The Sins of Salome (closed for authorminx)

[Zagreus_D]

The soldiers came, as John knew they would come.

He was glad that they came in the early morning. No crowd had yet begun gather at his small camp set near the bend of the river, and most of his disciples were away, gone into the city for news and supplies. They had left at first light in order to return before the heat of the day. Would they have seen the soldiers leaving the city? Would they have guessed at their purpose?

John set aside the remains of his breakfast. He preferred to eat the simple fruits of the forest, roots, nuts, and grubs, rather than the fine offerings of the wives and mothers that came to hear him speak, or the standard fair, such as his disciples had gone to procure from the market. It was cleansing to the spirit to eat directly of God's great bounty, unaltered to suit the fickle tastes of men.

John put his hand on the shoulder of the boy who sat at his feet, drawing some final comfort from the company of the only friend close at hand. "When the others wake, tell them I have been summoned by King Herod. Tell them that all is well with me, and not to despair. Everything shall pass in accordance with the Lord's will." The boys eyes grew wide as he suddenly understood the implication of John's words. John smiled to offer the boy assurance, and he stood to walk out and meet the soldiers.

The men did not bully or abuse John in any way. When they heard that he would follow them willingly, they did not bind or shackle him. They simply surrounded him, so that he was made to walk at the center of the company. One of the younger men near the back made an attempt to goad John.

"You holy man," the foolish soldier taunted, "After the king has cut off your head, you should let me take your pretty hair as a gift for my wife. She is as bald as a pig, and as ugly as a buzzard. I hear you always preach of charity. What charity will you offer to a man cursed with such a wife? I could take you from behind, and I wouldn't be able to tell you apart from the fairest of maidens!"

John did not find the comment worthy of any response at all, but an older soldier censured the young man. It was bad business taking a holy man, and although John knew that these pagan's offered no obedience to the one true god, they were fraught with superstition, and many of them feared that some magical retribution would befall them for their participation in John's death.

The soldiers marched John along the main street of the city, and citizens and travelers stopped to stare at the spectacle. John even caught a glimpse of his comrades pushing toward the front of the crowd to see what they could see. They were not foolish enough to attempt to intervene.

Soon enough the company marched through the gates of the palace and left the common throng behind. It was too early in the day yet for an immediate audience with the king, so John expected to be led to some isolated cell removed at a distance from the luxurious palace, but to his surprise he was led directly to the gilded doors of the main hall of the palace. At the door, John's custody was transferred from the city soldiers to the palace guard, and he was escorted inside without explanation.

The halls were empty except for a few slaves and servants who moved about silently, completing their required chores. There was no grand assembly present to hear his trial, and yet there he was in the house of a king.

A strange foreboding gripped John. Something was terribly wrong. He was prepared to be tried and executed for his religious dissention. He had prayed, and set his mind at peace with the possibility of ridicule or torture. He felt certain that the time had come for him to face his death and return to the perfect paradise prepared for him in heaven. But then why was he being led, not to some dank dungeon or merciless court assembly, but into the very heart of the palace where queens and princes gorged themselves on the meager feasts of the earth, without wisdom to hunger for the finer nourishment promised by God's Kingdom?

After weaving a long and labyrinthine path over brightly tiled floors, and past elaborate frescos set in the walls, they finally stopped at a door. It was carved with fine detail, leaves, and flowers, and tiny birds and beasts inlaid with gold. The guard knocked at the door, and John waited for it to open, and reveal whatever mystery might lie beyond that would give justification to these strange circumstances.

 

[authorminx]

King Herod watched impassively as the door opened, from high atop his throne. He knew that John would not expect to see him on his own, nor would he have any idea of what his fate actually held in store. It was not how the king wished it to work out, but a higher power had intervened.

Not the God John knew, however.

The king looked down on the prophet or the madman, depending on how you looked at him. He was not shackled; apparently there had been no need.

“John,” he intoned. “I had every intention of executing you for religious dissent. I wanted to enjoy it, savor it. But last night, your deliverance came in a form that may surprise you. At my banquet, I implored my stepdaughter to dance. To watch her dance is to see heaven before you; it is the pinnacle of beauty in this doomed world. I offered her anything for this dance, even half of my kingdom. She did not want the kingdom. She wanted you.”

Herod paused to let this information sink in. In truth, he looked upon the man with a secret air of jealousy. He had hoped that his stepdaughter would choose half of the kingdom…that she might want to rule at his side. Vexed, he nodded his head at the guards.

“Take him to his Mistress’ chambers. I cannot stand the sight of him.”

The guards led John through more hallways, each as ornate as the last, wealth and power on full display. Silently, they wound up a spiral staircase and into a suite. Through a receiving room, a parlor, finally coming to a stop in what appeared to be a bedroom. It was furnished in lush reds and deep browns, comforting even in its unfamiliarity. It did not look like the rest of the palace; it had the air of a sanctuary. There was a large four poster bed, covered in pillows, and a candelabra that burned low on a bedside table.

“Welcome home,” one of the guards grunted, while the other roughly pulled his arms above his head, shackling him to the wall across from the luxurious bed.

Salome watched from the shadows, waiting for the guards to leave. She had dressed carefully, taking extra care on her toilette, and truly felt as if this were her wedding day. She wore a beautiful sheath that fell over her curves, at once highlighting them and shielding them from view. She could see John’s eyes, taking in his surroundings, and the lithe body she admired so. She stroked the blade in her hand, forestalling the moment she would cut off his clothing. He was beautiful, all flowing hair and soulful eyes, full of potential just waiting to be unlocked. She closed her eyes for a moment, thanking the universal forces that had brought her to this moment. Her skin tingled in anticipation. Though he had rejected her in the square, she felt a surety that he would accept her now, and become her loving partner in transcendental debauchery.

But first, she had to break him. Make him see the error of his naive ways.

The guards left and she spoke from the shadows, not emerging yet.

“John. Your gift for oratory was squandered with the lies you told, those lies you bought into while still in the outside world. I give you an opportunity to repent. You are mine, now. I will take a great joy in bringing you around to my way of thinking, a great pleasure. Do you remember me, John? Say the name of your new goddess. Your savior.”

 

[Zagreus_D]

Salome

It was a strange turn of events that brought him into captivity with this unlikely jailor, but then John could not doubt the wisdom of God's will. Was this a test of his faith, or did God have some greater purpose for Salome, and meant for John to gentle and purify her spirit?

The lady spoke from the shadows.

“John. Your gift for oratory was squandered with the lies you told, those lies you bought into while still in the outside world. I give you an opportunity to repent. You are mine, now. I will take a great joy in bringing you around to my way of thinking, a great pleasure. Do you remember me, John? Say the name of your new goddess. Your savior.”

John said nothing. He had tried to conceive of Salome as a child of God led astray, a sheep awaiting the good shepherd's guidance, but her voice was the voice of a she-wolf. She was a dangerous creature who seemed bent on devouring everything that was innocent and pure. She spoke slander and blasphemy with a casual tongue. This was to be a test of his faith then, any redemption for Salome seemed far beyond John's capacity to deliver, but John would pray on it.

He decided to pray now. He closed his eyes and turned his heart to God. Heavenly Father, your will alone shall be my guide, to lead me through the torments and temptations of this world. I do not know your true purpose in bringing me to this den of sin, but by your grace I shall remain your humble and faithful servant in all things, until I may at last be united with you in the Kingdom of Heaven. Amen.

 

[authorminx]

/double post/

 

[authorminx]

She came out of the shadows, slowly, but did not approach him. John's eyes were closed, but when he opened them, he would see her in front of him but just out of reach. Not that it mattered when his hands were shackled.

His lips moved in prayer. She had many other ideas for those lips.

"John," she repeated softly. "Will you not greet me? I am the reason you are still alive."

Salome knew she was desirable. She knew it from the way most men looked at her, from lewd comments she overheard when she passed. The sheath clung to her milky skin, sheer, a tease of what was beneath. It outlined her generous breasts, skimming the curves of the orbs. Her long black hair fell in waves around her face and she peered at him with piercing blue eyes.

"I want to hear you say my name."

 

[Zagreus_D]

John could hear that she had come closer to him, and his eyes opened of their own volition.

She was beautiful, undeniably so. John tried not to look at her body. There was too much temptation to encounter in the soft and subtle curves. He looked instead into her eyes, in the hopes of gaining a true measure of her soul.

"A man of God has no reason to fear death, and until I learn your purpose for keeping me alive, I cannot know if I should thank you or forgive you. In regards to your name, dear sister, your desire to hear it spoken is born from the sin of vanity. A humble woman should take no special pleasure in the sound of her own name."

John's words were gentle. He did not wish to anger or hurt this woman, so he spoke to her in the manner of a devoted brother.

 

[authorminx]

"I am not humble and I am not your sister. I tell you, I am your savior."

Salome met his eyes. She felt a charge, knew that the attraction she felt was not one-sided, though he wanted to deny it. It lurked. It would grow, if tended to, and that was her aim.

"Do not waste your breath preaching to me. How I wish you would use your way with words in a more fruitful manner. Perhaps to tell the world how Salome opened your eyes and healed you, showed you that true wisdom and enlightenment comes only after giving yourself completely to pleasure."

She smiled, her lips curling seductively.

"Surely you are not a virgin?"

 

[Zagreus_D]

"Surely you are not a virgin?"

"I am not. I have lain with a woman, years ago, long before I answered God's calling."

A hot blush rose into John's cheeks. He should not have answered that question. He had no reason to disclose such information to this woman. It was foolish to let her goad him thus.

"Leave me be Salome. I have no interest in debating you on your grotesque blasphemy. You have no power of salvation, nor enlightenment, nor healing. One has come who bares such gifts. Seek him out and he may be able to guide even such a one as you onto the path of grace. As for myself, I have nothing to offer you."

 

[authorminx]

Salome's smile went girlish, innocent, for just a moment. She was struck by the blush on his cheeks. And he'd said her name, after all his protests.

"Years ago!" Her eyes widened just slightly, a persistent deep blue that penetrated. "You must be in a dire need."

She set the knife down on her bedside table; it glinted with promise. She'd meant to disrobe him sooner, but the build-up could not be rushed. They had things to discuss.

"But I have something to offer you. You have known this since our eyes first locked, in the square. I won't ask if you remember. I know you do. In that one gaze, we saw each other. And you...you were frightened. I called you beautiful and you sneered at me. You do not realize how your false god has made you smug, John."

Salome sat on the edge of her bed, slipped off her golden sandals.

"You told me to not look upon you, that I tempted you with earthly pleasures. This I could not get out of my head. In all my years, I have never felt so strongly when I looked at another, but you rejected me. Why? And furthermore, you blamed me for a so-called sin of lust that rightfully belongs to both of us. I came home from the square that day, searched my soul and pondered. I still could not work out why it was my fault."

 

[Zagreus_D]

John felt anger rise up in him, close on the heels of his embarrassment. "I have no need but for the Lord's grace and mercy! He is the one true God who leads me away from temptation. To him and him alone do I submit my will."

He turned his face away from the beautiful Salome. It was true that he had felt lust rise up within him, the first time that he saw her. He could not have offered her a kind look or a gentle word in that moment, for his soul had been seized in conflict. In speaking harshly to Salome, he had successfully beat down his own sinful desires. Such was the nature of women that no matter how pure her own soul may be, she was cursed always to tempt men with vile thoughts. A humble woman accepted this aspect of her own nature and took great care to conceal her beauty, and encourage goodness in the souls of men, but Salome had already bragged that she was no such woman. She delighted in knowing that she evoked sinful thoughts in men. This was what made Salome's sin greater than John's. She had no desire for repentance or merciful grace.

John could have explained this to her, but he could see no purpose in making the argument, her question about their mutual sin of lust was not asked in earnest. She was a clever girl, and she was seeking to lay a trap for him with every word. He was better off remaining aloof from her questions and arguments.

 

[authorminx]

"But your god has not led you from temptation, but straight into its bosom. I imagine you will begin to see this as a test of your faith. I wish you would not...though I have imprisioned you, I care for you. I love you. I saved you because I want you to see what I see, feel what I feel, know liberation. True wisdom."

Salome believed every word she spoke, just as she was sure John did. It was not anger she felt at his ignorance, his blind obedience to only one facet of worship. It was pity. And a need, an aching need, to make him hers, fully.

"I notice you do not deny it. Your lust. Our spark. Why would a creator give us this and expect us not to honor it?"

She came closer, close enough that he could smell her skin, anointed with a delicate rose oil. Softly, she drew a hand across his cheek, a gentle caress. Then she stepped back, before he could shrink away or protest. The sallow glow of a nearby lamp hit on her sheath in just the right way, exposing the outline of her dark pink nipples. Hard against the fabric.

"I do not want to be cruel to you, John. But if I must drag you into enlightenment, I will. I ask you again, why did you make me shoulder your burden? I did not sin--I do not believe lust is a sin. You blame me, when you should blame yourself."

 

[Zagreus_D]

He tried to ignore her, to avoid the arguments that he expected would do no good, but her teasing finally broke past his peaceful resolve, and he began shouting at her.

"Should I deny that a man is born with a body? No! But do not forget that the body is a base corruption of the perfect soul. You would glorify that which is base, and soil that which is worthy of being exalted!"

John took a breath and continued speaking in a quieter voice. "You paint and perfume your body, in order to deceive yourself that your body is worthy of worship, but your body is nothing more than filth and stench. You think you offer me some precious gift, but I look at you and see nothing more than excrement, sweat, the blood of your menses. My filth responds to your filth. Yes. You see this, and call it proof of some great wisdom, but only because you are blind to the reality of God's true beauty." He looked at her, truly looked at her, willing himself to see only the ugly and unappealing in her. Even Salome's sensual form produced of enough grotesque by-products to negate any impulse of desire. John conjured these images in his minds eye, and clung to his feelings of disgust.

"I do not want you, Salome. I pity you for your misguided notions of love. You do not love me. You only love yourself, so much so, that you can see only yourself. You don't know me, Salome. How can you love that which you do not know? Did you bring me here in order to know me, to ask me the true desires of my heart? No, you summoned me here in order to prove to yourself that I cannot resist you. I am nothing more to you than the man who told you no, the man who failed to fall down at your feet in adoration of your filth. I tell you, your actions are born of vanity, not of love. If you understood love, true love, God's love, you would not taunt me and threaten me in this childish mockery of love. You would simply ask me to tell you my heart's true desire, and in the spirit of true love you would grant me my desire freely."

 

[authorminx]

Salome did not shrink away from his anger. It was evidence of his passion; evidence that she was getting under his skin.

"You do not know me, either, John. Curious that you should look upon what god made with disgust. You are so entrenched that you refuse to see your own contradictions."

As she spoke, she unhooked the brooch at the top of her sheath. Her elegant fingers undid the latch, trailing down over the fabric.

"You are wrong. My love for you is not shallow. It is not easily scared by your lies and anger, and it is not about vanity."

She let the sheath fall to her feet in a cascade of creamy fabric. She wore nothing underneath, her body revealed in all its sensuous glory. Her breasts, pert and curved, glowed in the low light. Her legs seemed to stretch forever, her thighs strong, her hips made for lovemaking. The patch of hair that hid her the delicate folds of her sacred place were neatly trimmed, a process she enjoyed as an act of worship in itself.

"Then tell me your true desires. Ah, but you cannot. You believe your true desires to be unspeakable. You only voice your disingenuous, self-righteous lies. What freedom, what joy, you would feel if you could live as I do: unashamed, unburdened with guilt. Instead, you lash out at what could bring you true peace. Look on me, John, and feel the stirrings of your enlightenment."

 

[Zagreus_D]

John was supposed to look away. He wanted to look away. To look at her now was sin, and folly, and he knew it, but he could not look away. He was frozen in place, helpess to avoid the glorious, treacherous sight of her body. He tried to conjure the images of filth that had come so easily to him in his insolent rage, but he could not manage to connect them to the beautiful woman who stood proudly and shamelessly before him.

He felt assaulted on both sides. Aware that he had failed to embody the purity and righteousness that God commanded from him. And also aware of the dirt and sweat of his own body, unwashed from his wanderings in the wilderness, too imperfect a thing to be worthy of contact with such a regal beauty as Salome.

Though he still had wit enough to outmatch Salome's simple arguments, she had spoken at least one thing true, his was a life of shame and guilt, and he felt the burden of it now, more heavily than he ever had. All of his prayers, all of his wanderings had always been in search of some small moment of grace, so that he might touch a glimmer of the perfection that was the fulfillment of God's promise. In his death he felt certain to find that perfection which had eluded him always in life. Now, his hope even for that was slipping away. Salome was turning him inside out. Robbing from him every last hope of salvation.

John began to weep.

 

[authorminx]

Salome turned her face away, briefly. The sound of his weeping vibrated through her, a thrum that made her question the wisdom of going so fast through this delicate process. Perhaps she had pushed him too far. But she had waited so long for him, coupled with the fear that she would not be able to save him from her father’s sentence: death. The terrifying reality that John might be taken from her shook her to the core, enough that she had swallowed her pride and danced for Herod, though the thought of his eyes devouring her still brought disgust to her throat. John might never understand how much she sacrificed for him, but hope bloomed within her nonetheless. He was alive and in front of her. Needed her now, whether he knew it or not.

“Shh,” she said, her voice gentling. “My love, no need for tears.”

She rung out a rag, sitting ready in a basin of cold water, and slowly came toward him. She made no effort to get dressed, because his eyes yet roamed her. He could have his fill while she leaned over and mopped his brow, the cool water soothing the heat of his tears. Her breasts swayed gently in his vision as she wiped the dirt and tears from his face, the scent of her skin filling his nostrils.

“Let me bathe you, John, and talk to me. Do not scream or lecture…talk.”

 

[Zagreus_D]

His were not histrionic tears. There was no exaggerated sobbing, no wailing, no straining against his bonds, nor distortion of his face. His tears fell quietly, audible only through his ragged rasp of breath, an echo of despair rising from his soul.

He did not weep long. His urgent expressive despair was quickly replaced by an exhausted defeat that lacked the energy for anything more strenuous than observation.

He watched her graceful motions, the gentle rise of her breasts over the valley of her belly, the pressing dance of her thighs, which threatened to part at any moment and reveal her most feminine delights.

He watched her, and felt the soothing press of the cool rag against his face, a tickling rivulet of water that dripped down his neck, the heat of her body sufficient to pass a fevered flush into his wherever she nearly touched him skin to skin.

He watched her, and his body reacted as a man's body is bound to react to the ministration of a woman such as Salome. His mouth became dry, his breath quickened, his rod thickened and swelled beneath his camel hair robe, the rough cloth a torment to the soft skin which craved the caress of a woman's silken slit.

He watched her and he spoke, though he had no idea what he meant to say, and so he listened to the sound of his own voice, calm and quiet but loaded with passive despair.

"What shall I say to you princess? Would you hear my confession? Would you offer me absolution? And if so, absolution from what? I do not seek forgiveness for what you have labeled my self-righteousness. I would choose the righteous path. I have chosen to reject you, and by the guidance of my soul I would reject you again, and again. All you have done is divided me against myself. My body and my will are no longer my own. You have stolen them from me, and will steal my mind and my soul if you are able. Do as you like. I have no will left with which to resist you."

The harder John fought against Salome the more keenly he felt the strangling twist of his own contradictions. The only hope he had of finding clarity in this captivity was to submit completely and hope that something remained of his mind and soul when the trial had passed.

 

[authorminx]

Salome gently washed his face, her hands conveying what she could not with words. She watched him as he watched her, seeing his eyes glaze and his robe rise. Her fingers found the cord that held it closed and danced around the knot.

“I have not stolen your will. Merely unlocked it. You cannot find peace, or answers, because you look in the wrong places.”

She deposited the rag back in the basin and untied the knot. His robe fell open, though not off, as his arms were still pinned by the shackles. She wanted to let him free, but could not yet be sure he would not hurt himself. She worried more about that than any harm that might come to her.

Salome did not try to hide her pleasure at looking upon his naked form, lanky and sculpted by his wanderings. The body of a seeker, a thinker, tortured by an unrequited need for one moment of peace and truth. A worthy partner in her quest for the heights of human experience. His cock, proudly defying his words, told her all that she needed to know about their destiny. Whatever they were both seeking, the other held the key. She would come to him willingly, even as he resisted.

“You are beautiful,” she murmured, stroking his hair. She took up the rag again, washing his chest, cleaning him of the dirt of his past life. Clearing away the molecules of his doubt. She let a thumb graze his nipple, the palm of her hand pressed against his beating heart. The other hand traversed his torso, taut and trembling. Her gaze drifted back to his groin, watched his cock jump as she touched him. Her eyes lingered; she wanted him to feel what it was like to be appreciated, desired. To feel the thrill of someone seeing you, recognizing your worth. She would give him what he had denied her. Salome’s dark eyes caressed him with a primal need, taking in his length and thickness, thinking about how it would feel to drive him into her and ride him to ecstasy. “Looking at you arouses me, John. You will slide into me so easily…think of it. Treat your parched imagination to a vision of it, how it will feel when we are joined as one.”

She rung out the rag once more, this time with warm water and a touch of lavender oil. Her fingernails grazed his straining hipbones, dallying before quite reaching her destination.

 

[Zagreus_D]

John was opened, exposed, with no option to retreat. From the moment that Salome parted his robe, John was unavoidably aware of her eyes on him. He had never stood under the scrutiny of a lust filled gaze before. Even when he had been young and sinful; he had looked at women with shameful desires in his heart, but he had never been the object of such.

It was strange to him that he did not feel cheapened or violated. He felt glorious, as if he might possess some radiance that could rival God's own.

It was a blasphemous thought, and a contradiction to all truth as John understood it. He was in fact a prisoner, a slave, property of a woman. He could not be any lower in rank than he was right now. Yet even through his years wandering the wilderness, when he was regarded far and wide as a holy man, he had not felt such a thing. He had never felt so worthy, or so holy. He certainly had not felt so glorious. How could it be that he should receive such a feeling from a sinful woman's wandering gaze? It was confounding, maddening, and yet somehow profound.

Her hands touched his body as she washed him. It was like an act of the most humble service, even though she had complete power over him. He saw himself then, like the icon of an ancient god (blasphemy), a statue standing still and stoic in a pagan temple being worshiped and tended by a devout priestess (shameful to think such things) who would worship him completely with both her body and her soul. How could he not willingly submit to such devotion? (Am I going mad?)

“Looking at you arouses me, John. You will slide into me so easily…think of it. Treat your parched imagination to a vision of it, how it will feel when we are joined as one.”

She spoke the words, and he could not help but think of it. His cock grew harder, more aroused, aching now with the intensity of his desire. His back arched as he strained against his chains, moaning low in his throat between panting breaths.

"Please." He whispered. He was not sure what he was asking for. (Not true)

"Please." He begged a little louder so that she might hear him, and offer him the relief he desired.

 

[authorminx]

Salome watched the play of emotions across John’s face, savoring the moments of his first surrender, of his barriers beginning to break. She felt a great affection for him in that moment, even as she remained overcome by lust. She was so wet, so ready, that she had to take a few breaths to stop herself from simply taking him, crudely and without elegance.

That would be the wrong decision. She knew she must be careful. It was a tightrope walk, this play of desire, but she felt confident she had the skill to see it through. His voice rasped, please, pleading and not to be set free from his chains. For her to set him free of his torture. She smiled, sultry, her kohl lined eyes large and keen.

“Yes, my love,” she said, reassuring him of the release on the horizon. “I will give you all you desire and more, even more than you can imagine.”

Finally, her slow washing of his lean body reached the part of him that strained for her. She wrapped the soft, fragrant muslin cloth around his shaft, a small moan of anticipation escaping her when she felt his girth for the very first time. Her thumb brushed the cloth over the head of his cock, cleansing and stimulating at the same time. Her eyes found his, her voice mesmerizing, low, and reverent.

“You are a king among men, John. My king. Behold your proud scepter as your queen worships it.”

Salome gently swept the cloth around his shaft, her ministrations as lithe and focused as the rest of the bathing. She felt him jump in her hand, felt his veins throb for her. She took her time, allowing him to watch as she silently venerated his cock. Then she knelt, her hard nipples brushing his thighs, sending a shock of pleasure through her. She lifted his balls, heavy with need, and washed the sensitive skin as she spoke.

“Here is what I know in my heart and soul. Any lover I took before you was merely in preparation for this, for you. To know best how to please you and teach you to please me. To prepare for our journey to immortality through each other.”

She bent her head, her long and silky black hair brushing his stomach. Her eyes caught his again, flashing, as she dropped the cloth and gripped his shaft. Her tongue snaked out, circling the head of his cock, making tiny loops.

“I want you inside of me, in every way possible, darling. But first I must have a taste…”

 

[Zagreus_D]

He felt certain that he was already going mad with wanting her, but he had not imagined that his desire and his madness had only just begun. He had begged her to pluck an unripened fruit from the vine, and he would have been content if she had done so. He was eager to surrender and thus end this unwelcomed bliss, but his mistress was too wondrous and too cruel to offer a quick and easy end to these delectable torments.

She wrapped his manhood in her wet perfumed cloth, and John sighed at the touch, rocking his hips against the delicate pressure of her shrouded hand, even though he felt embarrassed and grotesque in his movement, but Salome continued to deny him a quick release. She teased him, nursing his desires with her words and deeds, drawing his passion toward ripening, swelling his forbidden fruit with exotic juices that would not be allowed to spill until she judged him fit for harvest.

He was helpless to deny her and helpless to accelerate their encounter. He craved her. He hated her. He loved her. He cursed her. All of this played in the theater of his mind as she fondled his sensitive genitals.

She leaned forward. He felt the brush of her nipples, the tickle of her long hair against his skin, and then unspeakable, unthinkable, her tongue contacted his swollen head which dripped with fluid it could no longer contain. He cried out from shock and pleasure, trembling at the sensation. He had never imagined such sin, such depravity, but as she withdrew her tongue in order to speak, he knew that he had never wanted anything so desperately as he now wanted to be tasted once again.

 

[authorminx]

Salome wished she could read his mind. His expression, at turns pained and transported, needy and guilty, told her that his emotions had complicated depth. She could embody everything for him, and perhaps she already had, even before he got dragged through her door. She could be his confessor, his damner, his savior, his sanctuary, his villain and hero.

The sound she wrenched from him with the first swipe of her tongue was its own reward.

"Do not spill your seed until I tell you to, my darling," she said, fingernails again teasing along his hipbones. Though he seemed to instinctively know this, she wanted him to internalize that he obeyed her, gladly, even.

She licked the tip of his cock again, tasting the salt of his need, the fluid that he could not control. Then she tightened her grip a bit, stroking him, her thumb lubricating him with his own secretion. She raised her eyes, watching his face as her lips opened around his manhood. The tip slipped in, and she gave a soft suck, before taking him in another inch. Her mouth widened. Another inch. Then all the way down--he hit the back of her throat, her lips touched the skin of his groin.

She moaned and pulled back up. Her gaze left his, tongue swirling around his shaft as she took him in again. This she did for a few repetitions, wanting him to watch, feeling him shudder.

She sucked in her cheeks, breathing through her nose, and increased the pace. She wondered how long he could take this. Salome knew she could not keep it up too long; it only increased her need to be impaled upon him, to have him watch her cum before his own release.

 

[Zagreus_D]

His chest heaved with rasping breath. He tried to keep quiet, to maintain some semblance of self control, but each caress of her tongue, each pass of her velvet mouth over his throbbing shaft weakened him.

"Ughn... Mnnmm... Oh... Please..." Once the first weak vocalizations escaped from him, his voice began to rise, mounting the wave of pleasure. He moaned, and he begged, though he felt great shame for doing so. His shame somehow increased his arousal. He felt filthy, sullied with sin, but he could think of no punishment more suitable than this sensual degradation.

As the pleasure increased, as he struggled to hold back from release, he began to pull and thrash against his restraints. He did not know why he fought so hard to obey her command, he wanted to release the building pressure, to erupt into the sensual dark of her mouth, spilling over her tongue and down her throat, but her words had place an undeniable compulsion upon him, as if he were under a spell. He couldn't help but heed her wishes.

The sounds of pleasure became strangled in his chest, as he directed every ounce of his will to prevent his immanent orgasm.

 

[authorminx]

She eased off, drawing back slowly. She sensed he was near his breaking point and he had done so well holding back, she did not want him to feel as if he had failed. His cock slipped from her mouth, wet and throbbing from the attentions.

"So good, John..." Her voice remained steady and confident, though it was increasingly hard for her to appear calm. She wanted him, badly. "So very good, my love. I know you wanted to release in mouth. Next time, I promise. I will swallow every bit."

She stood again, brushing her hair back so that it did not cover her glorious breasts. She looked down at him, lithe body panting and trembling, a smile on her face. One hand dipped to her cunt, dripping. Just as ready as he was. It was time. She caressed his cheek.

"I have dreamt of this moment. I have envisioned it, my fingers working on myself in my bed."

She straddled him, reaching down to guide his throbbing member, running the tip over her slick lips. She shuddered with a bolt of pleasure when she positioned him at her entrance. She took a breath. Slow, she breathed in, slow.

"Tell me," she said, her hips rolling. The tip of his cock slid in her and she gasped, bit her lip. "Tell me that you are mine."

She placed her hands on his chest and sank down, sheathing him. A groan tore from her throat, so exquisite was the feeling of him for the first time, the way he stretched her and the way she surrounded him. She stilled, allowing the moment to expand for both of them, finding his eyes while she fondled and pinched her own nipples, forcing him to confront the naked vision of her on top of him. Sealing the image and feeling into his mind.

 

[Zagreus_D]

John inhaled the smell of her sex, potent and intoxicating on her fingers as she caressed his cheek.

He felt the magnetic pull of her yoni, beckoning him forward, and he longed to fill her and be fulfilled by her, but he could do nothing but wait.

She drew him in, but only to the tip, only a tease of the depth she possessed. He moaned against the torment of terrible anticipation. He pulled against his restraints but to no avail. He was at her mercy, forced to linger in the doorway to paradise but barred true entrance.

"Tell me that you are mine."

"No," John growled his response. Could she not see that she already possessed him beyond baring? And yet now she would demand to see him further humbled, further degraded. Would she be satisfied with nothing but the absolute conquest of him, mind and soul? It took all of the strength left in his will to deny her. "No Salome. This you shall not have. There are some things you may take from me, whether I will it or no, but I will not consent to be your willing slave. I am a man of heavenly purpose. I do not belong to any power on earth. I am not yours." His words came strong and low and full of venom, yet his body trembled, feverish with desire, tense upon the precipice of physical surrender.

 

[authorminx]

A wave of sadness crashed over Salome and she could only hope it did not show on her face. She angled her hips and thrust down, pushing him deep. He throbbed in her, yet he still could not see her. Perhaps he never would. Perhaps she had gone to such great lengths for a man who would never return the full force of her feelings. She was not unaffected by his slings and barbs, they hit their true target. Though it would mean nothing to him, he wounded her. There was no solace for Salome; no, never.

She could have anyone she wanted. He wanted no one.

Her hand snaked up to his throat. If he would not return her love, he would face her anger. Her fingers closed, squeezed. Hard.

"Oh? Most holy brother John? You cannot come back from us."

She pumped, hips working him in and out with ease, her slickness coating him. She stilled again, her hand slipping from his throat, his cock deep inside her.

"I should leave you like this. Without release."