questioningdream
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The sound echoed throughout the sparsely-furnished room, with only the long-dead authors of the books lining the walls being the witnesses to the act. It was a small seed of rebellion unseen, a secret carried in the hearts of the two participants. The swing of leather followed by the sharp crack as it met bare flesh sounded again, with a quiet moan of satisfaction chasing it that sounded almost apologetic for breaking the stifling, tense atmosphere. Again the hissing sound of fine leather thongs passing through the air came, another crack, a slightly higher moan than before. His back was bared, decorated with the faint lines of the clandestine meeting yet none broke the skin – by morning they would have faded from sight, hidden once more by his garments. Then he felt her chest against his back, her long fingers caressing his throat. The added light scratching of her nails on his skin so soon after the tingling sensations of pain along his nerves had him twitching into the touches despite his restraints.
“You know what we are risking with this.”
“Too much. Our lives.” He squirmed slightly, idly testing one of the restraints despite knowing full well that she was far too practised at what she did to make them readily escapable.
“Do you wish to continue?”
“…Yes.”
The touching to his arms and neck withdrew. He was silent for a moment and the room was silent with him. Blindfolded, it was all he could do to strain his ears, trying to pick up the rustle of material that signalled her movements. Then suddenly the tension around his wrists went, and he fell. Not onto hard stone as he had for a second anticipated, but onto a soft mattress. With a grunt of air pushed out of him, he did not have long to try and blindly re-orientate himself before he felt strong legs straddling his hips and cold hands tracing over his naked upper torso. Sweeping gestures, brushing touches along his not-quite defined muscles paired with the occasional flick of a tongue and grazing of sharp little teeth. He did not bother to stifle the groan that came from him, and his hips twitched in frustration as she seemed to touch all but the one part of him that he wanted her to. He jerked his hips sharply when his breeches were tugged off, and the teasing touches continued even going so far as to brush those light fingers over the material of what was beneath. He at least managed to just barely muffle his frustrated groan, trying to arch the distinct bulge at his crotch against her hand. But the contact was gone, and instead he found his neck suddenly at the focal point of her attention. Her tongue lapped at the sensitive flesh of the crook of his neck, and he even went so far as to turn his head to let her… sharp but not puncturing, as she marked his neck. Not so high enough to risk it being sighted however. As dangerous as their little ‘game’, not so dangerous as if they were discovered.
That perhaps added a tantalising thrill to the proceedings, but finally he caved. Minutes had felt like hours at her mercy, and his will succumbed to the enthralling combination of fluttering touches, outright teasing and seductive whispers.
“Take… me,” was the gasp that he pleaded out, straining against his pride. But at that moment in time, he gave not one single care. His pleading got a hand at his throat; enough pressure to add a sense of danger, but not enough to begin to cut off his airway. He heard the rustle of material, before he gasped suddenly as he felt the moist, warm dampness of her nether region brushing over the head of his quivering, eagerly attentive cock.
“Please..” The grip at his throat increased slightly. The teasing, tormenting rubbing of her sex over him felt like it had gone on for hours, and he was driven on more by her quiet moans as his head went over her clit. Just as he was about to plead again, did she finally slide down his shaft, rolling her hips as she went and not even bothering to restrain her own moan of pleasure. The fact that she was still fully-dressed only added more of a thrill to the fact that he was himself completely exposed now, but any thoughts were soon chased off as she began to ride him, firm and hard with her knees high… grinding her clitoris against his pelvis each time their hips’ met. Her pace was fast and swift, and soon that tingling warmth began to build, rising up from her warm crotch to her stomach, her breathing increasing as she felt her cheeks and chest flush. She forgot the hand at his throat then, but soon used the ties that had secured his ‘cuffs to the ceiling to sharply pull him into a sitting position. The change in angle soon had her moans increasing in frequency, and his hips bucked and jerked as his own pace met with and chased her own.
For all the control he exerted in every part of his daily life, handing over control was a forbidden fruit that he was willing to cherish. Leaning forwards, he trailed his tongue and lips over her chest before he found one of her breasts, swirling his tongue around her nipple before biting on it. The added pang of pain had her moans increasing in volume, her hips jerking wildly as he felt the spasms of her inner walls, the increase in wetness… her panting, ragged breaths muffled against his shoulder as she bit down on it, even as he let his own sounds of pleasure echo without a care in the isolated chamber. With sweat beading on her breasts, a lazy smirk appeared before she finally kissed the end of his nose in a condescending yet sweet gesture. “Good boy.”
-- Was for a short story contest. Unfortunately, most of the context for this scene is missing, as the upper maximum word limit was a 1,000 words, and I am only just within that limit for this. My first time doing an erotic short scene, hah.
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Surrender of Control - 
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