Swallowtail Ch. 04

"Okay."

I then turn my attention to her legs. I spread them and tie a loop around an ankle. I roll the spool under the bed and tie the other ankle off.

"You okay?" I ask.

Dex nods but says nothing. Her eyes are closed and she bites her lower lip.

I run a finger down the inside of her thigh and Dex squirms. "Careful."

"What happens if I break a thread?"

"Try not to."

"But if I do?"

"I'm asking you to control yourself. If you break a thread, you give me another night like this, whenever I want."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you win. I'm yours to do with as you please, and it'll be up to you whether I get a night like this."

"Okay," she says.

She lies spread out on my bed like a canvas that I can paint upon at my leisure. I'm in a more familiar spot now. Control. I lean over her and kiss her. Her smoky lids close over her eyes and I am struck again by her effortless beauty and the delicate symmetry of her face. There's a sense of expectation about her and an undertone of tension. I kiss a path along her throat and then down to her breasts. The nipples are hard and puckered around the glinting metal that impales them. The sight of it inflames me. There's something about it—the juxtaposition of implacable hardness and sensitive tenderness. I play with them with lips and teeth and tongue. Dex takes a deep breath, careful to hold her limbs immobile. My hand drifts down her torso, following the gentle geography of her body. Silken hills and valleys, expanses of flesh I'm blessed to explore. A warm, wet chasm.

My kisses take me from her breasts to the soft well of her stomach and then to the downy hill that plunges into the precipice that draws me like a magnet. I skirt it for the moment, my lips tracing a path from the cleft down the inside of a thigh and a calf. I catch a toe in my mouth and press it between my teeth. Dex squirms and the thread that holds her ankle tightens.

I kneel between her legs and massage the outer labia with my thumbs, spreading the inner lips as I do so. A finger traces a path from her perineum to her clitoris.

I want to keep her at the cusp for as long as possible and slow my ministrations whenever her breathing deepens.

"Bastard," she says after several minutes of this.

"I'll give you fifteen seconds to come," I say. I'm reminded of the time with Dex in my office, when she gave me a similar challenge. "Count."

After a moment comes a breathy "one".

I unleash my tongue on her clitoris, no longer content to tease and cajole. This is a sprint.

"Two."

She pushes her pelvis towards me, offering herself to my mouth.

"Three." The number sounds strained.

My fingers spread her lips, exposing the nub of flesh that I am intent on abusing.

"Four."

Her body squirms on the bed. My face is wet with her.

"Five."

By the timbre of her breathing I can tell that she is close, teetering on the precipice of release.

"Five."

She's cheating but I ignore it. The hard pearl of her clitoris presses against my tongue and I lash it mercilessly.

"Six."

By the time Dex gets to eleven she forgets to count. I see that her hands are closed into tight fists. The lengths of thread are still intact. The tiniest of whimpers escapes her. It's a sound I haven't heard from her before and I'm struck by the vulnerability of it.

I bury a finger in her slick heat and then another. Muscles clench around them. I explore the ceiling of her pussy while my tongue dances outside. A loud, moaning exhalation erupts, releasing the breath she has been holding. Her hips bear down on my fingers, burying them.

I gently lick her down from the peak, enjoying her taste and the pleasure of having exerted some mastery over her.

"Fifteen," she says after her breathing has returned to normal. "I win."

"You win," I say.

***

I straddle her bound arm and rest my cock across her lips. A slight smile tugs at the corners of her mouth before the tip of her tongue emerges to touch the tip of the glans.

My hand slides down her torso, up and over the pubic bone. She turns her head and her lips part to accept me and I lie for a moment on her undulating velvet tongue. She bares her teeth then and presses down my shaft, pinning me between their implacable hardness. I'm about to protest when she releases me and takes me in. She was right. I enjoy watching.

There's an intoxicating power in holding someone captive, and—I realize it now, again—a responsibility. As tempting as it is to simply have my way with her, the responsibility is mine to repay the cost of captivity.

I leave her mouth and position myself between her legs. My cock splits her lips and I pause for a moment to take in the sight. This is the moment before surrender, before I claim the woman as men have done for time immemorial. My reptilian brain is taking over and I'm tempted to be merciless in my sense of supremacy over her. I want to add my weight to the thread that restrains her, to make physical what is now purely symbolic.

I want to take her, to possess her, but I hold off.

The symbolism is a gift and though I'm poised to plunge into her, to make her cry out in surprise and surrender, I move with agonizing deliberateness. Dex spreads her legs and angles her hips. I hover above her, tenuously joined to her by the tip of my cock. I lower myself slightly and the tip of my shaft disappears within her. She tightens herself around me in welcome. I lower myself into her and her hips rise to meet me.

My thrusts, slow at first, become faster. There comes a point when the body obeys its own imperatives and delusions of control and patience fly out the window. I'd planned to take my time, to channel the spirit of the world's greatest lovers and reduce Dex into a gelatinous mass of carnal exhaustion and gratitude.

I thrust my hands beneath her legs and lift them, breaking the thread. I'm beyond caring. The poets can sing my praises later. Or never. It doesn't matter.

"Fuck," she whispers. She snaps the threads that bind her wrists and wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes. I'm surprised by her strength. She pins me with her arms and legs and shudders. Her fingernails rake my ass and I press against her to escape them.

I'm overwhelmed. Dex overwhelms me. My body overwhelms me. I collapse between her legs as the last spasms course through me. I lie there and commit the feeling of being possessed to memory.

This is the time for words of reassurance, but neither of us speaks. At length I exit. I push her legs to her chest, exposing the slick and gaping hole that I have possessed. As my seed trickles out of her, I touch my tongue to her clitoris.

I moment later I am rewarded with another gasp.

I lie beside her and she drapes an arm over my chest.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Uh-huh." Then she says, "That was too good." Her tone gives me pause.

She's gone by the time I wake in the morning. I'd hoped that she might have stayed but that wasn't part of the deal. She'd agreed to the night only and her offer had expired. In her absence, I can't help feeling that while I might have won the upper hand the night before, I might also have lost something infinitely more precious.

***

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