Her Beast

There's fire in his gray eyes, a little spark of rebellion which has remained, in spite of everything. His submission isn't complete. There's always a hitch, a millisecond of hesitation between order and action.

He's a brat. It seems he likes stoking the flames of her anger and impatience, to see how far he can push her.

As he has done so tonight.

"You don't respect me," she says softly, gazing down at him where he lay tied to the bed - legs splayed, arms hitched high, crossed at the wrists and bound with deep purple silk rope. There is only a bit of give where it's looped around the centermost slat of the headboard. Enough movement to keep him somewhat immobile and very much frustrated.

"You don't respect me," she repeats. "I'm your mistress in name alone."

She settles her lean, naked frame at the edge of the bed, the swell of one well-rounded ass cheek just barely grazing his bare hip.

"You like to push me. Make me angry."

One slim hand skims upward along his lightly tanned torso, between the sharply defined muscles of his pecks. The slight tremble there gives her some measure of satisfaction. He isn't entirely unaffected. Salvageable.

"You," she continues, "are an animal. And, no matter how hard I try to tame you..." Her hand curls around his throat, just below his chin. She squeezes firmly, tilts his head back so his gaze is locked with hers, "you remain feral. Hungry. A selfish beast."

She watches the slide of his tongue over his full bottom lip, wanting to taste it. To bite it.

"Forgive me, Mistress," he says in a low, rough whisper.

She scoffs, releasing her hold on his neck. Her fingers dance over the line of his jaw, over the short, coarse hairs there. Dark brown. A shade lighter than her own chestnut-hued complexion.

"Now you ask forgiveness." She laughs, though there's no humor in it. "My big, unruly beast. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, huh?"

"Mistress-"

Her hand shoots up to twist in the hair at his nape, and she yanks down, angling his head and cutting off whatever he'd been about to say. She bends over until her lips are only a breath away from his. He smells warm and musky. Delicious.

"Don't lie. Don't apologize. What's done is done."

She stays like that a long moment, drinking in the softly panted breaths escaping him. His whole body is taut as a piano wire. Strong and ready. Hungry. Already on edge.

Finally she moves, her head turning toward the closet where she keeps her "toys". But then, as if a thought has crossed her mind, she turns back to him, and lifts her lean body up onto the bed.

His steely eyes rake over her lush figure - her full, bare breasts with their dark chocolate-tipped nipples and her sweetly sloping hips. His fingers twitch, his arms tugging at the bindings keeping him in place.

He moans quietly when she settles over him, her cunt, already slick and hot, resting on his stomach.

"It seems," she says in that low, purring cadence, "I was wrong about you. Was I wrong about you, love?"

Her fingers trail slowly down his torso, her sharp nails digging in just enough to bite and leave angry red lines along his sides. There's pleasure mixed with the pain, just the way he likes it, but not enough to give him any sort of satisfaction. Just the way *she* likes it.

"No, Mistress," he replies, arching just a little under her touch.

She bites her lip. Watches as she drags a thumb over one of his flat nipples.

"Hm. Maybe I was. Maybe I'm boring you. Maybe the little red-head you were dancing with tonight is more your speed."

Her eyes flick up to his, watching him closely from beneath the thick fringe of bangs brushing over her brow.

"Maybe," she whispers, "I should just let you go."

This brings a stronger reaction. He growls low in his throat, his hips thrusting up from the bed. And, she laughs, leaning forward to plant her palms on either side of him.

"Oh, so now you care!"

His gray eyes are flashing. Angry. She loves it.

"You didn't seem to have a thought for me when you were grinding against that little tramp," she accuses. She brings her face close to his, nuzzles his scruffy chin with the tip of her nose.

"I wonder what she tastes like," she murmurs. "I wonder if she'd moan for you. Beg you to fuck her tight little cunt."

A low rumble echoes through him. He tugs at his bindings.

"That turns you on, hm?"

Anger flares at her center and she lunges forward a bit to sink her teeth in his neck. She growls right back, mashing her breasts into his chest.

"Fuck," he huffs. She can feel his hips rocking below her, trying desperately to find and breach her core.

She snakes out her tongue to lave the spot where her teeth marked him, savoring the taste of the sweat on his skin. Dipping lower, she slides her cunt over his dick, leaving a wet, sticky trail of her essence on him. He hisses at the contact, rocks more firmly against her.

"Be still," she hisses. "Be quiet." She moves, rocking and grinding, taking her pleasure from the way the thick head of his cock presses into her clit. Pleasure winds through her, settling in a warm, pulsing throb in the pit of her stomach.

She knows he wants to move, to drive into her deeply, to feel the hot clutch of her cunt pulling at his dick. For once, he obeys, laying perfectly still save for the constant pull against his bindings, and the harsh breaths he releases into her shoulder.

One particularly delicious undulation catches the rim of her cunt and he gasps.

"Mmph. Mistress...please..."

She is caught up in the pleasure, the warmth winding deliciously around her spine.

"What?"

"Please," he says, his voice low and edged with rough need. "I need... uhnn... inside you."

She laughs, soft and teasing, then settles back enough to allow the head of him to split her lips further, to barely kiss her slick opening. She closes her fingers around his throat and presses a thumb below his chin.

"Unruly beast," she coos. "Needy, greedy animal." She presses back and stares him in the eye as his head pushes slightly deeper.

His face is a twisted mask of tortured pleasure. A slight tint of beautiful rose highlights his skin. He rocks his hips, working little more than an inch into her clutching cunt. He huffs and growls, wanting more, pushing the boundaries of what she's willing to give to him.

Though she wants more, desires more, loves the feel of him pounding into her, this is his penance, this reaching, grasping ache for completion.

She holds herself over his body, lets him try to drive deep, feeling the fluttering of her own need urging her to seat herself completely on his stiff prick. But, she likes him like this - this big, strong man, rough and hard-edged, decorated in vibrant swathes of black and red ink, begging with his body, with his storm-cloud eyes, to be taken and used for her pleasure.

When her own need becomes too much, she climbs off of him. Her slim fingers make quick work of the knotted rope. He immediately moves to her and she allows him to nuzzle her, to place hungry kisses over her neck and shoulders.

When his lips move to claim hers, she pulls back and takes his place in the bed, stretching out on her back. She uses her foot against his side to move him away.

"Lick me. Make me cum with your mouth, Beast."

There is a flash of hesitation, that split second where his eyes tell her what he'd much rather be doing. But, then he's moving, placing himself between her parted thighs. His strong hands close over her hips, and she places the flat of her feet on his shoulders. His eyes remain on hers as he licks a wet path from the bottom of her cunt to the tip of her hooded clit. His beard grazes her inner thigh, causing her to shiver.

She smiles down at him, lust softening her gaze. Though, only slightly.

"Good boy."

He makes a small noise at the back of his throat, her praise pushing him forward, making him bury the lower half of his face into her open pussy. Yes, he knows exactly how she likes it. She's taught him that much, and he doesn't disappoint.

His broad tongue makes long, sweeping passes over her flesh, dipping inside her just enough to bring her hips arching off the bed. He is a messy eater, vocal, rumbling and sighing his delight. She loves the sight of his long, pink tongue splitting her, the sight of his full lips sucking her into his eager mouth. She uses her feet at his shoulders as leverage and he easily follows the snaking of her hips, never breaking his rhythm.

"Two fingers now," she orders, breathless, already rising swiftly to her delicious peak.

He obliges, slipping his first and middle fingers inside while his lips and tongue focus on her pulsing clit.

She yowls and groans, unable to watch him any longer.

"Yes! That's it! Make me cum!"

He needs no further urging. He seals those wonderful lips over her clit and sucks roughly, curling his fingers inside her cunt and teasing that sweet spot.

She shatters, grinding against his mouth, leaking her sweet juices onto his light beard and driving fingers. He follows her on the downslope, licking her clean and nuzzling her inner thighs. His eyes plead for more.

She's almost willing to give it. But, she's still angry.

"Did you think of her while you were eating me, Beast?"

His gray eyes flare and, suddenly, he's on top of her, his mouth on hers, his tongue plunging deep while his cock seeks out her entrance. She shoves at his shoulders while his hands grip her hips, and he sinks himself smoothly into her tight heat.

"Crazed animal," she hisses, though the pleasure of his intrusion takes a great deal of sting out of the accusation. Her nails dig into his shoulders and he grunts, pulling back and then plunging sharply forward.

"Mmm... forgive me, Mistress," he groans, and she doesn't know if he's asking forgiveness for his previous slight, or his current one.

He's rocking into her, pulling a low mewling sound out of her, and she's fighting to regain her composure. He's so big, and he feels so damn good thrusting into her.

"How dare you," she gasps, pushing at him still, even as her hips rise to meet his. "You ...uhhn..."

He nods, burying his face in her throat, biting and suckling at the sensitive flesh.

"Beast," he growls, and the rough echo of his voice fills her from the inside out. He continues, punctuating each word with a deep, ruthless thrust. "Yes, savage...untrained...thoughtless...beast...mmph..."

She is melting, swiftly and surely coming apart beneath him. His hands glide up her sides and curl beneath her shoulders, holding her close and immobile.

She tries to hold onto the anger, the indignation, however her legs are opening wider to his plundering.

"Your beast, my love," he whispers, his breath fanning hotly over her cheek. He continues thrusting, driving, pumping, filling the air around them with the sound of each advance and retreat, with her deep moans and his needy groans. His hands clutch her to him. Claiming. Pinning. She can feel his strength, his power, in every measured movement.

She's going to cum again. The feeling, the need, sits heavy in the pit of her stomach, threatening to splinter her into a million shimmering pieces.

And he knows her body so well that when she starts to cum, he cries out in triumph, pistoning into her, thrusting as deep as he can possibly go, and grinding his pelvis against her clit to heighten the pleasure.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!"

She's chanting, pleading, overwhelmed with sensation, heat and light merging within her in a molten wave that roils and churns before breaking, leaving her clutching and clawing at the man above her.

He chuckles darkly, stealing her breath with a kiss, pumping furiously now, crashing after her through her release and bathing her inner walls with his own.

Much later and the room is silent. The light is soft and wavering. Her leg is thrown across his stomach. One of his large hands glides idly over her thigh, alternating between heavy petting and the light pressure of his blunt nails dragging along her skin.

She tucks her folded hands beneath her cheek and lets her eyes take in his striking profile.

Her beast is large, rough and beautiful. Auburn hair falls in softly curling waves just below his ears, a contrast to the short coarse hairs covering the lower half of his face. Full lips which have brought her countless hours of pleasure. Broad shoulders and chest tapering down to a slim waist. His arms are thickly muscled. Powerful.

They are opposites. She's loud and lighthearted to his quiet and serious. He isn't her type, but she's thankful for whatever blind providence placed him in a bar on the wrong side of the tracks on the exact evening she figured out that tequila was, in fact, her 'angry' drink.

She doesn't know much about him, save for the town gossip, but she's never taken stock in any of that. If she had, he wouldn't have occupied her bed, or her body, for the past three months. She knows her way of thinking is, at best, naive and, to hear her cousin tell it, dangerous, but she's always had a soft spot for the strong, silent types.

"You topped me," she says, her voice drifting softly between them.

He turns his head toward her on the pillow. His eyes focus momentarily on her lips. His gaze is intense. Sometimes she swears he can see inside her. Straight through her.

He curls his hand beneath her thigh, slides it upward until he's cupping one ample ass cheek.

"You threatened me," he replies. His voice is deep and gruff, conjuring delicious images of smoky bars and dark whiskey.

"I did?"

His hand shifts higher, smoothing over her hip before using it to tug her closer. She's practically sprawled over him. It's an awkward position; she knows how much he enjoys the warm press of her skin.

"' Maybe I should just let you go.'"

She blinks at him, then realizes he's repeating her earlier words. She'd been teasing him, playing with him for the sake of the scene, but it suddenly dawns on her that he'd taken her seriously. His anger and frustration weren't fabricated.

The thought causes her heart to jump painfully inside her chest. She reaches out to trace the tip of a finger down the line of his nose.

"That bothered you?"

He catches her hand and brings her wrist to his lips. His teeth graze the soft flesh, biting down tenderly before soothing the spot with a quick flick of his tongue. The warmth of his mouth sends a corresponding flash to her clit.

She calls him her beast not merely because of his size and strength. He is very much animalian in action as well. He marks her in subtle ways. Like this. And, also, more overt ways. The soreness of her cunt is a testament to that fact. Yes, he submits to her, though she often find herself submitting to him.

"I didn't mean it," she whispers.

She's never really thought much beyond what they've shared over the past few months. She was simply happy to find someone who shared a taste for her particular brand of kink. Never considered factoring in emotion or concern. Never considered that he might actually grow to care for her.

"With all due respect, *Mistress*," he rumbles out. "No more threats. I'm yours."

She hides her smile against the ridges of her ribcage, joy and satisfactions swelling inside her.

"With all due respect," she counters. Drags her nails up his side and watches his muscles flex under the tips of her fingers. "No more red heads. I'm very protective of what belongs to me."