Sacriligeous Pt. 01

The door swings open, and I am gestured to be let in. "Ladies first," he says in an attractive tenor, causing me to hesitate as I cross the threshold of my own apartment.

"I'm not carrying you." The man jokes. He's good-looking, about in his mid-thirties, but he could pass for someone a lot younger or a little older. The rugged beard with casings, long, braided brown hair against stark pale skin, and the Mjolnir around his neck gives him the air that he just walked out of Kaupang or Kattegat. I turn, welcoming him to my home. My hands slide up his forearms. I hesitate a moment on the old, faded tattoo on his arm; he's never gotten it touched up, despite all the times he's said he would over the years. My eyes rise, dark brown meeting dark blue, and a mutual understanding passes between us. We both know why he's here tonight, and it's not to sit here and compliment each other's tattoos.

Yeah, I didn't think it was ever going to happen. We'd been talking and flirting and writing for over eight years, of course. But that really doesn't mean anything. And now...here he is. The wife has become comfortable enough with my presence to allow me to be with both of them. But she is not accompanying us this night, working or something.

I see so many lives before my eyes in this man. A kind man with long brown hair and a matching beard. A galactic prince-soldier widower with a gaze as cold as the void. A shorter man, built like a swimmer, but with the strength to manhandle a woman and threaten her into behaving. And my favorite, a charismatic blond-haired, cruel-faced man with a love of sadism and the training of slave girls. He looks at me, his gaze proceeding down over my body. All of these men play back in my memories. All of the good memories, the bad. The long nights where I would be awake, pressing my legs together and shifting desperately to find relief without masturbating, and usually failing in my attempt. Knowing how wrong it was, but oh, how right, as I desperately kept quiet, as not to wake my roommate, as I begged the name of the one I beseech tonight. And none of them truly exist. They are simply facets of the one that is in front of me. His hand, calloused yet gentle, comes to my cheek, his thumb running over my cheekbone, before slowly proceeding down to my neck, which he protectively grabs.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" His tenor has dropped about three octaves. His touch is divine, the very slight blood flow interruption causing me to gasp with delight and surprise. It is as if he can cut lightning from his fingers like the gods he honors, the bolts sinking into my skin painlessly and proceeding down to my very core, where they alight into flames.

"I..." He knows better. I am never a good girl. I can practically feel the smile of Freyja herself on me as I, one of her many daughters, engage in her blessed acts.

A smirk splits his face. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." His hand tightens a bit more around my neck before releasing and going to my ass, where he very openly cops a feel as he leans in to bite at my neck. He barely scratches the surface with his teeth, but it sends more of his unique electricity, causing me to push my legs together. And oh, does he know it. The knowing look tells me everything I could ever need to know and more.

"You have five minutes to hide." His voice is a final warning, and he proceeds towards my couch, setting a timer on his phone. He sits comfortably as if there were no care in the world. "Your time starts now."

I slip my shoes off, aiming to make as little noise as possible as he remains focused on his phone. He's definitely not looking...right? My place is a one-bed, so it's not like I have many places to hide. But that's all part of the fun, getting caught. With the thrill of the chase, my heart pounds as if I have called the Riders of the Wild Hunt to this exact location.

I look around desperately as I reach my bedroom. Under the bed would be a good idea. I would never fit, though. I have never been a small woman. I am curvaceous, with lush 42DD tits and an ass to match. The most obvious next option is the closet, but that would be too predictable. The game is about the chase, after all. I dash into the bathroom, carefully shutting the door to not make a sound, and climb into the bathtub just as the alarm goes off.

"Kali..." The Voice. Oh, Gods. The VOICE. "Where could she possibly be?" I'm biting my shirt to keep from giggling, curling up on myself. A good five minutes pass as he checks several places in my bedroom before opening the bathroom door and yanking back the shower curtain. From this angle, he looks like a completely different man in the shadows cast by the bathroom lights. "Kali, get up." He warns.

"No!" My own bratty words make me giggle. "You can't make me!" I whine like a petulant child, to which he rolls his eyes and, grabbing me by the wrist, pulls me up before throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He brings me back to the bedroom, tossing me on the mattress. I do not dare move, practically frozen in place by his gaze, his lingering touch. The fires between my legs have grown to a full inferno, and my dress does little to keep me covered in such a position.

He mounts me, fully clothed, and places his hand on my neck, squeezing lightly. "Bad girl," his voice is low and sultry, causing a moan to escape my lips. His knee is forced between my legs, forcing me to spread my legs. "You think I haven't noticed? You teasing me the past few days." It's true. I have been teasing him. Sultry photos, roleplay ideas, and bratty comments fill our chat logs. He gives one more squeeze, more a warning than anything, as he heads towards a cabinet where we keep our...things. "Went shopping?" he teases, referring to a new dildo in the top drawer.

"Whatever. Are we Tyler or Gavriel tonight?" I ask. He'll know what I mean. Tyler, the loving yet effective brat tamer, or Gavriel, a breaker of women's spirits to the point they never disobey again.

He chuckles. "You think I'm going to tell you? Get up. Ass in the air." He says, and I do. Because he's behind me, I can't see him, but I can imagine how he stares. Perhaps his tongue would dart out to moisten his lips that he hasn't realized have gone dry, or maybe he will go and squeeze at his growing bulge, desperate to let it free. But no, he has other plans.

I feel his weight coming up behind me. At this moment, I feel so exposed. I'm fully clothed, still, but it almost doesn't matter at this point. His hands come to my ass, gently massaging before he lands a swat on my right cheek. And he's not gentle about it, either. His fingers come to my thong, and as I push my legs together as he tries to remove them, he huffs with frustration.

"I am beginning to think you want Gavriel to rail you tonight," he says, but his tone is more amused than disappointed. "That's just fine by me, slut. I'll break that brattiness out of you, one way or the other." I hear the slight click of a switchblade being opened, which he runs, blunt side down, gently along the skin of my inner thighs before cutting off my panties, letting them fall in tatters down to the bed. Then, the dress follows suit, a cut straight down the back which he rips off of me.

"Aw, I liked that dress," I whine, although I don't care. I consented in advance for that dress to be fucked. He isn't even paying attention, though. A soft moan leaves his own lips, and I know what he's looking at as he spreads my legs wider.

"You slut. You're already dripping. You love this, don't you?" he asks, his voice cold as the grave, and it radiates dominance. At my silence, the next spank comes, followed by a loving caress. "What do you say, slut?"

"Thank you, Sir," I gasp out.

"Good girl," he growls, and as a treat for my efforts, I earn a single lascivious lick up the center of my folds. I gasp and squirm in place, not having expected it, and another soft noise of pleasure echoes from him like thunder.

"Fine. If you want Pavel so bad, come here." He grabs me by my hair, temporarily dyed red for the occasion, and forces my mouth over his cock. I hadn't even noticed him opening his fly. I'm not much of a blowjob queen, but a little turnabout is fair play. But just as I begin to give him head, he grips me by my hair, forcing himself down my throat and holding me for a count of three. I gag and sputter around him, but he gives me no time to recover before he begins to somewhat aggressively fuck my face. It's intense, hot, heavy, and soft gagging noises echo from me as he does. My mind goes blank, focused only on pleasing him. "That's right. Who's my good girl?"

"Mmm~" He's already close. I can feel it by the way he twitches, and his breath comes quicker. But, at the last second, he pulls out. "Alright. Enough games. On the bed. Spread eagle." I giggle shyly, running my hand over the sheets as I try to think about how to brat off. He doesn't give me the option, though, as he pulls the coil of red, braided nylon rope. He does a tie that takes about ten minutes, wrapped around each of my hands, binding them together and to the headboard. A second looser string of rope connects similar cuffs around my ankles. When the tension is pulled, my legs are suspended in the air, unable to be closed. I am fully and utterly defenseless. And while he doesn't look between my legs just yet, instead choosing to remove his shirt, I can tell.

"I want to explore you," His voice is calm yet deviant. His weight adjusts between my legs, and he carefully parts my labia. "Gods, you're so beautiful." He says, running the tip of his middle finger over me, spending a little extra time playing with my oversensitive clit, before he sticks his finger in my mouth. It's sweet, slightly salty, as I suck off my own arousal.

"Good girl," he says, ducking back between my legs. His finger traces over me again, circling my clit. I gasp with pleasure, bucking my hips into his hand, but he places his arm over my waist to hold me down. "Don't move." He growls into my ear, and I feel myself clench. He looks up at me, his dark eyes looking almost black in the dim lighting of my bedroom, and I break eye contact, unable to watch as he pleasures me. His fingers trace over my opening, teasing me for a bit before he slips two fingers inside, ducking to lick at my clit. His tongue circles me as he begins to finger me slowly, wet noises echoing from my arousal and soft moans from him at my taste. I knew he loved oral, but not to this extent. He sounds like he's about to nut his pants through licking me alone. And his fingering is divine; he knows exactly what spots to push and which to avoid; he finds my G-spot, usually impossible to find, within seconds, and he hits it with every upstroke, a "come here" movement that causes me to moan and struggle against my bonds. I buck my hips up again, but he holds me down, so I only get but so far. As punishment, he bites my clit. Not hard, of course, but just enough to know, but I make noise anyway.

"Aw, did that hurt?" he mocks me. "Too bad. You wanted Pavel." He reminds me, returning back to what he was doing. He inserts a third finger into me, the stretching feeling taking me by surprise; I haven't had sex in over two years, and I don't think I've ever done penetrative things since, not even fingers. The feeling of him, with his large hands, is incredible.

"You're so tight and wet. Are you sure you're not a virgin?" he teases, his voice cruel. His hands leave my sex, going up to grope my breasts. He's not gentle about it, and the harsh treatment, combined with the coldness of the room, causes my pierced nipples to rise. He spends a moment there, suckling and kissing my breasts while his fingers continue to work on me, bringing me to a new height of ecstasy as I approach my first orgasm.

"Aw, does someone want to cum?" he asks, his voice mocking me. I nod, panting. I am so close. So, so close. And then he retracts his fingers from me. "Not yet."

A cry of frustration leaves my lips as he gently touches my labia, not nearly enough to get me off, though. He waits me out until the orgasm has passed before he looks at me, using his other hand to prop my chin to make eye contact.

"You're not going to cum except on my dick." He says. He's reasonably sized at about 6 inches, cut, and thick enough around to satisfy a girl. He runs it up and down the seam of my sex, allowing it to push against my opening. "Beg."

I am in too much ecstasy to care. My cheeks flush red as I speak. "Please, Sir. Fuck me! Fuck me until I can't think any longer." My words raise a moan out of him, and while this begging would never be good enough for Pavel, it seems he's out of patience. He slams inside of me, his head dropping to my neck to bite and kiss at it. I want to touch him, hold him, claw his back, but I can't, obviously.

"Ah...fuck~" I moan. I am usually very loud in bed, especially when I'm being fucked by a sexual master like him. "Make me see God, Sir." I tease, using a line we've traded back and forth for about three years. My laughter is interrupted, though, when he begins to aggressively pound into me. His touch is perfect; one comes to around my neck, the other on my hip, and he squeezes just enough to make me uncomfortable.

"Fuck yes. I'm going to be coming back for this tight pussy. Again and again. Tell me thank you. Thank me for fucking you," he growls.

"Thank you, Sir!" I gasp out. Every one of his thrusts hits my cervix, setting a wave of pleasure through my body.

"That's right. I'm going to bring my wife to use you too. I'll make you eat her out and then make you watch as I fuck her. How would you like that? Hmm? Or maybe I'll let her use you any way she sees fit." He sticks his thumb in my mouth, and I suck on it before he brings it back down to play with my clit. "Oh yes. My pretty little girl loves this, doesn't she?" He asks as I moan with arousal.

"You better scream as you cum. I want this entire apartment building to know who you belong to." My moaning speeds up, my back arching. He speeds up, too. He's close.

"Oh, god!" I press my lips to him to stifle the moaned name. I don't need anyone to know. We finish together, his hand wrapped around my throat and my hands balled into fists that I use to strain against my bonds.

~

"Praise the body

of a beautiful woman;

you will win her if you praise her." Hávamál, Verse 92

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