Grand Opening of the Penthouse - Conclusion 2.23.12

Vishous

[Turning to refill my glass, roll another smoke, I nod toward the racks and rows of leather and wood, bamboo and steel.] Your hood. Put it on. Now. [Lifting a candle to put flame to the tip of my smoke, I inhale deeply. The fragrant Turkish filling the room with it's rich scent. Fixing my eyes on Alice, I watch her unerringly choose her hood. Slender, delicate fingers tug the soft leather over her head, snugging it down past her chin. Her palms smooth over her shielded face, adjusting the fit to mold to her features. Well practiced, precise movements from a well trained submissive. I'd expect nothing less than perfection from her, and she does not disappoint. Stretching her arms out before her, unfamiliar with the new play space, I throw back a swallow of the icy vodka as I check her progress. She's found the edge of the table. Good. Viewing with detached interest as she reaches behind herself to loosen her corset, deft fingers untying and loosening the laces to allow the structured garment to slip free. Lying the satin at her feet, her thumbs hook into the waist of her skirts, removing them with the grace that stems from her high caste lineage. Bending to retrieve her clothing, she moves around the table to find a wall, blind fingers grasping to fold and tuck the fabrics. The curves of her hips flexing as she places them down neatly. Assuring they will not hinder my movements as I work her over. Again. Nothing less than perfection. I should feel pride, shouldn't I? That these actions, her recall of every instruction she'd ever been given, were the result of my methods and her dedication to excellence. That's never been the case, however. Yes, I give them the show, the words and rituals that they expect. My concession to garner that which fulfills the central compulsion, the demanding need to grind myself down. In return, they submit at my command. Freely giving themselves over to be defiled.]

[Shaking myself from my reverie, I straighten and toss back the remaining inch of vodka, placing the glass down before crushing out the remainder of my smoke. Scrubbing my bare palm over my face, my fingers make quick work of the buttons of my shirt, I untuck the silk and allow it to slip to the floor. Golden skin lustrous in the flickering illumination, I walk slowly to the table. Tamping down the urge to ravage, to fall upon the female with all the drive and hunger that my body is screaming for, my shitkickers stop just a few feet from the table. Lips curling into a smirk as she uses her hands to map the landscape. Pulling herself up to lie back, graceful arms rising above her head, thighs parting of their own accord to stretch shapely legs to the corners to be captured within leather bonds. Nodding silently, I step to the head of my table. Quick, sure hands securing her wrists with thick, leather cuffs. Cinching them both before pulling her arms out, attaching them to the uppermost corners with steel fastenings. Boot heels clocking against marble, I walk around the table to make swift work of binding her ankles before dragging my fingertips up her calves, relishing the shiver of anticipation that ripples through her muscles.]

[Alice, her limbs spread, bound tightly. Her body stretched wide, every inch of exposed. Flesh smooth and unmarked. A blank canvas upon which I will create a masterpiece. I tighten her hood, my face lingering near her ear. Whispering roughly..] You've prepared well for me this evening. "Yes, my Lheage." [Coldly noting the shiver of anticipation that brings goose bumps to her flesh, I step back, my leather clad fingers trailing over her collarbone, down her chest. As I cup the curve of her breast, my fingertips pluck at her nipple, pebbled... tightening further with my touch. Taking it between thumb and forefinger, I twist... slowly. Pinching, pulling roughly, I take the other between my teeth, piercing to draw a miniscule drop of blood to my tongue. My eyes flash diamond bright as the first soft muffled moan rises from her. Biting harder, I purposely mark her flesh, vivid red welts that will turn to a sunset of bruises by the end of the night. Throbbing dagger length fangs punch into my mouth as I make the first deep laceration in her skin. Lapping over the droplets of blood that bead up, my tongue hungry for her sustenance. Pulling myself back, releasing both hard nipples I walk slowly around my table. My fingers dance across the assortment of whips and floggers, canes and paddles as I select a slender crop, flexing it in my hands. The leather grip warming to my touch. I slide the shaft smoothly over her body. As her back arches into the sensation I lay down the first strike to her thighs. A muted mewl rises as I pepper her with a dozen more, my concentration directed on bringing sensation out of her. My need for her to fuel my sadistic fire through pain. The welts begin to rise in rosy blooms. Placing the crop to the side, my hands roughly slide over the fresh marks. Pinching randomly at the tender skin, my eyes seek out a cane. Reaching back, unerringly grasping the thinnest, I press the tip directly into a nipple, flicking it with an upward stroke, trailing it up and over her breast to the side of her neck. I stroke the column of her throat with the bamboo, a low growl escapes me as I press the tip tightly against the pulsing blue vein beneath the delicate porcelain skin.] Here. I'll drink from you here, true. [ Her moans reaching my ears serve to confirm she understands. Tapping the cane down her body, I place the tip over her inner thigh.] And here. I will drink from you here. [Her muscles quiver with each stroke of my cane. The hooded head nods, almost imperceptibly, as I hear her whisper...] "Yes, my Lheage, please...!" [I bring the cane down across the top of her thighs with a whistling strike, her body bows and contracts as an angry stripe appears instantly.] You know better, [The cane comes down again, punctuating my words.] You beg when I tell you. Not until...

[I begin to rapidly mark her thighs, her breasts, the cane moving smoothly over soft flesh. Her struggles, although utterly futile, increase. Her muscles tensing, unable to escape, her cries grow louder.] ...I say. [Panting, given a brief moment respite while I consider my next actions, she whispers into the blackness of her hood..] "Yes, my Lheage." [Her chest pumping as she processes the pain, my hands make quick work of removing the clips that secure the cuffs to the table and raising her against my body. Reaching up, I bring the chains down from above, seeing that they fall neatly, the leather webbing dropping to support the body I would place there. Stretching her out, fastening her limbs to the sling, I reach for my whip. Protocol having been breached, the stakes have just been fucking raised. Props to the female for not tapping out, although I know she's sensing what's coming, she holds herself steady. I lower my arm, my whip slithering out along the floor. Judging distance and taking a half-step back, I lash out, cracking the whip directly underneath her body. Now a smile tugs at my lips as her body wrenches against its bonds. Alice harbors specific terror of this implement. A visceral reaction to the sound recalling imprinted memories of the sounds, the pleasures and pains my skills bring when expertly wielding it Her breath quickens, chest heaving wildly. My arm moves back, bringing the signal tail forward once again, the tip striking the back of her thighs, just where her tight little ass cheeks meet. The contact brings blood and I breathe in the heady scent. My cock, engorged and throbbing, jerks against my leathers as she screams. My jaw rigid, hissing..] fuck yes, exactly what I need. [I move smoothly around her suspended form, my whip cutting the air, slicing into her flesh. The fiery strips welling with blood, dripping down her thighs, over her hips. The dance of my arm and wrist directing exact strikes upon her. The tail snakes up and bites into her ass... her back. Over again, wrapping across her breasts and lighting under her arms. Harsh groans and wild, hoarse screams echo off the penthouse walls, her body twisting and contorting. With one last gunshot-crack of my whip, her voice begins to give out. I place it upon the table and prowl slowly around, taking in the welts... the stripes... the blood that flows from her wounds. Her breath, ragged, desperate gulps of air through the hood. Her fingers and toes, twitching... her body shivering with the fire that rages through her. Sex, pleasure and pain, forever entwined for this one. I bend to her neck once more, breathing in her scent, her need. Pressing my hands to her wrists, gripping tightly I dip my head to her throat, my fangs elongated to lethal daggers. Piercing her flesh smoothly, I hear her sharp hissing inhale. Her moans reach my ears as I drink from her, sating my thirst. Withdrawing from her vein, I run my tongue over my bite, sealing the punctures. My palms slide down her arms slowly to her sides, up to her breasts... roughly kneading the bloody, tender, bruised flesh. Scraping down her abdomen, her writhing, moaning, lush body rises to my torturous touch.

My head lowers, tongue lapping at the deeper wounds across her belly, fangs dragging across the swollen welts while she groans. Ducking under her leg, I position myself between her thighs. Squeezing the torn and supple skin, I strike hard and fast, fangs sinking into her inner thigh exactly where I'd told her I would. Her dripping core inches away, I spread her open with my gloved hand, two fingers slipping deep inside while my thumb circles her engorged nub. Swallowing delicious mouthfuls of her blood, I groan at the rich flavor flowing into me. Sealing the wounds, I straighten, my fingers working her to a shattering climax before withdrawing and stepping back. Evaluating my sub, in all her glorious suffering, my hand rubs over my leathers, pressing into the aching length of my arousal, savoring the sensation and the sights. Leaning to the side, my hand closes around a thick pillar of black wax, it's deep crater welling over with molten heat. My eyes narrowing, focusing on the flame. I tilt the candle and begin to drip the wax over her generously marked form. My cock twitches with each gasp... each wanton moan from her lips. Slowly guiding the candle over her, I create swirling patterns and designs that please my eye. I place the candle back on it's stand, I silently move between her thighs once more. my hands slide up her ankles, calves, stroke her roughly, pushing her knees apart. Freeing my cock from my leathers, I place the heavy, plum sized head against her core. Sliding through her silky wetness, I thrust forward, entering her in a hard stroke. Her body contracts tightly, gripping the thick invasion with rippling walls of heated silk. My hands move to her hips, using the leather of the sling to move her forcefully against me. The blood from her thighs coating my groin, marking my arms and abdomen as I pound against her willing flesh, bringing me to a roaring peak. I dip my head to capture a bruised and tender nipple between my teeth and bite down, her sudden rush of ecstasy and agony bringing my throat opens on a growling roar.] FUUUCK!!! [Brutally pounding into her, sweat, blood, wax, my release... everywhere as my body arcs, spine tight and tingling as thick pulses pour from me with a shattering force, flooding her channel, dripping to the floor. Drawing deep breaths into seared lungs, I shake my head slightly, clearing sweat soaked hair from my face as I bury myself in her molten core once more, my fingers playing over her swollen and pulsing bud...bringing her to one final, raging peak before withdrawing. Her moans, the clicking of her thick swallows, breath hard and harsh, let me know she's riding a high like none other.]

[Staggering back, my chest heaving as I tuck my half hard length back into my leathers and fasten up. Reaching up to lower the chains the leather webbing of the sling to lie flat on my table, I release her limbs from the cuffs and turn to walk back to my bar. Pouring out two fingers of Stoli, I bring the crystal glass to my lips, diamond eyes, glazed with full body and mind satisfaction, study the female. Watching with detached interest as she gradually regains control of her body. She pulls herself upright, legs dangling over the end of my table, quaking hands reaching to unlace the back of her hood to pull it free from her flushed face. I'd swear her skin is virtually producing its own light source as she rolls her head back against her shoulders. The beatific smile that graces her lips tell me all I need to know. She's gotten what she came here for. I'd fulfilled her craving, her wanton and primal need, as much as the session had satisfied my own. Alice will be returning for more. I know it, as does she. One of the rare females who can only find the cathartic release I provide. Nodding, more to myself than her, I slide my tongue over my fangs, laving it along my lips to pull in the rich taste she's left in my mouth. Savoring the nourishment that coats my mouth, my throat. Watching as she carefully steps down from my table, her movements economical and precise as she clothes herself once more. I stand silently, my thoughts already back at the gatehouse, mind tossing over the rotation schedule to calculate when I'll be able to hit the streets again. Anxious to hunt. Body hungering and primed for the fighting, the kills, to come. My eyes shifting to the female that now stands silently before me, I gesture slightly to the door. Walking behind her as trembling legs carry her to the elevator, I enter with her, punching the button for the underground garage where the doggen who'd brought her waits to return her to her home. Guiding her to the car, the doggen smiling brightly at me as he holds the door wide, I take a moment to turn her to face me. Passing a roughened palm past her forehead, over brilliant and dazed speckled eyes, I wipe her mind clean of being here. Of tonight's location and activities. Her marks will remain, however. The aches, bruises and wounds will serve to give her the private knowledge of having been used well. Releasing her to the doggen's care, I turn on my heel and enter the elevator. Riding in silence as it rushes to the top floor, I stride back in, willing the door shut and locked behind me while scooping up the shirt I'd discarded earlier. Pulling it on, buttoning up dexterously before shoving my arms into the sleeves of the leather jacket I'd worn, I slip outside into the brisk night. Closing and locking the sliders, I turn my face to the clear sky above, the pinpricks of constellations glimmering as a tremor passes through me. Waiting to see if it will pass, this vision that's plagued me since the night of the bombing. It's come upon me frequently in quiet moments, the patches of time when my mind leaves free of thought. Shaking my head to clear it, bare fingers dragging through my hair, not in any state to contemplate its meaning right this fucking second, I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and concentrate. Dematerializing in a heartbeat to return to the gatehouse, to the mansion. The rush of adrenaline pumping as I'm overwhelmed with the surge of apprehension that I need to get a handle on what's coming next.] #BBDB