with desire.

Vicious nipple clamps are attached to me and I can only breathe now, almost unable to process it all. His hands move between my legs, kneading the muscles in my thighs, teasing the flesh just below my core….

He bites it and I come undone. I lose it, all sense of reality, my fingers compulsory tightening on the rope, triggering yet another wave of pleasure, my nipples being roughed up by rubbing against the fabric of the ottoman.

He pulls my hair back with one hand, while the other moves the knot to rest against my asshole, while pushing himself into me. I groan, murmuring his name as a litany. My whole body open, accepting, letting go of every semblance of tension as he punishes me with his hard cock, everything stimulating me at once. It has no end and I love it. I feel alive, real, free.

His cum spurting in me triggers yet another round of orgasmic spasms, almost sending me into oblivion as he pulls out. Softly, before I know it, the rope is untied, my hands freed and him embracing me as I curl on top of his crossed legs on the floor. The smell of pine needles, silver and fine wine that his skin exudes is calming, helping me come down from the high I just experienced. 
He must have taken the nipple clamps off at some point when I was lost in orgasm, I muse in my mind, almost amused.

‘I love you!’ we both whisper as we relax, connecting again as lovers do.

In a few minutes I will be refreshed, ready to make love to him sweetly until the morning light paints our bodies, for now I am more alive than ever.

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