The Bavarian Hunter, a gast haus owned by friends, is as familiar to all of us as our own homes. Veronica glances around at the nine of them, sitting on the huge open deck next to a blazing fire. Surrounded by the glow of good friends, good wine and wonderful conversation, she basks in contentment, sprawled lazily, belly down, on a long wooden bench, happy that all is well with the world.
It is sheer irony that her world is poised on a cusp, completely unknown to her.
She turns her face away from the heat of the fire, glancing out at the horses. Indigo's white blaze glows eerily from the middle of the grassy field, the rest of his black body disappearing into the shadows, liquid eyes reflecting golden in the shimmering firelight. Watching him approach as if sensing her thoughts he ducks his big head low to the bars, back and forth, a low, quiet rumble, one of greeting that issues quietly through the crisp night air.
Startled, she realizes shes had far more wine than is normally her habit, her senses taking several moments to focus on the dark form sitting on the bottom rail of the fence. She can see the ghostly pale of a palm, reaching out to stroke the sleek black nose lightly, and in a momentary flare of the fire she can see the other hand wrapped around something round. Something sweet and edible to judge from Indy's greedy acceptance and soft, grumbled whicker.
He blends with the shadows nearly as well as the horse, his black jeans and dark blue shirt making him almost invisible, the only thing giving him away is the white band of beads around the tops of his moccasins. Shes been admiring the moccasins all evening; long, knee high and obviously hand beaded with traditional Sioux patterns in greens, blues and blacks.
They'd gone to college together, just like everyone here tonight, but had always shared ties that brought them closer, intimately closer and, sadly, had separated them from each other in the end. One was an interest in Native American traditions and culture, the other a heartfelt compassion for the plight of the North American timber wolf.
They'd wound up pursuing their interests in different directions, Stosh heading out to the Nez Perce country (Idaho) to rejuvenate the dying wolf population on tribal lands. She'd chosen to pursue the University's study program in the Boundary Waters, studying breeding habits, habitat and population of the magnificent beast in northern Minnesota.
She'd been late, as usual; or more accurately, later than usual, riding in an hour after the party started, but still in plenty of time for cocktails. She'd freed Indigo from his gear and into the paddock, piling everything on the hitching post and leaned up against the fence for a moment, enjoying Indigos playful abandon with LeeAnnes mare Beauty, when muscular arms slipped around her waist squeezing lightly, strong hands pinning her smaller hands to the fence on each side of their bodies. She'd cried out, softly, startled, Indigos head turning in their direction, ears going flat to his head as he barreled past Beauty in her direction. She'd felt warm lips nuzzle the tender skin of her neck and arched backwards, turning her head toward the figure behind her.
"Stand still." The quiet decisive command issued between them in tones as familiar as her own, her body recognizing them as well. She also registered intriguing differences in bulk and mass, relaxing into his grip as Indigo pulled to an outraged halt in front of them. With both hands pinned to the rail her resources were limited to a soft, soothing voice and the gentle blow of her breath against flaring equine nostrils, her eyes staring intently into the distrustfully rolling black eyes in front of her.
"What a beautiful animal," she was amused to hear his tone, but not surprised. Indy was a stud with a rare blend of temperament and striking good looks, just like the man behind her.
"Well, thank you Sir," Veronica's playful voice teased with a faux southern drawl, turning his statement into a double entendre as she twisted in his grip toward him, her back against the rough wood of the corral. There was, for just a moment, a gleam she didn't understand deep in his eyes, and then it disappeared.
"You never could follow directions and I was talking about the horse behind you," his voice, amused and confident, was deeper than she remembered, and held an inflection she didnt quite know how to take. His grip opened to accommodate her new position, tightening around her wrists briefly before he dropped them altogether. A small part of her shivered, regretting the loss of his touch.
Indigo's heavy breathing blew her long blonde hair into disarray while he settled his jaw lightly against her head, turning huge malevolent eyes on Stosh with open hostility. "Compliments will get you nowhere with this beast," she laughed, turning to the right and kissing Indys velvet muzzle. " I think he's jealous."
"He's yours?" His eyes never left the horses, his stare just as intent as Indigo's while he raised a hand slowly toward his nose. Her own rose with his in concern before his stiffened posture made her retract it. Surprisingly, Indy allowed his touch, once, before he shook him off and headed back toward Beauty.
"Well, I guess I'm kind of his, really." Another chuckle and she watched in fascination as Stosh's eyes turned to hers, intently, searching, before his mouth turned up at the corners, laughter lighting those deep black eyes; his smile, the white teeth gleaming against copper skin, perfect and stunning.
"You were always so independent, I can't believe I'm hearing that from you." Somehow, the amusement in those eyes contained the hint of something, a shadow unknown and unrecognized and it brought a thrill of excitement coursing through her senses.
"Well, he's bigger than I am." She shrugged, brushing away the twinge of unease, unsettled.
"Is that what it takes?" Now, definitely, there was meaning between the lines as his eyes searched hers deeply for a moment, finally pulling back and away with a sigh. "Come on, youre late as usual," his tone was neutral, one hand grabbed hers pulling her toward the deck, two strides to his one.
Rounding the upper landing, his body swung into hers, lithesome and graceful like a predator, his face descending in a brief, hungry kiss. " I've missed you, Kashna." The old endearment brings a lump to her throat - Lakhota for beloved - and then the group welcomed them.
~ Gazing quietly up into the night sky from her sprawl she reflects sadly how little they'd said to each other since then. Reaching for her wineglass she picks it up foolishly by the rim, staring into space, and of course it breaks, a shard cutting deeply into the soft flesh of her thumb. Jerking her hand away with a startled gasp of dismay, she drops the remaining pieces. As they fall, Stoshs tall, masculine form appears like a ghost at her side, one powerful hand grabbing her wrist. Her senses flood with confusion, realizing hed climbed the decking in front of her to appear so suddenly and that hed been watching her from the shadows.
"Let me see." His voice is tight with concern as he kneels beside her, strong fingers stroking her wrist soothingly as he uncurls her fingers from their protective wrap around the damaged digit.
Veronica looks at him, surprise and a shy happy glow lighting her features. God she misses his touch. His fingers are delicate, opening her clenched hand gently, eyes focusing on the half inch slice across the tip of her thumb, a splinter of glass shining from within the cut. She eyes the shard with concern, pulling back against his grip and he tightens his fingers, staying her hand. "Hold still girl. Its not deep, but theres glass inside it yet. Stay put."
Rising in an easy, fluid movement he disappears inside returning quickly with a band-aid and a bottle of peroxide. "Trust me?" His voice holds that amused note again, but his eyes are intent.
"As always, do your worst." She closes her eyes thinking he has always known what to say and how, to get the reaction hes looking for...she just wishes she knew what it was he was looking for, in her, tonight.
The whole process was quick, almost painless, the peroxide cold and soothing, his fingers wrapping the band-aid around it before she even opens her eyes.
Rolling on her side on the bench, his face now only inches from hers she watches his smile as he hears her breath audibly catch while he lowers his face to hers. She parts her lips slowly, hoping to prolong the kiss, his teeth lightly biting her full bottom lip before his tongue brushes hers. Stoshs hands on her shoulders are hot, easing her onto her back as the kiss deepens, soft moans spilling from her mouth to his. His fingers, warm and rough with calluses, grip the curves of her shoulders before traveling over the soft skin of her throat, circling it with both hands, then dropping firmly to each breast, squeezing lightly. She trembles beneath an onslaught of old feelings and new ones, her mouth eager on his, his lips sending shudders of aching need shimmering through her belly.
"Hah! I told you so!" LeeAnnes voice, clear and amused, echoes across the deck from the other side of the fireplace.
"What took you so long, you old coyote?" The voice of the young man who arrived later, one of Stosh's friends, drifts up softly, a little closer to them.
Breaking the kiss, his eyes mirror her desire and reflect his reluctance to do so above a wry smile of chagrin. Stosh's warm hand grabs hers, pulling her up to a sitting position, squeezing her uninjured hand, a promise of more to come, his other hand splayed across her lower belly as if sensing the heat pooling there. His thumb, lost in the dark shadows of the night, presses lightly against the apex of her thighs, finding with old, familiar skill, the sensual button at the crown of her sex and turning it on in one small stroke. Her eyes widen, pinned to his, the soft twinge of pain from her bandaged thumb radiating upwards, mingling with a pleasure so sudden and so intense that her eyes widen in helpless response, kiss swollen lips parting in a low moan. He watches intently as each emotion plays over her face, the chemistry apparent to all, and again, something unspoken but vibrant with promise, a gleam that beckons from his narrowed eyes.
"Alright, you two, get a room!" Ricks baritone boomed from beside his wife.
"Maybe you're the one that needs to get a room, and perhaps I wont let you out until you look at me like that!" LeeAnnes sweet laughter teases Rick, easing the tension on deck.
A rueful grin wreaths Stoshs face as his eyes drop to his rampant condition, pulling her own glance in the same direction, her lips curving gently into a teasing smile, feeling the wetness that dampens her own jeans. He lifts her up in a smooth movement, setting her on his lap to hide the evidence, fueling their frustration only further before lifting her to her feet before him.
"Lets move closer to the fire. You first, " his whisper flows into the chaos of tangles that is her hair, strong fingers firm at the belt loops at her waist, following closely behind.
"Is it time to sing?" her voice, husky with desire, asks above Seuss's burst of laughter at our predicament. Brandon's groan and the sounds of a gentle slap from his wife and the buckles of a guitar case opening follow. Veronica grabs a horse blanket from the railing, noticing for the first time that the temperature has fallen and they settle into an empty spot around the fireplace.
The wine flows freely and favorite songs come back to life, with them old stories reappear, exaggerated with yet another telling, warm laughter spilling over everyone. They'd settled, sitting on the deck, Stosh's long legs on either side of her own, his arms circling her waist, his seductive baritone and warm breath teasing the delicate flesh on the nape of her neck, the blanket covering them both as she wiggled her way closer to the enticing bulge pressed firmly against her round bottom.
"Witch," the soft hiss and not so gentle nip of his teeth at her neck makes her ache.
She raises her knees, one hand disappearing beneath the blanket, settling over one strong hand, guiding his fingers as he unbuttons her jeans before she places his palm on her bared belly.
His fingertips caress her lightly once, and stop. She glances back at him, his eyes glowing, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Ask me," he mouths soundlessly.
She runs her other hand between their bodies, taunting the masculine thrust behind her, an impish grin lighting her eyes as she mouths back "why?". With a frown marring his brow, he grabs her hand, leading it back toward the other guiding her hand down her own belly.
"Touch yourself," he whispers, his hand like steel on top of hers.
Hesitant and slightly cowed by the tone of voice and the pressure of his fingers she slid her palm lower, the hard grip of his fingers over hers guiding her impatiently. With three strong masculine fingers holding her own together she is helpless to do much more than slide them lightly over her clit, the moisture beading them bringing a soft blush to her cheeks and a gleam of satisfaction to his eyes.
Slowly, with daunting pressure, he pushes her fingers lower until they slide over the slick wet folds of her labia. She shivers beneath his touch, her sex aching, her clit swollen and begging. She whimpers, softly, so softly, her eyes finding his, pleading and watching his silent words ask me.
Shaking her head, she drops her eyes, blushing and his lips descend to her ear, his legs widening their stance, her own widening with them. With a slow, rhythmic pressure his palm compels hers, its surface riding over the hungry swell of her clit, taunting the fire in her belly to fierce arousal but satisfying little.
"More?" the tension in his voice isnt lost to her or the press of his rampant masculinity thrusting at her from behind and she nods, wordless, pleading with him.
Suddenly his fingers, long, strong and thick, press between hers, his palm pressing cruelly against hers. The slide of those digits against the wet folds of her labia, slipping further, pressing more intimately to rest tauntingly against the entrance to her sex as he strokes that sweet, wet opening is nearly too much.
She gasps, but his own inhalation as his fingers slide through her heat and he recognizes the level of her arousal is gratifying to an unbelievable degree, making her grin.
"Still want me to ask?" very very quietly she whispers the words, yelping softly at their effect.
"Before we are finished, you will plead, Veri." His teeth nip her ear roughly, the clench of his jaw apparent as it rests against her temple. Her eyes meet his and she feels her breath stop, lost in a pool of hunger and some elemental force she is unable to interpret.
A blush stains her cheeks, his words, forceful and determined, stroke a part of her that had lain dormant deep inside. " Let's go home," she whispers urgently, her mind and body a blazing flame of arousal.
"We need to talk, Veronica, we are not the same people we were four years ago." His hands zip and button her jeans as he speaks.
"You're not married, are you?" A groan, half frustration and half crushing disappointment, escapes her.
"I'm not married. Come, we'll go talk. You can take me for a ride on that beautiful animal of yours." He raises his eyes to the group, smiling his stunning smile and standing sensuously, pulling her up in front of him. Their goodnights are met with winks, happy smiles and ribald jokes that have her blushing, the firm thrust of him at her backside doing nothing to lessen the heat within.
They saddle Indigo in silence, Stosh swinging her up, following in a ripple of lithe muscle to sit behind her.
"Nice gear," his long fingers caressing the stiff leather of the reins," I dont remember you preferring the western style." He holds the seven-foot leads easily in one big hand, resting it on her right thigh, his other hand tucked between her legs, the horses rhythm rocking it against her clit, his teeth nibbling an earlobe.
"Mmmmmm, thats nice." she whispers, distracted by the cool evening air chilling the damp fabric beneath his fingers, the hot and cold a definite contrast.
"I meant what I said earlier,.I will have you, begging and pleading or not at all." His growl next to her ear makes her melt a little more.
"Tell me how things are different?"
"I live a D/s lifestyle now, Veri."
You mean, like, whips and chains and things? She turns her limpid eyes to him, wide in disbelief, staring in bewilderment.
"Like pleasure and pain, yes." As he says the word pleasure, his thumb strokes her clit through the damp fabric of her jeans, hard, making her gasp and as he says pain, his other hand, reins and all, gently squeezes her sore thumb, harder.
The surge of pain from his grip flooded her senses, his other hand continuing to stroke her clit, the two sensations merging in a pool of hunger deep in her belly. His quiet yes in her ear rang of satisfaction.
"Ive always been a very dominant personality, you cant argue that, Veri this is just an extension of who I am. And the whips and chains, they're just tools, Veronica. It's so much more, a discipline, if you will, that encompasses the mental and the spiritual as well as the physical."
The bewilderment in her voice didn't hide her interest nor the gasp as his fingers brought about that surge of pain/pleasure combination that steals her breath away.
" Why are you telling me this?" Its all she can think to even ask.
"Ive missed you Kashna. Youve rarely been far from my mind in the last four years, but you have always been such an independent, tonight I've seen a side of you that's not so much. Ive watched your reactions to my commands, your willingness to give in, the curiosity deep in your eyes at what you sense but dont quite understand. I'd like to train you, little one to show you levels of pleasure and passion beyond even your wildest dreams." His hands stroke her, his breath sending shivers through her.
" I've just moved into a house not very far from where I've been told yours is. I have another slave, back in Idaho, she is Sioux and her name is Kiana." He hugs her close as he tells her this.
She ponders the words for a minute, analyzing the hug. "That doesnt bother me, Stosh, you know as well as I do how much I enjoy other women. I'm naturally curious... Did she do the bead work on those boots?" She nuzzles his jaw line as they ride slowly through the night.
"Yes, she did. And yes, I do." His laughter underscores his words until she sits upright with a sudden gesture.
"House? Here? You live here now?" In her excitement she barely realizes she is repeating his words.
"I do Veri and I'd like to take you in it." Catching the double entendre, her smile reaches from ear to ear.
They ride in quiet contentment for a good thirty minutes, her mind playing over their discussion, his words creating an ache, a curiosity to know more, stroking the hedonist inside her. Her smile is playful as Stosh leads Indigo off the path and they come around the front of a log cabin home.
Swinging down nimbly, hands on her hips helping her off he points to the porch. "Go sit, I'll be back in a moment. Any preferences or regimen?"
"He'll eat just about anything, unfortunately, given a go at it. All he really needs is hay tonight." She heads toward the porch.
With Indy settled in, Stosh leads her to the front door, with a gleam in his eyes as he sweeps her up and over the threshold. In one endless moment she relives all the flamboyant, crazy things that depicted his style in college, just one of the qualities that drew them together, memories that tug at her heartstrings.
The living room is stunning, a great room about 45 x 40 with vaulted ceiling, huge triangular windows, a massive stone fireplace, open beams at the single story level and a magnificent antler chandelier. She looks at him with admiration, all eyes, just beginning to remember how much they really did have in common and he tosses her into a big, overstuffed chair done in RL plaid, pulling up the footstool in front of her smile gone, seriousness shrouding his sexy features.
"I want you as my slave, Veronica, nothing less. I know this whole concept is new to you and very much against societies decorum but I think, deep down, something in this appeals to you, yes?" his eyes watch hers intently, the sudden shine of wary apprehension at his mood, the almost comic chuckle that bubbles up in disbelief at the word slave. He continues to watch her as she lets his words wash over her, testing them out, staring deep into his eyes before offering a timid nod.
"You need to understand, Veri, for me, this is not a game." A small frown line appears between his eyebrows as he sits there reading her expression. "We will take it slowly, my love, step by exquisite step, building your responses to me, mine to you. You will always be able to say no, Veri, always."
She stared at him in bewilderment, wondering what he meant, what step by step, all the while a frisson of entitlement, a sense of right, burning through her veins.
"OK," she blushes, the word sounding so pathetic, so simple in light of the curiosity burning through her mind.
"Yes," the satisfaction in that simple word, the comprehension and pride in his eyes soothe and titillate at the same time. " You will address me as Sir, Veri. Tell me you understand."
I understand, S.sir," her soft stutter over the syllable makes him smile.
"You will address me as I tell you and you will agree to obey each instruction I give you, as quickly, gracefully and sensuously as you are able," his eyes, black with the arousal, peruse her face. "And I remember, clearly, in detail, just how sensual you can be Veronica...intimately. Unbutton your jeans, Veri."
The demand surprises her, her fingers lighting slowly on the snap, trembling as she does so. She watches his eyes quirk, misunderstanding the look of expectation there, her fingers falling to the zip as his stop them.
"Always address me, Veronica, when I speak to you."
"Yes, Sir," the humor of the situation tickles her funny bone, coloring her response and she sees a fleeting shine of humor in his eyes before the intensity is back in his gaze.
"Now slowly, sensually unzip your jeans and remove them without getting off the chair," there is a challenge in his words, his calm serenity mocking the hard beat of her heart.
She reaches down, lowering the zip, meaning to tuck her feet beneath her and looks helplessly at the boots on her feet.
"May I...may I remove my boots, Stosh..umm..Sir?" her voice reflects her concern, the seriousness in her eyes making his dance with humor. Saying nothing, his strong hands cup her heel, tugging lightly at the boot until it gives way, holding out his hands for the other.
"Thank you." She tacks on the requisite sir as the muscle in his jaw tightens, feeling her own tension relax as he does.
Tucking her feet beneath her in a sensual curl, she rises to her knees, her eyebrow quirked at his as if to say, Im still on the chair. With his nod she shimmies the denim over her hips, watching his eyes follow the thin, sheer black silk of her thong as it emerges from the jeans, playing the denim down lower and lower until it pools at her knees. Slowly, one hand braced against the hard muscles of his shoulder, she rises, lifting one small foot then the other from the jeans before turning around and bending down to pick them up, folding them into a neat pile on the top of the chair, the full, round cheeks of her bottom feeling the warmth of his breath.
"Beautifully done, Veri, now put your hands back on the back of the chair, arch your back and SHOW ME your ass." The cadence to the demand, the stress on show me has her quivering as she does so.
The warmth of his big, callused hands start at her ankles, his thumbs caressing the arch of her foot, encircling her ankle in a tight grip before his fingers wander upward. Gently, his fingertips play over her calves and she feels the muscles quiver beneath them. Her soft gasp brings a small chuckle as they play over the sensitive skin at the backs of her knees and his lips follow, placing a sensual kiss behind each.
"You like that, Veri?"
"Yes! "
He turns the yes to a squeal and then the appropriate Yes, Sir with a fast, hard slap of his palm on her right cheek, its impact ringing around the big vaulted room, imprinting itself on her flesh and her senses in a manner shed never known.
"Ive always loved the smell of you, Veronica, aroused and ready, your cunt aching for me." His lips slide upward from her knees, his palms cupping the full cheeks of her ass even as she stiffens, reacting to the harsh, coarse language hes chosen.
"Drop your panties for me, Veri, SHOW ME that hot, aching cunt of yours. DO IT," his voice, calm, serene and liquid in its sensuality deepens on the commands, sending their nuances shuddering through her.
"Yes, Sir," her fingers find the band of her panties, sliding beneath it at her hips, pulling upward on the material with a saucy jerk feeling it slide between the crack of her ass and pull lightly against the swell of her throbbing clit. His chuckle of amusement at her impudence warms her and she slides the sheer black fabric erotically down, over the full curves of her hips and the taut slope of her bottom letting them pool around her feet, the heat of his fingers burning against their soles as he removes them.
"Bring your knees down. Rest them on the arms of the chair and push your breasts into the back of the chair, Veronica. Leave your hands above, gripping the top." The sensual shudder his words bring flows visually through her, his mouth planting a soft kiss on one cheek as she lowers herself uncertainly to do as he's asked.
With her left knee resting on the arm of the chair his hands grip her shoulders, stopping her movement and his deft fingers remove her tank top, releasing the catch of her bra in a movement so well rehearsed it takes her breath away, her breasts bouncing free of their confinement. His palm, at her back, pressing her into the cool material of the chair; her nipples, achingly hard and sensitive savaged by the brush of the course fabric drawing a moan of sheer delight from her.
Reaching down his grip clenches on the soft flesh of her left thigh, just above the knee, holding it firmly to the arm of the chair, the other following suit on her right knee. She hesitates, unbalanced and shy, as he guides the right knee toward the other arm, a position that will leave her sex spread wide to the cool air and his heated gaze.
"Delicious tramp, dont fight me. DO IT!" It's a growl, a sensually erotic growl and she hastens to obey.
Trembling, her knees spread as wide as they would go, she leans into the chair, her cheeks coloring in shame and a building excitement that leaves her shaken. She wants, so badly, to see his expression but her modesty wont permit it. His fingers loosen on her thighs, two fingertips of each hand trailing teasingly upward over the tense muscles, taunting her aching center with their silent promise. His lips press a soft kiss to the lower curve of her right cheek her face flaming with renewed color as she hears him breathe in deeply.
"Yes, Veri, I love the smell of your aroused cunt. And you are aroused arent you? No need to answer, I can see the sweet slickness pooling around your lips. In moments, Veri, my love, you'll be, quite literally, dripping for me, wont you?"
Mortification sends the color from her face down over the proud peaks of her breasts as she realizes how right he is, feeling the wetness of her sex sliding viscously between the swollen folds of her labia, pooling there. His fingertips travel further yet, caressing the delicate skin just below her sex.
Her muscles clench in response sending the liquid heat cascading over the temporary dam of her lips to spill over his fingers and slide down her thighs accompanied by a purely male satisfied laughter.
"Ask me, Veronica!" the command, demanding and harsh, bounces around the room.
"Please, Stosh touch me, please."
She stands trembling before him hearing the soft rustle of his jeans, the tiny clink of metal against metal and her confusion clears as she pictures his fingers unbuckling his belt. The ache of hunger in her belly expands, picturing the full thrust of him even as her ears pick up the soft slide leather through denim, wanting to feel him deep inside and moaning at the thought.
The whistle of leather and the harsh crack of its impact against the soft curve of her right cheek steals her breath away. She stiffens in outrage, her hands pushing her body away from the chair, her head spinning around as his palms pin her there, his white teeth, grinning, inches from her startled eyes.
"Do you understand why, Veri?" quiet, deadly quiet, his breath tickles her cheek as her mute eyes look up at him in anguish, watching as she shakes her head no. " How do you address me, sweet, hungry tramp?"
The leather of the belt caresses lightly the sore cheek before dipping between her thighs and pressing against her most intimate flesh.
"Sir oh please touch me." The ache of the stripe, hot against her cheek sublimates to pure pleasure with the caress of the leather.
"Not...quite...yet, Veri, do you remember when I asked that question earlier?" her eyes open wide with understanding, quivering with the thought of her own cheeky response, his laughter a mix of pride, assurance and sympathy as he watches her reaction. " Yes, my love. I want you to push away from the chair, your beautiful ass pressed backwards. Five strokes, Veronica and each you will count out loud. Do you understand?" His mouth next to her ear, his teeth clamped lightly to her ear lobe, worrying that tender bit of flesh affectionately.
"Yes, Sir, I understand. "
Pressing her palms against the deep plush of the chairs back she slides her knees back a little, ankles angling in toward her buttocks, back arches presenting her ass for his discipline.
"One, Sir." The cry is drawn raggedly from her with the first descent of the belt, the harsh crack resounding in her ears as he brings it down hard against her left cheek. His chuckle brings color to her other cheeks as he tells her the sir is unnecessary for the count. Two follows slowly, no movement giving away the moment of its descent and then three, four and five following one on top of the other, stealing her breath and bringing the soft shimmer of tears to her eyes with their brutal sting.
"Jesus," a grunt, husky and harsh at the same time and she hears the descent of his zipper and the rustle of fabric behind her.
Glancing over her shoulder, her lower lip held quivering between her teeth, her tearful gaze is greeted by the rampant release of his magnificent erection, throbbing in his hands. A small smile crosses her lips at the look of sheer relief in his expression as he pulls free of the confining garments. His eyes rise, meeting hers, hungry and black with sensual need.
"Ask me! " harshly commanding, his eyes hold hers.
"Please Sir, touch me? Stroke me Stosh, stroke my c.cunt, please Sir?" her voice quavers with desire and shame, the course language tripping over her tongue.
"Sweet tramp. Sweet, dripping, aching tramp," it comes out as a growl, his fingers releasing his jutting member and delving between her thighs with a shocking suddenness, his fingers coated in her heat in seconds, sliding up and down her snatch in a primitive, earthy rhythm that has her gasping.
His fingertips pause at the entrance to her sex, stroking the flexing muscles there, taunting teasing her to new heights of hunger before sliding forwards and slicking over her swollen, throbbing clit. Then backwards, pausing and circling her entrance and then all the way back, fingertips slicking sweet juices over that tiny, most sensitive pucker, his laughter gentle as she tenses. Then forwards again, her breathing ragged with need as he slides a fingertip, just barely, into her hungry cunt, pulling out just as quickly to pull forward, stroking the hood of her clit away from that sensitive nub, stilling, holding her unsheathed in his hand.
"Oh God Stosh, dont stop, please dont stop." She can feel her juices slicking his entire hand, dripping down her thighs as her belly trembles with the heat that flows in waves outwards down to her sex, up to her engorged, painfully hardened nipples.
His other hand is just as quickly wetted when he slides it next to the first, pulling the hood of her clit back between the thumb and forefinger while the three fingers of the first hand prod, caress, circle the throbbing nub now unsheathed, her hips writhing backwards, thrusting against the slow rhythm hes building. She feels it, the sweet heat coalescing in liquid waves of climax deep within and just as quickly he stops.
"No, no you cant," her knees slip off the chair, her body curling up around itself as his arms scoop her up. Strong hands grip her wrists, preventing her own hands from delving between her wet thighs and completing the job as he rocks her against him, cooing, soothing stroking her hair from her face.
"Ah, but I can...we're not done talking, Veri." His eyes, serious again, judge her gasps, releasing her wrists and arranging her in a sitting position on the edge of the chair, pressing her knees wide apart and watching the flush of color in her cheeks.
"Later, Veronica, when you understand more fully the delights and the consequences of our actions together, I will ask you to sign a contract that states the terms of your training and our agreements and understandings. We will talk, in detail, about these subjects, before you sign your contract.
"We will also continue to address issues of concern and care as they come up. I will always encourage you to communicate your likes, dislikes, concerns and limits. Although I will bring you pain at times, I will never, ever hurt you, Veri, ever. I will never cross further over your limits than you are willing to go, and you are always able to ask to stop. We will find, between us, a new level of pleasure and communication, Veri one that I have yet to experience even. Believe me and unlike anything you have known previously." Dark eyebrows quirk, an intimate fire burning in his dark eyes as his fingers trace her lips, inquiring, wordlessly, if she understands.
"We will agree on these things together, sweet tramp," the endearment falling more easily on her ears is followed with a gentle nip to the corner of her mouth, "and I will never push you farther than I think you can go, my love. You will have safe words, words that we agree on that tell me when youre scared, when youre at your limit, and when you want to stop. I will always respect those, as I will always respect you."
Slowly, the words sink into her passion-steeped mind, the new concepts wrapping themselves around her senses like a caress, beckoning her further.
"And may I think about this, or must I decide immediately?" Her saucy tone, despite the husky, heaving pants of her breath, raises his eyebrows, that amused smile tugging at the corners of his sensuous mouth.
"I would wonder if you are really the girl I know, if you agreed immediately." His voice softens, eyes dancing. " We will make our decisions slowly, together, beloved tramp. Meanwhile tonight.. " A broad, knowing smile wreathes his face, the dimple in his left cheek appearing briefly.
"Yes." She whispers huskily. " Please Sir, what about tonight?"
"There's my gir, .living for the moment. Nice to know some things dont change." His laughter plays lightly over her ears as he touches his temple ruefully, a very few silver highlights shining there. "Tonight, we will play, little one. You will call me Sir, each and every time you address me. I will not restrict your conversation, because I want to know everything youre feeling, everything you need from me…. I will love you, Veronica, like youve only ever dreamed."
"Oh please," Her body quivers with flame of wanton abandon deep in her belly, her voice reverberating with that need.
His grip, hard on her shoulders, draws her up directly in front of him. Looking up into his face, seeing the disapproval there, she look at him helplessly, his lips inches from her own.
"You will address me as what, girl?"
"Oh please, Sir?" the impish tone does not hide the echo of adoration that rings in her voice, a primeval word from another time that seems to suit him perfectly. Briefly, she wonders what happened to the Stosh shed known in school, the one that was embarrassed by the attention he drew from men and women alike.
"Hmmm..saucy bitch." He smiled to soften what would become a loving endearment in the months to come, his teeth grazing her lower lip, biting lightly and pulling away. "Stand and pose for me Veri, put those thoughts of old times to good use and find a position you know I will like."
His perception and intuition has always been superb and she pauses, considering old times and her options with a cheeky grin.
"I trust that is a thoughtful smile while you consider how best to please me?" His tone reprimanding yet soft and warm tingles through her.
Slowly, each movement sensually languorous she strides slowly around the room, calculating, remembering intimate moments. She pauses in front of the fireplace, reaching one delicate hand upward, watching his eyes take in the subtle rise of her breasts, their peaks hard as buttons. She lowers it, shaking her head, clucking to herself and glancing to see the small grin on his lips from the corner of her eye as she pads back towards the sofa and the long, wooden table in front of it.
"You're in beautiful shape, little one." He catches her halfway across the room, his eyes and fingers caressing her long legs, shapely hips and sweet, smooth snatch before waving a hand to continue.
A little disgruntled by his nonchalance, she pauses before the table, her back to him, lithe thighs and arched back coyly displayed, remembering his passion for the sweet curves of her haunches and ass. She crawls, a sensual slither, onto the low table, its smooth mellow tones a perfect background for her own golden presence.
She remembers a pose from a comic book, a breathtakingly sensual European comic book that she and LeeAnne had oohed and aahed over for weeks, a woman, kneeling in a seductive pose for the man in front of her. Closing her eyes in concentration she mimics what she remembers, tiny ankles tucked firmly beneath the taut muscles of her thighs, her shoulders back, breasts proud and full before her, nipples hard, achingly so. She opens her eyes, tilting her head back just a bit so that her long blonde hair cascades in a tempting chaos over her shoulders and meets his gaze.
Like fire, it burns through her, his sheer masculine arousal blazing from him in every way possible. Anyone else would have looked silly, his booted feet at shoulder width, his jeans low and undone over his hips the proud rear of his rampant erection jutting boldly before him. Stunned, she drops her eyes, reeling from their impact, hunger, greedy, rapacious flooding her senses.
"Never hide yourself from me, Veri in any way." So completely overwhelmed by the sensuality of his look she didn't even hear his stride crossing the room, his thumb settling gently on her chin, tilting her gaze back to his. " Be proud of yourself, Veri be very very proud. I know I am."
The cadence, the tone and the husky, barely restrained ardor in his voice and his caress send ripples of hunger flowing through her like a current. His mouth descends, pressing a caressing kiss to the slope of one breast before sucking its peak hungrily into his mouth, teeth grazing its surface in an aching blaze of sensation.
Before she can speak his lips leave her, a desolate feeling before he drops to his knees, his lips fastening on the delicate skin of her belly, latching on, sucking hard, worrying the soft flesh until it throbs painfully. He stops, his lips caress the mark hes left, his tongue stroking it lightly before moving to the left several inches and repeating the process, fingers strong and hard against the flesh of her hips, turning her little by little, leaving a perfect chain of deep wine colored bite marks around her belly. He finishes the chain, his lips dropping two inches below the navel as she draws in a quick breath, a gasp, and bites again, while strong hard fingers wander lower.
"Oh God Stosh,Sir! Sir! Pleaseeeee," a frenzy of words pouring forth with no rhyme and little reason.
"Get on your hands and knees for me, Veri." She does barely thinking about it, presenting her flanks and the soft swell of her bottom for his view, reveling in the strong hands that spread her knees cruelly wide.
"Perfect. The perfect height Veri, see. Look!" his voice lashes out.
She glances back at him, her thighs quivering with her own weight and the need to feel him deep inside of her. She watches his hand, cupped at the base of his throbbing shaft bring the tip of it, the swollen knob of his cock up against her sex. She shudders, nodding her head in agreement. The perfect height.
With agonizing slowness, he presses himself down the wet slickness of her groove, coating himself in her essence, driving her mad with hunger. Her cunt muscles, squeezing together of their own volition, slicks him even further and she hears the grunt of tightly restrained need echo from him, delighting her senses.
"Please, Stosh. Oh God please...take me...;Sir take me," all modesty has been shed to the bone.
"Yes Veri...plead with me...ask me...beg me Veri." His goading words should have warned her, his voice dropping to a dark register. "For all the years you've never said it, Veronica, I want to hear you say fuck me, again, and again, and again until Ive had enough. DO IT."
With each again the head of his cock, throbbing and hot pressed against the entrance to her sex, sliding against the tight circle of muscle there, feeling her clamp helplessly around the slippery knob and pulling back, allowing her no grip. His fingers dip forward, between her thighs, slow intimate circles around her clit as he backs off, pushing against that tightest, dirtiest entrance watching her writhe in abandon.
"Fuck me, Stosh...fuck me...please God...fuck me," he slips gently into that tight entrance, his fingers building a crescendo of pleasure balanced only by the slick hard pain of his entrance, she rocks forward against his fingers, feeling the rush and he pulls her backwards harder against his cock, sliding slowly deeper.
"Oh God...yes, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," her mantra grows more shrill with every moment, his tension building to an unbelievable level behind her.
"Yes, tramp of my dreams...Yes, now! "
His thrust, deep within her tight pussy took her there, took her further than shed ever been, the hard knob of him pressing against her cervix, conquering its tight aperture and thrusting beyond bringing an achingly intimate throb of pain and pleasure. His deep throaty growl, primitive and all male, of satisfaction and triumph, of primal possession echoed and mingled with her own scream of climax, resounding around them both as his cock throbbed deep within her like a separate living animal, gushing its warm fluids deep within her clenching, grasping cunt as she rocked with each surge, each earth shattering wave of release that devastated everything she knew, rocking her world, throwing her into another reality altogether, one of animalistic pleasure that knew no bounds. Reality bending and slipping away.
Cradled against him, raspy breathing slowly stilling she looks over her shoulder, glowing with the pride and sensual delight that shines from his black eyes.
