tagAnalYoga Tights

Yoga Tights




Yoga Tights

First in the Daemon Ang chronicles.

Reader beware, this tale contains elements of forced intercourse, light BDSM and anal sex. If you're not into that then please move on, this is not the story for you.


You may call me Ang, if it pleases you. I've had many names and many faces over the past three millennia. This is merely one I have grown rather fond of, possibly because of its sheer simplicity.

I have a tale for you, one like many others in my long and lusty life, but this is one of my recent favourites and one I feel obliged to share.

It occurred in reasonably large city in the heart of a crumbling industrial area. The machines all went quiet there long ago, but the area has recently seen a renaissance through hipster gentrification, in the form of advertising agencies and coffee shops that grow into the dusty brick warehouse spaces like mold spores.

There was a yoga studio there that, to all who frequented the area, had seemed to appear overnight. Mostly because it had done exactly that. It was a small, brightly lit place with an entirely glass front, broken only for the doorway. Inside it had walls painted a pale peach and sun-warmed bamboo flooring.

Emma Ordell, a 23 year-old recent college-graduate entered that humble studio one day on a whim. It seemed no other passerby had noticed the sign outside offering a free trial yoga session.

Nor would they, lest I wanted them to.

Emma did notice it, and felt a strange pull to try something new.

You will soon be trying a lot of new things, my dear.

Emma worked as a lowly intern in burgeoning design company. She had little to set her apart from the rest of the so called "creatives" in these parts, except for her exceptional beauty, and a rather dark, and deeply repressed, set of sexual desires.

A bell chimed as she pushed through the glass door. She wore a pair of yoga pants that clung to her like they were painted on. The rest of her was covered by an over-sized sweatshirt. Her chestnut hair was swept back in a pony tail, and she wore a sweat band where her hairline met her brow.

Good, you will be needing that soon.

She was as exquisite a human female as I have ever seen. She might have tried for a career in modelling, had her parents not worked so hard to instill in her a belief that the only rewards worth having came from diligent mental labour, rather than from winning the genetic lottery.

"Welcome! welcome!" I said, playing up the general bonhomie of the newly established small business owner.

"Uh, hi. I'm here for the free class," she said with a delightful nervousness, "am I too early?"

"Just in time," said I in my warmest tones.

"Will there be others?" She asked hesitantly.

"You are my very first client. I'm afraid I am only just starting out."

"Oh," She looked slightly disconcerted.

"But please, stay. It's free and, who knows, if you like it you might recommend me to a friend or two. I could really use the business."

That seemed to settle her uncertainty. She smiled at me "I'm not certain I can help you there, I'm new in town. But I haven't found a gym yet, and I suppose it would be mad to turn down a free lesson.

"Excellent, as soon as you're ready, we can begin."

Watching her take off her sweatshirt was a pleasure in itself. She was wearing only a brief crop top beneath, that proudly displayed a well toned and tanned midriff. Her belly was flat and hinted at the tight knots of muscle beneath her skin as she stretched her arms up to lift the sweatshirt over her head. Her breasts were surprisingly large for a girl with such a slender frame. Her top fought valiantly to contain them, succeeding only causing an ample amount of bosom to mushroom out of the top in two glorious half orbs, divided by a deep line of cleavage.

She gave me another shy look, turning her tight body to one side as if to try and hide it.

"Where do you want me?" she asked timidly.

"Come stand in front of me, " I said, with just a hint of command to my voice. She obeyed, probably more readily than she would have expected.

"Have you been to a yoga class before?" I asked.

"No, I was always more into athletics in school and college" she replied, "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," I did not feel it necessary to add that I too had never been to a yoga class before either. Even a being 3000 years old has not tried everything.

"Stand up straight with your arms at your sides," It was less of a request and more of and order, yet and she obeyed.

I strolled around her in a completed circuit, taking in her delightful form: the tight belly, her small scoop of a navel which still bore the scar a a recently removed piercing, the elegant lines of her legs which ran up into a firm round bottom. Above that were two beautiful dimples in her lightly muscled back.

I paused to look into her eyes. They were blue, flecked with green at the edges. She wore no make up, yet her lashes were full and dark and her skin shone with the clean flawlessness. She had a feint spray of freckles across her slender nose and on her high cheek bones, and her lips had a natural pout that made them seem slightly parted, as if blowing a kiss to some unknown lover.

I broke the nervous silence, "Good, I think you will do nicely. Here, raise your arms up to shoulder height."

She did so and I positioned myself behind her. I moved so that I was an inch away from being pressed right up against her. It made her nervous, I could tell, but she held the position. I placed my hands under her forearms.

"Can you feel the tension here?" She nodded.

I ran my hands along her arms in towards her torso, I felt the warmth and slight dampness under her arms.

Sweating already, my dear? Oh, but this is only the beginning.

My hands came to rest on her rib cage, my fingers just brushing the swelling of her breasts through the crop top. I could feel her breath stall, and then carefully start up again. I was now speaking deeply and softly into her ear, close enough that she could feel the heat of my breath.

"I want you to pivot just slightly from the waist up. "Good, very nice." She began to swivel slowly. Each time she did so one of her breasts brushed against my hand.

Is it just me or did I feel a nipple harden?

I stopped her by gripping her sides, and then ran my hands down her flanks to her waist. She gave a slight shiver.

"This is your core," My hands ran over the hard elasticity of her stomach, and my fingers pressed gently down on her abdominals, "Can you feel the strength there?"

Her nod caused her ponytail to bob up and down and tickle my chin.

My hands then dropped to her hips, the balls of my thumbs gently kneading the soft upper part of her ass. I pulled her gently to one side so her weight shifted onto her left leg.

"Can you feel the shift in the tension now?" Again she nodded, seeming unable to speak

Don't be alarmed, I have that effect on women.

She now stood, arms outstretched, legs apart in a side lunge position. I was pushing up tight against her.

Can you feel my erection pressing into you yet? You soon will.

"I just want to feel if you are distributing your weight correctly through your thighs," I was whispering now. She seemed uncertain, part of her was starting to feel resistant, but she could not will herself to stop me.

My fingers lightly danced over her thighs until they were resting on the inner curves. Her muscles were pulled tight by the stance. I started to run my fingers up and down , in a gentle caress, gradually moving higher and higher up her groin. "Yes, that feels good." I said, "You're a natural."

My right hand was now pressing inches away from pussy. My balls ached at the thought that my hand was separated from it by less than a millimeter of fabric.

Meanwhile, my left hand had slid up her leg and belly, and the arm was now holding her lightly across her midsection.

She gasped as two of my fingers brushed against the swell of her vagina for the first time, "Wait, stop," she said. I felt her body stiffen, but my left arm had been tightening around her like a boa constrictor. Now she was held tight in the crook of my arm. She was slender, and no match for my strength. Besides, her attempts to free herself were half-hearted and feeble at best.

With agonising slowness my right hand ran up her thigh one more time, and came to a rest, cupping her small protuberant mound, pressed hard against the virtually non-existent material of her tights. I give it a gentle squeeze and she moaned. "S-stop," She cried softly, "I don't want you to..."

"Oh but you do, Emma." She stiffened at this.

"How do you know my name?!"

"I know a lot about you Emma, I know your darkest desires, I know how deep down you long to be taken and ravaged like an animal. I know darker secrets than even these, but we will get to those, in time. For now, just try to relax, this first part will be particularly enjoyable for you.

I started a to rub up and down with my cupped hand, making sure my middle finger pushed the smooth fabric of her tights deep into the cleft of her vagina.

Do I feel dampness through the tights? Ms Ordell, you really are incorrigible.

We were standing in the middle of the brightly lit studio. It was on a street with a lot of foot-traffic, and the windows to my studio ran from floor to ceiling. Emma seemed not to notice this, as I leaned her back, holding her tight to my chest, and began to rub deep and hard into the soft flesh between her legs. Any of the pedestrians walking past had only to turn slightly to see her in this moment of pleasure and shame. But I did not want them to see, not yet, anyway, so they all walked by, completely oblivious.

I stopped my massage, and she gave a unbidden mewl of displeasure. I tucked my hand into the the waistband of her tights right at the cleft of her buttocks and pulled down hard. I lifted her off her feet with my other arm at the same time. They peeled down in a smooth motion until they were at her ankles. Her beautiful pussy, shaved bare, was now completely exposed for anyone walking by to see.

Now she really did fight me. She wriggled and squirmed, but was hampered by my grip, and by the tights which bound her feet. With my powers I could have easily turned those tights into more substantial restraints, but I chose rather to let her perceive the tights as something she could not willfully remove herself. It is so much better that way, with the client conscious that they are at least partly choosing to carry out the fantasy to its conclusion.

I lowered her, as she fought, and ran my hand down her smooth stomach, over the bald mound and into the divide in her labia majora. As I expected, my hand found heat and slick wetness there, that was already running down onto her inner thighs.

"You might fight me, Ms Odell, but your body is telling me another story."

"How do you know my fucking name?!"

"As I said, I know a lot about you, more than you are probably willing to admit about yourself, even. Here, let me show you."

I release her and gave her a small shove in the direction of the glass store front. She had to hop and wobble to stay up right with her bound ankles.

"Shit!" She groaned, "The windows! People can fucking see me like this? Let me go you sick bastard! Someone out there is bound to call the cops."

"No one can see you, my dear, not yet."

"What do you mean, 'not yet?'"

"Here, look." I placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her to the window. She had no choice but to waddle alongside me with only the tiny constrained steps the tights allowed. I took the time to enjoy how her firm naked bottom jiggled with each little step.

I stopped when we were right in front of the window. She tried to turn into me to hide her shame, but I had a arm around her shoulders and held her tightly so that she had to stand there, stark naked from the chest down, front-on to the large window.

"Look," I pointed to trio of smoking teenage boys walking past. They were so close that, but for the glass, we could have reached out and touched them. "Do you think that, if they could see in, those boys would just walk past?" I could feel her trembling. Her cheeks burned red with embarrassment. Her large eyes brimmed with tears.

"If I don't want people to see in, they won't. They'll just walk by without a care in the world."

"Who are you?" She whimpered,, "what are you?"

"I've been called many things, and served many purposes. but today I am here to fulfil your desire."

"What desire?"

"Oh, you might not admit it, or even really know it is there. It is a deep, faint longing. But it is building inside you. Do not worry though, that is why I am here."

While I had been talking my hand had slid down her back and now rested on the arc just above the twin melons of her bum. Next, my hand crept into the cleft, just brushing her tiny puckered anus, and found her pussy, now sopping with desire. She seemed too stunned, or too scared, to move.

What if one of these pedestrians walking past did look up? She would be mortified, shamed forever. She would have to move cities.

As these thoughts flooded her mind I could feel the mental conflict fueling her lust. My fingers were now exploring her soft inner folds. I could feel the wetness dripping from my fingers onto the polished wooden floor.

Slowly I sank to my knees. She seemed to be in a trance. She took a sharp breath as I plunged my face into her butt crack. My lapping tongue sought the tight ring of muscle around her anus. I flicked my tongue over it and side-to-side, before going round it in tight little circles. In the meantime my hand found her engorged clitoris and was sliding over and around it. I teased and tweaked it. She was so slick that it was like running my fingers through melting butter.

She stared out of the window, at the people streaming past. Work hours were over and everyone was making their way home. Her hands were pressed to the glass and her breath, coming in short sharp gasps, was causing it to mist up. Still, not single face turned her way.

I am a virtuoso, and I played her like an instrument. My fingers strummed the harmony on her pussy, while my tongue played the counterpoint on her tight little sphincter.

Soon I could feel the flutter in her muscles, and her anus was convulsing under my tongue like a mouth desperate to breath.

Her orgasm came suddenly and sent a shiver through her body to her very bones. Her legs shook uncontrollably and her chest heaved like a pair of bellows. She let out a moan of exquisite ecstasy and I felt warm liquid run over my hand, between her legs and onto my chest.

She could barely stand, as she gasped to draw in great lungfuls of air. Her hands were pressed up against the glass and her butt stuck out in a most pleasing way.

She slowly opened her eyes, disbelieving that such incredible pleasure was even possible, and found herself staring into the eyes of an astonished looking man on the other side of the glass. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed, "That guy can see me!"

"Of course, my dear," I said as I licked my fingers clean, "you didn't think we were finished here, did you? We're only just getting started."

Part 2

She tried to push her weight off the glass so that she could cover her completely exposed bottom half. Unfortunately I had though of this and her hands were now adhered to the glass as if they had been glued there.

"Shit, why can't I get free?! They're all staring at me!" He face was beetroot with shame.

Sure enough, a small group was gathering outside now, ogling her naked form. I no longer felt it prudent to keep their attention elsewhere. Some where pointing, others laughing, quite a few looked concerned. They were trying to make calls on their phones, but were finding the reception non-existent. Likewise, the teenager with the camera phone, was having a frustrating time with the focus of his subject matter.

I am such a terrible tease sometimes.

With her bottom half bare I decided to up the ante slightly. My hands moved up and cupped her breasts from behind. I gripped them tight, weighing them alternately and, finally, gently began squeezing her erect nipples with a thumb and forefinger through the material of her top.

"No, no, no," She moaned, but it was a moan of pleasure. I hooked both by thumbs under her top and lifted up and over her breasts. They rose with the top, resisting spilling out, until they could fight gravity no longer and bounced free. I left the top lifted just over her breasts and cupped them again, squeezed them together, and began to nibble at her neck. She moaned deeper, more insistent. I pushed her gently, but forcefully up against the glass and held her there, so that her breasts were crushed up against it and flattened out, just millimeters from the faces of the onlookers.

With her top half secured I was able to free up her ankles by stepping on her tights and helping her to lift her legs out of them. She tried to clamp her legs together, and turn her body away from the window again, but I held her ass cheeks tight and pulled her back up. Then, using my feet, I forced her to spread her legs apart, at the same time tilting her pelvis so that her ass was sticking out.

I was no longer wearing any pants.

Had I ever been wearing pants? You mortals are so strange with your instance on continuity in your reality.

If you have never seen the cock of an immortal, then I pity you. It is something truly to behold. It's length and girth are, at the least, equal to the very largest mortal cocks out there. It is sleek as a buttered otter, with knotted veins pumping it full of enough hot blood to make rock-hard seem like a limp noodle.

She tried to squirm loose, but I kept her thighs propped open with my knees. I could tell she was staring into the eyes of the gathered strangers now. Her heart was beating furiously in panic. I slid my cock between her thighs so she was astride it, her dripping pussy pressing down on my shaft. I began a rhythmic thrust that repeatedly brought the tip of my glans into contact with her aching clitoris. Ringing it, like a bell.

She stared out the window, mortified, still panting heavily. Whatever physical process it was that brought blood to her cheeks as a blush, also sent in pumping into her already inflamed vagina. It swelled with desire. She was furious with her body for these unwanted urges, but the more she fought it the deeper it dug in its claws. I held her breasts, each too big to completely contain in one hand alone. The bounced and jiggled against my palm, the hard nipples brushing my thumbs with each thrust.

I was sliding all over her like a car on a icy road. Feeling the time was right, I used a hand to guide my manhood towards her curtained entrance. My tip lightly kissed the opening at first, and then began to gently knock on the door, gradually growing more insistent. She moaned as she felt herself stretch to allow me entry into her sacred sanctum. There was a moment when it seemed I might not fit. My massive shaft began to buckle as I tried to thread the needle of her precious cunt. She shuddered with a mini-orgasm as she relaxed her tight vaginal sphincter and let me plunge deep inside her.

The walls of her pussy closed in tight around my member and seemed to suck on it like a boiled sweet. The heat and silkiness brought even I, one of the greatest lovers of all time, close to the edge of an all to early climax. I beat back the desire to pump her full of my seed with deep breaths, willing my stomach muscles to stop their contractions.

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