2 comments/ 11396 views/ 2 favorites Brook By: arbenitre Are there rolling hills and gentle curves where you walk? Are there trees that shelter the roll of the creek as it babbles and glitters in the shine of the sun or fullness of the lunar mystique? Boughs that overhang pools of waist depth, kept cool from summer heat and free of deep frost. Do you have this where you are? We do. At the end of a slope of lawn the creek roils over some large smooth stones and wends its way nearer the house than at other points. Here, it undercuts the bank and leaves a brief stretch of mud before settling into a pool that covers our knees. The bottom here is silt and ages ground rock powdered fine. It's easy to step in and comfortable to the toes as it squishes up between. Here she stood in the full sun. Heated air wavering above the delightful chill of water. Splash and splutter filling our ears and my lips have to tease right to the very flesh of her ear before she will hear the whispers I have for her. The water flows, bringing the wash of a breeze with it and her raven hair fluffs, swirling about our faces. Neither of us reach to wipe it away. I, because the moment presents itself for the beauty the feel of flyaway strands of her mane bring to the perfect day. Slight tickles and delicate kisses that mingle with the flecks of the splattering cascade just to our left. There is no one else to revel in the view of her chest as it heaves with the exertion of quietude. She, because docility has become her. Exhaustion and need have had their war within her breast and the battle unwon has left her gasping. And reeling. The cool water washes the marks across her backside and the contrast to the blistering heat that poured from her cells mere moments ago must be overwhelming to her. I watch her shivers and they delight me so. A deep and abiding memory made from every tiny tremor and puckering. There is a sensuality deeper than anything I've ever known in the way she finally gives in. Knowing she will eventually surrender changes nothing for the dance of fire. The inner struggle will come. Slowly at first. Held at bay with the understanding that this is the dalliance we choose. Reality will come, however, and her body will perform as it will while her mind rebels. At the center of the maelstrom I will sift emotion. The water laps gently at her thighs as I fill a sponge and brush it over her smooth skin. The chill stretches her flesh, giving me a thrill of desire. Her head is bowed in delicious abjection and the water rolls from her as I squeeze the sponge out. And again. Her breasts point and sway with the lolling, aureoles drawn and nipples jutting from both the cool moisture and her absolute excitement. Even her sex looks full and open within the light furze. Giving in has brought her to new heights of arousal and I can feel her buzzing with electricity. The crisscross markings glisten with dew as they play over the tender sides of her globes and the dappling sunlight gives them sparkles like tiny rainbows. I grip the sponge in my fist and let the cascade bound from her billowry. Splashes tease my legs. She gives short snubs and they keep time with the throbbing of my aching member, but her head stays bowed. She has submitted. Fight against it as she will, when she cedes control, she obeys and my thoughts to her become so tender that I would release her from this if she but asked. Washed in the river, plenished by the comforting waters, she allows herself to be led to the soft grass where she will receive me and lose the battle with exhaustion. She will go willingly and as the lamb. Translucent in her innocence. She will accept me not with the grace and desire of our everyday lovemaking, but with the servility and desperation of complete submission. I will ravage her. As the beast. The bull in heat. Lust incarnate. We took our lunch on the veranda. A smattering of samples. Fruits and cheeses. Breads and nectar. She with her flowing hands and delicate laugh. A delicious buffet of sensuality. Enrapt, I took her by the hand and suggested a stroll to the stream. A frolic over the grass. Her eyes smoldered as she coyly asked my intentions and I was lost. Then and there given over to her. There is no conflict for me. There is only her and the all consuming need to feel her soul snuggled against my heart. Her hand lightly within mine, her energy full and burning, she walked with me to the bedroom where I chose an assortment of tools. Each selection eliciting a gasp or "mmm" and an equal note of anticipation from inside my being. Her wrists accepted the cuffs, her hands the plait of my fingers and we walked. The tender slope of lawn, green soft grass delighted in the midday sun and our passing was like the zephyr. A sigh. Will we pass this way again? Who will know? Who will mark that time? The warmest zenith of the sun will pass before we make that return. Less a puff of breeze, then, and more a chuff breath. Our feet found the loam heralding the copse of trees at the bank of the waters and it was there that her inner clash began. The sly, knowing, come and get it look was gone and the apprehensive girl appeared to my utmost pleasure. Suddenly uncertain, she stumbled as my fingers tugged her to twin aspen trees four feet apart. She must surely recognize the reason for the straps. Just a stumble. The temptress flared back in her eyes and made it clear she would do anything for me. Her lashes batted and pupils rounded, flickering to the tenting in my pants. I pressed her there and she went willingly. Sank to her knees, brought her hands to my zipper and worked greedily to free my eager appendage, all the while making sure that I saw her beautiful cheekbones and delectable lips. Pooching out her features for me to view and approve. And I do. Showing her curves in sinuous relief. I let her take me into her throat once, twice, even four and five times. Hungrily. I thrilled in it. She responded with vigor when I took up a fistful of her luscious hair and growled in frustration when I pulled her away. Her chained hands looked such a delectable sight that stopping her took all the strength I had. Ah, and she did all she could to make it harder. Bound hands arouse her to passions, but being unable to move frightens her. Tied wrists fire my needs, but fear and uncertainty drive me to heights of depravity untouched. Just a stumble, but it took her composure. Seeing herself tied between the trees held her from taking the next step for just a second. Just a misstep of time, but her sangfroid thawed and the uncertainty fuels my desires. Suddenly on her knees and striving for control, she tries to perform all the things she knows I find so irresistible. Holding her hands up to the base of my cock and dipping her eyelids in a gesture of submission. Such things are trivial to me, however, fully enjoyable that it is her, but petty nonetheless. I love her with a need beyond such frittering. When my hand yanks her head back, she gasps and whines and her struggle begins. Were I to check her sex, it would be dripping in anticipation of things to come. At the same time, she is wondering if there is something wrong with her to want this and with another part of her wants merely to make love. To be taken, yes, but to be able to give on her terms as well. She is capable, skilled and motivated. Able and intelligent. She is submissive, beautiful and mine. The tinkling of the brook weighted the air. Notes of merriment floated in the breeze. Wafted among us. The tug of her hair, the tautness of her neck muscles as she tries to pull back. Her trial begins. Her body moves in a "please". She wants and doesn't want. Needs and wishes she didn't. Hopes for and against. Her curves show her pleadings in a way her voice cannot. She is too proud and too able. Her body knows, though. Her pores beg for punishment and her breath for release. The shiver that wracks her in the difference makes me so hard I feel an ache shooting through me. I let her head go and it grabs my hardness greedily. I move enough to connect the strap to the tree on the right. Another to the tree on the left. I separate her wrists then and chain them. Her voice pushes out to the musical air "please" and it lengthens my hardness. Makes it twitch and jump. As she covered its entirety, her wrists take the straps and they tighten until her shoulders stretch to their end and her breasts are pushed out to my gaze. The sun dress she put on at our bedside this morning hides none of her curves and she demurs as I start to pull it up over her head. She has a hard time being completely immobilized and blindfolded. I have to help her and I pull my member from her mouth to bring the shift up onto her arms and stretch it across her back, her head free, but it presses at her to bow her head. She refuses, my delight. Tufts of sunlight dance among the leaves above her head and gives golden glinters flitting over her cheek and forehead. Proud supplicant. "You know what I want." And she does. I want everything. I want all she has and all she can give. Her head lifts just enough that her breasts jut. They sway, their weight too much for her slight frame. Haughty and delicious, my love. A wild garden of delights and I would tame her. Her eyes trail my wavering pole as I move out of the range of her vision. Her foot kicks from my grip as I work to wrap the two ankles together. "Are you fighting me?" There is mock surprise in my voice. I knew she would. She truly doesn't like being bound so thoroughly, though her juices will be flowing all the more as I work. "Please." It's not yet a begging tone, though she tries to enjoin a whine into her word. An attempt to placate me. To show me what I want and nudge me to take it now. I am patient and she will plead with all her heart before I take her. But, oh how it turns me on to hear her say that word of love! Her foot yet waves and it takes an effort to secure it to the other and anchor it to the ground. "Fighting it will only gain you punishment." I tell her quietly and she answers with a sob that is also a contented sigh and it liquefies pleasure to seep out and glisten on the tip of my hardness. Her ankles tied, I move around in front of her and my penis waves in her face. She moans and her legs shuffle, testing the bindings. A pinch on the nipple tells her what will come and she cries out in anguished bliss, twisting in her constraints. Each pinch making her tug at the bindings until her delicate shoulders strain, the muscles flaring and showing individually under a sheen of perspirant moisture. "Are you going to keep fighting like a bad girl or behave like we both know you will in the end?" My voice is quiet, even to my own ears. Husky and wanting. I can barely speak for the arousal. For the feeling of needing her. My whole body is intense and coiled. I feel the same thrumming coming from hers. In answer, she jerks in her traces and my belt snaps down onto her rear. She cries out and I pinch her nipple again. She screams. More an "ohh" of joy and surprise than a wail of pain. She wants and wishes she didn't. The cuffs shake in defiance and I wrap a cloth around her eyes, gaining a fluid sigh from her in return. She never gives in, that scintillate little vixen of mine. Her curves flashed at me. Twinkling more lively than the dappled light through the leaves or the brightness of her eyes as we walked here hand in hand. Her breasts with a sway and jiggle, her hips jutting first one way then the other, her neck tautened and graceful. More than poetry or art, more than sense and motion. The leather of the belt slaps onto her buttock again and again. And again. Then encircles her thigh. The second belt, the one that drew such a curious glance from her in the bedroom, performs the same maneuvers. Smack. Smack. Cinch around the thigh. My thumb to her lips, then my thick hard pole. When the ropes pulled her thighs apart, putting pressure on her ankles, she gasped, moaned, and wriggled harder than I've ever seen her. The groan forced itself from me. Shoved out my throat with all self control. The whip on the sides of her swaying jugs shocked her less than it did me. She drives me beyond my ability to remain collected. She does it with full intention and a satisfied smile tinged her lips as the whip rose and fell and her head turned away from it side to side. Offering me first one breast, then another until, panting heavily, I regained composure and pressed my length into her throat. I pumped then, bucked and flailed. Grabbed the back of her hair and yanked. Her moans and winces were vibrations sending me fast over the edge. A splatter brought a squeal from her. I yelled out as the next jolt sent a stream burning out the end of my being. Successive jolts opened me up and turned me inside out. "Oh, you little witch." I cooed in her ear when I had nothing more to shoot and the dry pumping had finally abated. "You did that on purpose. Bad girls get punished, you know that." My hands smoothed her hair and stroked her face, my lips touched her nape and she moaned long and low and gut wrenching. She followed this with a sinuous shift of her body that jerked me back upright and awake. I'd turned a strap on dildo inside out and reworked it so that it would attach around her, holding the tool inside her. She's so tight that anything inserted in her while I toy with her is forced out. A wonderful feeling when I fill her. Utterly delicious and when she cums, it gets even tighter. I put it in and on her as she wriggled and moaned. Each squirm earned her a slap on the bottom and each moan rewarded by a kiss. When it was in and secured, I connected an egg vibrator to the clitoral stimulator. She was jerking and mewling when the material went in her mouth and the cries muted. "Why do you struggle so?" I asked quietly. "A good girl does what she is told without fighting. Bad girls get punished." Her butt cheeks clenched and the lash whistled through the air to land with a very satisfying snap. Again and again the whip rises and falls as she strains and pulls. I stop. Reach out and pinch her nipple. Her back arches in a delicious move that makes my hardness jump and an ache shake me. Another pinch and I can feel her cumming. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare cum. That's mine and you will give it to me when I say or your punishment will go on for days." She shivered and thrashed, crying out through the gag. I turned off the vibrator and waited. Slowly, she calmed and when I thought it was safe, the lash came down on her bottom once more and the electricity ripped loose. Over and over she went to the edge. Her haughtiness gone and fatigue showing in her shoulders hanging. My hand in her hair and the gag pulled down so I could shove my hard pole in her mouth. A pinch of nipple got just an arc and when i pulled out she said the word for me. In just the right way. She took my heart. "Please." A true plea. Dripping with need and desperation. "You'll be my good little girl?" "Yes. Please." I turned the vibrator up and felt her tense for orgasm. She wanted to squirm and her upper lip was trembling fighting the urge. When a drop of perspiration rolled from her matted hair, I stopped it and took her hands out of the cuffs. The dildo came out with a sucking sound and she was wracked with shudders. I thought she would surely cum then, but she held on my little piece of perfection. Bathing her in the river, cooling water to her hot flesh, I revel in her beauty and strength. She is everything that is woman to me and I tell her this in whispered puffs of breath. When I can bear it no longer, I take her in my arms, settle her on the grass and enter her to our mutual cries. She squeezes me so tightly that thrills shoot through me and I can hardly stop from my own climax long enough to enjoy the feeling. Long, slow strokes I hold to until I can feel it building within both of us, then faster and harder. Somewhere along the way, I allow her hands to trace my back and mine roam over her. Our lips meet and remain touching. We are released from torment together in a torrent of emotion. Cries, screams, ohs, and, as she tells me later, fireworks. She closes her eyes and on the lids there are rockets of color and pinwheels of electricity. And for me, there is stream after stream of molten eruption that make my body spasm to the rhythm of her. It is afternoon before I can gather enough consciousness to lead her by the hand to our bath where she is showered. Lathered and rinsed and laid on the bed. She has oil massaged into her delicious skin and is loved sweetly and gently. The next days will find her tamed. She will docilely call me "sir" or "dear" or even "master". She will allow me to cook for her and feed her. She will cook for me and do all I ask. Our lovemaking will be tender, marked with "please" and "thank you". I will take these days of lull to think of her next adventure. Because I will come home three or four days from now and she will give me mischievous grins and sly come ons. She will say "master" more often and with a sardonic twist of her luscious lips. It will be nearly sarcastic. Teasing. There will be incidents of insubordination that try my patience. They will increase in number until I am forced to do something about it. It takes all of my intelligence, my creativity, my wit, my force de vivre, my patience, to handle my wicked little girl and tame her to the leash and collar. But I love every minute of it. Brook & Renee I watched the sweet, slow, sway of her hips as she moved through the "jungle" of vines, laughing to myself . This "Yankee girl" wasn't any 18-year-old virgin. In fact, while I detected some apprehension, I knew that she knew she was putting on quite a show for me, and determined to teach her a very sweet lesson in seduction… Southern style. As we passed under a canopy of honeysuckle, I caught her wrist and stopped her progress for a moment. Deliberately, I plucked a fresh sweet blossom from the vine and gently extracted the pistil and stamens from the bloom. A glistening drop of nectar clung to the base and I pressed it gently to her lips. "Taste the aphrodisiac of the south, Renee," I whispered. Her lips had hardly touched the drop when her eyes softened, the lids becoming full and heavy. As the moisture touched her tongue, her breath seemed to stop. With eyes closed, she savored the sweetness of the flower. "I can see why you call it an aphrodisiac" she moaned softly, moving into the embrace of my arms. A gentle breeze stirred the air around us and the scent of aroused female mingled with the heavy scent of honeysuckle. As she turned her face up and pressed her warm lips eagerly to mine, I could feel the tautness of her breasts against my chest. Her nipples stiff and straining against the soft cloth of her bra and blouse increased my arousal until it was full and obvious beneath the denim of my jeans. Determined not to lose control, I gently pushed her away and set the picnic basket and blanket I was carrying on the soft leafy ground. It didn't calm the arousal, but I was able to regain some control as I spread the soft cloth under the overhanging foliage. This woman at this moment was my ultimate fantasy, and I wanted nothing to break the spell. Renee was as palpable in my mind as the mixed scent of her need and the cloying honeysuckle were in my olfactory senses. I knew that at the moment, she wanted me as much as I wanted her, but a fine wine only improves with the patience of aging. Once the blanket was spread, I relaxed and stretched out on my back on the soft cloth. I left her to open the picnic basket and spread the food out. (I have to admit I was thinking of some scenes from the movie "Tom Jones," which today would be rather mild, but back then were VERY sensuous.) At that point, I began to wonder about my age and the difference between us. Little did I know that Renee had also enjoyed those scenes, recognizing the subtle innuendo of the "feast" scenes as a prelude to a sexual orgy. Without warning, I found Renee stretched out on top of my supine body, with a warm and inviting smile. Her mood was infectious, and while the basket lay unopened, we began to roll and tease each other in the shade of our leafy bower. I lost all sense of time as we played in the soft grass, kissing and teasing each until I found myself on top of her, arms pinned above her head, and her firm breasts suddenly thrusting up at me. The smile on her face changed from challenge to desire and as I lowered my lips to hers, I felt the surrender in her body. Her legs spread and her pelvis rocked up against me in obvious need. As her thighs locked over my hips, I looked into the softness of her eyes and realized I had never seen such a beautiful shade of blue. "Love is Blue," a long ago tune by Claudine Auget, came to mind, and I knew at that moment why it had been one of my favorite songs. If ever in my life I had observed love in someone's eyes, it was at this very moment. The tension between us had become so strong that as I began to undo the buttons on her blouse, her breath caught with each. Slowly I bared the soft white flesh of her breast. Beneath the plain white blouse, she wore a sheer bra through which the hard pink nipples thrust up beneath my gaze. I wondered why she bothered with such support, because there was no sag to them, and at the moment it was just an impediment to my warm lips. I kissed slowly down the side of her cheek, neck and gently down to the displayed cleavage. As her breathing deepened, I stopped long enough to remove my shirt, baring my chest in anticipation of feeling her flesh against me. I felt the light touch of her fingernails against my nipples and down across my stomach and shivers ran down my spine. Gradually, I moved her blouse down until it fell off her arms. Deliberately, I planted warm kisses on her nipples through the bra until I could stand it no longer, and released those lovely breasts into the warmth of my mouth. With each breath she took, I felt them swell and strain upward. The nipples were distended now, and her back arched to push them more fully into my welcoming warmth. My hands worked down her back and lifted her to meet the tickling caress of my tongue. Her breasts seemed made to fit my eager ministrations. I have never been attracted to huge breasted women, and Renee fit my ideal without a second thought. I could take most of one into my mouth at one time, enjoying the feel of the stiff nipple rolling against my tongue, while I gently massaged the other with my free hand. The increasing rock of her hips against me was having an effect that I wanted to prolong, so I pulled back once more… despite my most urgent desires. *********** Two could play at this game. I moved my hands inside her thighs and began to tease her, running my fingers under the waistband of her skirt. I felt the shudders run through her belly as my fingers lightly brushed the soft down above her sex. Without another word, Renee stood up and slid the skirt off, exposing herself to me completely. For a second she stood as Aphrodite, goddess of love, turning slowly to display the flare of her hips and the curve of her perfect legs. She bent forward from the waist slowly, and I could see how ready she was. The swelling of her mons was as obvious as the sheen of lubrication moistening the slightly parted lips. The scent of her was compelling and I wanted to press my lips to those flowing petals and taste a nectar even sweeter than the honeysuckle around us, but before I could act, she lowered herself onto my belly. Gently she straddled my loins, the wetness of her desire coating me and enlarging my already aroused maleness. As she slid backwards up my chest, she began to gently tease my stiffened shaft with her fingertips. The sensation was overwhelming, and I was on the verge of losing control. The spread of her lovely cheeks was so close to my face now that I could make out the steady trickle of her welcoming secretions. I placed my hands on her hips and guided her sex to my eager lips. My tongue gently probed her and she shuddered with obvious pleasure. I let my lips caress hers, kissing the soft skin of her inner thighs and finally teasing the stiff bud of her clitoris. The effect was electric. The flow of her coated my lips and chin, running in rivulets down the side of my neck and filling my nostrils with sweet musk. I felt her tongue touch the end of my shaft, gently tickling the opening and causing my own lubrication to begin. Renee slid down and stood up again, turning to face me as she did so. Her eyes were heavy lidded and her mouth full and sensuous. As I held her gaze, she lowered herself slowly onto me, her sex opening wider in anticipation as she squatted over my distended organ. I reached up and guided her hips down and as we both watched, the tip slowly penetrated the heated tunnel and slid deeply into her welcoming belly. She let out the breath she had been holding in a long, deep sigh of pleasure as her loins pressed hard against mine. I felt the tight squeeze of her vaginal muscles gripping me in that luscious furnace, and I dared not move. Her heat and wetness surrounded me and I knew I was on the verge of filling her with my seed. An eternity seemed to pass before either of us dared to move. Slowly she raised herself, exposing my now glistening shaft. As if reluctant to release it, her lower lips distended as it began the slow journey out of her. Renee arched her back, supporting herself on hands and feet. Her swollen breasts and stiff nipples raised to the sky above, she exposed herself completely. I arched up to thrust once more into her as she began lowering her pelvis again. In moments we were thrusting with ever increasing need. Just when I knew I could hold out no longer, she cried out, calling for me to take her and in seconds, I felt the gush of additional fluid drench me. The stream of hot liquid flowed down the length of my buried shaft and ran like hot oil over my balls and buttocks. Immediately, I felt the spasms start as I joined her in joyous release. The shudders rolled up my legs and my belly as I arched hard up, gripping her hips and burying myself as deep in her as possible. I seemed to extend in length as my hot jets burst into her over and over again. Renee writhed and sobbed, grinding her warm sex hard against me as she reached a second, stronger orgasm. I felt the viselike squeeze of her inner muscles and came even harder, working myself frantically deeper into her, as we both gasped and quivered. Our whole world focused on the fleshly link between us. Entranced, I watched as small beads of sweat ran from her breasts, dripping onto my chest from her nipples. Slowly the world came back into focus. As our heartbeats and breathing slowed, Renee went limp and lay her head on my shoulder. I was still inside her as she kissed the side of my neck and cheek in sweet silence. In moments, her breathing deepened as she drifted off to sleep in the warm afterglow and musky smell of our mixed sexual secretions. The last thought I had as I drifted into relaxed sleep was that I had searched for all my life for this woman and I would never let her go.