tagBDSMIt Was Always There

It Was Always There


She felt it begin to rise within her; coiling, boiling, growing, powering, and she lay her head back, face to the moon, to let it grow. It surged through her body, growing and pulsing, making her body tingle. She loved it when the power washed through her, making every nerve sing. Every touch made her moan softly; the wind was like a lover's touch, sweeping her hair from her face and caressing each cheek lightly. And with the strength came the sensuality, the part of her power she most cherished. Her nerve endings singing, her body on fire, the wind to which she called caressing her like a long time lover. She called to it, pushed it to a fever pitch, and fed the hunger within. Spreading her arms out slightly to her sides, head tilting back farther, she let her mind go, let it see whatever it would, let it lead her as she always did.

he saw him, clothed in a pair of black slacks, black button down hanging open, red silk shirt beneath. With the sides of the shirt billowed around him; he seemed the Dark Angel himself. Dark and dangerous. He was all hard and lean, not an ounce wasted. He oozed strength and control. Her own individuality reared up in the face of the possession he directed toward her. She shook her head to rid itself of what it would show her, but the vision stayed, taking the control she sought and twining his around her instead.

"No," she whispered aloud, "this is not real, merely a figment of the power and the energy." But still he lingered, the grin of a victor calmly upon his face. She shook her head in negation, denying that she could have brought this on herself. Her strength was not yet that strong. And damn the man, he laughed. Laughed as though this were funny or humorous in any way.

"No," he gently tickled within her mind, "you aren't that strong. But I am. And I'll not leave. I've been waiting for you, waiting for you to acknowledge all that you are and all that you were meant to be. So here we are, and I will show you. I am going to take you higher, weave the magic you seek throughout you until you're breathless from it. I know what it does to you, the changes it renders. I know the hungers it brings and I know the desires that shame you in the light of day, but you feed in the safety of the dark. I know, and those secrets are no longer safe behind the walls you have erected. You are mine. Now's the time for you to learn that."

She could feel the darkness moving all around her, through her, swirling and spinning as though it were trying to devour her or even empower her; it was hard to tell which. She lifted her face into the wind, she let it feed into her own energy, feeling it pulse and throb with something that could only be called life. Raking her nails along the inside of her palms, feeling herself grow stronger; she opened her eyes to level a dead stare.

She had anticipated that he would look away, having watched her feed into this, or at least be less certain, but he wasn't. If nothing else, drawing on that strength had empowered him, too. The stare she leveled at him was returned in kind, his pouring an icy heat forth, challenging her to open up and share. She smirked at that, believing his strength to be of a lesser quality and lashed out from somewhere deep within, whipping her energy around his body, letting the lightning heat touch but only barely. It bounced rather than flowed and it appeared erratic, but he knew it was not.

He let her tamp along the edges, but when she would lash out to hurt, he grabbed hers with his own and bent it to his will, not squelching what was hers, but adding to it and controlling it. His brows lifted in surprise when she jerked hers away, then scorched him with the heat of it as she snapped it dangerously close. He didn't fear then, either, taking the display for what is was, a showing of strength. In control she might be, but when this witch was angry, so was her energy.

Holding her gaze with his own to distract her, he moved forward slowly. Slowly, so as not to alarm or give warning, he raised his hand to her waist, letting it settle in the curve between her ribs and her hips, gently sweeping his hand over it. It startled her, which he had not only anticipated, but made his sole purpose, and she darted her eyes to his hand, as though startled that it was actually there. He felt her energy spark and shimmer just seconds before he jerked his hand away, wincing at the pain. Throwing her the glare that started all of this, he moved. And he did so in such a way that she could never have staved off the attack, although she would have. Tooth and nail. He wrapped his hands around her tiny waist, picking her up and pulling her legs around his waist.

He felt her come alive in his hands. She began to bite and claw at his chest, which amused him. He felt her power diminish because it was lacking the energy to hold it. As focused as she was on hurting him, she never noticed that they were moving. If she had, it would have scared her. They weren't walking, running, jogging or rolling. They were flying. Through time and space, he took them; feeling, with pleasure, her fight start to diminish. They arrived fluidly, him nipping his teeth along the sensitive lobes of her ears to distract her from the sudden cessation of movement. Holding a snarling wild cat may have been easier and less dangerous that one pissed off witch, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. He kept guiding her across the floor of the pitch black room, relying on his senses and his memory to help him through the room without his vision. He felt her bump up against the wall and smiled when she stilled in his arms, forgetting to fight. She opened her eyes, but the black was so complete that she couldn't see him, though he was mere inches from her face. He felt her fear and crumpled it, replacing it with a milder sense of anger. She was, after all, a very sexy witch when she was angry.

He linked his fingers through hers and continued the assault on her senses, hoping to throw her off guard again, and he was right. Smiling to himself, he drew her arm upward, sliding his fingers on the tender underside of her wrist before slipping it into the cuff locked to the wall. He thrust his power deeper into her mind, making her blissfully unaware of what was going on, leaving her with a vague sense of floating. But when he tested the strength of the leather and it's closing, she came up out of the fog he had her in and locked gazes with him, pleading. He held her eyes with his own, showing her who she was, what she was for him alone, and felt the very moment of her surrender. Watching her body fall limp, the submission in her eyes, the rampant lust in her flesh. With the loosening of her body, he let go of the hand bound and held her more thoroughly with his two. He guided her free hand up the wall and into it's binding, sealing her fate for her. Placing just one finger under her chin, he tilted it upwards, demanding her attention, pleading with just his eyes. She caught and held his eyes with her own, giving him her acceptance.

"Stay here," he murmured sardonically, grinning impishly at her. "Of course."

He walked slowly to the corner, lighting small candles as he went. Slightly illuminating , but not enough to open eyes. Bending slowly, he reached for the one item that he most needed to lock into place, but the last item that would actually be used. He placed that on his bent knee, in such a way that she could see it, or at least wonder about it. Grabbing one more item, he stood up, picking up his favorite object, the one he crafted by himself. Smiling to himself, he admitted the truth. He had crafted it just for her. But he had done so nearly two hundred years before. He walked back to her, slowly, both items in his hand designed to scare, but not to inspire deep fear. The scissors were standard, run of the mill department store style, but the intent in his eyes are what gave them their edge.

He strode so purposefully that there was no doubt he had given her all the time he deemed necessary and that her time was up. Laying his forehead against her own, he flitted his fingers from her neck to her collarbone, tracing there briefly before moving to the collar of her shirt. It was a polo style, a few buttons but mostly solid fabric. 'Just perfect,' he thought 'for inspiring a healthy respect.'

He tugged on it testing the fabric and smiled to himself. This would be more fun than warranted. Grinning into her eyes, he raised the scissors so she could see them, slicing into the fabric with a nearly sensual schnick. Cringing, she turned her head so she wouldn't have to watch, but the scissors demanded that she know what was going on. Schnick shnick three more times and the shirt was history. Feeling her energy pick up, he glanced at her, hoping to still see acceptance. It was there, in her eyes. The desire to turn it all over to him, the need to give what he was asking for, but also, there lingered the need for control. That was one need he refused to give her. The control was his alone and she would learn that tonight. Now.

Starting another cut, he jerked her bra from her flesh, abrading her skin slightly from the force, and did the same for her pants, socks, and underwear, shoes having been drawn off upon binding. He raked his eyes over her skin, feeling within himself the heat it caused. Sliding the scrutiny back up to her eyes, he whispered in her ear, "All your life you've searched, feeding the magic; the power within you because you thought that's what you had lacked. But you know, don't you, that it was never the magic?" At her tentative nod, he continued, "It was this, all along." He could see confusion in her eyes, but try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to simply blurt it out.

Slowly, he drug his nails along her sides, forcing her body to bend toward him, ripping from her the desire for more. When her eyes drifted closed, he turned and picked up the final item. The one that he had toiled over with her picture, her flawless beauty in his mind. It was a simple piece, one narrow band of leather with minute carvings of ivy circling it. In the center was a silver ring, designed to show her the position of submission that would soon become her kneel.

When she raised her eyes to his, he expected to see fear. He saw only need. Acceptance. Sliding the collar beneath the weight of her hair, he locked it in place, pushed on by the raw need in her eyes. He slid his hand from the lock of the collar to the silk of her cheek, where she leaned into his hand, showing her acceptance with such a simple move. "You are mine" he whispered lowly into her hair.

"I am yours." In reply, she raised her eyes to his. What he saw there shocked him, left him open and raw. She was begging him for him, for all of him. It crashed into him like a physical force, knocking him back slightly out of sheer force. It hardened his cock, surprising him with his own need. A primal urge to mark her as his own, to brand him roared through him, pounding through his blood, surging him toward her.

She could feel his length against her belly and she thrilled to it. He did want her. She pulled against her bonds to lift her legs. Scissoring them about his waist, she pulled him closer, nudging his cock closer to her wet heat, whimpering with incoherent want. He plunged one of his hands into her thick hair, pulling her neck taut, leaving it bare to his lips. The other hand, he linked with her fingers, feeling the energy pulse between them.

With one movement, he sank himself home and let himself twine his energy around her own, sparking the air, sizzling their skin. Slowly he pressed inside her, loving her gently, slowly. But his own need forged ahead, calling to his baser instincts, demanding completion. He fought against it, needing to hear her call his name, pant for him, cry out for him before he would let go himself.

Pulling her head back further, he nibbled along her jaw, making her squirm in a silent plea. He bit softly at the hollow of her throat and she groaned. But when he sank his teeth into the tender flesh of her collar bone at the same time he tugged her hair more tightly into his fist, she cried out, his name a mere breath on her lips, breathing in short shallow gasps, and then... her body clenched tightly around him, arching toward him, silently begging him, and with a howl, he let himself go, baring his teeth, his claws, and his need to her, giving her his very soul. And as they came, it was sweet, tender, loving, firm, and possessive.

She was his. There were no more questions for either of them. The collar would stay about her neck, her head held high showcasing her pride in it, and he would tell her often of his ownership. Remind her who she belonged to, who owned her heart and her body. And she would delight in it. In fact, crave it. She knew and in knowing, she had found her completion. She could belong to no other, nor had she ever wanted to. Everything she was lie in the hands of this man, and she delighted in it. As he freed her arms, they tumbled onto the pallet he made for them upon the floor, satiated and sleepy. Today had begun her forever. Smiling softly to herself, she giggled. She could hardly wait for tomorrow.

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