Like some other works of late, this work will appear on the Tale when it should have, even if it actually becomes visible about a month later, more or less. As seems to be the norm, I’m not finding the time to write something more than a little flash of a story. But then, on occasion, there’s something to be found in a …
The blindfold, which you know is red, blots out all light, your vision not able to bring to your mind what will come next. You have no fear; you know who it is, after all. You tied it into place for her, trusting in the Goddess with ebony hair and red horns and tail.
The giggle of delight that comes to your ears paints the picture of her bemused smile. It would be—you know, and she does as well—captivating you as the light shone off her red lips, making them gleam.
The question comes: has she alighted upon the bed? The shifting tells you where she is, vaguely, as she does so. She hasn’t touched you, not yet, but you know that her eyes are upon you, her so-green eyes in which, if you did see them, you’d quickly be lost.
The cherry scent flows over the sheets, just teasing your nose. There’s a feeling, like it was caressing your skin, as the sweetness builds and grows. A warmth covers your skin, suggesting what will come next, one way or the other.
The scrape of her long, red nails—you know they are red—makes you gasp. They press into your flesh, marking you, in a way. Not so much as being possessed by her as beginning the foreplay in which she delights. The ache brought by those long, sharp nails leaves leaves a mark in your mind. There is a long moment when nothing happens, her nails stopping, pausing, seemingly waiting for something.
The shock of her tongue lapping at the marks brings a gasp, the ache becoming stronger, the need within starting a long, slow burn. She draws her tongue over the lines she has made, soothing in one moment and heating in the next.
The teasing caress of her wild mane tickles over the flesh her tongue is focused upon. It cannot be contained—much like her—and that thought brings you to clench your hands, knowing that, always, she is in control.
But the thought comes to you … what if she wasn’t? What would happen then?
A moment of passion unbridled: the blindfold torn away suddenly, you would see the unmistakable hunger in her eyes, capturing you, drawing your thoughts away.
A desperate need to obey filling your being—nothing else left save the need—you’d be a helpless servant as she prowled to her toy, claiming her delight, trapping her morsel of pleasure beneath her.
A growl, the vibrations pouring into your soul, leaving all held by the fate her needs have set for this morsel she toys with.
A scent—her arousal, a heat so strong that it burns its way within you—as her focus is now on devouring and sating her need.
A purr as her sharp, crimson nails rake over skin, marking, claiming in ways that cannot ever be undone.
A mewl as her wet tongue slithers over open abrasions, tasting. The nip of teeth comes with another growl, uncontrolled.
A shock of midnight tresses—wild, a reflection of her power pouring into your soul—drapes over you, cutting off your view of anything save for her so-green eyes, so deeply green and emerald eyes that pull your soul to her, never to escape.
But her controlling voice smooths over your thoughts. The fantasy flickers as your mind is held by the perfect memory of her so-green eyes. Her breath is hot, her lips wet as she purrs more gently.
The blindfold, which you know is red, blots out all light, your vision not able to help anticipate what will come next. You have no fear; you know who it is, after all. You tied it into place for her, trusting in the Goddess with ebony hair and red horns and tail.
You’ve done so before … and will … must … ache to … again and again …