TantraBC
Posts: 2
Joined: 4/21/2016
Status: offline
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The perfect shade of blood red lipstick is the fin The perfect shade of blood red lipstick is the finishing touch to the preparations for a night in.A white lace nighty already concealing the still fresh love marks delivered by a force unseen,that drew the last ounce of strength from a rigid body.
A chair propped under the door handle blocks the only entrance.The only window opened an inch as you nestle into thick crimson sheets.The light from a heavy white candle on the night table helps you read your handwritten commands in a determined whisper;" Bring to me my night time lover.For ,this time,he is MINE".
Leaving the note pad,face up,on the night stand,you roll over with one thought.
Revenge.
As your head is swallowed by the pillow' embrace,the day fades and memories sharpen.
How the unseen commanded,compelling obedience,unleashing torrents and ripping every ounce of strength away until drawing breath was too much to bear.A deep purple brand greeted your awakening as your only proof of being claimed.Taking yourself back through the explosions,you are observer once more.Focusing on the waves that swept you away,you can only count.
That will have to be enough.
The sheet's warmth and protection have abandoned you both your hopes and fears have returned.You don't remember rolling over any more than you did the first time.The full length nighty,serving as your last defense may as well never have exited.
It has begun without warning.It knows your weakness and how to exhaust you.Allowing it any advantage is tantamount to being vanquished and under it's control forever.Your only hope is is to attack with what it wants.
The count
As the last time,you are made to wait but this time fear turns to resolve to trap intruder as prey.
The first of the sacrificed lipstick is the only difference from the flashes through the fog of jaw cramps and fighting to breath.This time,you must fight to the last breath.Fight through the count.
Instead of waiting to be taken over,you lunge forward and use everything to keep going through the "tap commanded " explosions that drive the air from your lungs and clear thoughts from your head.That cannot happen this time.
Pulling yourself up and feeling blindly for the pulsing rim that is curse and salvation.Pull the heat from it,around and up.
One.
Diving down before it can recover and you can feel a weakness that was not there before.A twisting squeeze to rob it brings it closer.
Two.
A deep breath and renewed determination to milk your oppressor before he takes your strength yields three taps on your shoulder and your mind goes blank as every muscle shudders under the command.
Gasping,you have failed to free yourself.
No recovery is granted as two more taps and memory spins you onto your knees and elbows and to the edge of vulnerability.Last time the count finished you at three
Dizzy and trembling you try to focus on saving yourself,the spear of your undoing still pressed up behind your teeth,sensing the weakness in your breathing.
Two taps on your shoulder and you are already spinning on your knees and dropping to your elbows before and thoughts can form through the vapor.This is where you lost everything last time without forcing your conqueror's gift from him.You are one step closer to being his to command in this life and the next.
You are spread and gripped and a hard swallow is all you can manage before a single tap locks you solidly in place.Now,he can wait and you have no choice.
Face turned out,all you can do is endure.
Focused on penetration,you are caught completely off guard by three taps on the hip and any plans you tried to formed are shattered by the shock wave sent rocketing up your spine.
Still not one with him, he is already caressing his prize.Confident in your collapse,he is already sizing you up to join his collection.
Why rush?
The caress turns slowly into the more familiar iron grip as your would be owner moves in to claim his property.Once broken,your real training can commence.
Determined to savor the final conquest,a single,unlocking tap releases you,including the same hip that was measured for servitude only moments ago.You will participate in your own demise.
Unlike last time,your impalement is more than an simple exhibition of power. This time he wants you to melt,instead of fall.You are slowly liquified from the outer edges and the last of your will is draining away.
The meticulous grinding of your undoing has synchronized with your breathing and you feel yourself being secured for the other side.
The caress turns slowly into the more familiar iron grip as your would be owner moves in to claim his property.Once broken,your real training can commence.
Determined to savor the final conquest,a single,unlocking tap releases you,including the same hip that was measured for servitude only moments ago.You will participate in your own demise.
Unlike last time,your impalement is more than an simple exhibition of power. This time he wants you to melt,instead of fall.You are slowly liquified from the outer edges and the last of your will is draining away.
The meticulous grinding of your undoing has synchronized with your breathing and you feel yourself being secured for the other side.This is why you were unlocked.
Your weakened position is making your ultimate capture almost disappointingly easy.You are not being tortured,only taunted and shown your new life.Being lead and used at the whim of another.The cracks in your resistance grow until the thought of finally breaking is almost a welcome relief.It could have happened already,save for the desire to make it total.Your bonds will be hidden so deep as to avoid all detection or hope of removal.
Every drop of fire being pulled from you is one more bit of life force gone forever.A few more and it will not matter.Your hips are lost in a dance of surrender as you move towards the edge of craving what will end it and you.
The closing chapter on your old life has brought a swelling inside you could never have hope for.What was commanding you has allowed itself to react to that which it has created.
Your sexual trance shifts barely enough to move against your oppressor,squeezing and twisting to at least make a fight of your last moments of freedom.Even on your knees,you remember the written pledge to yourself
One more twist,with everything and the swelling that has driven you locks in it's place to save from having it's internal mark escape.
No time or strength to twist again leaves you to drive straight back,squeezing everything,while conceding what you have already lost.Now the grip locks down on both hips and only loosens enough to notice in preparation for taps.How many.One to lock you? Two to change positions,or three to end it and drag you away forever?
Jamming and squeezing one last time as a quick three count drops you into a flat crouch.The last burst of your soul is unleashed inside you and absorbs your intruder's miscalculated hubris.
The veil fights to stay in place as you search for enough strength to move more than your eyelids.
Commanded and drained,your chains have been invisible,with time sliding past,waiting to see if you would rejoin the conscious world.
Shadows and echoes have faded and the foreign energy that let itself in,took you over and ravaged you to the edge of the abyss has left you in soaked sheets with vaporous memories of the struggle to end all.
Your head still facing to the right,you focus on the room's only window,now closed.
Your head clears and you draw the breath that lifts you and turn towards the night table.
The candle is out.The wax soft and warm.Under the candle are the freshly ripped out pages of your notepad,face down.Now you are up on your knees as quickly as you had been put down on them.
Wrapped only in cool night air,you reach for blankets and find only open space.
Sliding over to the bed's edge and pushing yourself towards the bathroom,you turn back to protect your eyes before flipping the switch.The rest of the evening's evidence is revealed.Nighty dripping from the seat of the chair at the door and sheets pulled evenly straight off the end of the bed.
Waiting for for the jelly in your legs to firm gives you the night's only chance to think.
Turning slowly into the bathroom,the mirror shows the smeared make up misdirected hair of an episode cut short.Using your mouth as you decide,you return the bed wrangled combatants glazed stare with a smile:" Now,he is MINE."
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