Blood Ties

She was dreaming again. She knew because she'd never be willingly manacled in some dungeon-like room, left in the dark. She knew because she'd never willingly stand naked, awaiting some man's pleasure. She'd had this dream before, many times.

She wasn't sure who he was. He came cloaked in shadow and shrouded in mystery. She didn't recognize that soft, deep voice that rubbed like velvet up and down her spine. She didn't recognize those hands that slid like silk lovingly across her naked flesh. She didn't recognize the submissiveness in herself, this shadow-side that only came out in her deepest, darkest fantasies.

She moaned aloud. The soft sound echoed throughout the blackness. She couldn't see, strained to hear. Would he come for her soon, or would he leave her to hang by herself? She was stretched to her full height, arms overhead, braced on her tip-toes. The floor was rough and cold beneath her feet. There was a slight, cool breeze that played across soft flesh. She shivered, and, at least in her mind, she could admit that she wasn't sure whether it was the air, or anticipation.

She'd never known a more attentive lover than this dream. He seduced her with caresses, with her own helplessness. It seemed that was part of the attraction, wasn't it, the inability to protest, to move away. After all, how could one resist giving into those dark desires if the choice was taken away?

Ah, there, footsteps, she was certain. She froze, straining to hear. They came inexorably closer, softly breathing across the rough-hewn floor. She remained motionless. A caress of breath came, across the delicate flesh of her nape, stirring the hairs to life. She shivered. A warm, velvet tongue stroked behind one ear. She gasped. A sultry voice purred in her ear. "I've missed you, my sweet."

She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. It was the same every time, and her body grew warm with anticipation, her sex growing moist with response. Even as she tried to see behind her, a silken blindfold shrouded her eyes. "Just in case," he murmured. Another scrap of silk was caressed over smooth shoulders, eliciting a sigh. She gave herself up to sensation. It was pointless to fight a dream, wasn't it?

The silk brushed lower, over full breasts. She could feel her nipples tighten, seeming to reach out for the elusive cloth. The silk dipped even lower, draping over the slight mound of her abdomen, ends trailing along her thighs and, when she twitched, between her legs. She pushed her body forward, trying to catch the cloth, to draw it along her body, but it was pulled abruptly back. She let out a sob at the loss,

A moment later, she could feel the silk caressing her back, spanning her hips, down her buttocks, through her legs, only to begin again when she began to whimper. It seemed this play went on for hours, yet she knew better than to demand more. The first time she'd tried, she was left dangling there in her prison for hours before she awoke, aching with need.

She was on the verge of crying out, begging, when velvet lips began to trace the silk's path, warm caresses in the wake of cold. The sensations ran rampant through her, the contrast a shock to her system. She whimpered again, and she could feel his chuckle against her skin. Warm tongue darted out to taste her, teasingly caressing one nipple, only to draw away again. This time she did cry out, torn between drawing away and pushing toward those maddening touches.

Her body was on fire by the time his hands began trailing across her flesh, seeking, massaging, toying with her. As his mouth worked across her breasts, his hands moved lower, massaging her lower back, digging into her hips, slipping between the cleft of her rear until she was squirming with need, with desire. A voice called out in myriad tones of "please," and it was her own. She pushed against those hands, so warm, as one reached to touch her inner thighs. She was moving against her chains, head tipped back. She could feel the liquid of her desire beginning to drip down the insides of her legs. His hand teased her, pushing slightly inside of her, but not nearly enough. She strained her arms, trying frantically to impale herself on him. Those deft fingers retreated, and she whimpered at the loss.

She couldn't hear him, couldn't feel him. She had no idea where his hands, his breath, his mouth would be next, and it was a delicious kind of expectation. She felt his lips moving across her belly, and she gasped. His tongue darted out to toy with her belly button, pushing in and out with a seductive rhythm. She was so hot, and she couldn't breathe for wanting. The room itself seemed an inferno, with the devil himself playing merciless games with her needy flesh. His tongue dipped lower, sliding seductively across the indent of her hip, then slowly – oh, so slowly – drawing inward to caress her inner thighs. His breath ran across her until she was shaking with more need than she'd ever known. She could feel that tongue dancing snake-like across sensitive skin, probing her swollen folds. She almost screamed when he finally flicked the tip across her clit before sliding down her cleft.

She spread her legs as wide as she was able, pushing against him. He was driving her mad with his undulating tongue. Teeth were drawn across her receptive flesh, and she did scream, then, a breathless yell. Teeth tugged, pulled, while velvety lips surrounded her nub, drawing it into his mouth in a smooth, sucking motion. She was moaning, hoarse sounds she didn't even recognize. He pulled away too soon, much too soon. She sobbed and writhed, searching.

She shrieked when a sudden coldness began to drip down her neck. Ice. He was drawing ice down her body, tormenting. She bit her lip hard, while crying breaths forced their way out of her throat. The ice was moving lower, dripping down over-heated skin. She fought against her bonds. The conflicting sensations were too much on her too-sensitive body.

The ice was pushed lower, down her crack, into her cleft. She screamed as he pushed the ice inside of her. She could barely feel the warm press of his naked chest against her back as the ice began to drip down her thighs. She squirmed, trying to rid herself of the anguishing bit of ice, but his fingers returned, keeping it pushed inside of her. She shivered as his fingers began their dance of push and retreat, each time moving the ice further inside of her. She could feel his other hand slide around in front, up to caress her stomach, her breasts, her face. He murmured nonsensical words into her ear, flicking his tongue across her lobes.

She couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. Her body didn't know whether to fixate on the feel of the ice, his body or his hands. He moved his torso across her back, and she could feel the pebbles of his nipples across her skin. He moved both of his hands, climbing up her body, up her outstretched arms. The ice didn't seem so cold now, as her body tightened in anticipation. Moving her head restlessly to give his mouth greater access to her neck. He bit down, savagely, just as he thrust into her from behind. His hoarse cry was drowned out by one of her own. The shock of pain mixed with the pleasure until they were intertwined in a sexual rhapsody.

His hands returned to her breasts before grasping her hips and drawing her against him with short, hard motions. Each time he retreated, leaving just his tip inside her, she wanted to cry. His mouth returned to the wetness she could feel dripping down her neck. He sucked at her neck even as he pushed into her willing body again. She couldn't breathe; she wanted too much. He took her mercilessly, fucking her as ruthlessly as she needed, as she desired.

One hand shifted to her slit, rubbing at her clit as she tried to simultaneously push against his hand and his hips. He pushed her cruelly, until she was mewing animalistically with desire. She could feel the tingling begin, that blessed warmth that spread throughout her being, those forerunners that heralded the beginning of sweet release.

She came violently, her body arching like a bow in neverending spasms sped on by the tightening of his own body moments before he found his own release in her yielding body. She was crying now, in great gulping gasps. Tears dripped down her face to mingle with the sweat. Her neck was burning, her body limp as his tongue returned once more to her throat and upward.

He moved around her, licking the sweat, the tears, from her neck and face before brushing one single kiss across her mouth. "Until next time, pet," he breathed into her pliant mouth. Her body missed his as he shifted, leaving her shivering against the drafts of the room. She faintly heard the manacles being unlocked, then she was falling into darkness, never seeming to reach the floor.

She started awake, gasping in the darkened air of her bedroom. One hand clasped against her chest, as if she could quiet her beating heart. She breathed out in one long sigh and rubbed her temples. It had happened again. Her body felt well-used, sore. She could still feel the wetness between her legs, and she felt stretched, as if she really had been fucked.

"That was one hell of a dream…." It had never gone so far before. He'd never actually taken her before, just left her wanting, needing in a way she'd never felt. She rose stiffly to her feet and padded barefoot to the bathroom. One hand reached out to flick on the lights, even as the other shielded her sensitive eyes against the harsh glare. She turned the faucet on full cold and bent to dash the welcome coldness against her flushed features.

She was going to have to see a doctor if this kept up, maybe get some drugs so she could sleep. She swallowed handfuls of the cool liquid before turning the water off and resting her face against the cool porcelain basin. With a sigh, she straightened, staring at her too-pale visage in the mirror. Tangled honey hair was matted against her delicate face, and she pushed at it impatiently with one slender hand, rubbing against the burning on her neck. That had never happened before, either. It had always faded upon wakening. Her hand came away bloody.

Pale green eyes widened as she leaned closer, frantically pushing hair away until she could see. There, lying in stark contrast to pale skin were two glistening red holes, still bleeding, spreading down her skin in rivulets of crimson. She was certainly shocked, but she wasn't that naïve. She knew exactly what it meant, and it was definitely going to make her job a hell of a lot harder.

Damn.