The Scent

"Submit to me. I will not ever harm you. Do you doubt this?" He was genuinely hurt.

"Master, you know of my problem with this. Why do you ask this of me?"

"I want you to submit to me. It is our relationship. Do you want to make a fundamental to change to this arrangement?"

"I don't want this to end. Is that what you're asking me?"

"Little one." He reached out to her to caress her cheek. He knew that this was going to be difficult for her. That was part of why he considered this. The other part was that he desired this to his very core.

"Little one, I asked if you wanted to change the arrangement - not end it. You could become my lover rather than my slave. I could become your lover rather than your master. It is not something I want. I don't think it is something you want. I want you to give me what I want."

She was lying on the bed with her arms tied to the head board. He had not restrained her legs. He enjoyed being able to wrap her legs around his waist or to bend her almost in half. He undid her wrist restraints. Of course she immediately crossed her arms over her breasts in an attempt to cover her nakedness. He allowed this momentarily.

"Turn over and get on all fours." She moved slowly to meet his demand. With her legs between his, he entered her from behind. She arched her back so that he could enter in a fluid stroke.

"Yes, this is better for the blood," she said. She had started her period a few days before. She was a heavy bleeder and her own scent was heavy. She was both enthralled and appalled by her scent. In the past, with another, she had been treated as if her body was polluted when she menstruated or became wet with desire. She had taken no small amount of verbal abuse and had allowed herself to internalize this shame.

Her master, the other had never been a master - merely a husband, now an ex-husband - wanted to take her even when her period was heavy. This she struggled with, but a few times had come to terms with her shame. Those moments of acceptance and desire had fed her healing soul.

"Better how, Little one?"

"Not as messy." As she said it, she knew he would be displeased.

The spank on her ass wrung in her ears. "This is your master fucking you. This is your master enjoying your body. This is my slave giving of her passion. Do not insult what I love." At every other word, he thrust deeply into her wet heat. She ground her body against his as he rode her.

He felt all of her muscles begin the contract around his dick. She came explosively. He came with her but immediately pulled out of her and stood up.

"Master, oh please, I want you inside, please" she was almost incoherent.

"Stand up," he commanded. His voice was deep with desire and power.

She was confused. She was still coming. She looked over her shoulder at him. He was still hard and his dick glistened with her moisture and blood. He looked almost demonic.

"Stand up now."

She moved on the bed and finally, on very shaky legs, stood up. She kept her legs clamped tightly together. She could feel all the combined liquids moving within her body - downward.

"Spread your legs and use your wetness to write your initial on my chest." He said it quietly right beside her ear.

"But that would get you dirty."

He grabbed her arms tightly.

"I am getting angry. Nothing about what I love is dirty. My love is not dirty. You are my love. Look at me. Spread your legs, reach into your pussy, and use our cum and your blood to write on my chest." He was red in the face. He was angrier than she had ever seen him.

As if her body were conspiring against her, she felt the liquid heat pass over her labia and onto her thigh. She looked into his beautiful green eyes and didn't see anger. She saw passion and fire. She spread her legs and moistened her finger in this viscous ink. Three small dips into the inkwell and three small strokes over his heart.

"Daintily done, Little one. My turn."

She gasped and came when he plunged three fingers into her pussy. His hand was almost coated in an iridescent liquid. He wrote large, all over her torso. All the letters of his name combined into a glyph. His mark. His sign. His brand in her blood. Every time he entered her, she would cum. Every time she clenched in her desire more blood would join with the natural lubricant of her body.

The smell of their passion filled the small space.

He thrust her onto the bed. She was lying on her back. He spread her knees wide as he entered her.

"You are mine." He slammed into her.

"You are mine." He slammed into her over and over.

Earth and sea. Musk and heat. Blood and cum.