The House of Flame Lilies Ch. 02

Sparrow squirmed, bliss rippling down his body. "Oh, rip the innocence out of me," he heard himself whine.

"All in good time, Carissime."

"Oh, God help me..."

She nipped his jaw and hissed in his ear. "Trust me, you don't want God knowing about any of this. I'm going to make you such a sinner."

Need pierced him. He groaned. "Then damn me."

She hummed darkly. Her lips dragged to his nipples. She swept her tongue in crescents on their undersides, building the pleasure in his flesh to the point of crazing him. Then she nicked the erect points between her teeth and shocked him with stings. He bucked, squelching into her hot folds. She threw her head back in a burst of black hair and moaned in low harmony with his high gasp. "Oh, Passer, you feel so good. You are no innocent."

Sparrow's eyes went round and anxious, the blood pounding in his ears. "I am to you," he hastened. "Teach me how to please you."

Vestalia's thick, dark eyebrow arched, drawing up her starkly hewn features. She leaned onto his wrists, almost cutting off his pulse, her breasts and belly hanging over him and kissing his skin teasingly. His cock thrummed into her clit. It thrummed back.

"Oh, don't you worry, Boy," she said in a sultry drawl, "From the moment you first sat at my table, I decided to make you a student of my pleasure."

Sparrow's heart soared. His body rang with want, all past and future forgotten to the miracle of the possibility that he could bring this woman pleasure. He wriggled beneath her, just to feel her hold him down. His mind whirled.

"First," she went on, her smile hungry, showing her white canines, "let's get this cock nice and hard and thick."

Something between a glug and a squeak escaped Sparrow's throat. His eyes rolled back into his head, as they began to rock together, her vulva gloving his cock and heating it. The wet sound of her clit slipping up his shaft and over his bulbous tip taunted him mercilessly. Sweat laced the insides of her thighs and glued her to his hips, chafing together. Her nipples brushed his in a relentless tease that prickled all across his chest.

"Ves... Ves..." He wanted so much to sigh her name, but it kept stopping in his throat, a strange fear washing him.

"You struggle to say my name during passion," she said.

"During any time," he replied, realising. He fluttered his eyes open to meet hers earnestly. "It feels like naming a fey, or calling on a goddess. It feels too monumental."

Her lips curled into an approving smile. "Then call me Mistress."

Sparrow warmed. He felt like a puzzle piece falling snugly into place. He sucked his lip, the title slipping over it as he released it. "Mistress."

"How does it taste?"

He broke into a grin like dawn. "Perfect."

She grinned back, her shoulders bunching and her eyes sparkling. She leaned back, the spreading weight of her vulva on his cock maddening, and pulled him by his wrists to sit up beneath her, grinding softly on his slick tip. Her eyes flashed carnelian. "I felt you harder as you said it."

"Am I hard enough yet to meet your needs?" He asked with a playful quiver in the corner of his mouth. "Because I feel ready to tear apart."

"Almost there," Vestalia chuckled. "Call me Mistress one more time."

Sparrow groaned and collapsed against her puckered mouth, coursing into kissing, babbling breathlessly, "Oh, Mistress, Mistress, Mistress." Just as she said, his cock pulsed with each chant of the word.

She broke from him, tossed her hair and keened, then flung herself forward into a kiss that flowed through his insides, her tongue dancing on his until it ached. Locked at the mouth, she released his wrists, reached down, and curled her fingers around his cock. She raised off him, twining their tongues, and guided him inside her.

Sparrow's senses went headlong. He sank into her flesh and felt her tight walls embrace him. He clenched his core, clutched her thighs around his waist, and moaned devotedly into her mouth. Waves of lust and otherworldly pleasure tumbled over him. His muscles all hardened, as his cock pulsed emphatically inside her, threatening to release with the bliss of her body. He fought himself back, drooping from her lips to rest his brow on her shoulder, grounding himself in deep draughts of her salt-sweat tinged perfume.

She curled around him and licked his ear and whispered into it. "Move deep and slow. Twist your hips."

He nodded against her shoulder and obeyed immediately. He found a coaxing rhythm that webbed his cock in sensation and wetness and ground their torsos together searingly. Her body became his only reality, the house and the mountains and the forests and the villages all burning to cinders in the growing fire between them.

Kiss me.

Had she spoken? Or was that his own desire calling him? It didn't matter. He raised his head and melded his mouth to hers, sucking and sloppy.

I want your hands.

He wanted his hands on her. He wanted to feel every aspect of her hypnotic shape in the darkness of his closed, blurring eyes. She gently took his hands from her thighs and guided them to her breasts, keeping her hands over them and directing their movement. With the only glimmer of consciousness Sparrow had left, he focused zealously on how she puppeted him, committing every minute detail of movement to memory, so it could be repeated exactly as she wished, whenever she called. She pressed his hands to the undersides of her breasts, filling his palms with her beautifully soft flesh. The satisfaction of cupping her curves entranced him, feeling the weight of them and gathering them like snowfall into his hands. He felt a spray of gooseflesh break out on her skin, as she sped up the rhythm of their gentle thrusting. A sigh wisped from her lips and eddied down his spine. He shuddered and pressed harder on her breasts, massaging them adoringly. Her nipples perked up to him, like two ripe raspberries, sweet and inviting. His mouth watered.

Now your mouth.

He groaned and drove deep into her, lifting her breasts and filling his mouth with her flesh. She tasted of charred petals. He bedded the point of her nipple on his tongue and massaged it with firm, rhythmic laps.

"Yes... Yes, Sparrow..."

He moaned at the sound of her voice, darting to suck on the tender cups of her breasts, then flicker his tongue around her nipples. Her hands left his and combed into his hair, loosing his braid and holding him down in her flesh, holding him down in a bath of wine.

More. This is so, so good. Give me more.

Which of them said that? Their want seemed to flow in a single, continuous stream connecting them. He could feel her commands under his skin, directing his very instincts, like the wind directs water. Sometimes her hands slipped over his and gave him soft guidance, circling his fingertips on her clit in the same rhythm as their rowboat rocking, closing them in gentle pinches on her engorged nipples, sneaking them between her ass cheeks to tease her, whisking a piercing mewl out of her that sent his pulse into a riot. And all the while he slicked in and out of her hot, clutching cunt, harder than oak and almost splitting in two with the strain of restraint. He trembled violently in her embrace, sending quivers through her breasts, as he caressed them ardently, sewing kisses across them and leaving the faintest trace of needy drool like a cobweb on her smooth skin. Their flesh smacked together, her hips slapping his in demanding, wet, smouldering thrusts.

"Oh, Carissime, your cock is so thick, your mouth is incredible," Vestalia murmured through a rough sound of pleasure.

Her tone reverberated through his body and kicked up a sudden, raw need that attacked the joy of moving inside her. He babbled a request through tingling lips. "Can I eat you again?"

She smiled to the canopy overhead, face cast up, rotating her hips and grinding his cock to maddening pounding. "Don't you feel good inside me?"

The question was like a crossbow bolt to the heart. "Oh, Mistress, I feel so good I could die," he assured her helplessly, cuddling cloyingly into her and burying his face in her neck, breathing her smokey hair. His skin rushed hot at the pooling of her fat against him. "But I can't stop thinking about your taste."

"Oh?" She kept grinding against him, the heat suffocating, her fingertips spidering over his scalp.

"I want it again," he whimpered. "Please."

"The way you say the word 'want' is better than song."

He gnawed like a teething cub on her neck, still rolling his thrusts into her and raining pleasure over his cock and into his belly and down his legs. "I want your taste, Mistress. I want to not be able to breathe anything but you."

"Mmmm..." Her fingers scraped from his hair down his back, leaving dark score marks and setting off a series of violent shudders in his body that pumped into her cunt. "Beg me."

Sparrow's need yawned viciously inside him. He slipped his hand between them, pressed by her belly, and strummed her clit rapidly. She gasped and dug her nails into his shoulders blades and began to fuck him unbearably hard. He cried out and hugged her fiercely. "Oh, God, Mistress, I beg you!" He twisted inside her, flooding his cock, lacing him with sweat, mumbling into her supple throat. "Please, please, please. I'm begging you with everything in me. Come in my mouth. Choke me with your pleasure. Please, Mistress, please let me pleasure you with my tongue. My mouth feels so empty. Please."

Vestalia let out a bestial groan. Sparrow was suddenly knocked onto his back, the swirl of shadow from the silk canopy of the bed spiralling in his vision. Vestalia unsheathed his cock, leaving it iced and aching, and slid up his supine body, her drenched vulva leaving a fragrant streak on his skin. She hove into view, his eyes widening on her towering body, as she fitted her thighs around his ears, and, grinning like a cat, plunged her clit onto his waiting tongue.

The taste and scent of her exploded in his senses. A moan burst out of him. He craned his neck to bury himself utterly in her dripping flesh. His tongue lashed eagerly, snaking into her folds, gorging on her taste. She grasped the roots of his hair, a sting fizzing over his skin. She ground hard on his mouth, greedily dragging the pleasure from him. He was crushed into the pillow and between her thighs, the blood roaring in his ears, the humidity more stifling than the hothouse, her demanding moans washing over him like the sound of ship's canons from underwater. He sighed worshipfully.

Louder. I want you loud.

He moaned like a wolf. His hands stole over her ass and grasped, joy filling him, as he gathered her fat in his gentle hands. He forced his moans out of himself in a resounding stream over his flickering, overpowered tongue, buzzing in her vulva and inside his own stuffed ears. She moved on him fiercely, her ass cheeks pushing into his palms like rising loaves. He was fuelling her, it made him fly.

His eyes drifted mesmerised up her body. She was mountainous. Her curves avalanched over him, draped in shadow, the gossamer billowing behind her, like she was descending from the clouds. He was enchanted by the scoop of her breasts, the point of her chin, the wide bowl of her hips and belly, and the cascade of her hair. She was a poetry of shape and form, looming over him and smothering his airways. She blocked the low light, red rimming her undulating body, her eyes becoming the only lanterns that let Sparrow see, that let Sparrow know he could still see, and hadn't yet drowned in her depths.

He serpentined his tongue in her folds, her juices coating his taste buds and steaming in his sinuses. She ground her vulva from his mouth over his nose, her scent strangling and enthralling. She crashed back onto his lips. He lapped rapidly and opened his throat, as she thrust forward, filling his mouth, straining his jaw, compressing his chest with her weight. She moved on him relentlessly, like a stormy sea, plunging him into the dark. His cock ached. His face burned. His skin hissed with the sting of her fingernails in his hair. She thrust and ground and bounced, bruising him, choking him, overwhelming him with bewildered, suffocating delight.

He fell into nothing. He was nothing. Except for a channel for her pleasure. What was a priest without a church? What was a horse without a rider? What was thread without a needle? Let her make him her servant, her beast, her material to form. Let him be anything, as long as it was beneath her rapturous body.

He sucked gluttonously. Her quenching juices rained over his lashing tongue.

The flames flared behind her.

She let out a rending howl, shaking and jerking, his lips vibrating with her spasms. Her thighs trapped his head in a squeezing vice, the blood in his ears roaring deafeningly. Her mouth contorted and her eyes became blinding. Her hair swirled about her like the smoke of a whole city on fire. His body and the few surviving scraps of his mind hurtled in her divine climax.

The storm ebbed.

She withdrew from him, like fog rising off the dew-soaked fields. Sparrow's lungs inflated and his skin rushed cool. He hauled the air in through his raw, smeared mouth, ears ringing, temples beating.

Vestalia sighed with the essence of giggling and tumbled to lie down again with a creak in the mattress. She settled beside him, the sounds of their breathing filling the shell of the curtained bed. She stroked his chest, her fingers skidding a little in the mist of sweat on his skin. Her touch travelled up and cupped his face. She ran her thumb over his glistening lips, as he blinked into the darkness.

"Such pleasure, Passer," she murmured.

He looked into her face, kissing her thumb. His abdomen squirmed and his cock ached with longing for her.

"But it leaves you cold," she said with a sumptuous pout.

He shook his head. His body screamed for relief, but the ecstasy of her smothering him chimed over it. "I don't need more, if you're satisfied," he panted.

She chuckled and kissed the tip of his nose. "I'm more than satisfied, Carissime. But I could dine on that helpless, wanting look in that pretty face all night."

His cooling cheeks glimmered.

"I love how you long for my weight, you're so beautiful under my flesh."

His ears heated, his cock thrummed, his heart peeled open. She took his face in her hands and pulled him into a dizzying, stirring kiss. He sighed dreamily into it, his lips going loose and moving with her will. She slid her leg over him, strapping him down and laying her thigh over his cock. There was a slight slick on her flesh from sweat and shared arousal. His cock swelled into the slipperiness of it. She began to writhe rhythmically alongside his body, her thigh grinding over his cock, hugging it in heat, pressing it like a wildflower between the firmness of his abs and the softness of her flesh. Her breasts cushioned his chest, her belly grazed his flank. He wriggled in the encapsulating sensation and her grip on his skull hardened, pouring her kiss into him, stilling him like a kitten held by the scruff.

The deep ache was soaked in relief. He let out a long, ragged groan and sank deeper into her kiss. But she pulled her lips away and whispered into his ear with a wicked smile. "I adore how little it takes for you to be overcome."

Sparrow squirmed and kissed her cheek feverishly, her grind on his cock spilling pleasure through his nerves.

"It's only my thigh. You're going to come from just my thigh."

"Oh, yes, yes, I am," Sparrow whined into her ear. His hands found her breast and her thigh, squeezing and grasping with a jolt of pleasure from the feel of her.

He squirrelled into her body, as she moved with more vigour. She kept whispering in his ear, her breath tickling his neck. He felt suddenly strangely aware of how close her teeth were to his throat.

"What a sweet, desperate, little boy you are."

His pulse pummelled in the strained tip of his cock. "I'm so desperate, Mistress."

"Poor thing, wanting to come so badly, and not being allowed your mistress' mouth or cunt."

"No, this is already too much, Mistress." He mumbled it like a snuffling puppy, half into the pillow and half into her perfumed neck. It was true, her body was overpowering against his. He was conquered by pleasure and fire and wonder. His cock felt almost painfully engorged, quivering like a bowstring. He was seconds from release. He gripped her thigh with all his strength, pulling it closer and speeding its pace.

Vestalia giggled. "Oh my, are you sure you can take this?"

Sparrow shook his head rapidly.

"You don't want to take any more, do you?"

He whined in his throat.

"You want to come."

He nodded, gasping for breath, lightning shooting around his veins, his cock crackling with it.

She teased the base of his skull. "Shall I let you?"

"Please," he coughed.

"Now?" Her body drove against him.

"Now... Please..." Sparrow could hardly breathe, his cock was pulsing harsh and fast.

"Say please again."

"Please."

"Call me Mistress."

"God, please, Mistress!"

Call me Mistress as long as you know me.

"Yes! Yes!" His pelvis hammered speedily in the smothering of her thigh.

Make my pleasure your mission.

"Yes!" The mattress screeched with his wriggling. His back burned.

Bind your pleasure to me, take it from nothing else.

"Yes! Yes, oh, yes!" His grip scrabbled on her tensed muscle.

Desire me, without reprieve.

He was squealing now. "I will! I do! Oh, please, Mistress! Let me come!"

She laid her hand over his on her thigh. "You'll do what, Passer? I didn't say anything."

Sparrow's mind was lurching deliriously. "I heard..."

"Hush, Little One." She pressed on his hand, the flesh of her thigh consuming his cock. "Now, you can come."

Sparrow wailed into the darkness. She thrust once more with her thigh and his release ripped through him, his cock spurting with the sensation of a tight spring uncoiling. His legs shook. His spine arched fit to crack. His blood coursed chaotically around his body, beating in his flesh and devouring him with heat.

His mind slowly cleared, still blurred at the edges and washed with bliss.

He dimly became aware of her thigh lifting off him, with a sticky sound. Her hand still lay over his. She tugged it.

"Look at the mess you've made," she tutted.

Sparrow blinked. She was reclined at his side, propped on her elbow, glimmering body powdered pink under the golden shadows. Her leg was arched, her inner thigh strewn with pearly globules, oozing down her skin towards her exposed, gleaming vulva. Sparrow's insides yawned with a confusing mix of shame and pride. She let go of his hand and scooped the residue from where it pooled in the shallow furrows of his abs, like she was stealing the frosting from a cake. She shoved her fingers between his lips. Sparrow made a gulping noise and sucked reverently, licking her fingers. He didn't think to question what he was doing, he had been rid of all but afterglow and obedience. She slipped her fingers out, pinched his lower lip and pulled him to bend forward and plant his lips on the mess on her thigh.

"Clean it up, there's a good darling."

Sparrow moaned in happy exhaustion. He closed his eyes, scooped her leg in his arms, and fervently kissed his own bliss from the flesh of this entrancing woman. It gummed his lips, drizzled down his chin, overwhelmed him with salt. He moaned and slurped and nuzzled deeper into her softness.

She stroked his back soothingly, her voice cooing. "I need you to promise me something, Carissime."

Sparrow nodded blindly.

"Don't explore any deeper down in the house than you already have. Stay in the rooms above ground, the nice rooms for a nice boy."