Spellbound

Tristan was a novice in the bedroom, but he'd gotten this far before. So when his fingers explored her, he knew enough to slide his fingertips over her clitoris. Morgan rewarded him with her panting moans, allowing him to slip a finger inside her soaking, eager hole. She pulled her own skirt and panties off for him, opening her legs so he could get down on his knees and worship her properly.

He kissed between her legs, almost the same way he tended to kiss her lips. Then he included far more tongue, using it to lick her most sensitive area until she was gasping and writhing under him. Moving down further, he happily suffocated himself against her entrance. He swirled his tongue around that, too, and came up gasping for air.

Morgan used this moment to turn him over to his back, so he took the place where she'd just been laying. The sheets were hot under him, and Morgan bent forward to pleasure him. Her lips formed a seal around him and she sucked on him hard, both hands just under her lips, rubbing the rest of him in time with her bobbing head.

He closed his eyes and felt lost to her, completely out of control with his loud cries and groans. His breathing was fast, his heart pounding, just barely holding on as she caused such intense sensations. Shivers ran all over his body as he felt all his muscles starting to tense. He tried to warn her, "You'll make me-"

Morgan pulled back before he could finish, and unlike last night, this time Tristan was grateful. He wanted this night to last longer. As he tried to catch his breath, she just asked him if he wanted to go further. And she was gentle about it, seeing as it was his first time. She even waited for him to answer himself, even though the enchantress surely knew he did want her. He was ready.

"Yes. I just hope I... I mean-"

She nodded, understanding his worries about performance. "Just lay back."

"Wait. Can witches get pregnant?"

"Not this witch," she said. "Birth control."

"Oh," he said, relaxing again. Now he did feel truly ready, that bit of business out of the way. He relaxed into the soft bed and looked up at her as she straddled him, a knee on either side of his hips.

Tristan arched up as she used gentle fingers to guide him carefully inside. The heat of her wrapped around him, squeezing him into her inner folds. He moaned just from that feeling, the perfect fit of her, the slippery warmth. She rose up on her knees, riding him slowly at first, and he couldn't help but to reach up and cup her breasts again.

Morgan began to rise up to nearly the tip before sinking slowly back down again. He groaned with every pump, his eyes fluttering back, beside himself with the sensation of it. Once he'd regained some composure, he moved his hands over her soft stomach and brought them around her back to rub her ass. He squeezed and groped, enjoying the feel of her shapely cheeks in his palms as she rhythmically rode him.

At first she kept his arms free, all of him free, making sure he was comfortable for his first time. But soon the couple couldn't help but return to their original power dynamic. She picked up the pace, riding him harder and faster and then in the heat of the moment, grabbed his wrists and pinioned them above his head. Tristan gasped from the pleasant surprise, and smiled his approval before sinking into the wonderfully helpless sensation of being held down and fucked hard.

He stared transfixed at her breasts, bouncing deliciously above him. Her moans began to perfectly match his own, in timing and intensity. Drowning in bliss, it just barely dawned on him that she was feeling whatever he felt. As he edged closer to the point of no return, she too gasped and cried out from the powerful sensations rippling through them both.

Her hands squeezed his wrists hard as the first wave of their shared orgasm broke through. Tristan groaned as he felt her beginning to pulse and contract around him, and with that he was completely lost to wave after wave of peak pleasure, spasming and coming hard inside her. They cried loudly into the night as they both toppled into a shuddering, powerful shared climax.

After the final throb of her orgasm, Morgan` collapsed forward into his chest, and he wrapped his freed arms around her back. They caught their breath.

He whispered to her that his first time couldn't have been better. It was magical. She laughed lightly and kissed his shoulder, which was the part of him that just happened to be nearest her lips.

He'd never forget this night now too.

Tristan struggled terribly in his bonds, his wrists behind his back, his ankles tied together. He flopped around helplessly on the old wooden floor, trying to break free. His heart was fluttering, petrified of what awful fate awaited him. Every time he tried to scream for help, it was barely audible over the sturdy strip of tape covering his mouth.

The memory of his capture evaded him. All he could figure was that he'd been taken to some remote cabin or something. Maybe a cottage. There were only snowcapped trees in every window. A fire crackled behind him.

"There you are," said a woman. Gorgeous, too. So intimidating. Long dark curls cascaded over her shoulders. and she gazed at him with piercing light blue eyes. He peeked up at her and swallowed, terribly vulnerable for a few reasons now. "So here is the man caught trespassing tonight."

He tried to shake his head no but she wouldn't believe him.

"You know what happens to naughty trespassers around here?" she asked, turning him to his back and unbuttoning his pants. He sighed a little, his body reacting to her touch. She groped him as she unzipped, and some part of him enjoyed that deep down. His intense fear began to abate as lust took its place.

Just then his eyes caught sight of a framed photo on the mantle over the fireplace. It utterly shocked him to such an extent that he sucked in a hard gasp and grew instantly lightheaded. It was a picture of himself and his mysterious captor, her dressed like a bride and him like a groom. They kissed under an autumn maple tree, red leaves caught in time, mid-flutter. He peered back at her in horror, his mind reeling. How did this stranger get that? Was he going totally insane?

His vixen of a kidnapper quickly turned the little photograph's frame around to face the wall, and bent down to kiss his forehead. She whispered an apology in his ear. So sorry, Tristan my love. Before he could comprehend how she knew his name and why she seemed so comfortably familiar in that moment, she whispered new honeyed words into his ear. They haunted his thoughts and hovered in his mind like a fog. Tristan found himself only focused once again on his tightly bound wrists and the humiliating fact that his pants were being pulled down for some kind of punishment by this strange, but wildly seductive and powerful woman.

"Now," she said, yanking his boxers to his ankles. "Where were we?"