1. Other Colors -- Ch. 18


    Date: 9/12/2015, Categories: BDSM, Author: mascodagama, Rating: 4, Source: LushStories

    exhausted. Between a bustling morning at Madame's shop, Peter confessing his ‘feelings’ for me on stage, and then discovering that Dmitri was once in a first-name basis with his own personal his incubus, I should have passed out the moment head met the pillow. But sleep, I soon realized, was out of the question. The memory of him, of his voice, alloyed with that of all the devilish words I'd devoured, and together they wound around me like a silver wire—a solenoid—amplifying all the white-hot electrical currents of my nerves. Stay. Beg. Paint. Read. Good girl... ‘He wrapped the belt around my life. I heard the buckle snap.’ I rolled over, curling my toes, and breathed a sharp sigh into the sheets. ‘Algolagnia. She craves pain upon arousal.’ I shuddered. Just lying there, untouched, I could feel all five of my senses deepening, and little by little, they turned against me. I felt the static in the air, prickling between the linens and my skin. I could hear each snowflake landing on the stone sill outside my window, ringing loudly as a hailstorm. And in graded shades of ultraviolet, I watched the shadows shifting, lava-like, all across the canopy above my bed. ‘The loveliest creature I'd ever laid eyes upon,’ I blinked, ‘and want nothing more than to ruin her. ’ I brushed my knees together roughly. If my bones had been made of flint, they might've sparked, and set the bed aflame. ‘Punish, sir, lock her in prison. Low at the knee that bore her once unto wordless rest.’ I shut ...
    my eyes. I saw the Lamia of John William Waterhouse; the Ex-Voto of Ángel Zárraga . ‘She kneels, a culprit.’ I rolled once more, pressing my hips hard against a goose down pillow. ‘Realize. I can be very cruel to the things that I care about.’ I must have twitched and fidgeted for over an hour, his words still searing my ears, until the bedding tangled round my legs like a winding sheet. ‘Bind me. I still can sing... ’ If I'd slept, I might have dreamt of boiling oceans; of Samael, the serpent. Seducer of Eve. The Lilith of John Collier, and The Sin of Franz von Stuck. But sleep eluded me. Even with closed eyes, I saw his blazing blue stare glaring back at me. ‘And I want you to touch yourself, Penny. Three times by tomorrow night...’ Aroused, almost breathless, and half-hallucinating, I felt my hand sweep downward, and slip itself between my thighs. ‘It pleases me, Penny, to know that you're suffering.’ I felt my chest tighten as my fingertips grazed against my lips. I felt it heave as they slipped across my clitoris. ‘I want to hear your desperation. I want to hear pain.’ I saw him there; leering, lupine, looming over me. I felt him clasp my wrist, drawing my hand steadily, deliberately, deeper into me. I moaned, and felt my hips began to throb against him. ‘Good girl.’ I gasped, casting my head back against the mattress. My legs were quivering beneath the blankets. 'Until tomorrow, then, Miss Foster...’ Like a Jacksonian march, the tremor spread its way to the rest of me. I ...
«12...9101112»