Silk for St. Valentine's

Her eyes watch my cock as I take a half-step forward, nudge her cheek with my stiff crown. She opens her mouth, turns her head slightly to meet it. Her tongue extends, traces my slit, swirls around my head as I ease slightly forward to probe her lips.

Her gloved hands come down to hold me, silk fingers caressing balls and length. Her face fills with surprise when I catch her wrists, replace her hands behind her head. I ease forward gently, feel her lips on my shaft. Her eyes are wide on mine as her tongue explores, circles. I feel my arousal soar.

I pull out of her mouth, kneel in front of her. My hands reach out, take hold of her breasts, sweep over them slowly. I see her nostrils flare a little, feel her nubs stiffen a bit more.

Looking her in the eyes, I whisper softly, "There's no princess here tonight."

I can see from her expression that she understands now. Tonight, she to be no porcelain doll to be hesitantly touched, distantly admired. Tonight, she is a woman to be used heartily - for both our pleasures.

My hands pause their stimulation. Her eyes flicker down to her bosom for a second, rise again to meet mine.

"Will you?" I whisper.

"Will I...?"

"Obey."

The word hangs in the stillness.

She blinks, pondering the implications. Her eyes slip over silk-covered arm and legs, back up to my mask. A faint smile appears on her face and she nods gently.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

I can see my question chasing around her mind before she catches my meaning.

"Yes, sir."

I stroke her cheek.

"Or would you prefer to go home?"

That unexpected off-ramp question echoes in the empty silence. Her blue eyes meet mine, accepting. I see more confidence now.

"No. I mean no, sir."

I stroke her cheek and her head leans into my hand. I stand, again present my cock to her mouth, keeping it there only long enough for her to kiss it once.

Stepping behind her, I lift her by the waist, positioning her on her feet, the front of her thighs pressed against the bed. I push gently with my hand between her shoulder blades; in response, she bends forward to lie with her stomach on the sheets. The fabric shifts slightly under her body as her head turns to look at me over her shoulder.

Her eyes open wide when I produce a pair of handcuffs from a dresser drawer and drop them on the sheet just in front of her face. Initial alarm is replaced by curiosity as she examines them - a flimsy child's toy of long ago, opening not with a key, but by pressing an obvious and prominent button. Even without that, it is clear that a strong tug would tear the thing apart.

"Don't you dare break these," I say softly. Her eyes narrow and a slight smile crosses her lips. The new game is becoming clearer.

"No," she replies.

"No, what?"

"No, sir."

"Better. But there will be punishment later for that lapse."

Again, a frisson of worry, quickly replaced by confidence, trust. A game...

"Yes, sir."

In obedience to my soft command, she moves her hands to behind her back. I close the thin cuffs around one hand, then the other. They barely fit around even her slender wrists. The latches make a series of loud clicking sounds as I close them, almost theatrically dramatic in the quiet of my bedroom.

Her legs part without command as my hand slides up from between her knees, wobbling just a fraction as the high heels seek, then find, a solid position a shoulder-width apart. From behind, her now-slick labia positively gleam in the candlelight.

The firm, unblemished skin of those perfect buttocks flows under my fingers, soft, flawless. I reach lower, trail a finger over and through her wetness. My hand moves up to her waist, down over the other buttock now, a gentle squeeze, then she shivers as my finger again drifts through her dew.

She gives a slight shriek when my hand lifts, spanks one buttock, not hard enough to be painful, but enough that her fair skin shows a faint flushed outline of my outstretched fingers.

Again, on the other cheek. This time, she remains silent, although the cheap handcuffs rattle slightly.

"Say, 'Thank you'."

"Thank you," she responds. A second's reverberating silence reminds her and she quickly adds, "Sir."

Again, her smooth bum ripples under my palm. This time, there is no delay.

"Thank you, sir."

Again.

A total of six spanks, three on either side. Her skin has at most a slight pinkish glow, yet I can see a slight trickle of moisture on one thigh.

The unpredictable clearly pleases her.

I shift position, kneel behind her.

"Tonight, you may not cum without my permission."

She is silent, waiting perhaps for something else.

I give her buttock another slap, slightly harder this time.

"Is that clear?"

"Yes. Yes, it is, sir."

I probe her sex with my right forefinger, feel her body tremble under my other hand. I twist my hand, explore her depths, slowly stroke her slippery lining, seek and caress her G-spot. I can hear her breathing change.

I lean closer, inhale her marine musk, feel myself become harder still. Candlelight flickers across her firm bottom. The brown pucker above her swollen labia twitches slightly and I laugh.

I pull my finger from her sex, examine a drop beginning to ooze off my fingertip. On impulse, I touch her rosebud with it, spread her wetness, probe slightly. This, too, is novel for us and she starts, half-rises on her toes before sinking back. For the first time, her wrists jerk against the handcuffs, just once. She starts to speak.

"Still!" I command. "Don't move."

My slippery finger slides further into her muscular ring, twists once or twice, eases in to the second knuckle. I feel her clamp down on my finger, hear a soft hiss as I withdraw it. I can see her sphincter clench after I leave, laugh softly before bending my head to her sex.

Both hands clasp her buttocks now as my tongue tip sweeps softly between her labia, salt and honey, dips into her slit, emerges again to circle her pearl, swollen and waiting outside its hood.

She gives a low growl. Her bottom tenses under my hands.

I pull away, run my fingernails lightly over perfect inner thighs, draw my hands over silk-clad perfection, down to her knees, rise again. My hands spread her cheeks apart; I lean in, my lips to her clit, sucking it gently.

The growl becomes louder and I can feel her start to quiver. Again, I pull away.

"Not yet," I whisper. "Not yet."

My command hangs in the air as she takes a deep, deep breath, lets it out slowly.

Another.

I lean forward again, begin broad tongue-strokes over her sex, bottom to top, soft, slow, gentle. Above me, I hear a series of soft cries. I lick harder now, listen as her cries become louder, higher. Her body shakes, on the very brink...

I pull back suddenly, rise to my feet, seize her upper arms and lift her from the bed. Her eyes are wide, almost unfocused. Her nostrils are wide, too, sucking in air. I kiss her, harshly this time and her tongue sweeps against and around mine, mating cobras in the dark. I push her back down to her knees in front of me.

"Spread your knees," I say. "Further." She struggles to obey, her wet sex exposed to my view again.

I step forward; without hesitation, she sucks me into her mouth. Her cheeks hollow as she works back and forth along my length. I smile softly at the sound of silk-clad wrists challenging tin restraints behind her back.

Her eyes are focused now, staring up at my own. My smile broadens and I lean slightly forward, pet her hair, then wrap my hands around her head and begin to thrust slowly in and out of her mouth. Her tongue inside flows over my head and underside and my desire flares like a midnight beacon.

My balls pull up, my stomach tightens and my legs tremble a little as my orgasm approaches. I slow down, try to draw it out, make it last. Another stroke, another.

Close, very close now I pull out, lean forward into another blazing kiss. She rises on her knees, her lips almost desperate. There is a bright smile on her face as I pull away, acceptance and excitement in her eyes. Her chin nudges my length to one side, her tongue bathes my sac with broad strokes before she sucks my twins, one at a time, into her mouth, stretches away slightly before releasing them with soft pops.

Holding her head gently, I push deeper into her mouth. Her nipples brush my thighs as her breasts rise and fall with her movements.

On the very brink, I back away, my cock leaving her lips, swaying in front of her, hard, red, wet.

Her tongue emerges, runs over her lips.

Again, I ask her if she wishes to leave.

Silently she shakes her head. In response, I lean down, caress her breasts. Her breathing becomes deeper as my fingers fondle, lift, roll and pull taut coral nipples.

"Stay there," I tell her as I step back, walk towards the door. On the way out, I smile at our naked reflections in the tall, dark windows.

She is still in the same position when I return with a glass of ice water, its sides beaded with moisture. She smiles gratefully, leans forward.

I hold the glass to her lips, tip it towards her. She swallows, starts to pull away from the glass. Some of the water runs down her chin, flows over her throat, onto her chest. A drop collects on one stiff nipple, grows, falls off to land on her thigh below.

I scoop two ice cubes out of the glass with my fingers, set it to one side. I see uncertainty on her face as they move towards her. She gasps a little as the frozen cubes touch the soft skin of her breasts; her head falls back, her eyes close, her mouth opens. I swirl the ice inward to her nipples, circle them slowly, watch them grow just a little longer, a little stiffer. Again, I hear the soft rattle of handcuff links.

"Open your eyes," I command. "Watch me."

I can see the wonder and, yet, the trust in her gaze.

Looking down at her, I again notice the slickness of her lower lips. Smiling, I kneel in front of her, drop my left hand to her sex, cup a cold nipple with my right. She gives a low moan as my mouth drops to her breast, my lips sucking her nipple between them. The moan grows louder as my cool finger slides over her pussy, circles her bud.

Her body tenses, quivers slightly beneath my hands. Her body rises slightly on her knees. I pull away.

"Not yet."

Her chest rises and falls as she nods.

"Yes, sir."

Stepping to one side, I again seize her by the arms, lift her to her feet, again bend her over the bed. Again, she turns to watch me over one shoulder.

I take the base of my cock in one hand, step forward, rub its head up and down along the gates of her slippery womanhood. She gives a soft cry as I slowly ease into her opening. I pause, wait. Leaving only my crown inside her, I run my hands over her bottom, up and down her flanks.

"Please." Her voice is very soft.

"Please, what?"

"Please, sir."

Her eyes close as I push my hips forward. I try to focus on the sensation as my stiff rim sweeps down through her ribbed lining - warmth, electric excitement. Again I pause.

Her hands behind her back search for each other, her fingers waving, then intertwining together.

I pull back, almost all the way. My shove forward is faster, less gentle and her fingers clench tightly as she gasps once more.

My fingers sink into the soft womanly firmness of hips, pulling her towards me as I lunge forward. The sound of her growing moans is overtaken by that of my belly slapping against her bottom, flat and hard.

Her cries grown more shrill, more frequent, air gasping through her open mouth. Her eyes close, her breath catches. She is clearly on the brink of her release.

I pull out of her, shift my hands, run them up and down her back. Denied, she groans, shivers again.

I give her another slap on one cheek, watch the ripples of the blow flow across her skin.

"Not yet," I warn her.

She exhales, a long, deep breath, almost a sob. Her legs tremble against mine in her need and arousal.

There is still some water left in the glass. I sit down beside her on the bed, lift her bodily, sit her on my lap, one hand around her waist, holding her to me. One soft hip presses my hardness against my stomach as I lift the glass to her lips. She sips, then again. I set the glass down, stroke her cheek with my hand, drop it to her breast and fondle it gently.

She smiles, lifts her lips and again I find them delicious, soft, infinitely desirable.

"You're bad," she whispers.

"But good," I smile.

"But good. How did you know?"

I squeeze her breast in response.

"An inspired guess."

She rolls her bum against me, grins at the look on my face.

"I love you," she says gently. "I want you."

"I want you, what?

"I want you, sir. Please."

I brush her head with my hand.

"In time."

My free hand slips to between her legs, strokes her lower lips, swirls her wetness along them. Her mouth falls opens again and her eyes almost cross when my fingertip softly strokes her pearl, withdrawn now under its hood.

I smile to myself, for she is very, very close.

"Aaah!"

Her cry is soft, lingering. Her thighs close around my hand, her arms twitch against the feeble cuffs. She knows she could break them in a second and knows that I know it. This is a different game than the one she had had objected to.

I tease, my finger barely moving, barely touching.

"You are so good," she whispers.

"Not 'predictable'?"

"No."

I lift my hand away from her sex, pull her in for a deep hug. I can feel her heart beating, almost as fast as mine.

"How're you doing?" I ask softly.

"I am so horny I could die." I love her honesty.

"Can't have that." My voice is low. "I might need you tomorrow."

"I need you now."

I think. It's been a good evening, but maybe it's time to move on, change channels before this loses its entertainment value.

I take her by the upper arms, lift her to her feet. A squeal fills the room as she bounces a little after landing face-down in the middle of the bed.

"Spread your legs," I command. "More."

She struggles to obey. I lightly slap one cheek, then the other, before rubbing my palms over that delicious bum.

Seizing my cock, I aim myself at her sex. She moans as I run my crown between her outer lips, gasps slightly as it just enters her, pauses.

I lean forward, run my hands up her arms, caress her head, brush hair from her face.

"Have you been a good girl?" I whisper.

Silence. Clearly, she is uncertain how to answer. Grinning, I pull back a fraction, leaving my very tip inside her.

"Well?"

"Yes, sir. I've been a bad girl."

The way she phrases it has us both giggling.

My hands run down her flanks, clasp her by the waist.

"I agree," I respond. As I speak, my thumb presses the stud, unlocking the handcuff on her right wrist. Surprised but quick, both arms are out of my reach before I can undo the other one.

She draws both hands to under her shoulders, tries to rise, but instead hisses with pleasure as I slide forward, pinning her under my weight, filling her emptiness with my length. The heat of her sex is surprising.

"A very good bad girl," I announce.

I laugh as she clenches me with her inside muscles. I lick her back, one long, broad stroke, starting as low as I can. She tastes of salt and healthy young woman. As my tongue moves over her, I can smell her perfume and remember my vow to find it. My mouth ends this journey by nibbling one ear lobe, then the other. I slide partway out, back in, delighting in the feel of her depths flowing over my head and shaft as I penetrate deeper.

I rise up on my elbows, lifting some of my weight off her, continue stroking. Her bum feels exceptionally erotic against my abdomen.

Her voice is soft, but her moans and cries are almost continuous, rising with each stroke in, falling each time as I pull back. I can tell she is trying to help, to push back, but the position offers her little scope for movement. She protests as, on impulse, I pull all the way out, roll over to half-lie beside her. My arms close about her waist, lifting her in the air over me. Her hand descends, strokes my temple and cheek.

She eyes the hard, wet organ rising towards her and spreads her legs, adjusting my aim with one hand and yelping happily as she is impaled in cowgirl. Her inner thighs press on my hips and she rolls her hips over me, pelvis against pelvis.

"All yours," I smile. I lie back, tuck my hands under my head.

Grinning, she unfastens the remaining cuff on her left hand, dangles the toy over me on one forefinger. Her grin has become an expectant leer.

"Your turn!" she proclaims.

Without responding, my hands leave my head, run up her silk-clad thighs, along her flanks, sweeping over stomach and chest until I can enclose both her breasts, tease her hard nipples with my thumbs. I squeeze them gently; her jaw drops slightly as she inhales deeply.

She examines the handcuffs, runs her free hand over one of mine.

"Maybe not," she whispers. The toy falls from the end of her finger and I hear a brittle clatter on the floor below.

Her hands drop to my chest, steadying her. She leans down, her lips open. They flow over mine, her tongue dancing on my teeth, probing further. She tastes of chocolate, love and lust.

Her mouth shifts to one of my ears.

"Have you been a good boy?"

Sharp teeth catch my ear lobe, hold it gently.

My hands still on her breasts, I mound them slightly, pull on those perfect nipples. My hips shift and she gives a soft moan as my length moves within her liquid sex.

"I've been a very  good boy," I whisper.

Her teeth close, just a little, then open entirely as she leans back. Her bright smile fills my heart.

"So you have."

Her mouth moves back to mine, eager, demanding, engulfing. At the same time, she begins to grind her hungry sex on mine, her entire weight focussed on the male/female fulcrum between us.

I feel her nails dig into the skin of my chest as she increases the speed of her movements. I sense the time for gentleness has passed; my hands on her breasts squeeze more firmly. She bites my lower lip, pulls away, rises to the vertical and begins bouncing.

I rise to meet each falling stroke, flesh slapping, thumping in the candlelight. Her skin ripples with each impact. Her eyes are closed now, her mouth a wide O as she gasps and gulps and shivers.

She is perfect, I think, perfect in every way. Perfect body, lithe and shpely. Perfect responses, perfect enthusiasm. Perfect.

I feel a hot weight behind my balls, a swelling of my cock crown, can sense the landslide almost upon me.

She pauses, grins mischievously, strokes my cheek with her fingers.

"May I cum now, sir?"

I laugh delightedly.

"I hope so."

She laughs and again begins bouncing up and down over my organ. Her eyes close, her mouth again falls open.

She gives a loud cry and again her nails dig into my chest. No princess tonight, she freezes, quivering, sobbing. I pinch her nipples and she cries out again, her voice rough, primitive. Her shudders get deeper.

I shove one of her legs back with a hand, clutch her to me and, still locked together, roll to one side.

One of her hands runs over my back and shoulders, the other clasps one buttock, pulling me down into her.

Her hand is replaced by her legs rising about my waist, her heels adding power to each of my lunges, then her hands pull our bodies together and she roars again - delighted, delirious, primitive sounds. I feel the fire erupt within me, a quaking and boiling heat filling my balls and my mind and my world as I empty pulse after pulse of bliss into her.

I collapse on her for a second, feel her panting beneath me and roll to one side, still locked together.

I have no words now, nothing but a sweet, gentle slide into total contentment, incomparable peace. I feel her hand on my head, hear soft words of love whispered into my ear.