A Lovers Kiss

A Lovers Kiss A Lovers Kiss

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

He took his time, savoring the smoothness of her skin, salty and sweet and scented of peaches. Pursing his lips as if to kiss, he enveloped the small, pert nub between them and suckled. Despite herself, a small moan escaped her. His mouth felt warm, soft, wet…until his teeth bit into her, and she gasped sharply. He continued this way, alternating pleasure and pain, reward and punishment, traveling down her exposed flesh.

Summary

He took his time, savoring the smoothness of her skin, salty and sweet and scented of peaches. Pursing his lips as if to kiss, he enveloped the small, pert nub between them and suckled. Despite herself, a small moan escaped her. His mouth felt warm, soft, wet…until his teeth bit into her, and she gasped sharply. He continued this way, alternating pleasure and pain, reward and punishment, traveling down her exposed flesh.

Content

Submitted: August 30, 2011

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: August 30, 2011

A A A

A A A


Watching the embers flicker and glow in what was left of the bonfire, she knew she should get up and head back to her car. It was late, had to be at least 2 am by now, and the beach was essentially deserted. The marine layer had come in like a thick fog, obliterating her view after 30 feet or so. Even the rebel-rousers down near the boardwalk had packed up and moved on. Just a few more minutes, she told herself. The crashing of the waves and the warmth of the firepit worked together to put her in a near hypnotic state. She would wonder, later, if she would have heard the footsteps if she’d been paying closer attention. Bare feet, in the sand, it wasn’t likely she would have heard them, but still, she couldn’t help but wonder.

She’d been sitting with a blanket wrapped around her, chin resting on her knees, when the hand clamped down over her mouth, startling her into a muffled scream. The hand tightened, and a voice came to her in a rough whisper, telling her to be quiet with an unmistakably ominous tone. Another hand pulled the blanket off of her, spreading it sloppily on the sand. She was being held snugly against a chest, a man’s chest, strong arm pinning her in place as her teeth dug into her cheeks from the force of the hand over her mouth. His second hand came up and wrapped in her hair, pulling her down onto the blanket. She was guided onto her stomach, her hands pulled roughly behind her and pinned.

She felt a binding of some sort being woven around her wrists, pinning her hands against her lower back, and panicked, writhing and fighting him. A soft cloth was then pulled over her eyes and tied snugly behind her head, leaving her in pitch black darkness, heightening her panic. She struggled against him, trying to pull her hands free, until he grabbed her roughly and tossed her easily onto her back. She couldn’t see anything, but she heard the soft whoosh, felt the change in the air as his hand swung through it and connected sharply with her face. Again. And again. She stopped struggling, sobbing as she flinched, waiting for the next blow. She felt the…presence of him over her as he leaned close, his hand tightening just enough around her throat to make his strength clear. He put his lips next to her ear and told her to behave herself so he wouldn’t have to punish her. Then, he flipped her back into her stomach unceremoniously and went back to work. She was flooded with so many emotions, fear being the foremost, but certainly not the only one.

He worked methodically, taking his time and not saying a word to her. Her mind was reeling, wondering who this was and what his intentions were. She mentally kicked herself for staying alone so late on the empty beach, her mind running through a million different scenarios of different choices she might have made, and with great effort, she silenced them, knowing full well it was too late for any of that. The important thing now was to keep her wits about her and that meant staying in the moment. She’d made up her mind to be as cooperative as possible in hopes of keeping him calm, and not encouraging any punishment or retaliation from him. She tried to keep her body as pliable as possible so as not to give him the idea she was resisting, even though every instinct she had was struggling with that decision. Every touch of his hands caused her body to tense. Every movement he made brought a surge of adrenaline backed fear until her heart was racing so fast she could barely catch her breath.

She was on her stomach still, her ankles bound, knees bent, wrists bound. He had moved away, but he was still there. She could hear him breathing, the pattern of it suggesting he was having a smoke. Her mind again racing, she was trying to picture him, trying to imagine what he might be doing and thinking. She felt his presence as surely as she felt the sea air, damp and salty on her skin. She was still clothed, her skirt providing little warmth or protection, the light blouse over her swimsuit top even less. She shivered, chilled now that she was farther away from the still glowing embers of the fire pit. After some time had passed (she was sure it was no more than a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity), he was on the move again, coming to her and flipping her onto her back. Her arms being behind her forced her hips up off the blanket and she felt herself blushing furiously in the dark as her most vulnerable area was essentially put on display. She was sure that was his intention when he’d flipped her, and her instincts seemed to be proven correct when she felt him sit down on the far edge of the blanket, near her bound feet. He tugged and pushed, positioning her legs so they were spread wide, never making a sound, never speaking a word to her. His silence was maddening.

She tried to take her mind somewhere else as she lay there, thankful that he’d not removed her clothes. She barely got the thought completed in her mind when she again felt him moving, felt his hands. They were sliding up her thighs, taking her skirt with her. A sharp tug pulled her skirt past the obstacle of her bound hands, raising it over her hips. She bit down hard on her lip, struggling to remain quiet, but when she heard the unmistakable click of a switchblade knife opening, she cried out. Instantly, his hand struck her face, stunning her into silence. He slipped a finger under the side of her bathing suit bottom, lifting it away from her hip, and with a single quick motion, sliced through the material with the knife. He repeated the action on the other side, and she gasped, struggling not to cry. She couldn’t help herself, though, when she felt the blade of the knife sliding slowly over the creamy flesh of her thigh, moving ever closer to her center. She began to plead, quietly and barely coherently, the trembling in her body mimicked in the trembling of her voice.

She heard him ‘tsking’ her as he grabbed the ruined bathing suit bottom and yanked it free of her. He bunched it into a wad and fed it into her mouth, putting his hand over it with the strength of a vice. He held it there like that as he moved the knife again, sliding it over her tensed flesh, prodding experimentally now and then with the tip without breaking the skin. Yet. Rising partially, he straddled her, high on her hips, and used the sharp blade to split her blouse down the middle. He reached a warm hand between bathing suit and breast, grasping her nipple firmly between his thumb and the side of his forefinger, and pulled her breast up and above the suit top. He repeated this with the other breast, the cool night air and his squeezing causing her tiny pink nipples to swell and stiffen. He slid down, inserting his legs into the circle formed by her bound ankles, the roughness of his clothing against her exposed and vulnerable flesh causing her to squeal around her gag.

Balancing on one arm, he dragged the tip of the knife down her throat, enjoying the way the tension moved with the knife through her flesh, watching the goosebumps form quickly as the knife moved. Even in the faint light he could see the red line the knife left behind, and wondered how it felt for her. Her chest rose and fell in uneven hitches, and he was careful not to damage the pale, creamy flesh. He dragged the blade down to her nipple, tracing around the edge of the areola. Her body’s reaction was completely organic, her senses limited by the bonds, the gag, the blindfold. He watched the rosy nipple pucker and rise up to the knife tip and smiled to himself. Before she even realized what was happening, he’d made the smallest nick with the razor sharp tip of the knife, drawing a single, glistening drop of blood and a small yelp from her simultaneously. Like a red pearl, polished to a shine. He cupped her breasts, raising it to him even as he lowered his mouth to her.

He took his time, savoring the smoothness of her skin, salty and sweet and scented of peaches. Pursing his lips as if to kiss, he enveloped the small, pert nub between them and suckled. Despite herself, a small moan escaped her. His mouth felt warm, soft, wet…until his teeth bit into her, and she gasped sharply. He continued this way, alternating pleasure and pain, reward and punishment, traveling down her exposed flesh. Every move he made, the roughness of his clothing rubbed against her vulnerable center as her position and bonds forced her to press up against him. The friction was causing a reaction, one she had no control over, and she had to choke back a sob of frustration. Her body was responding, whether she liked it or not, and it was him, not her, in control of it. She was trying to distract herself, turning her mind to other topics rapid fire, searching frantically for one to latch onto, when she felt his mouth on her hip. As he’d been with her breast, he was gentle, tenderly kissing, licking, tasting. And just as before this was followed with the sharpness of his teeth, biting into her as his tongue continued working her flesh.

Everywhere his mouth went, the knife proceeded. The blade, despite his keeping it flat against her, caused ripples of tension through her body and she became aware that this was heightening her response to his touch. He dragged it across her hip, down the outside of her thigh, and then raised it back up the inside. As it neared her vulva, she became paralyzed with fear, every part of her tense and filled with apprehension. She’d been to the salon, she was freshly waxed, and felt doubly exposed and sensitive because of it. The blade slid easily against her labia, and it was with a furious blushing embarrassment that she realized it was because she was wet. He moved slowly, relishing the way her body reacted to his motion, sliding the blade up to where the two lips met, and back down again on the other side. Lower, to the innermost part of her thigh, where again he let the knife tip up on its edge just slightly, the blade easily cutting into the supple skin beneath it.

She felt him slide further between her ankles, flattening himself on the blanket, and as he adjusted, she felt the heat of a small trickle of blood running down one of her spread thighs. His tongue caught it, and he dragged it up her flesh, to the small wound he’d made. He pressed his lips tightly against her there, licking and sucking and drinking of her, leaving her writhing and whimpering beneath him. Something happened to her as she realized this was more intimate than any sexual act she’d ever shared with a lover, and without any conscious decision to do so, her body responded intensely. She felt the flood of warmth deep inside her and soon realized she had stopped struggling against him and was now trying to press her flesh even tighter against his mouth. When he’d had his fill of one fluid, he moved to the next, his tongue sweeping through the nectar that was flowing freely from her core. She moaned deeply into her gag as he had his way with her, attacking her with his lips and tongue and teeth as if he intended to devour her…and devour her he did. She was quickly building toward an incredible explosion, her chest heaving with every ragged breath, the muscles within her contracting and releasing over and over and then, he stopped. She lay there in stunned disbelief, frustrated and ashamed in equal measure as he lifted himself up and extracted himself from between her thighs.

She hadn’t realized how much circulation she’d lost in her hands until he rolled her over onto her stomach. The blood rushing into her hands was hot, almost painful. He took each of them in turn between his own, rubbing them roughly to restore the blood flow, then raised her up to her knees. When he moved away from her, she felt an odd urge to beg him to stay. She was so confused by the way her body responded to him, but she didn’t know how to stop it…and if she was completely honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. He sat a few feet away, watching intently as she trembled, knowing full well it had little to do with the chill in the night air. She tipped her head, looking bewildered as she tried to use her other senses in place of her vision to locate him. After a moment or two, if she was very still, she could hear his breath. She wasn’t sure why it comforted her.

He let her kneel there, her body shivering, her thighs glistening, while he observed. He caught her completely off guard when he suddenly moved forward, slapping her breast sharply. She cried out against her gag, half in surprise, half from the sudden sting. She’d barely recovered when he slapped her other breast. Back and forth he went until her pale, creamy flesh was splashed with red flowery welts, and then he grasped both of them sharply between his strong hands and brought them up to his mouth. She was eliciting a steady stream of yelps as he’d slapped and they now melted into a groan as he licked and sucked at her mottled skin. Despite herself, she found she was arching her back, lifting her breasts to him. She wanted him to suck them, wanted his mouth on them, and that realization made her face flush a deep red. He gave her what she wanted for several minutes, occasionally biting into the sensitive flesh with his smooth hard teeth, and then just as suddenly as it began, he stopped. He stood, rising quickly, wrapping his fingers through her hair even as he did so.

When he pressed her face against him, his hand hot against her cold cheek, she should have resisted. She should have pulled away, screamed, bit maybe. But she didn’t do any of that. Instead, she leaned into him, feeling soothed by the strong fingers stroking along her jaw, nuzzling her face against the front of his jeans. She felt him under the denim, thick and firm and throbbing, and was quite sure that had her mouth not been stuffed with cloth, she would have literally drooled from the anticipation of what lay beneath the denim material. Rather than continue to try to analyze what was happening, she left her mind adrift, thriving purely on sensation now. She parted her lips and made sounds that indicated to him that she was trying to speak, but he ignored them. Frustrated, she did so again, this time in a much more petulant tone. Immediately, he tugged sharply on her hair, pulling her head back and slapping her face sharply at the same time. He waited a moment as she cried out, and slapped the other side just as sharp. This time she had the sense to choke back her cry and after a moment he resumed holding her against him and stroking her hair and face. She felt not unlike an animal being trained, but the sharp pang of humiliation the thought aroused came and went with barely a peep.

After a few more moments of petting, he slid a finger into her mouth and removed her gag, and then firmly pushed up on her jaw to close her mouth before she could use it to speak. He pressed a finger firmly to her lips, indicating for her to shush, and she did, grateful to have her jaw relaxed once more. She wished he would remove the blindfold as well. The pitch blackness in which she swam was disconcerting even when he was holding her. With another sharp pang of humiliation, she found herself hoping he was going to force himself into her mouth. What the hell was wrong with her, wanting such a thing? She had no idea, but it didn’t change the way she felt. Although part of her wanted to call him filthy names and run from him, another, increasingly strong, part of her didn’t want to be anywhere he wasn’t. She would figure out the why’s and how’s later. Now, in this moment, the only thing that mattered to her was what he was going to do next, and the sound of his zipper quietly separating caused a renewed surge of warmth between her thighs. She licked her lips in anticipation as she felt his hand, and then, finally his cock, brush her lips.

She tried to immediately take him in her mouth, somewhat embarrassed by the near desperation of her fumbling, but he took control before she could even touch her lips to him. Holding her hair firmly in one hand, he used the other to brush his organ against her lips, tracing the outline of them with the tip. She held them parted and pouty, her tongue just inside the bottom one, anxious to taste him. He was taking his time, moving her soft, full lips up and down the length of the firm shaft, pressing them snugly against the sac below it, gliding the head across her cheek like a gentle lover’s fingertip. Frustrated and filled with a longing she’d never felt before, she worked up the courage to whisper a soft plea, and was rewarded with a sudden blow to her lips from the turgid cock she wanted only to taste. He held himself away from her, waiting to see if she would dare to speak again, and when she obediently remained quiet, he smiled down on her, unseen. He parted her lips with his thumb, allowing her to suckle at it as a substitute cock, relishing the velvety feel of her tongue against the pad as lips slipped down and back. She was ready for him, that much was certain. After a moment he pressed down firmly on her tongue, forcing her jaw apart, her mouth open wide, and murmured a single word: Stay.

She didn’t have to wait long. All at once the ridge around the glans slipped between her lips and she hungrily sucked and licked, flicking her tongue against the tight, hot skin. He allowed her this brief pleasure, but only for a moment. Again slipping his thumb in her mouth and pressing down, he slid the full length of himself into her mouth, relishing the feeling when he butted up against the back of her throat. Holding jaw and hair, he thrust in and out of her throat, rapidly at first, then slower, then faster again. It wasn’t long before her chin was a shining mess of saliva and precum as he fucked her throat with sharp, forceful strokes. Later he would allow her to suck him more leisurely, but for now he was teaching her, her place. She felt him swell in her mouth and felt the weight of his sac swinging heavily against her chin and throat. She readied herself, anticipating a torrent of seed to explode into her throat, wanting it, swallowing around him snugly. Rather than give her what she so achingly wanted, however, he again drew things to a sudden halt, pulling out of her mouth with an audible pop. He readied his hand to slap, figuring she would protest, but she was learning; she remained silent. Even with the blindfold on, he could see her confusion.

Stepping back, he pulled her to her feet. She was unsteady and shaky, her knees bright red from being on them so long. He drew her close, her skin damp and cool against him, and tilted her face up to his. Leaning to her, he kissed her lips tenderly, barely brushing them with her own, drawing his tongue softly over them before sucking the bottom one into his mouth. He bit down on it then, pleased by her gasp because he’d anticipated a cry. She pressed tighter against him, relishing the warmth of his body, the strength of it both comforting and frightening at the same time. She was having difficulty balancing with her ankles still bound but he effortlessly supported her in his embrace. His mouth moved away from hers, tracing a path to her ear, nibbling the edge of the lobe, and down the side of her neck. The suddenness of the pain startled her and she nearly got her neck torn open trying to jump away from the sharp biting teeth sinking into it. Grasping her sharply with his hands, he held her there, his teeth sinking deeper, seeming to grow more lethally sharp with every second. She felt a warm trickle run down from her neck and over her breast and realized after a moment that he’d drawn blood.

A surge of adrenaline backed fear sent her reeling, struggling despite her bonds, but he had no trouble holding her in place. When he grew tired of her protest, he lifted his mouth away from her, wrapping his strong fingers around her throat and squeezing. Soon she was swimming even in the blackness with pinpoints of light at the edge of her vision. At last, she stopped struggling and stilled herself as much as she was able. She began to get her wits about her a little and wondered, briefly, if the continuing wooziness of lack of oxygen or loss of blood. She had no idea how much he’d drank or drained and when she realized what she was thinking about, her mind again reeled. What was happening here? She was just beginning to be able to contemplate it when she felt his belt bite into her hip. She cried out, but he seemed not to notice. He was whipping her then, her ass, her thighs, her hips. The occasional strike would run high, landing on her breasts and causing her to curl her shoulders protectively, which would only cause her ass to jut out more to make it an even easier target. Her body was aflame and she was so confused by the sudden turn of events that all she could do was respond instinctually, trying to protect herself as best as she could.

Finally he stopped, and she heard the clang of the belt buckle as he tossed it on the picnic table. He was almost tempted to go to her, soothe her, but instead he stepped back to gaze over her welted and marked form. When he did come closer, rather than take her into his embrace again, he leaned down and undid the binds on her ankles. She shook each leg in turn, her feet feeling like someone was pouring hot water down over them from the sudden return of full circulation. He dragged his fingers up her legs, over the calves, to her knees and finally, her thighs. She didn’t know quite how to respond now, and concentrated on trying to stay quiet and still. She felt a sharp flash of pain as he traced the spot where he’d cut into her skin, and even in the dim firelight embers he could see the mark there. It pleased him. He slipped his fingers softly over the swollen lips, teasing them apart, flicking the little nub and almost laughed as once again her body responded with little input from her mind. Her back arched, her hips tilted upward and she tried to press more firmly against his fingers, whimpering softly. He spent a couple minutes giving her the most luxurious, teasing touches before pulling his hand away. She opened her mouth to protest, but before a single sound could escape, he brought his hand back to her, this time fingers together and palm flattened, spanking firmly. She cried out but he merely wrapped his free arm around the back of her neck and clamped his fingers down hard over her mouth. He spanked for several minutes, watching the lips and mons swell and redden with a smile in his eyes, if not on his lips.

When she thought she’d pass out from the intensity of the pain/pleasure combination, he grabbed her hair and quickly pulled her to her knees. Before she could fully react, he was kneeling beside her, pressing her down onto the blanket even as he moved himself between her pale thighs. Even in his haste, he noticed, and appreciated, the contrast in their skin tones. It was like art, their bodies together. Violent art. Using his knees to spread her legs further apart, he thrust himself into her, burying every thick, pulsing inch in a single fluid motion. Her hands beneath her raised her to him, and he balanced on his knees, not wanting to dislocate a shoulder, as he began to fuck her in earnest, pounding against her as the surf pounded the shore. Her mind felt almost floaty, as if she’d been drugged, the constant tug of war between pleasure and pain overwhelming to her. After a moment he paused, pulling her to sitting, and removed her bonds. She lay back and rubbed her wrists briefly before he grasped them both in a single hand and pinned them firmly to the blanked above her before resuming his invasion of her body.

He fucked her with a ferociousness she’d only ever dreamt of, until it felt their bodies might fuse from the force alone. The scent of him seemed to be filled with something illicit and her mind became filled with images and sensations and nothing more. His body felt incredibly strong, and having him inside her, incredibly right. She felt the trembling power of his thighs against hers as he thrust forward, delving deeper with each stroke. He’d clamped his hand over her mouth once more to stifle her cries, lest they attract too much attention, and in doing so, seemed to free her somehow. She wailed against the palm of his hand, the muffled cries only serving to spur him on. She raised her hips, wanting him impossibly deeper, now matching his thrusts with her own. He released her mouth, and spread her arms to her sides and somehow she saw into his thought and knew precisely what he wanted…and she gratefully, willingly gave it to him this time, turning her head to expose the vulnerable, still bloody bite marks on her neck.

He expected her to scream when his teeth sank, once again, into her delicious, supple flesh. Instead she pulled him tighter to her, moaning softly against his arm, acquiescing her very will to him, and in response she felt her body begin to rumble from deep within. Every stroke of his cock seemed to find him thicker, larger, stronger, pulsing against the walls inside. The suckling sounds in her ear as he drank from her only served to heighten the sensation. He reached up then and pulled off the blindfold, raising his mouth, still dripping, away from her neck and gazing into her eyes as he began to unleash his essence deep within her. With a single, grunting thrust, he hit her pelvic bone with his own and stilled, both of their bodies trembling with the force of their combined orgasms. Her walls closed around him, milking and squeezing, emptying him of the precious liquid fire pouring forth from him and they stayed like that, still but for the shaking, for several moments, connected on a level completely new to her.

Eventually, he lowered himself, kissing her tenderly. She could taste her blood on his lips, and was surprised to find she enjoyed it. She pulled him to her then, resting his head on her breasts and stroking her fingers through his hair. In the days to come, she’d wonder now and then how his desires led him to exactly what she herself needed, the synergy nothing short of stunning to her. He’d drank of her, and in another way completely, she’d drank of him. There would be time, later, to think about all of that however. For now, though, she was happy just to listen to his heart beating in perfect rhythm with her own.


© Copyright 2018 Kimbery. All rights reserved.

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