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She hesitates in front of the door; as always.
Knows that she must enter.
Has to give pleasure, and can. Wants to. And yet - hesitates.
To give is joy. To be able to give joy is plight. Pleasure in plight?
She laughs scornfully at herself. Why not be a thoughtless, playful, giving girl, a true woman? And why not admit that to give pleasure is to have pleasure, and that to have pleasure you must create it.
As always, scared; this uncertainty who, and what, awaits her behind a door. This time, this door, but so many doors before. So many doors; so many Men. With their dreams, fantasies, demands, desperate urge, which somebody must fulfill if the world is going to be a good place. Why this girl? Why this door? Why this Man?
Well, just because it is that way. this girl can, then this girl must. And she will. As always, this girl is not afraid.
She lifts her long thick dark hair to open the buttons at her shoulders and lets the spider web thin dress float slowly down her body, enjoying the feeling of agile manifestation of true feminism. She steps out of it, hands still over her head, holding hair up. Laughs at herself, and lets go of hair, so it cascades down her soft, strong, slender, suntanned body; kicks off shoes, and opens the door.
She enters the room. Naked, except for the gold anklet that she always wears. She sees Him inside, this new young Man whom she hardly knows yet, who created this door, this room, and what is to take place. The One to be given to, the One to please. She's slightly scared, as always, and not afraid, as always.
"Welcome" He smiles.
The room is dark, lit only by candles. There must be many, but in the dim it's hard to count them.
He kisses her, and of course she kisses back - to give the pleasure He so desires and probably needs, of two souls meeting, dancing, intertwining on each other's lips.
It's nice.
His hands searching, probing, feeling, sensing her body. Good, warm, soft, firm hands; one of them taking her left one and leading her forward into the room. She let's herself be taken forward, hand in hand, gently laughing into His eyes.
Now, with eyes adjusted to the dim - even all these candles (perhaps fifty, perhaps more) do not allow the contours of the room to be clear. But not much is there, a bed, a table, and in a huge, gold-framed mirror the two naked figures of which one is hers.
First she looks at Him, His eyes burning with eager and delight, His juvenile body, His half-erected manhood. Suddenly, a feeling of compassion, care… some very female feeling for which no male words exist - is thundering in her brain, making her smile warmly into His eyes. Then she looks at the table; she is not really concerned but tries to stare wide-eyed, as this is what she's certain He'd most of all want her to do right now.
On the table there is a silken cloth glimmering in the candlelight, obviously a covering. The forms underneath the cover she can not make out, but she smiles. she knows she'll feel them all shortly, that she will feel them very intimately - and that He wants this smile of hers. So, she smiles, even if she's scared - not afraid, never; because whatever is hidden there will be the implements of His dream, and she has chosen to be here to make that dream come true.
On top of the covering are two things: a single red rose, and a blindfold. she wonders - symbolism of blind love, or love blindly given, or… Anyhow, this she likes and feels warmer.
"Put on the blindfold," He orders.
With a slight dizziness in her head, she walks to the table, cruelly aware of the projecting created by the vivid flames licking her body, and of His eager eyes groping - no, caressing her body.
She takes on the velvet blindfold, carefully ensuring that her long thick dark hair still cascades freely down her slender body.
"Walk towards me," He commands from somewhere in the room.
Now, where is that… Mobilizing all her senses, her ears listening for the violent pulse of His male blood, her nose tryingly scenting for His male sweat… she walks in His direction, smiling gently, and her body suddenly meets His.
He wants to kiss, and she kisses back as she must, and relishes therein. Embracing Him closely, feeling one of His strong arms around her waist, squeezing His hard body so close to hers that it hurts joyfully; one of His hands in her long thick dark longhair, fondling it with passion.
Oh, He feels passion... must be kissed. But, He's playing, she must play back, opens her lips for His bite.
she feels His eager hands everywhere, His teeth biting, soft sweet pain…
Then - nothing, alone in the middle of dark nowhere.
All she can do is smile. Scared again (but not afraid), because when Men leave a girl alone, the next impact may be terrible indeed. And even worse, if no next comes.
Suddenly, the chill of His warm breath against her neck - she trembles and feels cold steams cascading from her neck down over all her body, to meet where hot streams unite to make her tremble.
Now, she's breathless, now she feels death, danger, fear… of joy. And she must laugh, but so very gently.
she can not help it, another kiss may save her, she leans her head back, mouth half open, eyes half closed behind the blindfold.
His hand is caressing her long thick dark hair - They all adore that and she wonders why, as so often.
He whispers in her ear "No handcuffs, no restraints, you are here because you want to. If you want to stay, stand here, spread your legs, and don't move."
she smiles; He's absolutely right, this girl is here because she wants to, must, has to, shall, will…
and she shows her consent by slowly parting her legs, as requested. Oh, this feeling of doing for Him, for a Man, what He thinks He needs and wants, to bestow Him pleasure…
Again, nothing - this girl is alone. But she feels certain that more is to happen, and without thinking about what, the mere thought of whatever makes her warm, wet, and happy. Carefully, she stands on her toes, letting patterns of muscle contractions run up and down her body, to please His eyes.
Suddenly, something soft, gentle… something not like a Male hand, something softer than a girl's tongue… must be petals of the rose, she understands. On her neck, at the nipples, at her throat, between her legs, caressing her burning lower lips, like the soft tongue of a kitten… makes her soar.
Suddenly He beats her, as He should… This feeling of warmth, inside, deep in soul, and on backside where a Man's hand hit…
She can't help but smiling happily.
Then, suddenly something is slightly ripping her breasts… again this feeling of being scared, not afraid, and a tense pleasure… ripping between her legs… what? What is it… danger? And then… knowing it's only thorns of the rose, the bitter with the sweat, as He enjoys it.
Kissing Him hard, so He'll stop torturing with the thorns, and for some strange reason feeling her lips swell eagerly, mourning softly, embracing Him firmly, pressing one of His strong legs between hers, and upwards.
But then, He's away again. she is forced to, must wait.
Something soft…silky; caressing her lips, and she kisses it, now recognizing the cover from the table; then caressing her other lips, so wet; becomes cool, as this wetness is taken away, into it. It wraps around her leg, caressing her bottom with the now coolness of her own wet warm lips.... then she feels two fingers enter her. They are hard, and they brutally thrust in. she jerks ... whimpering... a tear from her left eye escapes the blindfold as she bites her lip.
She feels Him thrusting into her, hard. Each time a bit harder, another finger enters.... she feels faint, but He stops.
For a second she's angry, feels cheated; then remembers that she is here to give Him pleasure, He is not here to give to her; so she smiles and waits.
Feeling His eager breath on her lips she leans forward to kiss Him, soft warm lips open. His eager, thick tongue enters her mouth, and He does taste sweetly, with the innocence of a youthful meadow; so she eagerly licks His tongue, catching it behind her teeth. she must smile to Him, even if she can not see, even with mouth full…
Again, suddenly He's away, and she must wait. Not afraid, never, and this time not even scared; just with a small smile of anticipation.
Something violently cold, aggressively at her left nipple. she gasps, she shudders - and still it circles her nipple, her naked soul. she feels the nipple growing, not only hard, but harder, bigger than ever. Inside, she blushes at the thought of this firm berry, to be eaten… inside she blushes so very much.
Then, something warm, caring, engulfing it carefully… She feels like screaming, but does not… just whispers softly some words, which He does not hear, or hears as a mumble.
And as it goes from one nipple to the other, and back, she submerges into an ocean of untold joy.
Then, nothing. Alone again? But….
A crack licks fire over one breast. What is this? Another wild pain over the other… She says nothing, just firmly closes her eyes behind the blindfold, and bites her lip at the sudden twofold, stinging pain.
Then, His lips, His tongue eager to caress away the pain.
He feels guilt? Is eager to camouflage with tenderness His true desire to hurt?
A huge, warm quell overcomes her, and she happily kisses Him back, as He leans over.
"Time for bed," He says.
she just nods but can't help smiling.
she takes His hand, even if He thinks that He takes hers, and He leads her to the bed.
"On your stomach, I still haven't spanked you," He says; and she smiles.
she slowly stretches out, like a cat. Pulling her muscles tight across the satin sheet, doing her best to look as attractive as at all possible.
He kisses the back of her neck, He runs His fingers up and down her back.... dragging His nails down to her bottom.... feeling the wetness between her legs. He runs His fingers up and down her lips... she moans softly. He runs His fingers on her back again, letting her feel the wetness of herself...
Violent sound, and violent pain makes her contract all her body, sucking air in between clenched teeth, feeling His eager hand between wet warm lips.
His finger enters her ... slowly. Entering.... while His other hand caresses her soft hair. In ... out... slowly.... nails on her back.... on her neck ... the violent sound again, a feeling of biting warmth, and then the pain.
Taking her with His fingers as He drags His nails on her bottom... the feeling of a gentle kiss as hands strike her body.
"Time for me to be inside you, on your knees."
So He commands. And she laughs softly, as she rises up to her knees... exposing her tight wetness to Him.
He gets behind her, rubs His hardness on her lips... smooth...wet.... He and she moan in unison. He enters her, thrusting deep. He catches her waist...He grabs her, plows harder into her. Forcing Himself deep into her... nails digging into her hips.
Dizzy with joy, emancipated with giving, she whimpers gently.
WHACK, the sound of another spank… more, louder and louder, faster, harder and harder... The sound, the warmth, the pain makes her squirm, tossing long thick dark hair around, makes her sing out in joy and fulfillment, makes her cry like the little girl she is.
She trembles, shakes all over.
He hits her harder, ever harder, and faster, pain and warmth and pleasure and joy and life… it all grows. Being the girl of a Man, being what a girl must be, the joy victim of strength…
She screams softly, not of pain nor of fear…
Then, she deliberately lowers her body over Him, starting to suck Him with her lower mouth, carefully, considerately… This feeling of pride, being actually able to do.
Lie still, Mylord, just relish, this girl can do it, and will!
More pain? as Mylord pleases, this girl can drink oceans of pain, and will do so with pleasure, Sir…
To explode is very easy, from such enjoyable pain, and to tremble, again and again…
Spent, so she is, that's what is her gift - to give and to be spent.
But You say, that we're not done yet, Sir.
Your silken hair please, He says.
She gently wraps His Manhood into her long thick dark hair, wet with her sweat of ecstasy, teasing Him into another effort, enjoying His salty explosions over her hair and into her face; carefully licking every last drop, swallowing it as the true gift it is.
They lay together.... on their sides... His arm around her waist. Smiling, peaceful.... He kisses her neck, and removes her blindfold so He may dive into her big brown eyes... and they kiss again...
She smiles and gently mumbles.
His answer is but deep breathing.
Very carefully she gets up; looks at Him with starlight in big brown eyes alike the gleam of care in the eyes of a mother. Then she silently moves around in the room, blowing out the candles one by one.
In the darkness nothing is to be seen, until quietly she opens the door, so silvery moonlight and freshness of rainy grass wells in together with a symphony of nightingales singing.
Turning around at the threshold, she puts the rose behind her left ear and sends Him a soundless fingerkiss.
The door closes behind her.
In the room is darkness, the sound of soft snoring, and the gradually evaporating scent of true woman.
Soon, day will dawn to put its question. |
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