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I am kneeling before a lit fireplace when you enter the room, the only thing on my body a thin black scrap of cloth that shows every inch of my nude form beneath it, little more than a sheer adornment making a plunging V down my shoulders, tied beneath my pale breasts and low on my hips, leaving an ever widening path of flesh bare from navel to throat. My hips are completely exposed and my ass and pussy are obscured only by a fluttering rectangle of the same diaphanous midnight fabric to my ankles as I stand and smile softly. My red hair is loose and wild, tangling halfway down my back to my shoulder blades and in the firelight, you cannot tell if my eyes are stormy blue or dark green or a little of both…

“You’re certain?” I ask you softly, placing a soft hand on your face and staring up into your eyes, searching them for my answers. Lust, yes, as expected, but determination. I reach up with both hands, standing on tip-toe and draw your lips to mine, kissing you softly, drawing the length of my petite five foot one frame to press against you.

“Then, in the name of the Gods that I serve, I am yours tonight. I’m here to love you, please you, take you, to yield to you, be worshipped by you, be overwhelmed by your need… and in return for walking with you through your shadows hand in hand, I shall take your darkness, your pain, your energies, and bring them into myself, cleansing them from your soul, replenishing my own body and spirit. Do you consent?” You give a silent nod, but I say softly, gently, “You must speak the words.”

“I consent.”

“Then by my Lord and Lady, so mote it be,” I say softly. I light the small oil diffuser on the mantel and the smell of roses perfumes the air, rolling over our senses in a velvet aura of sensuality. I open small cupboards by the bed, all full of various toys and tools that we might want for the night. I can feel your eyes following my every move, devouring me. I can sense your desire and I can feel my nipples harden, but I don’t turn to look at you.

All has been discussed before hand. I have no worry or fear. Safety has been addressed, failsafes implemented for my safety and yours. I move with a languid grace, loving the feel of your eyes on me, feeling my body respond with each passing moment. I am waiting. I could make the first move, and with another, I might. But I have sensed you need control, so I wait. In truth, I like letting you take the reins. I like watching others exert their power over me. I know I can snatch it away in an instant… that is my power. But this is also my gift. I love watching the satisfaction in the eyes of my lovers who need control as they bring me over and over. I love being the instrument upon which they play out their passion and pain.

“Get on the bed.” It’s a simple, clear order. I pause only a moment and glance over my shoulder at you. You’re still fully dressed, and you’re holding a black cloth in your hands, and your eyes… the look in them is enough to make my lips part and for my breath to catch. I do as I am told, wordlessly.

You approach and take my hands and tie them to the wrought iron bed frame over my head as you lay me on my back on the mattress. You watch my face as you lightly run a teasing hand over my body, lightly skimming over my sheer ceremonial shift, making me hyper-aware of the nearness of your flesh over mine. I am panting, my breasts heaving with each tiny breath, my eyes pleading for greater contact.

“I am going to make you beg,” you whisper huskily, an edge in your voice that sends a shiver down my spine. I close my eyes briefly and swallow, centering myself. Once I have control, I open my eyes once more and give you a devious, fearless grin.

“Truly?” I ask coyly.

The hand that curls around my throat is gentle and warm, but its presence is a silent reminder that I am not the one in control here, not on the surface. You move the hand to cup my neck and draw me into a soft, slow, seductively invasive kiss that makes me curl my toes.

“Oh yes,” you promise, watching my eyes as your fingers find my rigid right nipple and give it a delicate, yet sharp,

and sudden pinch. I can’t stop the arch of my spine or how my lips part in a soft, wet pant of pleasure… nor would I want to, bahis siteleri when I see the heat rise in your gaze. You repeat the gesture with my other breast and I arch again for you, staring into your eyes boldly, shamelessly. But for all this, the naked desire in your eyes does make me lower my lashes for a moment, the power of that look enough to make my core begin to weep silently, wanting to be filled by every part of your essence.

“You blush,” you observe softly, trailing a finger along the side of my warm face. I raise my eyes again, and allow you to see the affect these simple touches have on me, a slowly igniting wave of want turning my gaze a more distinct green.

“Yes.” I whisper, my voice an odd mix that is both softly shaking and harshly rough.

“Tell me why. Be honest.”

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to hide the squirm of discomfort inside my gut, but I don’t dissemble. I take a breath, return my gaze to yours and answer honestly: “I am always amazed and completely surprised to be wanted.”

You look genuinely surprised, this time. “But… this is who you are. You’re a creature of passion and sex and desire…”

“And intensity, and darkness, and in some minds, death,” I respond, unable to curb my hurt and anger. “I wasn’t created to curb my aggression, my need, my fire. And no one wants that for more than one night, if they don’t run the moment they feel the first lick of my flames.”

The darkness that sweeps into your eyes silences me a moment, and I cannot interpret the storm there at first. Then, you’re leaning over my bound body, your face above mine, your lips only an inch away as you softly say, your voice a glittering dagger’s edge against my heart: “Then they were weak.”

The last word causes my pussy to spasm, and as my eyes widen and I gasp at the sudden betrayal of my body, your mouth seals over mine, silencing my tiny whimper of shock.

It isn’t often I am surprised by anyone. I know my duties well. I have learned to walk the road of the human soul from creation to passing and though I am an imperfect vessel and guide, I am no novice. But I am human… mostly. I have my insecurities and failings. But I have the experience and grace to set them aside when duty calls. And this had been about duty. About being a port in the storm for a soul who needed it… not for my own lonely soul to have a light shone upon it.

But trying to focus the thoughts rolling through my confused brain was akin to collecting water in a net. All I could do was feel, and try my best to remember why I was here, what my purpose was. This wasn’t about my pleasure, not really… that was always a very enjoyable side-affect, but not the purpose for giving myself to a lover. It was about something more, something deeper.

Sometimes my lover needed a gentle guide into a new state of being. Sometimes they needed to be held down and pushed to near breaking to release something too long held within. Sometimes they needed me, like this, helpless and under their hand, willingly submitting

to them, so they could sink into my acceptance and allow me to drain the shadows from them as they emptied themselves into me. And while I enjoyed every single encounter with no small amount of excitement, I kept my own heart and feelings in a delicate glass cage where my lovers were concerned, for the most part. Very visible, touchable, but… contained and under my control.

Very few had a key to that cage. No one had been gifted it without years and years of effort. And I hadn’t even considered needing another key ever again, because… because no one gets through my defenses. Not when they’re in my path because of who and what I am, when my Gods have charged me to do my duty by them. It’s a gift to serve, and I do it with all the gladness in my soul. In fact, when I am denied someone I have been directed to, I feel I have failed in my purpose, even if it’s by no fault of my own. I feel fulfilled when I do this. Whole. Special. Magical.

But I don’t feel… too deeply. I can feel desire, obviously. Affection. Joy. Delight. Amusement. Yes, certainly. But I am never transformed. I am not the focus. That’s something reserved for my private life, husbands and consorts… and yes, I can have those too, canlı bahis siteleri provided my calling as a priestess isn’t in jeopardy as a result. But any spouse who wouldn’t understand my devotion didn’t understand me, plain and simple. Lovers… supplicants… playmates… they didn’t learn me well enough to understand me. I accepted that, and I pushed away any pain it caused me as trade for all the beauty and goodness I experienced in my life as a result.

So what feels different here?

When your hand slips down between my thighs and samples the warm slickness at my core, causing me to cry out softly and press into your hand, the reality of what the difference is truly hits me, making my heart hammer like a fist against my ribcage and I feel my gaze soften into a mix of desperation, surprise and barely controlled lust as I part my lips to take in a small, sharp breath, raising my face to gaze up into yours. There is no conflict in your eyes. None of the inner clash I feel in my own.

I am suddenly not certain I’m entirely in control here.

“Pant for me, little priestess,” you whisper softly into my ear, the warm tremble of your voice belying your own arousal. That tremor vibrates through me and I do as you ask without even thinking about it, naturally, as if I had been following your orders for years.

Something washes over me, and tears almost spring to my eyes at the sheer… succinctness of this moment. As if my body is telling me, for once, I am where I am supposed to be, doing what I am meant to do, feeling precisely what I was made best to feel. As if something inside me releases just a bit in acknowledgment that whatever else I have done before or I do past now, at this moment, I am where the Gods have meant for me to be. My yielding to you in this moment is something that is as certain as the sunrise, as sure as the tides. And as natural and unstoppable. Irresistible.

I am whimpering affirmations and pleading before I realize it’s my voice tumbling out from my trembling lips. You’ve removed my hands from the bedpost, but they are still bound before me, and you move me, positioning my body so that I am draped over your lap, in your arms, completely restrained by only you and the ties on my wrists as you bind my hair around one fist and kiss me roughly and deeply whilst plunging your fingers deep into me, chuckling softly as you pause to place my arms around your shoulders, the bound wrists behind your head as you kiss me relentlessly and coax me to the edge of orgasm with your fingers.

You whisper continuously to me, describing in lurid detail the things you imagine doing to me this night, and perhaps in the future, while you stroke me and tease my neck, shoulders, and breasts with your mouth between thoughts and descriptions, listening to my pants and moans as if I were some instrument made flesh you could expertly play, creating a symphony of sumptuous, wonton music of my moans, cries, gasps, whimpers and pleading whispers for more.

“I could make you cum like this,” you whisper softly, a finger lightly flicking over my clit as if to demonstrate.

I spasm and shudder, my whole body arching and I need a moment to take a breath and swallow before I manage to respond in s shaky voice: “Easily.”

With a particularly wicked smile, you remove your hands and release me, standing and turning to the open cabinets beside the bed, as if to assess their contents. I could have screamed. Instead, I gave a surprised, mildly impressed laugh. I wasn’t giving you the satisfaction of knowing how badly I’d wanted that final caress.

But you know. Gods, I can see it in your eyes and I suddenly feel more naked than I actually was… can you see the small patch of moisture under me on the bedsheets? Can you feel the clenching of my empty, needy cunt? Do you have any idea how much I want to drag you to me, slice the fabric from your form and drown myself in your flesh?

I put on my polite, pretty, calm priestess face. I am in control, I tell myself. The look of amused disbelief gives me a momentary panic that somehow I’ve ended up with a true telepath, and you caught that stray moment of internal monologue, but I push such foolishness away, and smile politely.

“I am at your mercy,” canlı bahis I say with a slight impish smile. “If it is not your will that I cum for you, then I shan’t.”

You run a thumb along my full lower lip and regard me darkly. “You’ll cum.” Your hand slides down my neck and your thumb is just under my chin, forcing my head up, eyes back to yours, and when I meet them, I can feel soft pressure at my throat, gentle, but dangerous in a way that makes me stop breathing for a second and hold perfectly still in your hands. “No, you will cum… you will cum until you beg me to stop.”

I would have laughed. Didn’t you know who you were in bed with? Didn’t you know I had never asked anyone to stop bringing me pleasure? Who did you think you were!

But I don’t laugh. Because something tells me perhaps it was I who didn’t know how this might truly play out. And while it should have terrified me, I find myself wanting to fling my body into the fire and burn for you, just to test my mettle in this. Just to see how long I might survive. It is…intoxicating.

“Pretty words,” I growl softly, a little unsettled by this unfamiliar loss of power. “You have many pretty words. Have you any substance with which to support them? A kiss and nimble fingers are lovely accessories to a night with me, but will hardly bring me to my knees.”

I know it wasn’t exactly the form for this game, my challenges, but I can only excuse it by admitting I was in unfamiliar territory and feeling slightly flustered. Which, if truth be told, is a great compliment. If I am poised, you have done nothing to surprise me.

I am not at all poised right now. I am a wet, trembling mess, and inside I am begging you to stop toying with me and just take me, but pride will not let me show you anything but a cool exterior and a biting wit. Because to show you what you’ve truly ignited would be to invite a part of myself that completely bypassed any level of control or decorum… and would be admitting weakness.

There is a moment of silence, and I can see you weighing my words with amusement, as if trying to decide if you should show your hand now or later. I arch a brow impudently and I do believe it is that tiny change of expression that causes the entire aura of the room to change in an instant as you look at me and command simply: “Cum for me. Now.”

There isn’t a moment to process. There isn’t a way to fight it. There isn’t time for fear or confusion as my body obeys you as if it has always done so, shattering into billions of silvery, effervescent bits of spirit.

I don’t remember falling back or being in your arms again. I just remember being wrapped in the heat of your energy as it wraps around me, holding me, keeping me sheltered and safe as I cum, cresting, plummeting and ascending higher again continuously without a single intimate caress. I can hear you speaking to me but I am barely cognizant of the meaning behind your words, only that I cannot stop the waves of wet, endless orgasms whipping through me, clenching my muscles and arching my spine in your arms as tiny, keening cries are pulled from me, dragged from my beleaguered, confused soul.

“Breathe,” I hear you remind me and I know you’re smiling. Had I stopped? I tend to do that then I have that other-worldly “la petite mort” sort of orgasm. They call it “the little death” for a reason, after all… I stop breathing and have an out-of-body sort of feeling… best time to dance on the astral plane… wow. My mind was so not all here right now. It takes a few moments for me to feel as if I settle into my own flesh once more.

I feel your lips lay a soft kiss on my temple and I look up at you, a little shy, but I had to state the obvious. “I don’t remember begging you to stop.”

Your laugh is a wonderful thing and it tightens everything deep inside of me again, reminding me that you have only just barely touched me… and I have touched you not yet at all. “No, not yet. But I don’t recall agreeing to a time table. And besides, no quality puzzle is solved in the first attempt.”

The truth of that sank into my passion-fogged mind and I nodded. You tuck one of the flyaway strands of my red hair behind my ear and I regard you with something like wonder as you add: “Besides, I don’t think you’re one to be caught during a sprint. I suspect this will be a marathon.”

I can’t help the lopsided, slightly orgasm-drunk grin. “Then what a merry chase it shall be, I think…”

(To be continued?)

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