tagBDSMFire in the Forest of Desire

Fire in the Forest of Desire


As the first rays of light peek over the horizon, her precious woman nectar drips onto a mossy forest stone. Above it, her body forms a perfect "x" arms stretched overhead, wrists clenched in richly woven rose vine with thorns lightly prickling.

These are tied to two thick, gnarled vines, which ascend to a great arcing bough above. Her vaginal lips have been shaven smooth. Her lips are swollen to openness. Helplessly engorged with lust, it forfeits its love rain to the earth.

Her legs are apart, held by leather bindings that lace from thin ankle to slippery thigh. Her bare feet sink down into the warm woolen carpet of moss.

There is a fire blazing amidst a caring of stones. Its light licks provocatively along the subtle curves of her taut frame. Her nipples are ringed with a special Chinese love paste it makes her nipples swell and they throb with a kind of relentless pulsing fire.

She willfully draws strength from forest spirits around her. In this prone position, even a tiny crawling predator could do mischief to her shaven tenderness. Whenever He arrived, she would be called upon to retreat into herself.

A special place in her mind where pain would become her comforter and she would dissolve into it as night is absorbed into morning's mist.

Around her neck is a slender leather neck strap, bearing His crest. Tied to its front is a densely knotted chord that runs down her thistle-scratched cleavage, past her bare navel and disappears into her naked swollen sex.

Below that, it runs tightly against her ass where a large knot worries deeply into the soft wetness. From there, it travels snugly up her ass furrow, lifting clear of the small curve in her back and comes to rest in a knot on necklace's back.

She enjoys how it feels when she tries to move and it gets a little tighter. Wedging a little deeper, disciplining her to open, open, as her Master would wish. There is no inch she may deny Him, no portal closed from His pleasure.

She closes her eyes and a swirl of stars pricks night blackness. Her Master will take her this evening. "Take". Take is such a wonderfully over simplified word, but a universal word. She knows there are no words to express Gift of her surrender and description of all that He is to her.

Her reverie shatters with cackling of birds heralding His approach. She looks up, filled with a new energy. His eyes are already upon her, taking her in taking her. She lowers her eyes and sighs with concern. Cradled across his chest is a polished black cane with a perfect crystal head. Its girth is at least half again larger than his cock. A orbital tip is much larger than any woman would prefer.

He walks onto the verdant moss where she hangs, ass tightened, breath held expectantly. He checks her wrist and leg bindings, carefully caressing each spot, even as He tightens any looseness.

Placing a hand on either side of her hips, he tenderly gazes upon her lowered face. Her heart was pounding. Would He have her meet His eyes?

She dares not risk it. But then His deep, warm voice breathes, "You will look at me". She looks up and He kisses her deeply. Once, then twice, each time with greater passion. She sees herself reflected in His eyes, His hands. Her curves fill to Him, but she longs to push herself ever further into His grasp.

As He pulls away, her eyes fall to half-closing, her mind traversing inner landscapes as she clings to him for just this long moment. She is amazed at the awe she still feels with each meeting.

Awed by knowledge He has of her innermost core. She feels a flicker of fear run through her belly while warmth spreads through her chest, radiating outward and within. All of her opens to Him and begins this journey of surrender.

"Are you ready, Sandy" He asks in a soothing, yet commanding tone.

Her eyes have already said it. Her breath rushes to cover the same distance. "Yes Master," then a pause as inner doors unlock at her bidding, "It is to you that I surrender all. I am yours."

He kisses her tenderly, tilting her head with a finger placed gently under her chin, the other grasping her hair. During this one lingering moment, an inner fire ignites. First His, then hers, a fire whose creator is unknown to either, but whose heat liquefies solid walls between two loving souls, melting them into one Union.

His finger pushes harder up into her chin, pinching the tongue she so seductively slides across His lips. Her eyes crinkle, first wave of pain always being the hardest. She will submit, even as her body resists. Farther his finger goes, now jamming.

Pain cleanses her mind of an outer world. She must remember that His love wears sanctified clothes of a Master, going back generations of ancients and ritual practices. As a clawing wave of pain threatens to overcome her resistance, he releases, always releasing just as her last layer is stripped.

Now she feels a familiar cane held level, flat across the front of her hips. At the touch of this unfamiliar discipline tool, a wave of panic overtakes her for a moment. Her throat involuntarily clenches, she swallows.

Both noticed at once, she sub with dread, and He with Dom of pleasure. This tiny slip signals hesitancy in her heart: She must never surrender to fear, only to her Master. This mistake seals her fate. Her love beating now will also include far, far more strokes.

He must wean her from her fear using pain as a trusted teacher.

His cane rolls upwards as a rolling pin shapes new bread. It is a black wood of fine grain. Its sleek rod rises and falls with her every curve. It swerves from her belly up onto her ribs. Her eyes have fallen from His and he urges their return with a nudge. The cane is nearing her stiff nipples, where the last fire still throbs from the special salve.

He wants to watch it in her eyes. She stares back; praying for perfect surrender as his cane forcefully mounts the two jutting points. The pain is unspeakable, causing her spine to straighten. But the cry of fear is held within by the heart of a woman who would master her own will in full surrender.

Tears well up in her eyes, but she knows that they will not brim past her black lashes. She is a woman with power that transcends cruelty of a Master. He kisses her, a face thrusting through a fiery wall of pain. She kisses him tenderly, gratefully, in reply. Feeding Him her pain, and giving it to Him to transform into pleasure.

He has been watching her as the last flickers of pain faded from her eyes. He is secretly astounded how her nipples devour pain for Him. The cane pauses, swirling just slightly to find the last piercing spot of fire.

He smiles as a resulting spasm causes a silent clitoral shiver. He slides his rod upward, hard against her collarbone, then soft against her neck. Her neck is a tender symphony. It pulses with her lifeblood, flexes with her every breath, and tingles under His disciplinary squeezes.

Her heart throbs so that her breast tips shake visibly. He sees them and leans to suck right one in. She hasn't prepared for His sudden move--too wary of cane -- and is filled with a terrible fear. If He bites her now, as He always relishes, she will surely break down. Her nipples are not infinitely resistant to sexual torment.

She is near tears at disappointing Him and afraid of His disappointment and punishment. But He gently sucks her until warm peace returns, repeating with her other nipple. Her chin is kept high by the cane.

When the Master has his fill of her breasts, he stands again. The cane presses harder against her throat, increasing until she feels an uncomfortable choking feeling. She is free to move back, but she presses harder into it. Her air, her blood, her life is His for his taking. As the dark swirls spin about her narrowing vision, He whispers, "Are you mine?" Over a roar of blood thunder, she gasps: "Yes Master, I belong to you."

Tracing his cane along her throat, He moves it over her breasts once more, to her waist and around to the top of her spine. There it slowly presses forcefully down her spine where it forces the knot that rests in her ass deeper yet. The crystal orb traces every inch of her ass flesh making it His.

He moves back to admire her melon shaped cheeks. Their pure whiteness and He closes His eyes imagining the deep red they will shortly become.

But He does not wish to damage his Sandy, but only to polish her to a finer luster. He begins with His hands running them along every inch of this special object of his desire, feeling her flesh twitch and warm to touch as each solid impact meets its target.

She focuses all her efforts at welcoming his hand, speaking volumes with each deep arch of her back, each straining thrusting motion of her ass through the haze of pain to declare with all her being that she wants more, needs more, and desires nothing more than this pleasuring for her Master.

She embraces every strike, every declaration of His desiring of her surrender. Her juices coating leather binding of her thighs and legs pay tribute to her deep pleasure in giving to Him this way. Just as she feels herself dissolving into burning kisses that land over and over with His hand. He pulls her head back by her hair, her mouth opens in pain at suddenness of this gesture and He covers her mouth inhaling her soul.

Wicked whistling song of his crop reaches her ears first. His tongue continues to feed upon her, drawing out every syllable of surrender, feasting on wine of her pain as first cut claims her. All of her seems to be devoured by His tongue and ravenous taking of her mouth, never breaking the hold He has on her soul, cuts come faster and faster. He WILL inhale every breath of surrender.

He releases her when His hand can no longer swing the leather crop. She is trembling and long ago lost the battle to contain her tears, no, she cries freely. She cries beautifully, offering them to her Master. He is nourished by them and drinks of them, soothing her again, bringing her back to Him. He demands her presence, her acknowledgment of the journey she has agreed to take with Him.

She watches as He picks up his black onyx cane once again, but instead of walking behind her, He comes around to her front. With His powerful arms he grasps his instrument like a wooden stake, drives it into earth directly beneath her shining womanhood. He waits patiently, returning to her swollen, burning nipples again and again until first drops of her woman nectar grace that crystal orb topping his cane.

Then it is time. He grasps vines and bindings that keep her tethered and He slowly lowers her so that she straddles the orb. Her eyes are wide as she lets go of fear bringing all of her powers to bear on remaining relaxed and open. She knows He has prepared her for this each time she was required to hold the heavy leaden globes inside her for a whole day while serving Him.

This training enabled her to pull His cock deep inside her and pleasure Him with special caresses when He took her that way. And now she realized that His training had a different purpose as well. Her admiration for her Master shines in her eyes, as she prepares to meet all that is required of her.

At last the orb slips inside and she is balanced on it her feet barely touch the moss, barely aiding the suspension of her body. Yet she is thankful that He has not demanded that she balance all her weight on it. The leather knot deepens in her anus as well and she is writhing upon this stake of ecstasy.

He moves behind her once more with a whip made with His own hands, He felled the animal with His hunting skill and tanned leather Himself, nourishing the supple strap with His strength and special oils.

But it is the special nourishment of His Sandy's sweat and sweet flesh that truly feeds the leather snake. He comes to stand before her again letting the leather runs across her breasts, her stomach, and He brings it to her lips. She closes her eyes and kisses it reverently. He takes her mouth yet again with a passion borne of the intensity of the task ahead.

She tries to prepare for this new form of pain; she cannot arch out to meet each impact of the leather. She is pinned to the orb. Every impact of the lash will push her harder onto a crystal globe. He leans to her ear and whispers; "Do not dare give yourself release until I command you, Sandy."

Just feeling His breath so close to her and feeling the fire that burns inside Him at that moment makes this demand nearly impossible. She wants to scream in abandon and drench the orb with her juices, but she knows she will not. Still, it will take a strength she is not certain is within her to obey her Master in this.

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