Something of a vignette today in which, shockingly, someone is a bit of a…
It is well known that the Queen of the Realm enjoys being a tease. That it is her nature, part of the fabric of who she is, even if she might not be wearing any fabric at all. Her bemused smile, the lock of hair draping over one eye, the tilt of her head to one side or the other is but the first move in the game.
But teasing does not end there. Perish the thought!
The gliding of fingers over skin or the lick of a tongue over those bemused lips mentioned before makes it very clear that the Queen of the Realm’s game is afoot. The stroke of a stockinged leg against bare skin just adds to that understanding, of course.
Assuming, of course, the one teased still has enough sense to understand anything.
Her scent is carried on a breeze to tease upon the senses, the sweet aroma of cherries in itself teasing its own suggestions, offering in some not-so-small way the hint of what may, possibly, be on the horizon. Her lips, still so very bemused, part ever so slightly to allow her talented tongue the opportunity to caress and tease one’s vision and suggest just how talented she is.
For there is little question as to how passionate this tease is.
Those long, red nails draw over bared skin, on their path towards her goal, the question of what they might be dancing just outside the ability of the one being teased to clearly understand. Though, to be sure, the fantasy that cannot be ignored seeps into one’s thoughts, rendering one’s soul and body unable to resist.
Not that there is any point in resisting, of course, when she is being a tease.
It is not a complete surprise when those questing fingers find their goal and … pause. Wild ebon mane tossed to one side, her so-green eyes glance upwards as if considering what they have found. Then those emerald depths turn towards the one being pestered and that smile withdraws from bemusement. Fingernails draw against an achingly hard shaft, stroking the length as she purrs. The vibrations somehow pass from within her core and through her fingers to focus upon the ache that has come to be.
And yet, she still is teasing.
Still holding her bantering eyes to their focus, her voice is honey-sweet as she describes, in wanton detail, her thoughts. Lovely red lips purse as she tells of each and every little thing she might, should she be inclined, do. Her talented hands, always toying and tantalizing, tickle across enflamed need, stoking, drawing sharp breaths or mewls and whimpers. Her lips curl suggestively in reply, her words dripping erotic suggestions into a mind now so pliant as to be nearly formless, desperate to surrender.
One is gratefully surrendering to the teasing.
Lovely red lips kiss over a trembling jaw, slowly inch downwards across a chest drawing breath after aching breath. Hot whispers of her cherry-scented breath scorch against skin now dripping with sweat. Her teasing leaves no question as to her intended destination. Imagination runs wild, painting a picture of desire unleashed and the climax to the playful torment that seems to have been going on forever.
A tease being locked into her own desires …
The ebon-maned seductress draws close to the focus of her baiting, the apex of her quest. The hot breath from before is a sweetly cooling breeze over an overheated crown. The reflexive twitch of hardened shaft she continues to stroke idly while curling her smile as a perfect pink tongue wets already shiny lips. The need she teases from within only serves to press her will upon her prey. The words ache within, trying to escape from a body wracked in pleasure … and she has not, as yet, truly begun to arouse.
A perfect tease with no end …
If all before this moment was inescapable, her tongue, darting out, wetly caressing, teasing, crashes through. Wet lips, so smooth and perfect, follow to paint their gloss over the head now captured. Slick wet desire wrapped in velvet glides slowly downwards, pausing, then moving upwards once more, releasing just before drawing away. A red ring of lipstick left behind marks the depth of her claim, a teasing reminder of her control. She muses now, her tongue of passion drawing over her lips of desire, eyes looking upwards, to the side, considering the sample from the banquet being offered.
Wondering if she will sample once more, or just keep teasing …
Still, her hands cup her prize, a single fingernail being drawn over oversensitive glands aching for release. The red flame moves close, lips—still wet and shining—part, then pass from tip to base. Pausing there, she sucks deeply, teasing out both wet need and begging soul from within. Hips try to buck, voice aches to beg, mind shatters under her endless provocation. The perfect seal begins to move up and down, painting her morsel in wetness. On each pass where she does not release, her lips pop free as they leave her treat, the sound like thunder. The relief is for but a moment before lips encircle and resistance continues to crumble away.
The tease’s wantonness burns.
Her beguiling badgering dances on the edge of release, the moment of screaming submission, her delighted climax at the surrender, the falling, the everlasting submission. It wells up within, seeking escape, both sexual starvation and soul submission. The climax cannot be resisted, does not wish to be stopped. It begs to be claimed, consumed, forever lost to the seductress with ebon mane, so-green eyes, titian tail and horns.
And yet, the tease continues.
There is no escaping her, not that there is any will left to do so, only a plaything to be toyed with, being tantalized endlessly, offered release only at her will, entrapped in the teasing nature of the Queen of the Realm, being held in her desire, burning to be toyed with again. The price paid is only the capitualation of a soul, the aching need never ending, and the promise that she will tease …