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Dark Passion (B&D)
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.
DARK PASSION
She lay across the low padded bench, arms outstretched,
chained bracelets holding her in place. Knees on the floor,
lashed down to the sides of the bench, spread wide, her gown
pulled up above her bottom exposing all of her pleasures. Her
skin glistened with sweat from the heat of the firelight and her
own trembling. Her hair was bound up on her head, showing the
graceful curves of her neck and shoulders.
He had left her like this, after first forcing her to strip
naked in front of him. He had put the collar and bracelets on
her, his eyes holding her in a trance, attaching the chains of
bondage.
At his command, she knelt before him. Her slender hands
trembled as she reached up to part the folds of his robe. Her
mouth slack, she wet her lips as her eyes remained fixed on his
erection.
He had made her ask, made her ask to take him into her
mouth. Finally he had consented and slowly her hands caressed
him, chains faintly clinking, fingers wrapping around firmly, one
hand cradling and gripping beneath, to draw him deep within, hot
and firm within, as deeply as she could manage.
His hands drew her from him and he pulled her to her feet.
He told her to put on her finest nightgown, and after the silken
folds had settled over her figure, motioned her to the bench. He
locked her bracelets together and grasping the chains at her
collar, forced her to her knees, this time before the bench. He
drew her down, stretched her out, arms first, across the bench
and chained her into place. He bound her legs at the knee to the
legs of the bench, drawing her thighs apart. Slowly, ever so,
his hands raised the silken gown. Gently, it slid along her skin
until the folds rested piled up on the small of her back. The
same hands freely felt her, felt her silken curves and warm
softness and discovered that she was very, very wet.
He said, "I am pleased." rose and left her waiting and
wanting his return.
Silently, he crossed behind her, and with no forewarning,
his hands spread her thighs and his erection slid deep within
her. She made soft sounds at the feel of it, the pleasure
stretched her with a slight edge of pain. Then just as suddenly
he withdrew, leaving her for the moment empty and wanting, her
breath coming quick and shallow.
His fingers closed over her hair and pulled her head up from
the bench. His eyes again held her mind as the chains held her
body, in bondage. His mouth drew closer as her lips parted in
anticipation, then her mouth was covered with his, open to his
forceful searching tongue. As he drew away, his hand came up to
her face holding a leather whip.
The handle was dark, decorated with white ropework and brass
rings. A cat-o-nine tails, it swayed gently in his hand in the
firelight.
Her eyes widened slightly but remained fixed on the whip as
he brought it closer. He caressed her face with it, drawing it
across her cheekbones and down her throat to her breasts. She
felt it's smooth softness and inhaled the scent, the touch of
leather a velvet threat.
Slowly, lingeringly, the leather strands slid across her
nipples, straining erect under the touch.
He stood, straddled the bench and with one hand guided his
erect phallus to her mouth with the whip. He stroked deeply
within. She was held fast, arms and legs contracting against her
bonds. Her excitement flowed, hot and trembling, from deep with-
in.
The whip lightly struck her bottom and remained there, the
leather strips trailing across the sensitive skin. It struck
again, lightly as he thrust hard into her mouth.
He stood back, moved around her, gazing deeply at every
curve and valley of her bound figure.
Softly, a kiss where before the whip had fallen. A warm,
wet tongue licked and kissed it's way to her wet heat, toward her
center, stoking her trembling fire, almost to the breaking point,
and then was still. He rose, and placing the head of his erec-
tion at her entrance, was quickly deep within her, stretching
her, filling her deep.
Within her, he played the whip slowly across her back and
bottom. She felt the strands slide across her skin, the leather
creaking softly as it moved in his hand. She felt the cold brass
rings in the handle when he reached underneath to caress her
stomach and breasts. The handle brushed across her nipple and
pressed against warm softness in contrasting sensations.
He began. Long, slow strokes, hard strokes. Strong hands
roughly grasping her hips, he pulled himself deep, driving her
body into the padded bench. She shook with the force that pound-
ed her body, face to the bench, arms straining against the bonds
about her slender wrists.
The shock waves caused her hair to fall, soft about her
face, covering her lips drawn back in passionate strain.
The force within and without was building, each thrust
driving her higher until the peak came, and came, she clenched
and straining, begging him please no more, but he did not cease
until his heat had blossomed deep within her.
He released her from the bench and drew her to her feet.
Her hands still bound, he led her to the bed, raised her arms up
to behind her head and bound them to the bedpost.
She leaned back against the bedpost, body slack and open
after her release. A drug-like trance filled her and deep mov-
ing, trembling sensations flowed over and through her body.
Slowly awareness returned and she saw him moving about the room
in preparation, black silken robe flowing in the firelight.
Her gaze was caught by her own reflection in the mirror
behind him. Slender arms bound in bracelets above her head, hair
in wild disarray, deep shadows about her face. The flickering
firelight danced and played about her breasts and strong thighs,
casting her figure in sharp relief, a shadowed, sensuous lady in
the night.
He sat back in the chair, legs crossed, sipping a glass of
wine. His fingers played around the lip of the glass and his
eyes slowly caressed her body, missing nothing. He covered her
every inch, took in all.
Never before had she felt so exposed, so naked, and as her
eyes dropped from his he softly laughed, enjoying her feeling.
He rose, lowered her hands and locked them together before
her, and returned to his seat. "Now," he said, "Take one step
toward me and turn around...slowly. No, do not cover yourself,
let me see you. Let me look at every part of you, every curve.
Show me...everything. Now."
The tension in her stomach grew under his gaze and as she
fought to control her trembling hands she turned. Slowly, ever
so, she turned, her awareness of his gaze intense, feeling the
exposed side of her body like a summer chill.
As her eyes returned to his she saw the whip, slender dark
and menacing in his hands.
He opened his robe. "Now kneel...and take me in your
mouth." She did so, eyes closed as her bound hands reached for
him.
He felt hot in her hand, and as she leaned forward doing as
he wished, she again felt the whip, this time it softly slapped
against her back and shoulders. She heard his voice above her
head, softly, "Do well, my lady, for later you shall be well
rewarded." His hands caressed her head, rubbing her temples and
the back of her neck and shoulders as she took him deep. He
lifted her head.
He put the whip around her neck and pulled her up to him.
She closed her eyes as she felt the rigid heat against her be-
tween her breasts. He leaned forward to kiss her, long and
searching, his tongue moving in gentle caresses. Slowly, he
kissed her, lingering on every movement, capturing her, surround-
ing her, enveloping her with a gossamer veil as if time seemed to
slow, flowing like honey. She lost track of time and space. A
slow fire began to burn low down in her belly. Different from a
quick flare of passion, this heat was slow-building and deep, the
kind of fire that builds white-hot coals, a searing heat, a shim-
mering white heat from a furnace of molten lava. The heat of a
woman whose nerves are filled with flowing fire.
He released her, and as the tension in her body burned, he
reached one hand up to her face and caressed her flushed cheek-
bone. His hand felt cool upon her face. Her mouth hung slightly
open. Her hands slowly ran up either thigh and met in the middle
to grip him once again. She pumped once, twice, thrice before
her head bowed once again and she engulfed him in her mouth, a
wisp of hair hanging down over her forehead and across her hol-
lowed cheeks. Deep she took him, drawing him down into her
mouth, her hands running everywhere, sliding, gripping, kneading,
fingers searching for ways to release. She was no longer her-
self. She was a firechild, out of control, a berserker warrior-
woman holding nothing back in the battling that was the cresting
wave of the moment. Her soul wailed like a banshee flowing
through her mind like the molten lava flowing between her legs.
He pulled her hands from him and placed them behind her
head. Reaching down, he grasped her breasts, roughly, and lifted
her to her feet. She could barely stand, but there was no need,
for he lashed her to the tall bedpost, her hands raised above her
head, the soft ropes crisscrossing across her chest and between
her thighs, holding her open wide for him to see. She sagged
against the ropes, the wet heat flowing out of her.
He reached into a small wooden chest and brought out two
small clamps connected by a chain. She stared at them, thinking
that he couldn't mean to do what her suddenly burning erect
nipples told her he was going to do. He slowly reached for her
nipples and squeezed them.
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