Sparks in the Darkness Pt. 02

"Yes, Mistress," Oscar panted, nodding. Fantisma rutted against his hips from behind, pressing her glistening slit against the curve of his buttocks on the bar stool. Their clothing felt impossibly, needlessly thick. "You're so hot. Your skin, I mean," Oscar said, shuddering. As he spoke, Fantisma popped off another button, with the same technique, and he groaned.

Fantisma fluttered her eyes in a moment of concentration, and the knife-nail shrank back - as she gathered the shirt in both hands. She pulled, with an almost bestial snarl, thrusting her chest forward, pressing Oscar from behind, forcing him to sit up - and the remaining few buttons fell to the floor as she tore the shirt open.

"Oh, wow," Oscar moaned, glancing at the buttons, and Fantisma giggle-purred, then ran her hands up his neck, before scooping the shirt from his shoulders.

Her hands slid down Oscar's bare arms. He wasn't muscular, or ripped, but he was toned - and, while he'd tortured his poor body, at one point, it had been a powerful enough vessel for the Dark Power to threaten Fantisma's life, and the planet.

She interlaced her fingers with his, and kissed the nape of his neck. "I... would like you... to come with me." She tugged lightly at his hands, and he was easily pulled from the stool. She advanced towards one of the bookcases, a puzzled Oscar walking behind her; her heels clicked like satyr-hooves on the floor, and she rolled her eyes back, and the bookcase moved aside.

Oscar snicked, and Fantisma chuckled along - until he got a look at the room.

Dark, rich red & black velvets covered the room's walls; a four-post bed, with pillories at the head and foot, dominated one wall; a large, wooden, dramatic X dominated another. Several chrome and padded benches - seeming similar to workout equipment without the weights, were set at angles throughout the room. Oscar hesitated, and Fantisma turned towards him.

Smiling that smirk.

"I have something I think my Prince is going to really like. You trust me," she said; she didn't let it be a question.

Oscar smirked back at her, and nodded. "Absolutely, Mistress."

She led him to a large hard-wood cabinet at the side. Oscar saw her bite her lip - was that just a hint of nervousness to go with her excitement?

She pulled open the drawer, and Oscar saw a startling array of dildos, in a rainbow of colors, each sealed in sterile plastic bags. Oscar heard himself say, "Oh, wow."

"I would," Fantisma said, her cheeks slightly flushed. She paused to brush her hair away from her face. "I would love for you to pick one you feel... comfortable with."

Oscar looked over at her, eyes confused, and smiled. "Well, which one is your favorite?"

Fantisma held his gaze for three seconds of silence, before she replied, her voice soft, her eyebrows raised, "It wouldn't be for me."

Oscar felt his mouth fall open. He hesitated, and he felt his chin wave up and down a little.

Fantisma tilted her head, and waited for Oscar to speak first - but, did note that the bulge in his pants did not recede at all.

He didn't answer. Instead, after a moment, he calmly reached in, seemed to hesitate one last moment between picking a black silicone cock, versus a purple selection of roughly equal size - and chose the purple.

He offered it to Fantisma casually. She fixed her stare on him - and he lowered his eyes, and lowered himself on to one knee. "This one, please, Mistress," he murmured.

"Oh," Fantisma gasped, staring for a stunned second at Oscar's supplication, and the tingling effect it had on her own arousal. "... oh, my Prince, that's... you're delightful," she murmured, running the back of her hand across his cheek, and ear. He reached up, took her hand, and bent his head to lightly nip her wrist.

Oh wow, Fantisma thought. She cleared her throat. "Stay there," she commanded; Oscar's head moved lightly, up and down. Fantisma turned, and recovered the strap and jar of lubricant from the drawer, and selected a back-end to mount for herself, ripping open the sterile bag. In the few steps back over to Oscar, she mounted her choice on the back of her strap, then stood - an extra step back from Oscar, and knelt for a quick moment to set the strap and lube down..

"Now - Help me unzip my dress." Oscar stood up, and moved to go around Fantisma. She set a hand on his chest. "No. From the front."

They both paused another moment. Fantisma's breath caught, as she looked into his deep, dark eyes - inscrutable pools, that she could see her own glittering, golden eyes reflected in. He nodded. She slowly exhaled, as he reached around her.

As his hands touched the zipper of her dress, Fantisma's eyes fluttered again, as her fingers twitched, and she murmured in Latin, "ignis perdo vestis solum".

As Oscar touched the zipper, her dress burst instantly into greenish-yellow flames, falling away from her body. She threw her arms up, around his neck; the fingers from her left hand traced a circle at the back of his neck; the nails of her right hand gently scratched up into his hair, as her lips trembled.

She felt Oscar's cock, full and hard, pressing against her abdomen through his pants. His hands stroked down her spine; under his hands, he felt her muscles twitch; her petite, lithe body rippled, as she repeatedly shifted her weight from hip to hip. "You're burning," Oscar said, as he slid his hands from the small of her back to her hips, where he squeezed firmly.

Fantisma inhaled the scent of him; earthy, deep. Lowering her left hand, running her fingernails down his side, then across his stomach, to find the button on his pants. She closed her hand around the pants, and his boxers - and scorched the fabric away. The wafting scent of the burnt clothes The sound of the button landing on the floor was muffled - but also as loud as a gong.

"Let them fall," she directed.

"Of course," he answered, and he made no move to stop them. The pants, however, did not fall right away - suspended, briefly, by the rigidity of Oscar's member.

Both Oscar and Fantisma smirked, and Fantisma murmured, "Show off." With a light tug, she caused the pants to tumble to the ground. With Oscar's cock now revealed, she ran her fingernails along it; it twitched, and he gave a moaning shudder. Fantisma smiled warmly at him, and wrapped her hand around upper length, so as to press the head into her palm.

"Very nice, my Prince," she murmured. "Now, mine," she said, and Oscar nodded.

He knelt, and reached behind himself to recover the webbing, He turned back to Fantisma, preparing the strap - and she set her heel on his shoulder.

Oscar released the clasp, and looped the strap around her leg. With exaggerated slowness, Fantisma pulled her foot from his shoulder, and brought up the other. He clicked another strap into position around the second leg, and then worked both up, until they rested in the crease between her legs and her hip.

Oscar held Fantisma's end of the strap in his hand, and looked up at her. He licked his lips, drawing a ragged breath, as she stared a moment into those eyes. As she moved her fingernails along his hairline, she murmured, "Go ahead, my Prince. Lots of lube."

He pumped twice, a third, and - after a nod from Fantisma - fourth time, from the jar of lube. He ran his fingers around the back end of the strap - girthy, but less lengthy. With a gentle whimper, he moved the glistening plug between her legs; she bent, very slightly at the knees. Oscar hesitated a moment, staring at her trimmed bush, her tattoo, the pink and swollen lips of her pussy; he breathed deeply, the scent of Fantisma's arousal; a trace of the cigarillos; the tang of the 'unscented' lube. He rubbed the tip of the back end along Fantisma's slit, and her own glistening lube coated the head.

Fantisma gave a light gasp, then a murmur of approval, as the plug pressed into her; she heard Oscar make almost the same noise, watching her pussy take it, hold it, accept it. She reached down, and took hold of the front plate of the strap, pressing it into place - as she squeezed the dildo now inside her.

"That's so good, my Prince. Now - tighten the straps. Good and tight. Tighter than you think." she instructed. He took hold of the straps around her legs, and pulled tight. With a click on each of her hips, he positioned the belt - and tugged the straps tight. "Little tighter," Fantisma murmured. "You're doing so well." He pulled the straps tighter, and she ran her hands through his hair.

She gestured, and the purple dildo that Oscar had selected trembled, then flew through the air, into her hand. She popped open the plastic bag, and pulled out the silicone cock - then handed it to Oscar. "Mount it for me, my Prince."

Oscar studied the ring in the strap for a moment, loosened the connection, and slid the dildo into place. "That was fast," Fantisma cooed, stroking his left ear. "Are you excited?"

He wrapped his hand around the base of her cock, looking up at her, and nodded - then kissed lightly at her cock. Fantisma felt her thighs shudder. "Lube, please," she said, holding a scooped hand out for him to fill.

After he pumped the lube into her hand, she pulled him to standing; his aroused cock stuck nearly-straight out from him, his nude body lithe, with only light body hair; not heavily muscled, but little extra weight, either. "There's a... uh, table," Fantisma said, hesitating to find the right word. She motioned with one hand, as she used the other to coat her cock in lube. Oscar took two steps, then pointed to the table - angled at 20 degrees. Fantisma nodded, and he moved to stand beside it. She used both hands to spread the lube, now, as she said, "Okay, my Prince, get on."

Fantisma used her nails to stroke along Oscar's side, as he adjusted his position on the padded reclining table. His cock, fully erect, trembled and pulsed as she touched him, and she made a light cooing noise, directed at it.

"It's very nice," she purred, running a finger along the underside of Oscar's cock. Her hands were already wet with lube from the pump; the base of the strap pressed back against her mons, putting pressure on her clit. She ran a glistening hand up & down Oscar's shaft, and up and down her purple, silicone cock.

She treasured the anticipation, and Oscar panted, "Oh, please, Mistress..."

She felt his deep voice plead with her. She hoisted one of Oscar's legs, deliberately wrapping it around herself; he pulled the other up, and she saw his asshole flex with anticipation. She ran a pair of glistening fingers around Oscar's anus, pressing lightly in.

In a throaty growl, rocking her hips but still outside her lover's body, Fantisma murmured, "Oh, my Prince, I am going to love making you squirm."

She set the rounded head of her silicone cock against Oscar's ass. He responded by rolling his hips, twirling himself around the tip; teasing her. To her delight, his movements shifted the dildo end inside her, stirring at her lightly. She reached up, and flicked a fingernail of her right hand over his nipple, as her left held her cock stable.

Softly, but firmly, she spoke; she let a purr into her voice, but deliberately didn't use her sing-song tone. "Remember, Mistress doesn't want to hurt you, Prince. Don't be brave. If it hurts, tell me. I want you to feel so good, okay?"

Oscar whimpered, nodded, and growled, "Yes, Mistress, I will - please, Mistress, oh..."

Fantisma pushed with her hips. The base of the strap lit up, and shook - the vibration shuddered through her clit, but she didn't need it.

One inch into Oscar's ass, she understood. Control, and submission; domination, and sublimation. She'd domme'd before, but never been a domme. As Oscar's eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and an ecstatic howl tumbled free...

A ripple of delight and joy and excitement and pleasure pulsed through Fantisma, from her cock-head to her clit, up her body, directly to her brain. She gasped, her mouth hanging open; her hands snapped to Oscar's hips, as she panted, feeling her cunt squeeze, again and again, against the modest dildo inside her.

Oscar panted as he felt Fantisma's cock press his anus open - and watched Fantisma cum. He heard himself cry out, as the vibration on her shaft rippled through him,pressing his prostate, his own cock throbbing, glistening wet. Fantisma's nails dug into his hips, and her eyes, for a moment, rolled back, pointing different directions, as her mouth hung open, lip trembling. After a moment, he groaned out, "oh, fuck, Mistress," and she nodded, slowly, then several times in rapid succession.

Fantisma tightened her grip on his hips, and heard herself make a raspy whine, as she pressed with her hips. Her strap lit, and vibrated, and Oscar moaned, and the dildo in her shuddered, and this was amazing. "Oh, my Prince, baby, you're so fucking tight," she moaned, then blushed... but Oscar responded by nodding, as his cock throbbed.

"I feel your cock in me, Mistress, pushing in, and it feels really good," he rasped, his mouth hanging open. "Feels full."

Fantisma ran her nail through Oscar's public hair, and murmured "I am so glad I am so fucking happy about that, fuck..."

Fantisma inhaled, and held it, as she bottomed out her cock into Oscar. As she exhaled, she moaned, and wrapped her lube-coated hands around Oscar's shaft.

He was thick. Even as Fantisma set her hands on his cock, it pulsed - the head swelling, causing Oscar to whimper. "Ooh, fuck, Mistress, I - I'm already gunna cum," her half-sobbed, sounding bashful.

Fantisma smiled, her eyes lightning up. "Really? Oh, fuck, that's...really hot." Fantisma pulled her hips back slightly, then pressed. "I love it. Yeah. Yeah, cum for me, Prince." Fantisma pressed into him again, and her cock lit up with a buzz. She pulled back, slowly, watching his cock ooze pre-cum. With her left hand, she squeezed around the base, while rubbing the lube-coated pad of her thumb firmly against Oscar's soft, taut frenulum.

"Hear me? Cum while I fuck you, my Prince, I'd -" Fantisma pressed forward, again; "- fucking love it, hah," she panted. She kept her left hand tight around Oscar's base, while with her right, she changed to a smooth, up and down figure-eight motion; twisting, manipulating Oscar's full shaft. He writhed beneath her, his hips pressing back against her cock, moaning, to pull moans out of her.

Oscar felt Fantisma's cock press into him, straining his asshole, the vibrations carrying though his prostate. The throbbing feeling rippled up his shaft, and he felt his cock pulse, the head swelling as a flow of precum oozed forth. Oscar gasped; Fantisma's voice stirred something deeps within him, as she discussed him cumming, while tugging on his cock. "Mistress," he groaned. "I'm gunna cum," but as soon as he heard himself say the words...

Fantisma delighted as Oscar's cock flung a thick, white rope of cum up into the air; she gasped, and laughed, as it splashed onto her chest, white cum against white skin against rock-hard pink nipples. "Oh my Gawd, yes, fuck, Prince, it's beautiful, more for me," she cooed, and he whimpered, and writhed, with neither of her hands pausing, or slowing. Fantisma had wrung cocks dry before; making men ache as each drop of white treasure was pulled out from their balls through their cock. But this -- this was so much more powerful; as Oscar's cock throbbed, a second and third rope spraying, landing on his abs, and oozing down her fingers, she felt in command of Oscar's climax, his cock, his body, as he willingly gave himself to her, wonderfully bare.

She buried her cock in him, and cooed, "You're so beautiful. I love your face when you cum." Her right hand worked the shaft continuously, as her left reached up, to lean on his chest. She purred. "I feel.so good buried inside you, my Prince. I love feeling you wrapped around my cock - oh -," she paused. Another ripple passed through her body; the cock glowing, shuddering; her hips shuddering, trembling her cock in Oscar's ass, the vibe against her clit, the dildo curving up inside her. "I'm not done," she panted. "Don't you be done, Prince. More cum for me. Mmm, please, more..."

"Everything," Oscar answered, and Fantisma felt an electricity race up her spine, as she groaned, a long, guttural groan as a deep, throbbing pulse of a second climax rippled through her; threatening to cause her pussy to crush the silicone dildo within her.

"Fuck..." she moaned, and both her legs trembled.

"Fuck me," Oscar moaned, as his cum dribbled over Fantisma's knuckles. "Please, Mistress; fuck me?"

"Yeah?" she responded, her laugh light like a bell. There was a pulling sensation from Oscar's cock, like each of the rhythmic throbs were individually and collectively doing their best to pull all the cum from him. Fantisma pressed her cock into him; a steady push; she then pulled her hips back, slowly. Oscar whimpered, there was an extra dribble of cum from his glistening shaft - and murmured, "so good for me".

Then thrust, using the muscles of her lower back. Cum spurted four inches in the air from the head of Oscar's cock; he whimpered, and Fantisma groaned, her legs shuddering.

"Hhholy shit," she giggled, rocking her hips. "This is fucking fantastic."

Cum dribbled from Oscar's cock, seemingly a continuous flow. Fantisma's right hand was a flurry of motion, a continuous pump, drawing out Oscar's release. Her left was firm around his base, drawing out his climax, preventing an explosive release, and letting his body trickle-torture him, dribbling cum instead of blowing his load.

Oscar held his legs up, receptive of Fantisma's thrusts. She had to confess; good as this felt, she'd gained some sympathy for the men who'd fucked her, whose hips had faltered in their rhythm, who'd thrust-then-pause. As a dancer, her lumbar routine was on point, and she was feeling a delicious burn in those muscles. The base of her cock lit up again, and Oscar grunted-and-moaned, as she buried herself in him.

Oscar looked up at Fantisma; he knew his mouth hung open, lips trembling, as he panted. His asshole stretched to accommodate his Mistress' thrusts, and he groaned as her cock pressed on his prostate. His cock twitched under her touch; the softness of her fingers, firmness of her grasp - the occasional grazing touch of her fingernails. And the glistening cum on her chest, white on her white porcelain skin; her pink mouth, and dark lips, and...

His eyes rolled back, the stimulation too much.

When another long rope was forced from Oscar's cock, as he howled in ecstasy, Fantisma let herself give in; she arched her back, brushing her chest against his dripping cock; spasms rippled through her hips, as she gave up five, six, eight micro-thrusts, her climax gripping her hard.

"Fuck, Oscar, oh fuck," she panted, as the fire in her blood passed over her, leaving her trembling.

He could only answer with a passionate, but exhausted, whimper.

Chapter Six

A morning parting. Plans made.

Zoey allowed herself to drift, for a few hours, lying in bed with Oscar.

Zoey didn't sleep. When one sleeps, their soul wanders loose, exploring the deeper self - but Zoey had no soul. She'd sold hers, long ago. So now, dreaming and wakefulness were the same to her. If Zoey had allowed herself to be taught - by any spellcaster - they would have told her that what she referred to as 'drifting' was meditation. But Zoey had always eschewed learning from other spellcasters, which was fair enough - as a diabolist, there would have been few willing to teach her.