A Little Magical Proposition

Leaning back and glancing down, Damien saw swelling of her lower lips, and smirked. When he finished coating most of the upper half of her breast, he drew a neat circle around her nipple, just outside her aureola, and then began drawing a design on the underside.

Yelena, who had been forcing herself to relax, went rigid again then shuddered. "Oh, Forestmother! Aaah!" She tried to arch backwards, straining her hips and shoulders to lift her breasts to give Damien better access -- or perhaps unconsciously, because it was all she could do.

Finally, he finished.

Sweat dripped off Yelena's face as she hung in the air, breathing heavily and staring at Damien wide-eyed.

"Why did you stop?" she gasped, sucking in breaths now she could concentrate on anything other than the pleasure tickling over her breast.

"I've finished."

"What?!"

"That one," Damien said, wetting his fingers and raising them towards Yelena's right breast.

Yelena forced herself to go rigid this time. It was that or try and twist away or towards him -- she wasn't sure which it would be. Her right nipple stiffened in anticipation and goosebumps sprang out all over her breast in imitation.

Damien's wet fingers lightly touched the top slope of her breast.

"AaaaAAA!"

She kept shuddering, panting and occasionally gasping, her head thrown back, eyes wide and mouth open, until Damien had finished. It took her longer, this time, to get her breath back.

"By the Forestmother! I'm dripping on the floor!"

"You are, yes," Damien murmured, letting his eyes linger first on the small drops, then on the puffy, glistening slit they had fallen from. "Still confident you can win our little wager?"

Yelena's gaze snapped to Damien and she laughed. "I admit you'll be able to make me scream, but you'll have to do better than that, if you want to make me beg!"

Her gaze dropped to her breasts. She stared at the mirrored designs with interest. "Apart from an excuse to stroke my tits, what do they do?"

Damien chuckled. "Oh, many more things. In fact, to be honest, they really were just an excuse to stroke your tits. I could have painted them anywhere above your waist."

He took a couple of steps backwards and looked her up and down, clearly admiring the view.

Hanging and immobile, Yelena smirked at him and tossed her head. "Well, I can see you like what you see."

Damien glanced down at the bulge in his simply tailored pants, and chuckled. "Oh yes, I like what I see. And I see you are already enjoying yourself."

He stepped forwards again and used his fingers, still bearing traces of the ink, to collect a strand of glistening liquid hanging from the bottom of Yelena's vulva. He caressed her lips, making sure to collect as much of her liquid as he could.

She purred at him, flexing her hips to rub her vulva up and down against his fingers. Damien simply smiled, intent upon his work.

"Hmm," he said, rubbing her fluids over his fingers and carefully mingling it with the remains of his ink, without making it obvious he was working with intent.

He looked up. Smiled at her. Then, keeping his gaze locked on hers, touched two fingers lightly against her vulva, slipped between her lips, then pushed them easily inside her cunt, right up until his other knuckles pressed firmly against her. He twisted them slowly inside her, flexing them and feeling her.

"Ah!" Her eyes fluttered half closed before she recovered her composure. "Mmm. Oh, yes! Tight enough for you?"

"Oh, you'll be tighter, before I'm done with you," Damien whispered back. "Tighter with desperate need. Then, I may stretch you wide open and leave you gaping."

"Promises, promises," she whispered back. "Give me a kiss."

He pulled his fingers out of her. There was no trace of the ink upon them.

"No."

Instead, he took several slow, easy paces back while she panted, sweat trickling now down her torso.

She looked bemused. "I'm waiting, Journeyman."

"Be careful what you wish for," he said. He raised his right hand, palm towards her, and spread it.

The patterns on Yelena's breasts stirred like waking snakes.

Her eyes bulged open and her head jerked forwards so she could look down. "Aah!" The sound was not merely one of surprise.

The ink began to spread, the lines thinning slightly but growing far longer than there should have been ink to grow.

The lines did not blur or divide but unravelled. They quested over her skin much as snakes quest in front of them, but with no sense of uncertainty or of searching. They wriggled, but they wriggled with a clear plan.

Yelena's jaw dropped open and she writhed as if trying to get away from them before holding herself rigidly still.

The lines nearer her chest headed straight out, radiating away from her breasts onto her chest, then her shoulders and around her ribcage, up her neck onto her chin, and down her torso.

"Aaaaah... what are you doing?" Yelena shivered, every muscle in her body tensing.

The lines heading downwards circled around the design painted on her belly, but continued down, over her buttocks and onto her thighs, twining back around inside her legs as well as outside, front and back.

"Ah!" She jerked forwards, away from the touch on her buttocks but unable to do anything about it.

Damien, grinning, moved his gaze from her protruding hard nipples to the puffy lips of her vulva and the next drop of liquid glistening and about to fall.

"What does that feel like?" he asked. His voice had taken on a smoother, more vibrant quality: Not deeper, but more resonant.

"What did you do to your voice?" she gasped.

"Do you like it?"

"I can feel it inside me!" Her hips jerked forwards. A drop fell onto the floor.

"Good." Damien put an extra purr, extra timbre into his voice. "How does the ink feel?"

"Oooh, it... tickles a little? It's firm. Wet, cool, like a massage. They feel like fingers, which is wrong, I can't see they're not. They look like snakes, how do they feel like fingers?"

"We spent a lot of time working on this spell. I can make it feel like anything."

On her legs, the ink had reached her calves. It was spiralling around instead of heading straight down. A line on each leg continued down to her feet.

On her torso, they spread out along her arms, twining as they went, while very thin lines spread up her neck to her face while she tried to stretch her neck away from them even as she visibly willed herself to try and relax.

"Oh! That's nice!" She smiled slightly, then more genuinely and dreamily, canting her head unconsciously into the caress along her cheek.

Damien smiled his smug, eager smile again.

"Oh!" Yelena's eyes widened again. "You really can make it feel like anything!"

"What does it feel like?"

"Your tongue!" She glared at him without real heat. "And you know it. Do you feel me while your spell is doing this?"

"Sadly, no. We did not build this spell to flow sensations the other way, so we would be free to concentrate on what we were doing. This is entirely selfless of me."

"Selfless! Ha! You love having me like this!"

"Yes, and I love doing this to you."

Yelena squealed and jerked, her feet futilely snapping up, toes clenched, trying to escape the ink that had now flowed to her soles.

"Hey, stop that!"

"Really? You want me to stop?"

She glared at him. "You know my feet are sensitive."

"Yet I remember you loved..."

"Ah!"

"Having your feet massaged."

"Yes, that... oh, that is very ni... AH! But the tongue is not! Oooh, you bastard, could you keep that up?"

"Everything has a price."

"Ooh! You bas... NO! Not tickling! Ah!"

Damien sighed. "Very well. No tickling. I promise."

His hand flexed, his fingers curling.

"But..."

"Ah!" Yelena's mouth flew open and she stared ahead, suddenly rigid. Twin lines of ink twined up the backs of her calves then moved in at her knees before sliding up the insides of her thighs, which clenched.

At the last moment before touching her pelvis, they ceased their movement and retreated a little way.

"Oh, you bastard!"

Damien smirked.

"Aah!" She jerked forward, reflexively, her buttocks clenching and staying clenched. She glared at him, but relaxed her buttocks with an effort.

"Ohh!" Her arms shivered.

"Ahaaaah!" She jerked her torso, pushing her breasts forwards, as the designs left upon them writhed.

The circle around each nipple contracted.

"AaaaahhhHHHHHH!" Her wail rose and continued to rise as the circles slid over her aureolae, the uneven lines of ink writhing, pulsing and spinning as they moved onto each nipple. Her voice rose to a scream as the ink contracted and her nipples, long and hard, swelled as their bases were squeezed.

"You still like that, then," Damien whispered.

She could only moan in response.

Moans were followed by gasps and more moans and screams as she hung, jerked, twisted and writhed while Damien, his own face and even torso now sheened with sweat and his gaze intense with concentration, played upon her body.

The ink all over her writhed, flowing over her arms and even between her fingers, around her feet and between her toes, over her calves and around her thighs, her shoulders, biceps and forearms, her breasts and belly and back and buttocks.

Her flesh quivered and clenched, then dented as the ink squeezed her. She tried to twist away from it, then towards. It flirted with her groin but never touched her puffy, glistening lips. But it flowed over and around her nipples, together or one at a time, as she screamed and groaned, twisted and jerked and bowed her back.

"Aaaaaah! Stop fucking teasing me!"

A triumphant glint entered Damien's eyes. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then tsked slightly before opening his mouth again.

"Patience, my darling Yelena. We have only just begun."

His fingers flexed again.

Yelena quivered all over, a shiver from writhing fingers to clenching toes through every joint and every muscle between. "AAAAAAH!"

"What does that feel like?" Damien asked.

"AHHHH!"

"What does it feel like?" he insisted.

"Like tongues! Everywhere! Everywhere!"

"And this?"

"Ooooh! Like fingers! Almost tickling!"

"And this?"

She went rigid, but it may have been because the ink gave her no choice. "Ah! Like ropes! Tight!"

"But good?"

"AAAAHHHHH!" The ink had lashed around her breasts and dug deep, her breasts bulging out, white and purple as if giant hands with widespread fingers had wrapped around them.

"Is it good?" There was glee in his voice.

"It's good! It's good! Oh, Forestmother, stop teasing me, I need you inside me!"

Damien chuckled.

Thin lines of ink began to spread from her thighs, her hips and her belly towards her vulva.

Yelena's eyes bulged open. "Oooh!"

The fingers of ink reached her vulva. Without going over, they pulled back and pulled her flesh with them, spreading her open so her wetly glistening valley was revealed, although Damien hardly had an angle to see.

Her hips jerked in anticipation, demanding penetration.

Other tendrils of ink then flowed inside just her vulva and began to explore this new territory, wriggling up and down along each side.

"Oooh, that's so good!"

Her breath caught in her throat as two lines of ink neared, then circled, her entrance.

Then her eyes bulged again. "Ahh! What... What did you you do to me?"

"I left some ink inside you," Damien said. His fingers curled.

"AHH!" Yelena's back arched. She threw her head back. "Oh, Forestmother!"

Her hips bucked. Rolled. Quivered, then jerked as her belly clenched, her head whipping forwards. "Ahh! Gods!"

She stared down, knowing she would not see anything but still trying.

Instead, she saw the ink writhing over her breasts. She stared in fascination, perhaps mixed with the horror of the unknown, before the ink over her nipples pulsed again and she screamed, her head jerking up.

"Oh, Forestmother, I'm so close!"

Damien's fingers moved. Two fine tendrils slipped to the top of her vulva, where a hard pearl nestled.

Yelena's wail hit a new pitch.

"Yes! Oh, yes! Forestmother, I'm coming!"

Damien's hand closed briefly into a fist. The design upon Yelena's lower belly, which had been dormant until now, pulsed. It seemed to emit not light but a flash of darkness. Perhaps it pulled light into itself.

"Ah! Ahh! Ahhhhh..." Ecstasy turned to shock in Yelena's face. Her breasts shifted as the ink upon them swirled and tightened. Her nipples bulged out. Her hips twisted as every muscle in her belly and thighs corded, but she did not scream in climax.

"What have you done to me?!"

Damien took a slow step forwards. "You asked me what that design upon your belly does," he said to her sweaty, staring, wild-eyed face. "Among other things, it lets me restrain your climax as I am restraining your body. You can not come until I give you permission. What you can do, is feel greater and greater ecstasy."

"What..." she began but then screamed again, head thrown back, back arched. Her nipples seemed to stretched her breasts away from her body. Her clitoris was circled and squeezed.

"Now, I can show you what you deserve," Damien whispered. He stepped back, both hands raised now, fingers curling in independent shapes.

Yelena twisted in her bonds, frantically seeking to control the sensations assaulting her, or escape it, or reach the climax she could feel but a hairs-breadth from her.

She wailed, she screamed, she cried out sounds that were not quite words. The ink whipped around her, feeling now like light fingers, now rough; now like tongues, now like feathers, now like the sharp point of a knife, now like rope binding her tightly.

Muscles bulged and stretched, rippled and clenched along her arms and legs, around her belly and back. But no matter how hard she strained, she could not shift her wrists or ankles one finger's width, nor get any closer to her orgasm.

"Would you like to feel true restraints?" Damien asked. "I think these are too loose."

The ink about her body shifted suddenly into regular patterns and tightened, digging into her flesh.

Abruptly, she was pulled straight and held immobile, quivering. Even her head was held rigid by ink that ran over her cheeks, her jaw and her temple like an iron cage.

She gasped in shock, briefly distracted from the sensations assaulting her, and managed to focus on Damien's bright-eyed, grinning face once more.

"I think you were distracting yourself. This will help you feel the full pleasure I can give you," Damien said.

Yelena's mouth opened, but words turned into a meaningless gurgle and her eyes rolled back in her head as the ink about her vulva writhed and the unseen ink inside her shifted, warped, moved.

Her breasts were wrapped and squeezed, bulging forwards, her nipples briefly exposed before the ink tendrils once more swirled over them and she gave voice to a rising "Aaahhhhhhh!"

She tried to move against the inken bonds, but had no more success than she had against the invisible ones. She quivered, instead, muscles rippling under her skin and bulging up around the dark lines over her thighs and her biceps.

Damien had been right. Without the ability to move, to exercise some small degree of freedom and fight against sensation with sensation, his ministrations were much more effective.

Her eyes rolled up until her pupils were almost lost under her lids, her mouth hung open, now slack, now stretched wide. Her feet flexed and her toes curled. Her hands were held out but her fingers writhed desperately.

With a smile, Damien moved one hand and her fingers were pulled out, straight and taut.

She gurgled helplessly.

After that, Damien did not exploit the full range of stimulation his spell offered him. He had done that, playing upon her flesh to rediscover what he remembered about her, discover new responses to new stimuli and fine-tune his understanding of her flesh and her mind.

Now, he had her past the point of her orgasm, driving her body mad with frustrated climax, and there was no point in stimulating anything beyond her nipples, her cunt inside and out, and those points about her jaw, thighs, flanks and ears that added their own maddening pleasure to the mix.

Yelena shuddered continuously, almost vibrating in place with her face devoid of any conscious will as pleasure seared through her without end.

Damien watched her closely, feeling her with the magic feeding back from the ink about her and ink most especially upon her lower belly, until he eased off just a little.

With a mighty effort of will, Yelena fought back for concentration and, caged and assaulted though she was, managed to focus upon his face.

"What are you doing to me?" she gasped as another drop of liquid fell from her to the floor. "Why won't you let me come?"

Damien flexed his fingers. She screamed as sharp, delicious pain from her nipples made her body try to spasm around her cunt.

When he backed off again, she was able to focus upon him, but her eyes seemed a little more crazed this time, her concentration weakening after her first burst of effort.

"I think you know what you have to do," he said with a smile.

She stared at him, shock and realisation helping her focus. "Oh, you fucking bastard!"

She convulsed, trying to arch against bonds which did not give so much as a hair's width, as Damien's ink moved inside her.

"Well?" he asked, cheerfully.

"Fffffuck yoouuuuuuu..."

"That's all it takes, and I will let you come!"

"Ffffuuuuuu..."

"No?"

Damien's fingers moved and Yelena cried out, even her attempt at words failing her as she shuddered once more through an assault too great to allow her any thought.

This time, when Damien relaxed, she was barely able to focus on him with one eye.

"Well?" he asked.

"Wha'?"

"Would you like to come?"

A spark of defiance flashed in her eyes, and she managed to focus on him with both of him. "Tryharder," she managed to say.

She didn't scream this time, merely gurgled and rolled her eyes up as he played her more subtly.

"We used to do this for hours, taking things more slowly and carefully," Damien said, sounded relaxed and chatty. "But I admit I was impatient, and I do not yet know your responses. Most of the women I knew at College would not be satisfied with less than an hour if taken slowly, or half an hour if taken like this. Some would already be screaming for mercy now, you've done quite well. Are you sure you want more? I can stop, or..."

She bit back any response, the muscles in her jaw bulging as she glared at him with crazed, barely focusing eyes.

"Hours," Damien said softly as, with a twist of his fingers, he set his ink to writhing deep inside her.

An incoherent gurgle forced its way out between her lips.

"Nobody can take it, you know, we found that out. No matter how much experience you have, no matter how much practice, in the end everyone begs. Either the pleasure grows too much, or you run out of energy to resist it."

This time, the gurgle that broke through Yelena's lips had more of a despairing quality to it. Her eyes squeezed tight.

"Some enjoy it, in fact. They enjoy the experience of being tormented with pleasure until they're broken. Others prefer to beg when they still have their wits about them: Choosing their own moment to break. I must say, they can be more fun to play with, but the first sort are definitely more fun to watch."

There was definitely a whimper from Yelena as Damien's ink moved within her like a coiling snake, pulsing with thickness as it twisted and writhed while thin tendrils massaged the hard nub that was the tip of her clitoris, and small caps of blackness, pulsing to their own tune, covered her nipples.

"Some of us agreed that when they broke, we could use them for any purposes we desired until they passed out. We would fuck them in every hole, women or men."