Darkness Falling

In the old house, the darkness settled like an oil stain on the walls and the carpets. It dripped down the legs of the front parlor's settee and slowly seeped into the cracks between the floor boards. The darkness was an immortal thing that wandered during the day but always returned at night. Like a brother to the sun, when one left the other returned and overcrowding was averted. The house sighed as the darkness settled around it, a servant secure in the presence of its master.

On the widow's walk, her eyes dulled with the departing sun, turning a last deep red before all turned to purple and black. Her hair whipped in the wind, lashing out as her cloak lashed the railing. Turning, she looked into the shadows cast by her companion's deeply brimmed hat.

"I'd rather not, tonight," she whispered. A single white hand rose to caress her cheek but stopped short. Instead, he smoothed a lock of hair away from her eyes. She sighed, and turning again, descended the stairs leading into the bowels of the house.

Opening the bedroom door, she stepped into the room and the candles on the mantel, the bed stand and the desk, ignited. The man tied to the bedposts startled awake, jerked against his restraints, then stilled, waiting. The hammering of his heart echoed her own. It fluttered against his ribs which heaved under her gaze, glistening pearly white with a sweaty sheen of fear and oil. The sinews of his legs and arms jumped, the involuntary struggles of his body to escape his imprisonment. He was naked.

She removed the cloak on her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Stepping further into the room, she began to unfasten the rows of buttons that gilded each sleeve. As the cloth shifted to bare her slim forearms she raised them to begin the unfastening of the buttons at her neck. When her dress slipped to her waist, she pushed it down to join her cloak on the floor.

Her corset glistened like the shell of a bug, a deadly, seductive carapace. The black of her hair and clothing against her skin created a translucent effect, a hint of cream trapped in frozen porcelain. Her skin drew the man's eyes and when he finally saw her she felt his gaze lock onto the blue tracery of veins that hovered just under the surface of her fragile flesh.

The black chemise she wore under her corset was crushed close to her body, cut wide at the top so as not to impede the view of her perfect bosom. Her breasts trembled with the beating of her heart, and the jerking of the laces as her fingers sought to free them from their binding. Her nipples remained hidden, just covered by the lacey edge of her undergarments. The blush of a pale pink aureole was barely discernable.

The white ivory of her legs moved eerily beyond the veil of the fine cut linen. As she approached the bed her corset fell away and the folds of her chemise rippled over her figure. The crushed fabric outlined her slender waist and full hips, the angle of her ribs, the slant of a breast leading into her shoulder. Having reached the bed, it snagged between her hips and the mattress.

She stared down at the man's rampant manhood. It rose in a thick column from the downy hair of his groin. Its color throbbed a deep, striking, red purple hue, darkest at the knob which glistened with moisture from its single weeping eye. In sharp contrast, the man's body seemed even whiter, his hairless chest marred only by the slender trail of hair on his stomach that terminated in the dewdrop of softness at his groin. Testicles, like wrinkled plums, drew up so close to his body they nestled as though in a nest. He couldn't hide his shame; his arms were spread eagled, as were his legs. Methodically she checked the knots in the ripped sheets. Then, reaching towards the bed, she slowly climbed up, eyes locked with his.

She knew when his heart sped up, for her own increased its rate. Despite her reluctance, she looked forward to the game. She knew she would enjoy it.

Gathering her chemise around her thighs, she straddled the man's legs, settling her buttocks in the vee of his thighs, his cock almost – but not – touching the gathered folds of black fabric. Leaning forward, she selected a bottle from the large, oak nightstand, and as she did so, her stomach barely brushed the sensitive skin of his shaft, rasping over its shiny helmet. The man jerked in his bonds and groaned as though electrocuted.

When he calmed, she uncorked the small vessel and poured the scented oil into the palm of her hand where it warmed to body temperature. Slowly she let the oil drip from her fingertips to splatter in a jagged line down his torso. She started at his collarbone, letting the drop ooze along the slope into the shadowed valley at his neck. Another drop landed between the perfect cushions of his pectorals. His nipples beaded into small, brown diamonds. A line of oil traced its way towards his navel, almost slipping inside, but veering instead to the left to once again drop in single dots down his abdomen and finally, exquisitely, onto his cock. The eye blinked once, then released a milky clear tear of ecstatic joy. The man moaned.

Rubbing her hands together, she set about massaging the warmed oil into his skin, starting with his stomach. Her fingers dug slightly into the soft flesh, tested the resistance in his muscles and compressed the vulnerable organs just beneath. A sharp pang glanced through her stomach causing her back to bow slightly and a gasp to escape her lips. Underneath her fingertips the man flinched. A low keening sound emanated from his mouth, almost an animal call, as though he were wounded and lost in the wild.

"Oh, lady," he gasped, hands clenching as she leaned forward again, dragging her chemise along his shaft and palpitating her fingers on the sensitive skin of his ribs. The exquisite torture had him writhing on the bed, torso twisting against the cruel bonds that tightened on his wrists and ankles. Her fingers skimmed up the chest, smoothing the oil into his skin, as the scent of roses filled the air, cloying and heavy sweet.

Against her stomach his manhood jerked in happy contact and she retracted her hands and the black fabric of her chemise, which now glistened along the perimeter of a wet stain the size of her hand. Looking beyond it, she saw his shaft weave a tight figure eight, the knob pulsing and angry red. It stretched from the root, the collar of foreskin tight under the glans, as it lengthened an inch and then retracted a fraction. The man's groan vibrated through her head as his hips rose and angled against the force of her stare.

Her eyes rose to meet the piercing blue of his own. He was about to speak, plead for his case, tempt her into untying him, so she forestalled him by crossing her arms and gripping the gathered folds of her dampened chemise. Raising the hem above her head she couldn't see his face but new that the slow unveiling made him harder, caused his blood to rush as her own quickened.

She knew she was beautiful, saw the truth of it reflected in his eyes every night. Her pale stomach was flat with a slight curve that hinted at softness. Her hips nipped in to kiss the curve of her ribs which arched into her breasts, full and tight now with suppressed anticipation, the nipples and aureoles a shiny pink, a child's blush. They beaded with the sudden brush of cold at their unveiling, sharp and eager, anticipating the coming delights.

Between her legs she felt the familiar rush, the tingle of gathered blood in the membranes of her sex, the dull throb of her hidden jewel growing more excited. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, wild, black and kinked in romantic waves. Her eyes sparkled darkly in her pale face, a tender blush rising to suffuse her cheeks. The chemise fell to the side and her hands rose again to gently brush her skin, skid along the under sides of her breasts and slowly, fiercely, pinch the nipples between thumb and forefinger.

He heaved underneath her, an involuntary flex that jerked his shaft up into the air, begging, enticing her to touch. The movement unsettled her and she swayed, her hair slipping over her shoulders to hide her hands. Lower, her stomach flexed and sent her hips into a roll revealing the pale pink of her nether lips, glistening and delicate, no more than an icy pink despite her high arousal, and completely bare of hair. A luxurious drop of cream glistened from her distended bud, pulsing and erect. She rolled her hips again and her nether lips rose to kiss the base of his cock, cling to his testicles and anoint the skin there with a kiss. The image of her stained chemise flashed only to be replaced by the slick feeling of her dew drawing the cold from the air onto his hot and aching flesh. If a body could burst into flames, he would be long dead.

"Lady, I die anew," he groaned, twisting on the velvet comforter. He gave his hips another libidinous roll.

"Hush," she breathed, letting her hair drag across his stomach and cock as she leaned towards him. "This is not suffering, this is delicious anticipation. And the taking of your sustenance draws nigh." She launched herself across his body, oil slicked hands running up and over his nipples, shoulders and arms, as her body settled stomach to stomach, breast to breast. Between them, his manhood throbbed in an agony of ecstasy. His balls drew tighter to his body, tension filled orbs suddenly taught. With a silken lurch she rubbed her body against his, creating friction and heat against his cock trapped in its prison of flesh. The underside of his corona rasped against the damp skin of her stomach as her nether lips anointed him anew with a rush of delicate female arousal.

The twin pricks of her nipples against his chest were sure signs of her enthusiasm. Each drag across his chest caused the hitch in her breathing he had become so accustomed to. Hands resting on his shoulders, she gripped them hard as she stilled her rocking motions. His sigh of disappointment abruptly changed as she rotated her hips against his groin in a wanton grind. Over the ridge of his shaft he could almost discern the scrape of her love jewel, malleable and hard at the same time. Slickened by her cream, the nub scraped over and over across his tender flesh, and her breath escaped in small cries of self pleasuring. "Ah... ah... ah... Oh!"

Her neck arched against the exquisite pleasure, lungs laboring to draw air where desire would deny it. The veins of her neck pulsed darkly and his eyes locked to them, to the heat and the salt they contained.

"Free my hand," he pleaded. It was a struggle to speak to her, knowing she forbade it.

"No," she moaned, hips working feverishly, back arching into the movement.

"Let me suck your nipples, let me kiss your flesh."

"You cannot." Her eyes squinched tight as she rotated her pelvis. There! He could feel her screwing her clitoris into the base of his cock, a pinpoint of pleasure so small compared to the rest of her body. Oh, but the response was torture in heaven. Her back bowed and her torso lifted, drawing her nipples into the air and a cry from her throat. His tongue snaked out and caught a morsel along its trajectory and her shudder tightened her thighs on his hips in a spasm

"Ah! Not yet! Oh... oh... Again!"

She lowered her nipples and his tongue snaked out again to dart and jab at the knotted flesh. "Yes!" He caught the tidbit in his mouth and sucked it as if he could strip the skin from her body. His tongue lashed the captive nipple, suffusing it with dark, torturous licks and sucking kisses. His teeth ached to nibble it, but at the first scrape of teeth she drew away and slapped him across the cheek.

He snapped his head around, eyes burning, and dared her to slap him again.

Her eyes glittered dangerously, but her mouth quirked with humor. Her cheeks held a torrid blush, produced by her exertions, and despite the chastisement, her hips continued to rock against him. She laughed, a half chortle cut short by desire. She liked slapping him. He wasn't smiling, but that look in his eyes could not be refused. Her hand cracked against his cheek again and he snarled at her.

The dangerous game had her on the edge, and his feral reply made her sit up abruptly so that her clitoris rubbed at a different angle. The new position sent an electric shock through her womb. Reaching down she cupped his penis in her hand angled it for maximum contact. With her other arm she reached behind her and leaned on his jumping thigh as her back arched and she continued to grind herself against him. The sensations dancing across her swollen flesh were perfect. She moved her body selfishly, breasts angled at the ceiling, nipples bobbing. "Ah! Ah... ah... Ah!"

Beneath her, he could only thrust against her body and the manacle of her hand. She would not touch the head although it leaked tears of frustration in an unending stream. His cheek blushed bright red from her hand, and despite himself he began to urge her towards her climax, so close to his own.

"You enjoyed my mouth on your nipple. See how bright red it glows? It's a rude, angry color and smarts fiercely. I can see my saliva on your breast, shining in the candlelight. Just like the stain on your stomach from—Ah! More!—I see how you rub your swollen flesh against me, though you think I am a beast. You need the pleasure my cock can give you. You're like a little animal in heat, a savage cat."

"Shut up!"

"That's right, rub your little jewel against me. It's hot, is it not? Does it throb for me? Lean closer, darling, let it kiss my testicles again."

"I'm not—Ah!—your darling."

"Twist for me, thrash for me. Rub that little bud against my cock!"

"Bastard!" she screeched as she came. Her hips jacked up and down, lips pulsing against his flesh. Ripples of pleasure caused her muscles to spasm up and down her torso. "Ah! I spend!" Collapsing backwards against his legs she writhed in pleasure, twisting across the bed. Glistening cream dripped down her thighs, unimpeded. She thrashed once more until his shout brought her forward to pinch at the base of his cock. The climax dashed over his body but no release issued from his straining shaft. His manhood's pleasure thwarted, he could only shudder, a cold sweat bathing his body. Above his navel, his cock wept tears of anger.

The woman collapsed across the bed, one luxurious thigh draped over his own. Her hand rested lightly at his hip, fingers tangling at the edge of the softly curling hair at his groin. She lowered her head to his chest and sighed, listening to her heartbeat in his chest. For a moment she could almost believe this was her choice, her lover, her bed. She twisted her head on her neck to look at his face and saw the strong jaw, the straight nose, the blond shadow of new growth along his cheeks. He swallowed, staring at the ceiling, beads of pink sweat dotting his forehead.

When he looked at her, finally, he couldn't help the fascination he felt for the darkness in her eyes. This was a woman of secrets. Her eyes told him so.

Lying as she did, her head balanced on the curve of his chest and her eyes softly gazing, he almost felt as though she belonged to him. "Talking is not allowed," she told him softly in her smooth alto.

"It is the only weapon that remains to me in my captivity."

"Captives are not allowed weapons. All must be taken away."

"Then why suffer me to live, fair lady? Why bother with this wretched body?"

"My Master wishes."

"Your Master is a fool to lead you to the beds of other men."

"Speak not of what you don't know, foolish man."

Her fingers twitched at his groin and the heat suddenly came roaring back through his veins. It didn't matter that she had reached her peak, or that her deliciously nude body stretched alongside his, free for his perusal. The fire in his cock demanded satisfaction, instant attention.

His groan of madness must have indicated such to her, for her fingers combed through the tangles to curl around the base of his shaft. Her soft grip grew tighter, and she jerked slowly on his flesh, up... twist and down... Again, harder, faster. When his hips began to pump into her fist she paused to gather the fallen wetness that pooled near his navel. Gently she mingled his body's lubrication with the cream from her spending. Her fingertips traced the rigid vein along the underside and strummed at the retracted foreskin just below the knob. Making a ring of her thumb and first finger, she drew down sharply, stretching the skin, pushing the core out from within. His agonized moan was louder and his hips pumped like pistons once, twice, three times before he gained control.

"Shall I kiss it?" she asked devilishly, using the tip of one finger to smooth around the purple head and dip gently into the small eye. As she pulled her finger away, a long strand of fluid stretched between slit and fingertip.

"Mercy, yes!" the man could barely groan past the desperation choking his throat. His shaft weaved in the air, nodding its agreement.

With glittering eyes that would not release his gaze, she settled on her knees between his thighs and slowly lowered her head. She licked her lips well before bestowing a wet, openmouthed kiss. The flicker of her tongue lashed through him. Pure pleasure reverberated in his bones as her mouth engulfed the throbbing helmet.

She hummed her pleasure and it sent frissons of exquisite sensation through the very core of him. Her mouth was heaven. It felt like the first time all over again. The gentle dying as she engulfed him, cradled him, then sucked the nerves from his shattered, boneless body.

His hips pumped beneath her, because she never told him not to. He ground into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth, felt the gentle rasp of teeth, and the thicker, bolder caress of her tongue. The ridges along the top of her mouth tripped over his skin, cut into the shelf of his corona. And when she rose completely off the shaft, she angled it to kiss the base, lick the top of his testicles, and spear the soft cushion underneath them.

Her nose burrowed between the two orbs, tighter than ever, feeling as though they would crawl inside him. Her tongue was a hard, blunt tipped spear that probed the skin between his testicles and anus. She licked the skin there, found the shallow ridge, and nibbled gently as though savoring a candy. His cry of pleasure echoed in the room.

Once again she rose, tongue trailing over testicle and shaft in a determined line. Her mouth opened and she dipped to engulf him. He watched, hypnotized, as the rose-hued ring of her lips hugged his raging flesh and sank down, down, down to finally encase every rampant inch of him. She swallowed against him, throat muscles stroking the throbbing knob, scraping over the meaty shaft. Her mouth looked stretched beyond its limit, tight around the base of him, nose buried in his pubic hair. Her eyes still strained to look at him. They urged him to move inside the exquisite oral sheath.

With desperate grunts he began to jerk his hips—"Uh! Uh! Uh!"—and dragged his cock over the hidden ridges of her throat, its spasming muscles and tight strictures. Her hum of approval sent shivering vibrations down and around his shaft from the shivering outlet at the tip of his penis to the very core hidden in the depths of his body. His arms thrashed against the binding that kept them spread. In his head he could imagine them shredding, breaking under his onslaught. His hands would rise to clutch her delicate skull, force it down on him, until his cock forged past all barriers. He would sink deeper than her throat, touch organs, spear into them. Like a lengthy sword, rigid and hard, he would lay waste to the terrain beyond her mouth. The thought made him groan. Her eyes staring at him, she seemed to know his thoughts, and she nudged her nose into his stomach, sinking a fraction further, and swallowed fiercely against the meaty column.