|
Cold Iron
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
Subject: Cold Iron
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Though I'm not surprised to see this newsgroup quoting Kipling, I was a
little surprised that it was "Danegeld," (on the gay rights thread). I've
always found this a bit more appropriate.
Gold for the mistress, silver for the maid,
Copper for the craftsman, cunning at his trade.
"Aye," said the baron, sitting in his hall,
"But Iron, Cold Iron, shall be master of them all."
I was kneeling in Sasha's room, with my muffler tied over my eyes. I leaned
into his caress, wanting more. He pulled away. I heard his footsteps cross
the room, and the window creaked open. The wind bit my skin, smelling of
snow and making me very aware that I was naked.
Then the window was closed and Sasha was beside me again, his hand cool on
the hollow of my throat. I trembled a little bit, tensing for a blow that
never came. The chain felt like ice around my neck, quickly locked in place
and draining heat from my body. My hands and feet were not restrained, but
I knew I was helpless as Sasha pulled the cold chain along my spine. He
wrapped it tight between my legs, and the cold burned against the heat of
my body. I almost cried out with the shock of it, but Sasha kissed me hard
while he tugged the metal tighter into the crack of my ass. The end of
the chain stretched up across my chest and was locked to the collar.
Melting snow dripped and mingled with my sweat as Sasha's hands warmed me
again.
"Stand up. I want you bent over my knee." I tipped my head back as if to
stare at him through the blindfold. I didn't think I could move. But with
a few slaps to encourage me, I managed it. The slightest movement seemed to
press hot, sore skin against a new (previously untouched, therefore much
colder) link of the chain. I was moaning with helpless delight by the time
I was arranged to his satisfaction. The pressure of his knee seemed to
grind the metal harder against my body, and I froze, afraid my squirming
would force me into even more painful contact with the chain.
My head was down, and everything I felt had a supernatural clarity in the
darkness. Cold iron was supposed to inhibit magic, but it seemed like ours
was burning even brighter than usual. I didn't have long to think about it,
before Sasha distracted me with a spanking. I think he used a ruler, something
flat and stiff, forcing me to squirm against him and against the rapidly
warming chain. I tried not to struggle, but couldn't help clenching my
buttocks, pressing unbelievably sensitive skin against unyielding metal. My
ass burned, inside and out, and I started wriggling in earnest. Sasha
finally stopped hitting me, and looped his hand in the chain at the small
of my back, pulling it tighter than I thought possible.
What I felt was so complicated, so overwhelming, that I think I blacked out
for a moment. Then I was on Sasha's bed, the chain around my neck released,
still warm against my shoulder. The muffler was gone. I focused on Sasha
(with some difficulty), smiled at him, thanked him. I was warm and safe in
his arms, gentle hands and voice soothing after the harsh touch of iron.
Adrian.
|
|
