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The Cavern of the Bear (OPEN~please read 1st post)

She is all that is strong and wild and free and I am lost. She takes me down. Not gently, not roughly, simply eases me down with sharp nails and teeth and heat until I am flat on my back.

And when I am breathless and soft and willing and open. She begins to build a heat that no amount of ice can dispel. Flogger and riding crop. Over breasts and belly and thighs and knees and feet and hips. It builds and swirls and builds and breaks...and builds and builds and builds until there is nothing left for me but a scream that won't stop. Won't end. Builds up and up and up and up. And tears that stream and burn my eyes...and i want and I want.

"Please. Please. Please."

And I am unaware that there are words, until I hear them. And I don't know about the tears until I can't breathe. All I know is. I am here...and falling apart, coming to a point...
 
Watching, feeling voice echo through.... makes my breath rush... that dangerous point...

Sprawled willingness.... crawls under my skin, shines light on things better left in the dark...

Tools are tossed asside..... I need something more....

Holding out my hand... thinking.... and it is there.... her pretty pearl handle... blade flicked out....

I watch.. breath.... Glittering sweat, tears... and that fucking word.... I'd snarl if I trusted my voice... I'd touch if I could... feel that tremble with my bare fingertips.. but i cant. If I do.. I'll shred all that is left...... no...

Knees find the stone by a pretty marked hip.... lips touch belly.. lick sweat.... On knee slides over thigh.... Hand finds the ground beside ribs.... .... eyes catch eyes that don't see.. and see too clearly... Silver glints... touches... tiny little mark... a fingernail... maybe a little more.. red, crimson... one one side of ribs and the other.....

blade lifted... held, red dot on the tip... smiles..... Blades flicked, spun... Fingertips hold it flat to my palm and wrap around it... blade is how the handle.....

Lips fall... teeth... bite at crimson, at belly, ribs, other streaking cut... licks.. Hand... slides up brown thigh... pearl touches heat, slippery heat..... sinks.... Hands pressed to glistening lips,, knee slides up to hold it tight, tight to cunt... within is pearl, wolf pearl, shiny, slippery... Teeth do not relent, they bite while flesh shakes.. while fingertips that hold blade twitch from strong muscles along its handle...

That shimmer, that deep husky tone, that high pitch.... those crys.... pluck at my spine.... my own cunt... nostrils flare and draw her scent, her crimson taste on my tongue, the twitch, the cry.... all draw my cunt to its scream.... and teeth... mark flesh...
 
There are teeth in my flesh...and I whimper. There are sharp pointy pokes and I cry. My whole body is a awash with pleasure/pain/panic/release/joy. I can't move. I can not THINK. all i can do is what I am doing~giving her everything there is of me. Every bit, every ounce, every dark and dangerous and scary thing.

Because she is kitty twin. Because she is strong. Because she gets it...she always gets it.And when she joins me on the coldness, on the hardness...all I can see is her eyes. they take up the world. They become THE world. I fall into them...as she cuts and pokes and bites and licks...and torments.

And the words are coming faster...and the screams are becoming louder...until in my head there is silence. I don't hear her, I don't hear me...It is just feeling and feeling. The touch of something cold being pressed inside.

Warm hand cupping heat and holding slick coolness that heats up. Thighs that flex and tremble as the first wave of something...something takes me...and I can't stop it...but she didn't say I could...and I can't stop it...and then she bites...and I can't stop it...but she didn't say I could...and my brain implodes. Lights. Sparkling lights...and there is a low heartbroken groan and I don't know...

But she didn't say I could.
 
That delicious crystalline shatter. A glass broken in slow motion... all the pieces holding pieces of pieces within. The cries, sounds, all the sounds, trembles, tears, quakes.... all of them feed me... I'm not as separate as I usually am... that necessary distance. gone.

Watching the fight of release... the last bit fall, teeth let go, lips kiss... words whisper

"Good.... very very good.... let go"

Its the why, the how, the end.... this time.

Head lifts and I watch... for long long moments... never ending time so short....

Knees slides back, warm hand retracts, pearl gone....

Hands pet, stroke... sitting on stone... stroking cheeks and lips and nose... pulling into my lap...
to rock and touch and hum and touch lips to forhead....
 
Micah~a story

Micah hadn't always been the go to girl for assassination. For years she had been nothing more than one man's personal punching bag, his toy, his property. It is very hard to shift a mind set that allows one to only think of themselves as something less than, as something other. It takes a strength of will that most people would never have to experience.

She hoped they never would.

Before~

She had fucked him, in the way that he wanted, on her eighteenth birthday. She had ridden him, faked a passion she didn't feel, given up parts of her self that no one should ever have to give to a blood relative so that she could end it. Her father. Her abuser. her first contracted kill.

The initial thrust of the hunting knife had been to his stomach. She had planted it just below his belly button and cut...upward. Oh he had been so very pissed. He bellowed and raged while his cock wilted, while his hands scrabbled to hold his guts in place. And oh, how she had smiled. The first real smile since her mother had left her with him, so very many years ago.

She had bled him~cutting his Achilles tendons, his wrists, the place just behind each knee. And he had fought. But ultimately, she had won. She carved her initials into his skin~over and over and over again. In the same way that he had violated her flesh with his letters. With his razor wire and straps and belts and razor blades. She marked him as conquered, as over, as meat for the slowly awakening beast he had created.
And it felt good..

She had gotten off, repeatedly.

While he bled, while he yelled, while he died.

It was...bliss.

Before~

A girl. He had tossed her through a wall. Beaten her until she blacked out from the pain. Hurt her in ways no man should ever hurt a child. She had hungered even then, for something. She just hadn't known what. But she had plenty of years left to learn. And she learned well.

Vengeance, when she could get it, was sweet.

But it would take many, many years and much pain.

She took it, because she was too small to fight back.

And she learned.

Before~

"Mommy, don't leave me."

Pretty little brown skinned girl with large eyes and round cheeks. No more than six years of age.

A mother, standing in the door way, partially hidden by shadows. Her mass of hair hiding the damage to one sharp cheek bone, one brilliantly flashing hazel eye.

"Mommy, please don't leave me."

And the mother reaches out with one trembling hand, to grab pretty girl child's hand, until a fist crashes into the side of her head and a voice speaks. Lays the girl's doom out loud for any with ears to hear it.

"You can go ...but leave your little bastard here. I am sure I will find a use for her."

And the mother, dizzy, aching, crying....left.

Now~

Micah hunts. She kills. And she carries an especial hatred for those who would harm a child. Any child. Every child. She learned what he taught...and she makes damned good money at it.

 
I found this a very interesting read. But you didn't mention the one fairy tale that is all about broken trust and the futility of trying to repair it: Humpty Dumpty.




Also, as a former graphic designer, may I just say that this font is very hard to read in these sizes. ;) And someday, I will come here to be ass raped by you, Luna, if that is not against your hard limits.:rose:




Luna_Wolf72 said:
Trust.

The most important thing in the world. Once gone? It can never be repaired. Never be given back. Never be re-earned. You may fix it. Eventually. You may solder it together in stops and starts, leaving a mass of fixes and contusions behind. But it will never, ever be the whole of the thing. The whole of the thing will no longer be there. It will be...

Missing.

Take, for example, the story of Red Riding Hood. She trusted FAR too easily. She listened when she shouldn't have. She shared bits of her life, her past, her present, that she should have kept clutched to her belly like a surprise birthday gift, like her basket of goodies. Instead she gave it away. easily. No thoughts. A happy little girl child who never thought a thing when it came to talking, stalking wolves in the deep dark forest. Silly girl child.

She ends up dead. In the real story. The one they didn't pretty up.

The Little Mermaid? Same thing. She trusted a witch. Now WE know you don't trust those sorts. Wanting her voice? Wanting the very thing that that male would have LOVED had he but known? Why would she have given it up? Because the witch and herself were women all together. And as women we are taught that you can trust each other (unless it's a step mother or an ugly old witch...*gasp, sigh*)...even the fairy tales say so. So the mermaid should have known not to go to the Sea Witch. It was as obvious as the nose on her face! That mean old Sea Witch? She took the mermaid's voice, gave her legs and then took the man she loved...and in the end...took the mermaid's life.

Because, honestly, what else is death but turning into foam and being washed away with the tide?

The tales tell you. Trust is earned, never given. you have to figure out who is worth trusting. The problem is...if you go by the tales? NO one is actually really worth it. They all break faith. Some in big irrevocable ways. Others in small ways that add up to an avalanche that will eventually crush the poor little girl child beneath it's weight.

And once the faith, the trust, is gone? No Fairy tale EVER tells you how to get it back. Here is why. You can not get it back. You can only solder it, baby it, work at it and hope...that the next time the person breaks your faith in them? You have enough soldering material to keep the original shape of your fix. Otherwise, it's gone. Never to return.

Why don't they ever talk about THAT? It would be much more useful than the morality plays.
Click to expand...
 
The bouncer checked her ID, nodding and pointed to the heavy doors, which were opened by people inside, invisible to those waiting outside. Suddenly there was a rush of drum and bass, pounding, like a terrible heartbeat that swallowed everything into it. The Girl shiver, in fear, in excitement, in the need of what she came for.

The Lady.

The rumors had spread, in the dead of night around town, that this club, that the Lady owned, was different. Darker, sweatier, sexier, beautiful people of all colors shapes and sizes dancing, grinding. More rumors said that sex in the bathrooms and alley weren't just allowed, it was expected. No one gave firm details, as if they forgot what they did as soon as they left the club. Some of the wilder stories said that The Lady wasn't human, that she was a vampire or demon that devoured those that she chose after their pleasure.

No one had any details about the Lady herself. No details of her body, or desires, except that she took a single person to her office or private room every night. Since the patrons rarely knew each other, or remembered much after, no person could ever describe being with the Lady. That mystery only served to spread the rumors wider. Foreign tongues could be heard amid the moans of the dancers. Women danced with women, men with men, men with women. The Lady, it seemed, didn't care about sexuality, or gender, or race, or size, or anything of that sort. If you were chosen, you were desired, wanted, blessed.

The Girl walked towards the side, the tiled wall, feeling the heat and bass beat pounding, reverberating, filling her being. She felt herself swept away almost at once, and she welcomed the escape. In a strapless red dress, baring much of her bust, with dark lips and dark eyes, she needed to be outside herself. Her name was forgotten. Part of the crowd now, her only thought was that she craved to be chosen by The Lady.

The songs changed, and the crowd swelled so that the room was a mass of sweating flesh, scents of men and women and the promise of sex built to a crescendo along with the music, and there was a sudden hush, the bass beat pulled back so it was a dull thud, a whisper into the tense dance floor.

At the top of the stairs behind the DJ, a door opened. She appeared, a silhouette from the lights of her private room. Who was she? What did she look like? The tension and anticipation increased as she took a step, close to the lit stairs.

No begging. No asking. No words being spoken. The Lady would choose. The Girl Waited.
 
Another night. Another crowd. Another group of people who wanted, needed, craved, completion. The Lady stared down from her balcony, watching the many who filtered in, who flowed past the entrance and into the main club area.

The Lady.

Five feet four inches. Mocha hued and hazel eyed.

The Lady.

Chin length auburn bob and gleaming white smile.

The Lady.

A beast in girly clothing.

She stepped out, swept out and down the stairs, her bare feet not making a whisper of sound. And every where she looked? Young nubile flesh waited. Cried out to be touched, tasted, savored. Her eyes swept the crowd, not stopping, not resting anywhere for long. She would know the right one when she chanced upon it. She always did.

And there the right one was...a startled deer in the head lights.

The Lady...spoke.

"You...come here."
 
The girl fainted. The girl screamed. The girl ran.

The vision flashed quickly, and the Lady remained, standing on the stairs and pointing at her. Heart slamming, full of fear and unrestrained euphoria behind her nervous mask, the girl strode forwards as the crowd parted as if the Lady was Moses.

The crowd didn't murmur, and cry foul. The dull bass started to grow again as the girl reached the stairs moving up slowly towards the Lady. Away from the press of the crowd, the air grew cool, and made the girl shiver. In the hidden chambers of the Lady, anything could happen. Who would she be when she came back out? Would she come back out? The rumors pounded in her brain, pushing back against the excitement.

The girl approached, the hazel eyes locked on her, the Lady otherwise impassive, draped in sex and power.

"Th... thank you, my Lady for choosing me."
 
There is a momentary silence. One that the Lady used to her advantage. After all, the girl hadn't really spoken. She had said nothing that the Lady hadn't expected to hear. The girl wanted to be taken, used, fed from. A feast...for a beast. Even if that beast wore the flesh...of a Lady.

The Lady.

"Not like I had a choice. You were the only one who screamed out your need using nothing but your eyes."

Strong hand grasps the girl's wrist and tugs, leading her up the flight of stairs, back to the room, the Lady's room.

"I am just trying to fulfill a need, is all."

The door opens...and the women step inside.

The rooms are done in deep mauve and cream. Velvet, brocade, damask, heavy satin. All of the furniture located within is heavy. Antique. Lovely oak. Mahogany. Upon the walls in various areas? Crops, a bullwhip, floggers of different lengths, textures. A padded spanking bench is placed in the center of the room, on a pedestal.

"Too late to back out. Strip. leave your clothing by the door."

The Lady smiles...and it gleams in the low light.

 
A powerful grip pulled the girl forwards and husky words demanded movement, and suddenly, in a lavishly beautiful room, the girl stood, looking around at object she only say in pictures, or heard stories about.

Whips. Floggers. Instruments.

The girl expected sex, craved sex, but this was more, different, much more frightening. She trembled, but gathered enough strength to reach back to her zipper, pulling down. Fabric fell quickly, and was soon folded by the door next to shoes. The girl had no other clothes. She stood completely bare before the Lady. Smooth skin, teased hair, makeup, a sham.

The girl supposed herself sexy, a seductress. It was a lie. She was shy, needy, desperate for attention from a lover, any lover. Once the clothes were away, she felt vulnerable, like prey. Her heart slammed harder, faster, wanting to burst from her chest. Her overbright eyes rested on the Lady.

The girl's mouth opened, but only a squeak came out. Her eyes always gave her away. Always. What more would they betray tonight?
 
The Lady's throat locks up. The girl is...shaky. Pretty. Breathless. Damn near virginal. She won't be when she leaves. One small hand reaches out strokes a cheek, a chin, a flat belly, a hip.

"Very nice. But wipe that crap off your face. I am sure you are better without it."

A warm rag appears and is thrust into the girl's hand.

"Hold very still...I need to see..."

The Lady moves closer, and begins to circle the young form before her. Fingers stroke, prod, pinch. Teeth nibble softly and BITE hard. Back, ass, thighs, belly. All places. Every place. The circling is slow. Waiting for the girl to do what she is told. The steps are measured, each touch? A way in. A getting to know you sort of thing.

It makes her smile...and the other, the girl? It makes her tremble.

"Let's see. You are here...and that means you want to be fucked. The question is...how?"

Voice is low, a sing song. A terrible tease. A husky dare. Finally The lady faces the girl and one small hand darts out and grabs the soft spot between pretty thighs. That hand caresses roughly, surely, thoroughly.

"A toy? My mouth?"

A wicked smile.

"And maybe...if you are very good...you will be a hand puppet for a Lady....and won't that be nice? So are you going to be good?"
 
Makeup? Wrong? But...? The words rang in the girl's mind in protest. The Lady knew. The girl felt false and was lifting the wet rag to her face, when she felt touches, soft, hard pinches, alternating. Licks, bites. The girl moans and squeaks with the pain. Her skin grows hot with a sheen of sweat. The fear starts to peak.

Fucked. Yes. She needed that. Badly. Masturbating, endless, weeks, months, completely unsatisfying.

"A toy?"

"Yes, please."

"Mouth?"

"Yes, please."

The girl needed to add please, to be polite, but the politeness disguised despair, true need, begging. Her eyes would beg so much more than words and the Lady would know. The girl managed to wipe away the makeup, the mask. She scrubbed, almost harsh, and held the messy cloth in her fingers, by her hip as the Lady cupped her sex with rough possession.

"And maybe...if you are very good...you will be a hand puppet for a Lady....and won't that be nice? So are you going to be good?"

Hand puppet? Hand puppet? The words were confusing, then... realization. Hand puppet. Hand. Fist. Cunt.

"YES!"
 
Husky laughter met the politeness. Poor girl. She was attempting to fall apart and wasn't that lovely? The lady took the soft wash cloth from one limp hand, tossed it over her shoulder.

"My guess is you would like all of the above...and that is....just fine...."

Fingers curled into warmth, using that hole as a sort of handle. The Lady tugged the girl after her, toward the spanking bench. Toward the place where the girl would lose herself. And maybe find herself again.

They crossed those few feet quickly. Two fingers delving deeply into wetness had a tendency to make people MOVE. And once the two women reached the bench? The lady released pretty cunt and stepped away. The next bit would be up to the girl.

"Bend over. Place your hands on the floor, on the other side. Lay across it, legs here...arms there...cunt right on the bench."

The Lady turned away then and stripped down. White silk sheath~gone. Nothing left now but skin. Small body headed for the far wall. Hands reached for~took down~a flat paddle, a leather flogger and a harness.
 
The girl, hooked, literally, like a struggling fish on the string, moan in pleasure, face contorting, naked eyes shining.

Led forwards, by her cunt, what a strange and delicious feeling, the girl thought.

"Bend over. Place your hands on the floor, on the other side. Lay across it, legs here...arms there...cunt right on the bench."

With empty folds and a soft disappointed whimper, the girl knelt, moved over the kneeling bench, a foreign object to her, and placed her hands, arms, legs in the directed places, feeling wet sex against the padded bench. She wanted to grind. She didn't. Her bottom, pale, creamy up in the air, exposed.

Her breath came in gasps, unwilling to look up to see what was in store. That was fear in part, but not knowing also wound the tension higher. She needed whatever the Lady would give, and she would be grateful for it.
 
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The lady moved to her side, debating which particular instrument she wanted to use on pale flesh, first. Finally, she dropped the flogger and hefted the paddle.

This.

"Count out loud for me. No wavering voice. No tears. Loud and strong. I think ten on each cheek to start."

Hand flew up, paddle whiffed through the air...and then...descended. Fast. Sharp. Brutal. The Lady never once varied the strokes. Never even listened to the girl as she attempted to count each blow, each firm strike. No point in listening anyway. The Lady wanted a red ass. That is what she got.

The counting was for the girl, not for the Lady.

At twenty? The Lady dropped the paddle and picked up the flogger. She also meandered a few steps closer, one small hand going unerringly to the spot between slightly splayed thighs. There? Wetness. The Lady smiled.

"Very nice...and look, you are getting ever so moist..."

Leaning up to press pleasure slick finger to the girl's pretty pink rosebud mouth.

"It is yours...clean my finger please. But close your eyes....the next bit is a...surprise."

The Lady adjusted her halter, tightening it correctly before slipping the blue gel toy on the attachment at the base. The toy was vaguely penis shaped and large...easily 9 inches. The Lady grinned to herself.

Now they would begin.
 
The screams were terrible, deafening to the girl for the first 10.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10!"

No pause, but the girl's voice wavered. With more syllyables for the numbers, she couldn't make sense of them, and by twenty it was unintelligible, feeling only a furiously burning ass.

"11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20!"

Skin covered in sweat, and a pussy that was drenched in arousal. This was punishment, wasn't it? Paddling. She was bad, she made her body lie in the red dress and makeup. That wasn't her. The Lady knew, the Lady stripped it away. The pain was burning the rest of it, leaving raw flesh. Raw girl.

Raw lust was on her lips and tongue as she sucked the finger. Her own lust that she couldn't deny. She didn't think she could stand more paddling, more pain, but there was no safe word, not asked, not given. Her eyes tight closed, she heard movement but saw nothing, again fear building, but finding that she liked it.
 
Slut girl licked and suckled and whimpered and the Lady accepted it as her due. After all, that is what the girl needed. To be made to understand her place in the world. She was a hungry cunt, aching to be filled. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Small hand twined into pretty hair and JERKED, yanking the girl's head up. The Lady stood just before her, the other hand holding the toy at it's base, directing it toward pink rose bud lips.

"Open your mouth."

The girl...did...and the Lady made use of the whimpering hole, stroking gellid toy inside to get wet. To be laved with slut girl saliva and low needy yowls. The hand loosened from her hair, allowing the girl to find her own way. After all, this toy was for her...

"Good girl. Get me nice...and wet..."
 
A quick look of the Lady, beautiful, controlled, powerful, then blue, slightly shiny, shoved into her mouth, and gagging, coughing.

A blue toy invading the girl's mouth as she tried for some control over it, but the hair was too tight. She accepted, needed the cock but her throat screamed in protest. She wanted to draw up her hands and push away, but that would mean an end, she knew it. It wouldn't happen.

When her hair was release, she pulled back a few inches and couched more, leaving mucus and spit on the blue gelcock, eyes watering, retching slightly, but she forced herself past the feeling and started to lick, to suck.

In her mind, the girl though the cock real, because it was easier to please, to wet in that way. The Lady could feel it, she imagined, making a show once she steadied, laving, sucking, slurping.
 
Narrowed eyes watched as the girl drooled and swallowed and stroked blue toy, getting it wetter and wetter with her actions. When the Lady felt the twinge in her lower belly that said...NOW...she stepped away.

"Face down, raise your ass. Spread your legs...."

She didn't give the girl time to prepare, not really. Once the nameless one was in position the Lady stepped up, between spread thighs, and positioned the toy's head at the girl's vaginal canal entrance. Small hand gripped a hip as the other hand held the toy steady.

The Lady gave a short thrust and a low wicked laugh as she heard the squelching sounds of wet, needy cunt. Pulling out...until just the tip was lodged within tight girl confines, she rolled her hips. Hand tightened on hip and she gave a driving thrust forward, burying all nine inches, inside.

"Now be a good girl...and wiggle your hips for me...ease your self up and then back. No worries, I won't move...yet."

Small hand laid a ringing slap on bright red ass cheek.

"Fuck this toy girl...do it."
 
Fuck.

Yes.

Fuck me. The thought came, over and over. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Her voice couldn't, wouldn't utter the words. The girl stared at the dripping toys as it lead the Lady around behind.
Ass up. Yes. Fuck my cunt and ass. Yes. The Lady knows it.

The tip, feeling thick and full resting in her entrance, the girl rocked, back for more of it, drawing forwards onto the bench, back, forth, groaning, back arched, tense.

A smack on the ass. Yes, please, more. Again, mouth won't work. The Lady will know, the girl thought. The girl increased her pace, awash in her own pleasure, taking the blue dildo as her own, using it for her pleasure until the Lady did otherwise.
 
The Lady watches as the girl struggles to stay seated, to take the length in it's entirety, again and again. It amuses her. All the little whimpers. The bliss face that she can only just see. Poor little slut girl...all empty and in need of filling.

On the girl's next rock backward, the Lady grabbed a hand full of hair and allowed her nails to dig into the pale flesh of the girl's hip. She hunched over the pale little thing and moved her hips quickly, slamming inward. Repeatedly.

Her voice was low....quiet. And showed not a trace of any emotion.

"Tell me what I am doing to your tight sweet hole, girl.....what am I doing? Tell me, I want to hear."

Hand dropped from hair to the throat, drifting over pale skin until the Lady could squeeze the front with each brutal thrust forward. And the girl whimpered, the girl...moaned.

"Tell me."

Hips rolled, pushing the toy deeper. Over and over and over again. Keeping the poor cunt so full. Keeping the girl bent and ravaged. After all, hand puppets needed stretching first.

 
Full. Empty. Full. Empty. Full was so much better. Addicting. The Lady knew it. The girl had to force her mouth to work, her lungs to provide the air, when that toy was taking all breath away.

"Fuck me." The first time soft, raspy, barely there.

"Fuck me!" Second time stronger, like a lover, deep and low.

"Fuck me!" Third time louder, like a slut, but still controlled.

"Fuck me!" Finally, the truth. Wild, unrestrained, needy, aching, slutty, lustful. "FUCK ME!" Begging, vulnerable.

The fingers came down from hair, releasing, allowing the girl's body to relax, but then those strong finger around the girls throat. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. The fear came back, in incredible measure, driving the girl close to the edge as the cock invaded. Deep, squelching sounds from the girl's cunt.

A soreness grew from the violence of it, but not unwelcome. Preparation. The girl wasn't a hand puppet yet, but she wanted to be, needed to be.
 
The Lady continued her onslaught, until the muscles in her own belly contracted...and then she stopped. All at once. The girl, poor slutty girl was wrecked, juices pouring from between her thighs. The Lady...pulled out. Away. Leaving the girl open and vulnerable, inner cunt gaping, pinkness swollen and glistening.

"Not done yet, little slutty one. On the floor, on your knees. Mouth wide."

The Lady stepped to the side, unbuckling harness and tossing it into the shadowed depths of the room. After all, the girl didn't need an orgasm yet. The Lady...did.
 
Aching, trembling limbs. The girl had trouble getting off the bench, but did so, seeing the harness unbuckled, the wet shaft tossed aside. Then the Lady came into view.

Glorious. A Goddess to worship. The girl wanted to. Needed to. Kneeling with hands on her thighs, the girl hoped for one thing, to taste. Her eyes were eager, needy. She loved to please, always loved to, any lover she was with. The word submissive was used a lot around her, but she ignore it. I just like to make people scream, she often told herself.

She wondered now if the Lady would do that, or if she would orgasm in silence, with such control. Which would be better?

Better try to made the Lady scream, the girl though, and her lips parted.
 
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