9. April 13th

APRIL 13TH

Sylvan

Sylvan tried to remain calm,but her heart felt like it was pounding so hard that her chest actually ached. She could see her pulse battering the skin of her neck like it was something caged and trying to break free. Lobo had also seen it because he let go of her arm and brushed the back of his hand against it. Then, he replaced his hand to its previous position.

She watched his hands as they slid up and down her arms from shoulder to elbow, barely skimming the surface. His fingers felt warm through her clothing but sent sparks throughout her body when he grazed her bare skin at the shoulder. She wanted the sleeves removed so that she could feel the tingles and flares the entire time he touched her, but then she worried she would combust and become a total pile of ash if they did.

And she didn't want him to see her arms. She didn't even want to see them.

His right arm came across her chest, just above the bodice of her bodysuit, the fingers holding onto her opposite shoulder. The other arm slid to cover her waist where the boning of it met the silk wraparound skirt.

"What do you like best about yourself when you look in the mirror?" he murmured.

"My hair."

"Mmmm." She felt his chin resting on top of her head. "It is very beautiful. You should be proud of it. I love how it contrasts with your pale skin and your emerald eyes." She saw the hand that had been across her chest now playing with one of the loose, wispy curls she had allowed to remain free of her braid. "It feels like silk." He lowered his cheek to lay flat against her head, his nose buried just above her ear. Then she heard and felt him take a deep breath and then exhale. "It smells like roses." He inhaled deeply again. "I bet all of you smells like roses."

The hand at her waist pulled her to him even tighter, the hardness of his cock nestling tight against her ass. "I love this color on you." The hand playing with her hair let the curl go, and then both hands drifted up to trace the boned edges of the corseted bodice. "Why did you pick this outfit?"

Why is he asking me these questions?

"I like the contrasts. The corset keeps me feeling restrained, but the skirt and sleeves make me feel like I'm floating, and the bare skin makes me feel exposed, yet I know that I'm not."

His fingers were still lightly tracing the edges of the corset, just teasing her exposed skin with barely-there brushes. The back-and-forth motion of his fingertips abraded her skin while creating a pleasurable ache.

Her fingers wanted to glide over his powerful arms, feel the braided leather and silver at his wrists, feel the heat of his tan skin, slide through his mussed hair.

"May I touch you, Lobo?"

"No, princess. Not tonight. This is about you."

His hands stopped tracing the edges of the top of her corset and slid down the sides of her torso's hourglass shape until he reached the flare of her hips, then crossed over to the ties of her skirt that held it together in front.

He pulled the ties and stepped back just enough so the skirt fell loosely behind her. One of his hands had retained hold of the silk, and he pulled it clear of her and dropped it to the floor off to the side. His hands went back to her hips, moving back up against her. "Look at how beautiful you are." His voice was giving her an order, but it felt like he was marveling at his luck at being in her presence. It made her feel powerful that this gorgeous man could find her attractive.

His hands moved to the tail of her braid, then stopped. "We didn't discuss your hair. May I unbraid it?"

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes frozen to where his large fingers played with the tail.

Deftly, his fingers untied the scrap of silk tying her braid closed. Once it was removed, he tucked the ribbon into his pants pocket and began to lazily slip the strands free from the single plait. Once it was all undone, he took his time combing through her hair until it fell loose and soft down her back.

He brushed all of her hair over both shoulders so that it covered her front. His hands rested at the top of the hooks to the corset bodysuit from behind. "Color?"

"Green."

Her voice was so quiet she wasn't even sure if the words had actually passed her lips. They must have, however, because she began to feel him loosen the hooks of the garment so painfully slow that she could anticipate each action. Every snick of the metal pieces unhooking was like a gasp of breath in the room. Once all were undone, his hands slid inside the garment to rest along her hips, where they settled for just a moment, as if allowing her time to change her mind. Then he pushed down the sides of her legs, taking the garment in its entirety off of her body. When it fell around her ankles, he crouched down to lift first one foot and then the second out of the clothing.

With care, he picked the garment up, as well as the discarded skirt, and took them to the chair they had been sitting in earlier. He laid them gently over the back so that nothing touched the floor, then returned to stand behind her. His hands perched on her shoulders, slipping beneath the waterfall of hair that covered her from the top of her head to the rounded undersides of her ass. "Don't move. Keep your eyes focused on the mirror."

She felt his hands leave her arms, and he stepped around her body to walk to the mirror. It was odd watching him in the reflection when he was right in front of her. It felt like what was happening to her was happening in synchronization with watching someone on television or in a movie, making it just a little bit naughty to think she was playing along with the entertainment.

Like on the computer, when he told you what he wanted to do, and you acted it out on your end.

"Oh!" It was more of a soft gasp of understanding rather than the speaking of a word. In the reflection, she saw him smiling to himself as he grabbed the two swaths of cloth draped over the top of the mirror. He knew she'd made the connection to what he was doing.

He pulled the pink silk swath. It slithered down from the top of the mirror, and he draped it over his shoulder. His hand raised again, but this time to the cream tulle swath, and pulled its end. The rasp of the tulle was quiet, but it filled the room. Once he held it in his hand, he turned to face her.

His measured steps took him back to her. She was still watching in the mirror, her hungry eyes fixated on the material hanging from his fingers, barely trailing along the floor. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, a growing flush of pink stretching across her bare skin.

Behind her once again, he took hold of both her hands and drew them loosely to the small of her back. She inhaled sharply as he wound the tulle around her wrists, effectively binding them.

His mouth went back to the shell of her ear, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "The knot will be tight enough to keep you from being able to use your hands. If you feel trapped, just say ‘red,' and I will pull it free. If you feel panic at any time, or I don't undo it quickly enough, use your left hand to pull the tail, and the whole structure will fall apart."

Eyes holding his fast in the mirror, she closed her fists. "Thank you."

He tested the tightness of the restraint by sliding his fingers between the material and her skin. "Are you in any pain? Losing feeling in your fingers?"

"No pain, no tingling, no numbness."

"Good. That means it's tight enough without restricting blood flow. It's extremely important that if at any time your fingers begin to tingle and go numb, you need to let me know immediately."

He reached to his shoulder and slid the pink silk from where it hung, grabbing it in both hands. Slowly, as if he were concerned about startling her, he brought the material over her head and stopped for a second in front of her face, then covered her eyes completely with it, tying it off in a large bow at the back.

His hands settled the blindfold a little more securely, then smoothed down the sides of her face, neck, shoulders, torso, and waist, and finally rested on her hips. The position of her restrained arms automatically pushed her breasts forward. She could feel that her skin was flushed, and she bit her lower lip, her breathing elevating further.

"The restraint is to keep you from touching me," he explained, his breath warm in her ear. "The blindfold will allow your other senses to dominate. Both will cause you to experience the other three senses more intensely in order to compensate for the loss of your hands and eyes. I want you completely focused on my touch, no matter how it comes to you."

Her high heels helped shorten the distance between them, but she was still a foot shorter. And while she was curvy, she still felt incredibly delicate compared to his hulking frame. Standing behind her, his groin was pressed into her backside, directly at the same level as her tied hands. Her fingers twitched, but she didn't reach to grab him when clearly the impulse was to do so.

"You're doing so well, princess. That deserves a reward." His hands reached around to cup the undersides of her breasts, his palms taking their weight, his thumbs barely brushing her already puckered nipples. Her skin broke out with goosebumps.

She swallowed tightly. "Your touch feels good."

He dragged a fingertip in a circle around her left nipple. The moan that came from her was soft but from the back of her throat.

"Does it feel better now than it did a couple of nights ago when I had you touch yourself as if it were me?" he whispered.

He lightly squeezed the hard point of a nipple.

She sighed. "So much better. Your skin is rougher. Your hands do more physical work. Mine are softer. I sit at a keyboard all day."

"How else?"

She considered his question. "You're more aggressive. More confident. You know what to do. What pressure to give and when to pull back. I was more hesitant. It was awkward. I'd never done some of those things before."

"Never? You've never touched yourself? Never brought yourself to orgasm?"

She shook her head, then remembered to speak. "Yes, I've touched myself before, but I…" She whispered, embarrassed, "I could never have an orgasm."

"So you've never orgasmed before the other night?"

"No," she admitted.

His touch didn't stop. "Princess, I'm going to ask you a very important question, and you need to be honest because it determines how I proceed. Not if, just how." He paused. "Are you a virgin?"

How do I answer this question?

"No. It's just… this is just new. My… I wasn't considered before."

"Lean back, little Flame," he whispered. "Give me your full weight. I won't let you fall."

Her head drifted back so it nestled against his chest. Eventually, she felt her body begin to relax as he continued to run his hands lightly over her skin.

"Your trust is a gift, Flame. Just be in the moment. You're here. You're with me. You're safe."

His thumb and forefingers plucked her already distended nipples, working to create a sharp pinching sensation that caused her to inhale sharply. After each pluck of the buds, he lightly brushed his middle fingers across their surfaces to soothe the sting.

"It's time for you to feel what you're capable of."

His hands traveled down her body, one resting on her hip, and the other slid down her side, over her hip, and toward her smooth mound.

Giving it a gentle stroke at the top of her outer lips, he murmured, "Spread your legs shoulder-width apart, little Flame."

She inhaled, bit her lip, then followed his instruction.

"Exhale, princess. If you feel faint at any time, you need to tell me. Can't have you passing out on me."

Once she had settled into the new position that opened her to his touch, his fingers drifted to cup her sex, sliding his middle finger between her folds to find her slit soaked with her arousal.

She gasped and tensed in his arms.

"Easy, little Flame."

She shivered.

After several strokes through her wetness, her hips bucked gently into his hand.

He withdrew his hand. "Don't move unless I tell you to," he reminded.

She stilled and bit her lip. Her head turned toward his mouth as if searching for him. "Please, Lobo," she begged. "I ache."

His voice entered her ear, lips brushing against the shell as he spoke. "Where do you ache, princess?"

"Between my legs. Please. I need more. I need you to touch me."

"You beg so pretty, little Flame. Keep that up, and I might just give you what you want." His hand smoothed down to her sex again, resting at the juncture of her thighs, his touch light. "But not yet," he taunted, withdrawing his hand. "I say when and how much."

In a sweeping gesture, he gathered her in his arms again, walking just a few steps to their left, before he slid her body down his front, setting her on her feet, making sure she was steady before removing his arms from around her. With his boot, he pressed between her two feet to get her to slightly widen her stance. Ever so gently, he placed downward pressure to her back, causing her to bend at the waist until she lay with her head on a velvet throw pillow, her hips canted over the arm of the chaise lounge.

His hand stroked feather-soft against her spine. "Anything pressing uncomfortably or causing pain?"

"No. No pain."

His hand brushed up and down along her spine, neck to waist, where her hands were bound. She shivered, but her skin flushed.

He began the same back-and-forth motion from her lower back to the underside of her ass cheeks, his blunt fingernails lightly scraping over the creamy swells. When his touch met the backs of her thighs, he traced around the curve to her far hip, then returned to the small of her back just below her tied hands.

His hand continued its circular strokes, first to the leg at the inside of the chair, the next pass to the outside leg. After several rotations, he switched the pattern to lazy figure eights until finally, his hand slid down to her lower back and then to between her legs, separating her inner and outer lips from her channel. "Color, little Flame?" he whispered.

She whimpered. "Green."

His hand continued its quest through her slick folds and found her clit already extended from its hood.

"I want to hear you, princess. I want to hear every moment of what you feel."

His middle finger skimmed over her clit, causing her to inhale and tense, then he placed the slightest of pressure as he dragged the digit back down over it, causing her to groan on the exhale. His lazy circles around the button sensitized the nerves so much that, without thought, she pressed her shoulder against his leg, her head resting against his thigh, almost as if she were a kitten rubbing against its owner.

His hand froze.

After a moment, she mewled in frustration. Actually mewled! And she pushed against him, trying to get his hand to move again. "Please, don't stop," she begged. "I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin if you don't keep touching me."

He pulled his hand from between her legs. "What's the rule?"

"I don't get to determine how much or where. Only you do," she replied. "I'm sorry, I can't seem to control it."

"You can," he assured her.

He returned his hand to her backside, retracing circles, clearly starting the whole process over. Her vocalizations were incoherent whines. He'd reduced her to a whimpering mess.

"That's it, little Flame. Who makes this little kitten purr?"

"You do," she gasped out in a pained exhale.

"That's right. I do." He slid his fingers down to between her legs again, brushing through her folds and tapping lightly on her clit. "I own this pussy until I say otherwise."

Her core was hot and slick, absolutely no resistance as he slid his fingers across her skin. She was on the verge of an orgasm, so when he pulled his hand away from her clit, she wailed in agony and frustration, but she didn't beg him to put his hand back.

"Sssh, I'm here. You're doing so well."

He swept his palm up and down her back, turning the wail into a moan. Finally, he lightened the caresses until her breathing gentled, and she stayed in position, her legs trembling.

Moving behind her, he bent over her body, his chest to her back, nestling his groin against her backside so that she could feel his rock-hard cock against her. The fingers that had been teasing her clit snuck around her right hip. His thumb unerringly found the pearl, and two fingers plunged into her pussy, pumping inside her walls.

She screamed and bucked against his chest, but his sheer height and width kept her pinned in place.

She felt her body begin to tremble. Without stopping his strokes, his other hand swept her hair to hang over the shoulder closest to the couch back. Then he slid his palm around her throat, placing pressure, but not dangerously so. Just enough to restrict airflow, not cut it off.

His mouth latched onto the skin just to the left of her spine where her neck and shoulder met. The circles on her clit stopped, and instead, he placed pressure against it while he filled her with a third finger. He pushed them inside as far as he could, dragging them across her walls. She began keening in the back of her throat. Between the pressure on her clit, G-spot, and throat, she was ready to explode for him.

His mouth let go of her skin, a slight stinging radiating from the spot. He groaned. "Your cunt feels like it's on fire. Let go, little Flame. Burn me."

As the first convulsion began, he used powerful strokes inside and outside her sex, and he eased up all the pressure on her throat, although he left it there as a support. She screamed, and her passage flooded. His fingers pumped in and out, and her release began to squirt in force from her.

Her orgasm seemedto go on forever. When her screams eased down to gasps and she went totally limp, it felt as if her body slid into a liquid pool of bliss. She was so tired, she couldn't do anything but exist. Her eyes remained closed, and her body relied upon her cheek on the pillow, her hips over the arm of the chaise lounge, and her feet on the floor to hold her up. Nothing mattered except just being.

Abstractly, her brain registered as he gently slid his fingers from inside her and took his other hand from around her throat. From a long way away, she heard him whisper in her ear, "I'll be right back. Don't move."

Couldn't move if I wanted to.

Minutes later, or maybe it was hours, she felt his presence next to her, but she was still too tired to do anything about it. There were sounds around her that she had no clue what they were, and she didn't care anyway. There was a soft, warm sensation smoothing along her skin between her legs. This was followed by the repetition of a cool sensation on her forehead and across her face. Inwardly, she was smiling, but it took way too much energy to make her facial muscles move into the actual position on the outside.

More cool sensations followed. Her arms. Her back. Her center. Her legs.

Her brain wanted to fight and swim up to consciousness, but she was far too comfortable to actually do it, so she remained as she was. She felt weight on her hands, then nothingness. Something held her wrists, a gentle rubbing of the flesh causing circulation to burn sweetly in her veins. She hadn't been in pain, so this was more like a low-heat burn moving through her, tingling sweetly, and spreading throughout her body. As that sensation soothed her, warm hands settled on her shoulders, massaging lightly. The darkness lightened as well, but she refused to open her eyes. Something told her that if she opened them, the pleasant thrumming in her veins might go away.

A deep voice coaxed, "Come on, princess, time to stand up."

She whimpered, her head turning on the pillow as she began the slow climb back to reality. The person behind the voice reached to stand her up like a doll, draped something around her shoulders and back, and then scooped her up into his arms. Her eyelids fluttered open, then back closed, as her rescuer moved them sitting elsewhere in the room, her body gathered against a wall of muscle.

Rescuer? What do I need rescuing from?

Her body began to rise closer and closer to the surface of lucidity. An arm held her tight from underneath while a second tucked a blanket around her. If she had wanted to have any say in what was going on, she wouldn't have been able to. Her breath evened out to slow and soft, feathering across his neck as he tucked her under his chin. She felt him brush his chin up and down the top of her head.