| "Chaining the Master"
by Adhara Law
(c) 1998 Adhara Law. All rights reserved. May not be reproduced
without express written permission by the author.
Silent drip of candles, drops of wine on her skin. Darkness that presses in
and seems miles away. The only sensations she can feel -- satin smoothness
against her naked skin, the stinging bite of leather as it grips her wrists
-- paints her world here, now, the only moment that actually exists. Skin
held by taut, metal-studded skin as it holds her fast to the metal of the bed
while he looks on.
She breathes. In. Out. Pull against the straps. No good. A smile.
She feels the wet heat of his lips and tongue tracing the smooth outline of a
stark white calf muscle, straining. Against him or toward him, she doesn't
know. She doesn't care.
He moves so slowly, snaking his way along the canvas of her naked body,
painting her virgin skin with lust, desire, trust, and patience. The thin
bones of her narrow wrists strain hard against the leather straps, twisting
them with a high-pitched creak as they refuse to release her. Head back,
mouth open, eyes closed. Sharp breaths.
Along her stomach now. He leaves kisses, sweetly stinging nips and bites, to
melt into the skin below her navel while she breathes her confessions.
Confessing control, confessing to walking in a world where she was the
leader...confessing the desire to give it all away, for only a few moments.
She breathes in the sharp sting of tight leather against her pale wrists.
Sound trickles out between clenched teeth, a tongue circles a hard nipple.
Nips, bites, moans. An arching back. Hips search for hips until his cock
slides smoothly into her, her eyes squeezed shut and a smile on her face.
Rhythm now. The creak of leather every regular second, like the ticking of a
clock. Her fists tugging at the leather but not wanting to let go.
Blue eyes are open, staring at him above her as he moves, slowly but getting
faster now, while she arches her back to meet his hips with hers. His
eyes...she sees the imminent release, the thin membrane that holds him back
from her. Leather on wrists keeps nothing down. Her hips take control,
pulling him into her like her eyes are pulling him into her, and he gets
faster. The pleading in his eyes feeds her smile. Blue eyes close as she
comes, squeezing against him as she controls the dance and watches the
membrane break, the statue crumble, as he comes with begging eyes.
With a kiss, she slips wrists from leather straps that control the one who
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