0 comments/ 13295 views/ 1 favorites Image of Perfection Ch. 01 By: timelessembrace Author's Note: This series is divided into two aspects: the story of Aeriel, a female sex slave/submissive, and the story of Arial, a male dominant and misogynist. The portions of Aeriel's story are told in flashbacks, some of which happen in chronological order, but mostly they'll be disjointed. As such, her story is going to be amended with narrative timestamps to help readers follow the course of events. Arial's story all happens in chronological order, and can be considered to be 'present day' activity. Also please keep in mind that though each chapter of this story will be in a category based on the content of that instance, the series overall is best described as Sci-fi/Fantasy, and the reasons for that will become evident as the plot progresses. Chapter One: Looking Back Aeriel stepped out of the shower. It was meager, but one of the few accommodations that she was actually able to join. The water was hot - sometimes too hot - but it was clean, and came from two nozzles, one above her head and another at waist level. A mostly clear curtain surrounded her while she cleaned herself, suspended from a bronze rail that connected to the concrete ceiling above. The tub itself was pristine white, probably genuine porcelain, and long enough for her to lie back in when she cared to take a hot, soaking bath. The shelf between the two shower nozzles was stocked every morning with three small bottles - shampoo, conditioner, and body wash - and a fresh razor that she never ceased to be thankful for. She knew that it was there primarily for her to keep her intimate parts bare, but it also helped her retain some sense of femininity, her legs always smooth to the touch, even if no one that cared was going to see them. Recounting the numbers of times she had seen the sun set and rise again as she gazed at the cathedral window on one wall near the vaulted ceiling, Aeriel determined that it was 1985, the 22nd of May, and probably about ten o'clock in the morning. Lacking an actual calendar or diary to keep track of time, she'd become astoundingly talented at retaining facts in memory. Every so often she could confirm her dates with a holiday or (very rarely) by catching a glimpse of a newspaper when an attendant came to her chambers for something. And of course, there was her birthday each year. She didn't understand why she was allowed to celebrate it, but she always was. As near as she had been able to ascertain, she was somewhere in Persia, which people were now calling Iran. She couldn't be sure of it, since she didn't know the dialect, but even if she had not determined the country precisely, she knew she was not far from the Caspian sea, and it got so hot in the summers that eastern Persia seemed very likely. In any case it was getting warmer now, as it always did this time of year, and she softly stepped along the path made by the expensive carpets, not thinking she needed a towel to dry off in the arid atmosphere. Aeriel's world, as she accepted it to be, existed in this one room. She had a bed, four tall posts with a canopy that stretched between them and a mattress that some people - lacking the experiences Aeriel had lived through - could call orgasmically luxurious, and also a chifferobe stocked only with multicolored silken negligee. Occasionally some other article would appear there, for her to wear on a special occasion, but it would always be gone just as mysteriously the following day. Her shower, if it could be called hers, was in one corner accompanied by a toilet and freestanding sink, with a tall mirror positioned behind it. In the corner opposite was a door: the door that she had only been through once, and since had not left. The rest of the large room was vacant, save for the extravagant carpets that created a path between the room's amenities, but like her wardrobe this changed at the whim of its owner. Soft linens were met by softer flesh as Aeriel settled herself on the edge of the bed and ran her fingertips along her leg from ankle to knee, assuring herself that she had missed nothing. It was impossible for her not to feel the reassuring comfort of the cushion beneath her however, and she slumped back onto the bedding with a contented sigh. In these moments she told herself that it wasn't all as bad as it could sometimes seem. She may not have the freedom of other women around the world, but she did have some luxuries that were perhaps worth trading it for. This thought faded quickly, as the sliding, metallic sound of her door being unlocked and unbarred jeered her into the now. The heavy metal portal swung open on well-oiled hinges, barely making a sound once it started. Aeriel was immediately sitting upright in bed, her body uncovered and her curly brown locks tumbling over her shoulders but doing nearly nothing to obscure her alabaster skin, still pale from the winter months. Her mind told her to get off the mattress, but her body resisted. She simply stared with a blank expression at the door, something at the back of her consciousness screaming out a hope that it was simply time for her linens and robes to be collected for cleaning. Two men entered, wearing garb that she had come to recognize as militia attire, though she still didn't know if it was private or government. They stood on each side of the entrance, and her heart began to sink. Slowly, tauntingly, another form sauntered into the room. The form belonged to a man with dark skin, darker eyes, and peppered hair that he wore short, complimented by a neatly trimmed goatee. Aeriel was already chastising herself for being slow to action, and knew now that it didn't matter what she did; punishment was imminent. The desires and demands of this man were irrefutable - the man that called himself her husband. He glanced to the guards and gave a brief nod. They moved out of the chamber again, and the door was closed and sealed until such time as he called for it to be opened. Aeriel remained on her cushion, debating with herself which course of action would lead to a swifter resolution to her 'disobedience.' Her decision wouldn't come soon enough. Striding toward her with the confidence only afforded to a dictator - or a slave owner - her husband began to nonchalantly unbutton his shirt. His clothing was not unlike that of his guards, but he bore neither rank nor insignia. He slipped it from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground casually, the deeply tanned skin of his muscular chest catching Aeriel's eye despite her better judgment. "You are yet defiant?" he demanded in a gruff voice, just barely accented. Aeriel had heard this tone, these words before, yet her reflex remained silence. She struggled against her instincts as she gazed at him, and forced sound from her vocal chords. "I... didn't mean to..." She couldn't manage any more without looking away, and of the two she preferred to be scolded for her disobedience rather than her disrespect. "You did not mean to insult me with your disregard for my commands!?" His voice was sort of a mock anger. It was as if he knew he was supposed to be upset, and so was playing into the expected archetype. This was not going how Aeriel had anticipated. His language had always been consistent with what he wanted. When he said he was disobeyed, he would bring her to her knees and make her pleasure him. When he said he felt insulted, he would sodomize her. He was mixing his phrases now; this was not his normal routine. Aeriel began to panic. She no longer knew what was going to happen. Glancing pointlessly toward the door, Aeriel felt her head spin. Her mind was a blur of nonsense as she found her thoughts shuffling between escape and attack. In truth she had no chance of accomplishing either, and given that she had made the colossal mistake of breaking her husband's gaze, she would be paying dearly for even having such whims, much less for attempting them. "You will look at me while I address you!" he howled, swinging his hand out at her without hesitation. The open palm collided with her cheek, and her already failing body went limp and fell to the bed. She didn't move, stricken with fear and disorientation. All she could feel was the sting on her face. All she could hear was her husband calling out, "Come!" The door was opening somewhere behind her, and she strained to shut her eyes, but couldn't. Aeriel felt herself turned over onto her back. The voice of her husband came again, "Bind her." She could see now as the two men that protected her husband produced thick ropes and slipped them around her wrists and her ankles. Her limbs were drawn wide, and the other ends of the bonds were attached to the bedposts. The enveloping blankets that lay across the bed were violently torn away, discarded to the floor in a crumpled heap. Aeriel lay there, naked, exposed, vulnerable. She felt the leering eyes of the two men roving over her shape, and was disgusted. They could have only been there for a moment, but to her it was an eternity of humiliation. Her breath came shallow, and she felt as if she would cry had this reality not become routine. Her breasts quivered as her lungs struggled to take in the warm air, and despite the temperature her body became chill, giving her a shiver of goose-bumps and forcing her nipples to become firm. With her legs splayed now, she became ever more aware of her shaven vagina, and how it seemed to tingle when exposed. She could feel somehow that her lips were just slightly parted, giving a tantalizing peek at the pink flesh of her aroused sex. "Leave us." Aeriel was genuinely thankful of the command given by her husband. She expected to feel ashamed and unworthy in front of him, to be punished for doing nothing wrong, but she couldn't abide the attention she received from his men. Her breathing slowed and became less labored as she heard their footfalls disappear through the door, and the unmistakable sound of it thumping shut. Tears starting to finally form as her husband began to pace a circle around her bed, Aeriel squeaked, "Please..." with sincere pleading. She didn't need to specify what she was requesting. It wouldn't be granted. "Silence." His voice was calm and level. "You will speak when I command it, and you will address me as Master." Aeriel shut her eyes and a boiling tear fell shot her cheek and into her still damp hair. "Do you understand me?" She nodded a little, opening her eyes to see the world as little more than a blur of color and shape. "Yes... Master." Each time she addressed him in that way it felt like the first. She couldn't imagine herself ever growing accustomed to this. "You disrespect me when refusing to meet my gaze. Do you find my face to be offensive?" She shook her head, mostly in an attempt to dislodge the water in her eyes, but was unsuccessful. "No!" She was quick to amend, "No, Master." "But you also disobey me. I command you to be prepared to satisfy my desires, and yet you luxuriate in the pleasantries I buy for you." He brought his hand up to rest on one post of the bed, choosing to look at it rather than at her. "Perhaps I should take these away, and leave you in the rags of a peasant." "No, Master! Please," she begged, her eyes wide and clearer but beginning to well up again at the thought of her only comforts being removed. "But you further your disgrace with insults. I demand cleanliness from my slave," - he would not even dignify her by calling her wife - "yet you do not prepare yourself. You are caked in filth." She simply stared, not fathoming his words. Aeriel had meticulously cleaned and groomed herself just moments before his arrival, but he continued, undaunted. "You come to me wet and soiled, like a dog. You are unfit for me." His voice came closer and closer to her as he spoke. "But I suppose I must make do..." He trailed off as he leaned over her prone form. Aeriel felt his index finger touch the base of her mound, just above her anus. He drew it upward, gliding through the moisture that now began to seep from her, and she recoiled reflexively. Her husband's hand pulled back, and he spluttered angrily, still not quite shouting, "You resist my desires as well?" Aeriel's silence condemned her more than any response would have. Moving with swift determination, he took three quick steps to stand at the head of the bed. Aeriel shut her eyes tight and tried to look away, but before she could move he was clutching her head with both hands, wrenching it back to center and tilting it backwards. "If you will not speak to defend yourself, perhaps you are not worthy of the privilege." Aeriel's mouth was forced open by a combination of the angle of her neck and the probing fingers of her Master. Her eyelids strained to open, but she found that her hair was being pushed into her face, and shut them again. She felt something both soft and firm touch her upper lip and press against her tongue. It had been a strange process learning how to pleasure a man such as this, but her body began to remember what his desires called for. Straining against her position, she struggled to close her mouth and began to suck at his cock as he continued to feed it to her. Very surprisingly, he withdrew about an inch. Aeriel's mouth opened a little in response to his unprecedented restraint. Before she could decide what to do next, he was again pushing himself into her orifice, but this time more quickly and persistently. The tip of his shaft pressed up to the back of her throat, and it contracted unconsciously in response, halting his progress. He simply pushed harder. Her gag reflex enacted, she began to cough as her body tried to dislodge the invading object, but she found herself unable with the erection filling her mouth. Suddenly Aeriel was overcome with the thought that she couldn't breathe. She attempted to gasp for air, wheezing around her Master's penis, which he was now slowly but forcefully attempting to shove even further into her. Her mouth filled with saliva, lubricating the member and further filling her mouth with obstructions as it pooled at the back of her throat. Unable to breathe, unable to think, and unable to move away from the cock impaling her, Aeriel did the only thing that seemed like it would help to keep her from suffocating; she swallowed. Gulping down the saliva as she would have drank a pitcher of water after spending a week in the desert, her throat opened wide and allowed slick lubricant and throbbing penis alike entrance. The sensation was both unpleasant and indescribably insulting. She could almost envision what it must have looked like, the fleshy spear pressing its way into her protesting tunnel, constricting to try to force it back the way it came. As her muscles tightened around his shaft, Aeriel could hear her Master moan some form of primal approval. She felt somehow gratified that she was pleasing him, but horrified at how used she was being right now. Amidst it all, she still could not breathe. He held himself there inside of her, and Aeriel could feel his hand stroking her neck, separated from his erection by just a bit of skin and muscle. He withdrew enough for her to gasp a half-breath, and pushed in again, and withdrew, and pushed in. His tempo was even, steady, and strangling. Her vision began to get dim, and all she could feel was the slickness of her own spit covering her lips and face, and dripping up her inverted face, past her nose, into her eyes. The sickening slippery liquid on the side of her nose brought Aeriel back to revelation, as if she were discovering her body for the first time. Everything slowed down and seemed to make sense. Her throat relaxed, her nostrils flared, and she felt her lungs inflate with oxygen at the same moment that she felt her Master's cock slide into her inviting throat. Her eyes, already forced shut, relaxed a little as she felt the blood flowing to her brain again. Now not being resisted, her Master sped his pace. Aeriel could feel her entire body being pushed back and forth in the bed, returning to her place each time her Master withdrew entirely because of the ropes pulling her toward the bedposts. Her entire face was soon drenched with her saliva as he thrust himself so deeply into her mouth that his balls rested on her nose, blocking her nostrils for just a moment before he pulled away and she would take another inhalation of air. It was like some perverse machine, all working together in time. Finding herself thinking as she lay there being face-fucked by her husband, her Master, her owner, she began to believe that she could do more. Timing her movement along with his jabs, Aeriel slowly began to push her tongue out toward her lips, and draw it back again, massaging the underside of his cock. She could hear him groan each time, and she felt a surge of arousal jolt between her legs. Her tongue began a side-to-side motion as well, making little circles and further stimulating the most sensitive part of his erection. His movements became more urgent, more insistent. Now seeing her willingness to cooperate, Aeriel's Master withdrew himself further on each backstroke, stopping for just a moment and she would suck at him hungrily before he forced his shaft back into her raw throat. Her face flushed as she felt herself more and more excited by the situation she was in. She was a toy to him, a tool. His words began to ring in her ears again. Caked in filth. Soiled. Unfit. A dog. She may not have believed it then, she may not believe it after he was finished with her, but right now, it was all true, and it aroused her. Her Master pulled free of her sucking mouth, and she felt vacant. She gulped down great swallows of air, but didn't dare close her lips, craving for the return of what was rightfully hers. Her face was a mess of spit, sweat and tears, her hair stuck to her forehead, obscuring her vision as she opened one eye and strained to see where he had gone. There he stood, stroking his erection over her face, and was gently descending until he came to kneel on the bed. He stopped just above her and sat his testicles against Aeriel's lips. Her tongue snaked out to meet them and she drew them greedily into her mouth. His shaven scrotum provided her no resistance as she eagerly sucked on one ball, the other resting just at the edge of her cheek. With great care she hurriedly slickened the sack in the same way that she had the rod, and her own face, and used her tongue and lips to push it free, sucking at the other ball in turn. Aeriel was highly remiss when her Master stood suddenly, pulling out of her. He adjusted his posture for a moment, and then began to keel over her again. She prepared herself to resume her previous activities, but found his cock head placed at her lips instead. With Aeriel sucking obediently, her Master released his hand from around his shaft and allowed her to pull him toward the back of her throat, lapping excitedly at the underside of his prick as he approached. He placed his hands on either side of her hips and steadied himself, forcing inch after inch into her waiting, sopping lips. As his penis found the entrance to her throat he shifted his weight onto his left hand, his right rising from the bed and hovering over her pussy as he eased himself further in. Her muscles relaxed, as if she had been doing this for years, and she breathed slowly through her nose. He stroked her. Tensing at the sudden contact with her sensitive flesh, there was immediately no way for her to remain focused on pleasuring her Master now, and he knew this. He thrust his hips and jammed his organ into her throat violently again, and she gagged. He pushed his middle finger into her dripping snatch, her hips bucking, and he bucked his as well, slapping his balls against her face degradingly. Aeriel's Master started his own rhythm of grinding his palm against her mound and shoving his finger into her, causing her to writhe against him. He furiously plunged his cock in and out of her throat. She choked and coughed against him and tried to turn her head to the side, but he simply squeezed his legs together, preventing her evasion. Relentlessly he used her fighting throat muscles to milk his cock, barreling toward his imminent orgasm. Image of Perfection Ch. 01 Spit collected on her Master's thrusting shaft, trickled down to his balls, and was sent flying to and fro as they collided with her upper lip and nose on each inward push. Aeriel had trouble breathing again. The array of sensations - her throat, her tongue, her vagina - became too much to process, and she felt as if she was dreaming. Her body went limp, despite her desires to protest. She was totally his in this moment, to do with what he pleased. Speeding again, his bucking became erratic. He fucked Aeriel's face with abandon, and she no longer resisted his whim. He left off from stimulating her pussy and rose to his knees, still jerking himself in and out, and reached down. One hand grasped his manhood at the base, and the other closed around Aeriel's throat. She broke from her reverie and opened her eyelids, which were covered in her own saliva. He pushed in as deep as he could manage, Aeriel's limp jaw allowing him much leeway, and pulled back. His hand on her neck tightened, and she felt her throat close. She could neither breathe nor swallow, and again she felt panic. Her Master's entire body seized, and he pulled back so that just the head of his cock was inside of her mouth. He erupted in orgasm, hot semen spewing across Aeriel's tongue and splashing to the now closed throat. Two and three jets of salty, musky fluid followed, and more. Aeriel lost count as she felt each shot land. One on the inside of her right cheek, another on the top of her mouth, and another that skipped across her lip as her Master's convulsions caused him to slip slightly. Her mouth was filled beyond capacity with his spunk, and she could not swallow. She squeezed her eyes closed again in shame, humiliation, and disgust. The saline flavor was everything she could sense, apart from the feeling of the slowly deflating cock in her mouth. Still there trickled more, and Aeriel felt bemused at hearing her own thought in her head, Jesus Christ, this is a lot of cum. His prick, softening, simply swam in his sperm as it began to trickle from the corners of her mouth. He released her throat, and she thanked herself instantly as she felt that her body's first reflex was to breathe, though her nose, rather than to swallow. Still, her Master's failing erection remained in her mouth, and she could sense him gazing down at her. She steeled herself, and went to swallow, but inhaled slightly. She coughed. Aeriel attempted desperately to control her spasm. She knew that she had released some of her Master's semen - she felt it trickling up her face - but to prevent further error she swallowed quickly. The thick, viscous fluid oozed down her throat, but she felt still more in her mouth, along with the source of it. She swallowed again, innately sucking at her Master's penis, drawing out the last vestiges of his climax. Once more she gulped, finishing off the last of it, and she took another breath as he pulled free of her. She gasped, panted, and let her entire body relax. The dirty mask she wore now also included little droplets of her Master's semen, and she imagined she must be quite the sight. Not that he was appreciating the image he'd created; Aeriel could hear her Master walking toward the door. She sighed in relief, predicting that he was finished with her. The guards would come and release her, and a nursemaid would be sent in with a bowl of warm water and towel, and fresh bedding. Aeriel's Master pounded on the door and spat some angry phrase in his native language. She hated when he spoke like that; it was never often enough for her to start to learn what he was saying, but was always when she most wanted to understand what he was saying. There was silence for a long moment, and she heard the door open. There was a commotion of activity - people both coming and going from the room - and she strained her ears to try to understand. Her eyes remained closed, as she was fearful of the sting of opening them to find that a bit of sperm was waiting on her lid. Aeriel could hear a wheeled cart of some kind approach her bedside, and a strange scratching and hissing sound that she felt she should recognize. Several moments and sounds later, her Master's voice came again. "Good. Leave." Feet moved to the door, hands closed it, and a key locked it tight again. She could hear absolutely nothing, but she knew that her Master was still there, with whatever implements he had requested. She both did and did not want to know what was in store for her now. It was exceptionally rare for him to continue with her after his first orgasm, and she wondered what he could want this time. A faint shuffling told her that he was standing beside her bed, on her right. She heard something that sounded like glass or porcelain being lifted from the cart, and then there was silence. Her entire body was lax, except for her ears, which she strained to get some hint of what was happening. A hot, searing pain shot through Aeriel's body, starting at the lowest rib on her left side. It was a pinpoint of intense sensation, and she was certain in that moment that she was being stabbed, and as it trailed downward and inward toward her bellybutton, she was convinced that she was being cut open. She cried out and her face contorted. She attempted to move away from the pain, but it followed her. And then it faded. The heat remained, but it was waning. A dull throbbing continued where it had started, but all she felt now was a strange, comfortable warmth. Rubbing her face against the sheets to clear what she could, she opened her eyes. Aeriel's master stood beside her bed, a wooden cart behind him holding three lit, red candles in glass bases. A fourth was in his hand, and he was tilting it again toward her. The stabbing started again, this time on her right leg, and it lanced toward her inner thigh as the wax rolled across her skin and to the bed. Again it began to fade as the wax rapidly cooled, but the memory of the pain was fresh. She foolishly glared up at her Master. He caught her movement and matched her gaze. Their eyes linked for a moment, his dark brown and her grey-green, and he was still. Aeriel did not know what this meant, but was answered soon enough as he tipped the candle another time, sending a trail of hot scarlet wax across her lower stomach starting at her right hip and sloping down to end just centimeters from her inviting slit. This time the pain lingered beyond the duration of the heat. ***** Arial took a long drag from his cigarette, looking out across the street at the bar. He hated smoking, hated smokers, but it was what he had to do, and he knew it. A single lock of his short brown hair curled across his forehead, and he swept it away without a second thought. Stepping down from the curb he started to cross the street, just as the weeping woman stepped out of the door, the noisy music behind her seeming to practically throw her into the cold night. She wore such a stereotypical outfit that Arial nearly rethought his choice. Leatherette knee-boots over fishnet stockings led up to a black miniskirt and pre-ripped tanktop above that, mascara face run with tears and framed by golden locks completing the ensemble. The cliché was so heavy that she was in danger of being crushed by it. But... I'm already dressed up, thought Arial. Adjusting the scarf under his wool overcoat, he sauntered ahead and arrived beside her just as she was rifling through her purse, trying to find something to bring flame to the cigarette she had stowed between her lips. "Need some help with that, darling?" Arial proffered his windproof lighter with an ingratiating smirk. Image of Perfection Ch. 02 Chapter Two: Looking Forward She flicked her unashamedly bleached hair out of her face, blinking her lashes at Arial. He simply stood there, dashingly, holding the lighter for her. She leaned in and lit her cigarette without touching it with her hands, and stood straight again. Arial simply chuckled at the sight of her cheeks drawing inward, and flicked the device closed, depositing it back in his coat pocket. "You look like you're having a good night," he said with a snarky grin. She rolled her eyes, and gave a somewhat convincing false look of offense. Arial shook his head and glanced at the club, and then out at the street. "Can I walk you to your car?" Now giving him a sincerely thoughtful glance, she bit her lower lip. There was a hint of color that alluded to the bright red lipstick she had worn earlier that night, long since worn off on some bit of skin on some lucky gentleman. "I'm probably just getting a cab," she remarked, following Arial's gaze to the rain-slick road. Arial shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Not acceptable. In your condition? That cabbie's going to distract you with a comforting monologue and take you halfway across town to run up your fare." He spoke with a distinctly malicious tenor, complimented by a sly wink at the end. "I'm not letting that happen to a young beauty like you. My car's just over this way." Honey dripped off the thorns of his words, but somehow she seemed more at ease for hearing them. They both stared at each other as they puffed on their cigarettes. Arial's was now finished, and he turned away to coolly flick it out into the light drizzle of rain, resulting in a hiss as the hot ember collided with a droplet of rain mid-arc. Though she hadn't actually answered, Arial began to lead toward his car, fishing about in his pocket for the keys. She followed. As he reached a particularly sleek silver sports car he withdrew a set of keys and pressed two buttons. The doors clicked to the unlocked position, and the engine turned over. "What's your name?" asked Arial, turning to her. He put out a hand to be shaken. "Oh, uh. Bella." Her answer sounded more like a question, but she reached out to take his hand softly. Clasping her hand and bringing it to his mouth for a tender kiss, Bella blinked and jumped a little, reflexively pulling her hand away but not able to break Arial's grip. "I'm Arial," he stated, resonating clearly as he pronounced each vowel sound independently, and released her. He opened the passenger side door and stepped back to allow her to get in. Bella flushed and looked down, and stepped toward the car. She pivoted on her toe and bent to settle herself into the car seat, sweeping her short skirt under her ass as she did so. With the shortness of her skirt and the lowness of the car she could not help but flash her black undergarments at Arial. He made no sign that he saw, and she likely believed that she had successfully kept herself covered. Arial closed the door once she was securely within and walked around the back of the car to gain entrance himself. He slid into his seat with an unnatural grace and put the key into the ignition of the already running vehicle, and took it out of park. They began their drive, Arial having not yet even asked where Bella lived. "That's a cool name. I've never met an Arial before. Not a guy at least." He nodded. "I'm glad you like it. It's Hebrew. It means the lion of God." He angled his head at her and beamed a broad smile, showing off perfectly aligned teeth with slender, pronounced canines. He added, "I don't think I've met a Bella before, either. Short for Isabella?" Bella shook her head. "It's just Bella. Short and sweet." And she was, at least beside Arial. She was perhaps five-foot-five, and had a face that would fittingly be described as cherubic. Her eyes were large and vibrant, and had this adorable upward angle to their outer edge as if she was always smiling, reminiscent of an Egyptian painting. They were a soft, crystal blue. She flashed a genuine smile at Arial, broad and pristine, and said, "You should keep your eyes on the road." He chuckled and obliged her suggestion. They were fine, he knew, but it was only polite to play along. "Where am I going?" he asked. Glancing about, Bella sighed. "I don't know," came her answer breathily. She leaned back into the sumptuous seat and half-closed her eyes, gazing out sleepily at the passing lights. It didn't take her long to continue her thoughts. "I mean, I need to go home. But he, I mean, my boyfriend... Well, I guess sort of my ex-boyfriend. He's going to be heading there soon. To look for me." Arial nodded as if this was new information to him. "I can just drive you around, if you like. I wasn't going to do anything special. Just go home and listen to some music." She nodded casually in agreement with his offer. Her eyes closed the rest of the way, and she lazily flopped her head to the other side, facing Arial with closed eyes. "What kind of music do you like?" "Oh, it's probably nothing you've ever heard of. Weird electronic stuff." Bella's eyes opened a little. "I like electronica. Do you have any Cataclysm Standard?" Her attention fell on Arial more intently as his interestingness advanced. He looked toward her with a speculative glance. "Yeah, a little," he said, smirking. "I've got more Caesar DelBourne." He enunciated the name as if it was significant, testing her. Her face scrunched into a squint, but when she relaxed her muscles her eyes were wider. "I've never heard of them. Any good?" Arial nodded. "Him. Just one guy, and very good." He left it at that, waiting. Bella continued to peer at him as her thoughts swam. She fidgeted just a little and folded her hands together. Biting her lip a little, she finally said, "We could go to your place and you could show me your collection." Arial was smiling before she finished her offer. "Sure," he said. "Yeah, I can do that. And I'll give you a ride when we're done." They both smiled now, and Arial turned down the street that his flat was on, several miles away. His timing had seemed to be impeccable. ***** The door swung open and Arial gestured for Bella to step inside. The lights were on and the sweet bouquet of mixed floral aromas drifted on the air. The pair moved in beyond the door. Arial slowly peeled off his expensive-looking coat as Bella's eyes drifted about the open space of his entryway. After both removed their shoes and he had given her an acceptable time to form an opinion about the way he lived, he jested, "I'd offer to take your coat, but..." Bella swept her eyes back to look at him, and smiled. "Yeah, I think I left it at the bar. I'm sure Terry will take it home for me." "Terry's your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend?" Arial draped his coat over a chair, followed by his scarf. Beneath these fineries he wore a button-down charcoal grey shirt and some pleated black slacks. She nodded as he detached his wrist watch and dropped it in a small glass bowl by the door along with his keys. Rubbing his wrist he stepped toward an open doorway and glanced back over his shoulder. His piercing grey eyes looked up and down Bella's body, and he invited her to follow. "Music room's through here," he commented nonchalantly as he left the foyer. Bella followed his footsteps down a narrow hall. A long tapestry hung on one wall, covered in an intricate symmetrical design of bright colors. It looked silken, but she resisted the urge to touch it. Instead she simply stepped out of the end of the hall and into a room with a low ceiling and sparsely adorned walls. Hard wood beneath her feet had a few carpets on it, where seating had been placed. In one corner there stood a cabinet containing a stereo system, and speakers stood beside it, with smaller ones spread amidst the other furniture. Arial stood at the disc changer, placing CDs in a revolving assortment. He looked oblivious to her presence, and she wandered toward a tower that held numerous jewel cases to peruse his selection. She was pleased to see that they had remarkably similar tastes. Many of the artists she wasn't familiar with, or had only heard of in passing. A soft, dissonant melody began to trickle from the speakers. The tinny sound was like bells being rung, with a synthesized piano chord being played behind it. Bella turned and looked at Arial; he still had his back to her, adjusting knobs on the front of his receiver. She walked slowly away from his collection, toward a vinyl sofa near the center of the room. She stood by it, gazing at the seat thoughtfully. "What did you fight about?" Arial's voice was not expected. Bella's skirt swished as she turned toward the question. She frowned, and she tiredly sat down. Shaking her head as if it was answer enough, she sighed. "It's always something stupid." Her hands rested on her knees, and she found herself inspecting the floor cautiously. Arial turned very slowly until he regarded her with his full attention. "Always? You fight a lot?" He stepped toward her slowly like a hesitant swimmer testing the water. His slight form barely made a sound as he shifted his weight. She shook her head, but her words were agreeable. "I don't know. Not a lot... well, maybe. Couple times a week." She adjusted her position uncomfortably. Practically gliding down to the seat beside her, Arial turned to regard her with one arm resting on the back of the sofa. He gazed soulfully at her, waiting for her attention to drift to him. After long, painful moments, her eyes flitted to the side and her head followed, and she met Arial's stare. Softly, he spoke. "You don't sound happy." Laughing bitterly, Bella replied, "Of course not. We just had a fight. I told him I didn't want to see him again..." In the background the computer-generated music continued, now augmented by a typical thumping drumbeat, but softer than usual. One of Arial's soft hands came up to push several strands of Bella's unnaturally blonde hair from in front of her face. She cooed reflexively, and her eyes closed a little. "I didn't mean just today." He spoke as he gently placed his arm on the back of the couch again, his index finger now resting against Bella's shoulder. By the time her eyes opened she already looked distressed. It was clear this wasn't what she was hoping to talk about, but for some reason she carried on. She answered the question that Arial was hinting at without further prompting. "I guess I'm not. I just don't feel like he pays attention any more." "It doesn't sound like he appreciates you very much." The sentence was flat and cliché, but Arial felt that it would be sufficient to further her self-discoveries. A new tear formed in Bella's eye, and gently rolled down her cheek, falling on her stylishly-torn black shirt. "I just don't know what..." She couldn't even complete her sentence before she was cut off by her own body reflexively gasping for air, her eyes welling up and hot lances pouring down her face. Her head fell forward into her hands, and her knees came up. She'd regressed into a breakdown, and Arial leaned in. One arm draped over her shoulders, the other wove between her arms and rested on the outside of her abdomen, just far enough from the breast so as to not seem forward. His hips twisted to a normal sitting position, and his torso turned at a forty-five degree angle so that her weight was forced to rest just slightly on his chest. It was such a precise and practiced maneuver that he could teach a class on it. "He doesn't deserve you." His words were like a neat little bow that tied up the entire package of what he had been working toward since seeing her outside of the bar. Bella's breathing slowed, but her heart continued to flutter. She let her hands fall away from her face, and sighed. Arial rubbed his top hand back and forth up and down the bare skin of her upper arm. He rocked just a little, as one would to ease a child to sleep. Bella sniffled and calmly closed her eyes. Her body relaxed and she leaned into the strong arms holding her just a little more. Arial's first hand moved higher until he came to Bella's hair, and he gently massaged her scalp with her fingertips. He now moved his other hand up and down her side, being careful to remain at a distance from any area she may be uncomfortable with him touching. She wriggled in place against his ministrations, bringing one hand up to rest on Arial's chest. Softly, she pushed away, and sat up a little more. Lifting her weight off of Arial, she gazed into his eyes, and he returned the look with stoic silence. Her breathing was shallow now, and Arial could feel her pulse where their skin connected. He stopped moving both of his hands, and just waited. Her eyelids closed softly, and she leaned into him again, her lush lips touching his as a gentle moan escaped her. Arial supported the back of her head as he returned the kiss. He drew closer and slid his arms around her now. Her open hand caressed his chest as he stroked her bare hip, and slid his fingers around to touch the curve of her back and crushed her body against his own forcefully. Trepidation cast away, Bella swung her leg over Arial's legs and climbed on top of him, her hands bracing her weight on his shoulders, then sliding up to encircle his neck and then run through his light brown hair. Meanwhile his fingers glided up her back, tracing the shape of her bra beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. One hand remained there, while the other drifted around to her breast at the front, cupping it gently before groping energetically at the pliable flesh that lay beyond two thin layers of cotton. He pushed the back of her shirt out of the way and unclasped the restricting garment, and Bella broke off the kiss to grasp at the base of her top and peel it over her head. As she did so Arial slid his hand under the now loose bra and pinched her nipple between the knuckles of his index and middle finger while his other hand pulled the article away and tossed it to the ground. As her arms came back down she grabbed the back of Arial's head and thrust his mouth over the breast that he was neglecting, which he suckled at gladly. The long forgotten music ended its soft tempo, and no new melody replaced it. Arial had set the player for just one song, knowing that he would have Bella just where he wanted her before it was finished. Now the only harmony was that of soft moans, and lips exploring tender skin. Bella's head fell back with a groan of pleasure. She ground her hips against her would-be lovers groin in anticipation of what was inevitable, and he tensed his legs to provide enough resistance for her to sense it. Arial continued to massage one tit while lapping and nipping at the other, and used his now free hand to tug at the top of the thigh-high fishnets she wore. His attention to her garments made her realize his, and she promptly set herself to forcing the small swirled buttons of his shirt back through their eyeholes, exposing his too-smooth chest. His hands were freed as Bella yanked the extricated front of his shirt apart and dragged it backward down his arms. For a moment, Ariel sat there in hushed nostalgia. His arms held at his sides, unable to liberate themselves, his body pinned down to the sofa, incapable of motion. A tremor of pleasure shot through him at the utterly exposed situation he was in. He felt his loins throb, and cravings of his mind and body that he had not fulfilled in a long time ached for satisfaction. Struggling against his own visceral desires, Arial hefted his body forward with tremendous effort. He twisted his body, forcing the shirt that had served to momentarily immobilize him down to his wrists, where he could wrench his hands free. With a primal growl, tinged with resentment and genuine anger, he flung it across the room. Shifting his attention to Bella - who had been oblivious to what had happened in Arial's thoughts - he grabbed her arms and rolled to the side, placing her back on the cushions of the sofa, he now pinning her down with his weight. She looked slightly shocked, but not the least bit upset. More insistent now, Arial tucked his fingers into the elastic band at the top of both skirt and thong beneath and tugged them down. Bella curled her lower body up to allow this, and as he passed her lingering stockings he made certain to rid her of those as well. And there she lay, bare and susceptible beneath Arial's hungry gaze. He supported his weight on his arms and gradually lowered himself to her. A gasp escaped her lips before he even touched her skin. She arched her back, offering her naked flesh to him for inspection and enjoyment. As their bodies connected, he entwined her in a tender embrace. One of her legs lifted to snake around his back; his arm to the outer edge of the sofa curled beneath her and pulled her weight up slightly; their lips and tongues found each other and danced. Bella ground her bare and now dripping vagina against Arial, his slacks impeding her from getting what she truly desired. With casual poise and elegance he pushed back up from the sofa, still clinging to Bella as she clung to him. He made a short quarter-turn and set her back to rest, now sitting upright on the plush surface with Arial kneeling before her. He released her and set his hands to work at removing his pants, which was accomplished easily. They slid down his legs to his knees, where they were stopped by the floor. Bella hardly suppressed a giggle as she saw that Arial wore no undergarments, and for the first time they were each able to inspect each other on equal ground. Bella smiled approvingly at the hairless scrotum that he sported, his penis throbbing as it slowly grew to a full erection. She on the other hand trimmed her hair into a short, sharp wedge that pointed to her cunt like a guiding arrow. Arial would have preferred that his partner were groomed in the same way as he, but was not entirely disappointed. All of his conquests couldn't be perfect, after all. At least she was consistent; the fine muff matched her bleached hair perfectly. Taking his pulsing, hardening member in hand, Arial leaned into Bella and forced her head back with an aggressive kiss. Her groans sounded half like she was attempting to say something, perhaps resist, but he did not relent. The head of his cock touched her, and she melted into consent. Forging ahead he went, Bella's sex hot but at the same time cool, her moist flesh exposed to the open air. She was already convulsing as he slid his tip inside, first an inch and then two. Rooted within her, he let his hand go. Both palms found her breasts again and flexed around them. He found both of her nipples and placed them each between thumb and forefinger. Urging in another inch-and-a-half with swift pressure, he pinched her sensitive points. Her face contorted, she groaned against Arial's tongue as it probed her mouth, but she was unable to protest against the pain while he also made her feel such pleasure. Perhaps a little over half his total length pressing into her, Bella was unable to keep herself under control any longer. She linked her legs at the ankles behind her lover's back, entrapping him, and braced her body by clutching at the cushions behind her. She bucked her hips forward, wanting to be utterly filled with his pulsating muscle. This was more than Arial was willing to allow. If she wanted him so badly, she had to pay. As another quarter of his shaft disappeared into her pussy, becoming more swollen with desire by the moment, he drew his tongue away from hers, and bit down on her lip. For a moment he felt he had been too rough, tasting a faint hint of blood in her saliva when he continued the kiss, as if nothing had happened. She twisted away from his mouth and forced her words to be released. "Oh fuck... fuck... fuck me..." The small wound at Bella's lip - the proof of their encounter - did not seem to concern her nearly as much as the need for fulfillment. Image of Perfection Ch. 02 As he was satisfied, for the moment, with her cooperativeness, Arial rewarded her with a final thrust. He sunk to the hilt in her inviting snatch, and even twisted and rolled his hips a bit to stimulate her deep within. She was now free to grunt as he satisfied her aching itch. Her face flashed between delight and displeasure as Arial held his thickness inside of her and flexed his fingers to squeeze her hardened nipples, but she simply remained helplessly at the mercy of his whims. Leaning further forward he released her with his arms, gently pulling his hips back and steadily pushing them ahead again, fucking her with an unremitting pace. He slipped his hands behind her lowed back and slid them up to her shoulder blades, providing her body support. His mouth found her breast - the one she had guided him to before - and he lightly kissed at the giving flesh. "Uuuungh..." Her groans came freely, tantalizing Arial's senses. "You're... fuck... Jesus... incredible..." His pace quickened with her disjointed words of encouragement. He skimmed his hands down her back and up again, stopping when they reached the tops of her shoulders. Pulling back further than his previous stroke, he clenched his hands and dug his short but effective fingernails into her skin, and slammed himself forward, a crisp smack emanating at the end of the stroke. "Aauuuoo," she cooed in response at first, but as Arial pulled out for his second run he scraped his fingernails down her back, light pink marks rising almost immediately as he pulled at the top few layers of skin. "Aaugh," began her protest at the stinging sensation, but as his cock filled her again the pain became less important. "Ughaaaa." She panted, her body confused by the blending of pleasure and pain. Arial gifted her with three strokes more of simple gratification before he repeated the wicked clawing, this time on her arms. As he tore at her flesh this time she bit her own lip, her hands clutching tightly at his sides to brace herself for the sensation, and as he reached the end of his pass, bits of skin collected under his nails, Bella hissed a low, "Yessss," and he grinned despite himself. Bella became at once more participatory in the experience. She shoved softly at Arial's chest, somewhat forcing him back, and he complied. They completely disengaged for just a moment, and Bella spun on one knee, facing away from him now and bending over the end of the couch. She glanced seductively over her shoulder at him, jutting her ass out and reaching back with a hand that slipped between her moistened lips and withdrew, trailing glistening lubricant as it slid up the crack of her ass. Arial repositioned himself behind her, and she grasped his prick, returning it to her lustful pussy. As he began his routine of pressing his cock into her and pulling away, Bella took the initiative and grabbed one of his wrists, pulling it around to cup her breast. Arial found her nipple as he had before, and plied it with the same pressure. "Ung, shit," returned Bella, eyes closing and body shuddering. Arial's unoccupied hand reached around her and down, sliding against her delicate fuzz before finding its target and rubbing against her slit. He pushed down until he came in contact with his cock, still pumping into her, and then returned back on his path. Dragging his fingertip slowly along the slick skin of her inner vagina, he felt for the small bump that would push her over the edge. Her body jolted forward and she nearly threw Arial off as his finger connected with Bella's clitoris. She shook once, her knuckles whitening as she held onto the back of the sofa. Arial continued to stimulate her in any way he could; he thrust into her and ground against her, pinched and rolled her nipples with one hand, and softly flicked against her clit. Bella began to gasp for breath, struggling to keep herself upright. Feeling her tremors starting, Arial pushed his entirety into her and held it there. He stopped applying pressure to her nipple, just letting his hand rest against her breast, and he softly, lightly, rubbed back and forth once against her clit. With just a moment of hesitation following, he felt her juices start to run down his balls and the first contraction of her orgasm begin. Deftly timed, he just barely pinched at the little bud at the entrance to her tunnel. "Oww... ungh!" At first a protest, Bella lost all will to argue as her climax exploded within her sex. She clamped down on Arial's throbbing member and fell forward on the couch. Her face scrunched up as she groaned, "Gaaahd yesssss." She unconsciously pushed back into him as spasm after spasm rocked her. Shuddering and shaking, she slowly came down from the high just in time to feel Arial easing her onto her side, with him spooned in behind her on the sofa, his unrelenting dick still in her now even more sensitive pussy. Bella fought to breathe, her air coming in small gulps. Her muscles cried out for rest, and she could do little cut comply, lying numbly beside her new lover, one arm flung up around his neck, legs together causing her vessel to be even tighter. Yet still, Arial moved inside of her, a little at a time. Her pussy was on fire with sensation. "I..." Bella began, and panted out the rest, "...need a minute." "Mmm," was Arial's only response as his sensuous strokes continued. He lifted her leg, spreading her wide again, and kept it aloft by supporting it with his own. She ached for mercy, but had neither the strength nor the resolve to stop him as he began to lightly play at her tender flesh, taking care to dance all around her clitoris, his cock sliding into and out of her slickness all the while. The steady, tortuous rhythm that he kept held Bella at the perfect state of arousal. "I can't take... I'm gonna pass ou-ooaah... Fuck!" Just as her sensation would begin to subside he would amplify his intensity, and she would shudder in aftershock and curse, reminded that she had no choice in these events. Arial began to nibble at her neck, biting just hard enough to make her wince and tense up, and he would brush her clit as he forced himself deeper. Each time he was delighted with the response, as he trained her to enjoy the pain. He soon stopped touching her sensitive bud, fucking her steadily as he nipped at her neck, shoulder, and ear. She reacted each time by tightening her body, arching her back, and then sighing with pleasure a moment before he released her. His hand drifted over Bella's thigh as he did this, and worked its way between them, just above where his cock was penetrating her. He withdrew on one stroke and paused, orienting his finger. As he pushed his pulsating shaft into her this time, his middle finger also forced its way into her anus. Bella's reaction was only slightly delayed. She reflexively pulled away, and actually managed a fairly clear, "Hey, wha-" but did not finish her word as Arial covered her mouth with his own, silencing her in a kiss as he had done before. Muffled groans came as he repeated his thrusts, each time his finger matching the movement of his penis. Little by little, he sped his pace. The grunting from Bella transitioned to low moans, and he let pulled his lips from hers. Her eyes were closed now as she growled deep in her throat each time he invaded her sphincter. Her face contorted from time to time into a grimace, but would melt away in a moment's time. She began to push back into Arial's hand, and he took the hint to increase speed. "Oh fuck... oh shit..." Bella's second orgasm came more subtly yet more easily. Arial pressed his finger as far into her asshole as his angle allowed, and she groaned. He pumped twice more into her, and she convulsed again, her entire body racked with tremors. Arial simply laid beside her, enjoying the pleasant sensation of her muscles scintillating up and down his shaft, her hot fluids seeping out around him, lubricating him. He waited as Bella rode out the pleasure, writhing in the bliss of climax. Her motions slowed, and she cooed, tilting her head back toward where Arial rested, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, as if awaiting a kiss. Believing his timing to be just about right, Arial pulled his still firm dick free of her, aligned it alongside his finger, and pushed forward with his hips as he drew his hand back. At the moment that his digit was freed from her anus, the head of his shaft pressed against the puckered hole and - well moistened by two orgasms - slid inside. Bella gasped, cringed, squeezed her eyes closed, and bit her lip. Her sphincter tightened around Arial's assaulting manhood, sending a surge of pleasure to his brain, but she did not vocally protest. After just a short moment allowing her to adjust to his presence, he forced himself further into her dark hole. With each press forward he sunk deeper into her ass, and each time she cried out quietly as if afraid to demand that Arial cease. While just minutes earlier Bella may have resisted the slightest pain, she now quietly acquiesced to humiliation and defilement. Finally, when he had filled her entirely and could go no further, she breathed the words, "I can't believe you're fucking my ass." Arial closed his eyes as rapture overtook him. He pulled out and pressed into her again and again, her natural lubricant having worn away and his cock being gripped tightly by her butthole. Arial felt every sensation as she held him in perfect bliss, the pressure seeming to both be attempting to hold him inside of her and force him out all at once. She murmured to him, "Ooh, yesss... ungh, baby, fuck me." Satisfying his ambitions beyond what even he had anticipated, Bella began to push back into his thrusts. Her motions came haltingly, as if her body did not wish her to accede to his heinous demands, but she forced her ass onto his shaft time and again. "Hnuh... deeper... Fuck me harder." Her expression remained a composite of agony, ecstasy and shame, even as she claimed to crave more. Beginning to gasp for breath himself, Arial granted her every demand. He used one hand to hold her hip, impeding her ability to participate in the motion but allowing him to pump with more fervor. Bella twisted her face in consternation, tears streaming from her eyes, her body not certain if the pain or the pleasure would win out. Arial buried his face in her shoulder, dug his fingernails into her side, and clenched his buttocks. Pressing in so far that he could feel her light fuzz tickling at his balls, a jet of hot jism expelled from Arial's sore dick, immediately filling Bella's anus and flushing her with an intense heat. He remained there as he continued to inject her with his semen, his own prick acting as a plug in her ass to keep it from leaking away. Bella opened her eyes enough to see Arial behind her, squinting through her tears. "Fucking Christ," she gasped, hardly able to move, hardly able to breathe. "God, you're fucking coming in my ass... Ungh, ugh. Fuck... Fill my fucking ass." And he continued to do just that, blood pumping through his fading erection, sperm pumping into Bella's nether regions. As his tender cock weakened and shrunk, Bella's sphincter tightened toward its normal shape and size, but left her with a sore and violated sensation as a reminder of her deeds. For a moment or two they laid together on the sofa, Bella closing her eyes and breathing deep, Arial resting his weary muscles. As he felt himself slip completely free of her anus, a trickle of his spunk following behind, Arial softly pushed himself off of the cushion and walked over to the quiet stereo system. Bella gazed after him longingly, and with shaking words said, "Oh... God, that was perfect." She licked her lips and swallowed hard, her throat dry from moaning and pleading for more. Following a moment of silence, Arial responded. "Well, I was." Not certain what to make of this, Bella simply gazed for a moment. When given no further explanation, she scrunched her brow and asked, very clearly, "What?" Arial answered now with no hesitation. "I was perfect. I always am. I think I can do better than you next time, but I guess you were good enough." She needed another moment to process this string of words, but as soon as she understood that there was no hint of humor in his voice, she lifted her torso and spat back, "what the fuck? Who says that kind of shit after sex?" Her tone was rightfully harsh and indignant. Arial turned to regard her, standing nude before her, his flaccid penis still slick with confirmation of their affair. "Terry's probably wondering where you are. You should go catch a cab." He spoke with utterly unflappable indifference. Bella gawked at him for barely an instant, and was standing, groping for her articles of clothing strewn about the room. "Fuck you! You don't fucking do this to people!" She stood with her bra in hand. "You don't have anything else to fucking say?" Looking directly through her with those piercing grey eyes, he said, "Try not to drip any cum on my carpet. It stains." "Un-fucking-believable," she shouted, turning and storming away. Arial had to admire the way her ass wiggled as she moved, and delighted in seeing a trickle of his seed running down her leg as she stepped into her skirt, still walking. He listened as he heard a loud shattering crash echo through his flat, and the door open and slam closed. He walked casually to the foyer and looked down to see his watch and keys lying amidst an array of shards of marbled blue glass. He shrugged, and turned toward his bathroom, thinking of how pleasant a warm shower would be. Image of Perfection Ch. 03 Chapter Three: Have and Hold Sitting on her bed, tears running down here cheeks, Aeriel reflected on all of the terrible things that had happened since her father had moved their family to Cairo. She'd had to adjust to a new school, a new country, a new fucking language, but none of it compared to the news she had received today. Her eyes flitted to the calendar on the wall reflexively for the third time. This date would be burned into her memory forever: February 12th, 1983. Her mother came into the room again. She had been crying all morning as well. She had in fact been crying for about five weeks, always when she thought that Aeriel wasn't around to see it, but she had seen it, and now she understood the reason for the tears. There was an uneasy stare between the two. They both shared in the misery of the situation, but independently, unable to cling to one another for support. The sun brightly filtered through the thin drapery, landing cheerily on the off-white carpet, pale lavender wallpaper and pink sheets with ivory lace trim. I hate pink, thought Aeriel irrationally as she looked down seeking any excuse to break off her mother's gaze. A harsh knocking came at their front door, and her mother gasped, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. There was silence, and then they heard footsteps as Aeriel's father moved to the door, and pulled it open. Angry voices spoke in a language Aeriel didn't understand, and then shifted to Arabic. She could only pick out every few words; they were speaking quickly and quietly, and her comprehension was still growing. They were speaking about a payment of some kind, and a promise. A gruff voice that Aeriel didn't know told her father that he had been given enough time to make his arrangements. He began to say something back, and a smack echoed down the hall, followed by a thud of something falling to the floor. Footfalls quickly transcended the hall, and two men in uniforms that looked vaguely military arrived at the entrance to Aeriel's bedroom. Her mother swung a directionless fist at one of the apparent soldiers, and the other seized her and threw her to the floor. Now unimpeded, the two men approached Aeriel and lifted her from the bed, one on each arm. Her muscles weak from the stress of the day's revelation, she simply walked along with them, glancing down at her mother, crumpled on the floor and weeping. She passed by her father in the hall, slumped against a doorway and rubbing his quickly swelling eye where he had been struck. He gazed up at her with sorrowful brown-green eyes, and she swung her head away, fighting off more tears. The men dragged her from the home that she had just begun to accept, and roughly pushed her into the back seat of an old limousine. She looked out of the tinted windows, seeing the landscape of Egypt for what she was certain would be the last time. ***** Lying on her lush canopy bed, face slick with a layer of sweat, tears, saliva and semen, Aeriel struggled to take in breath after labored breath. It was the 22nd of May, and her arms and legs were bound to the tall posts at the corners of the mattress, hot red veins of wax still cooling on her stomach and leg. Her husband stood alongside her perspiring form, a candle in his hand. Gazing up at him with bloodshot eyes she gasped for breath. She didn't even know why she was being punished this time. Their relationship had always been a farce for his sexual amusement, but in the past he had based his twisted fantasies on actual events. This time she had done everything he demanded, but still she lay there on her back, at his wicked mercy. Walking slowly around the bed he leered at her like a predator stalking prey. The broad tip of the candle began to pool with liquid wax, threatening to cascade downward onto his fingers, but he contained it, held it perfectly level somehow. Aeriel waited with baited breath as she wondered where he would send his next assault. Coming to rest at the head of the mattress, he turned, and encroached upon her a little. His presence burned in her mind like the candle in the cool air. She saw him coming nearer, heard his feet scuffing along the floor, but more than that just felt him there, like some strange, naked harbinger of pain. He pressed his knees into the soft bedding, coming nearer still in much the same posture as he had to so recently pleasure himself with her mouth. His weight tilted forward more and more. Aeriel knew better than to expect him to desire oral gratification again; she had come to know him as nothing if not inventive. Fearing the consequences of further angering him however, she played along. Her mouth fell open, allowing him anything he chose. His still penis, still slick with her spittle, hung lazily above her. He bent his knees and hips little by little, drawing downward. She could spy a droplet of cum still clinging to his tip, and obediently stuck her tongue out to greet it. At the moment that the cooling fluid connected with her taste buds, the musky but somehow sweet flavor spreading through her mouth instantly, she felt another stream of melted wax cut across her. Starting at the top of her right breast, it ran down at a slant to end just to the left of her naval, but not before streaking directly across her sensitive areola. Tongue returning without thought, she gritted her teeth and grimaced. Had she been capable of clearer thought she might have tried to decide which hurt more; the intense heat slicing into one of her erogenous zones, or the dull, throbbing sensation of wax dripping down and pooling in her vulnerable belly button. Given the present state, she did not think about anything, she simply writhed and cursed her Master silently. Aeriel now hardly noticed as he stood up again and moved away. Some part of her had stopped caring what he did to her. She felt as if she might just be able to shut her body down. If she wasn't there to feel it, wasn't there to react, then he would tire of it. She would deprive him of his satisfaction, and he would simply leave her. It was an irrational thought; she couldn't do such a thing. She was reminded of this as he tipped the candle again and sent a dollop of pain to rest on her collarbone and roll up her neck. She lashed her head side to side trying to escape it, but it was no use. He kept the candle upended as he walked. Little crimson darts fell on her skin in a line from neck to knee, each one causing her to wince and grunt. She tensed her arms and legs, straining against the secure ropes that held her in place. Her nerves screamed at her muscles to give more, but there was no more to give. Finally relenting with the last pinpoint of pain stopping just above her kneecap, he walked back to the cart. He set his used candle beside the three fresher ones and took hold of the trolley with one hand, dragging it over to rest just beside the mattress. His weight sunk into the bed as he knelt down. Aeriel's body shifted in response. She could feel some of the hardened wax pull free of her skin. Her Master straddled her leg, fully off of the floor now, and turned back to pull the cart closer still. He seemed dissatisfied as he spun around to look upon the form of his slave. Roughly taking hold of her by the waist, he hoisted her to the side. The ropes pinched her wrist and ankle, and her shoulder and hip cried out as the joints were strained. He hardly seemed to notice. In the span of several graceless maneuvers he swung his leg over hers and knelt between her thighs, gazing desirously at her moist, inviting sex. His hands gripped her outer legs and he dug his knees beneath her, trying to pull her up onto his lap but thwarted by the ropes that he himself had ordered her to be constrained by. Aeriel could not keep herself from crying out as her Master fought against her restrictions. Her skin was on fire where the twined fibers cut into it, and she bit her lip to silence the yelp. With a defeated grunt he released her, turning to dismount the soft bedding. Aeriel took a gratified breath at once. Her body was still tense from the exertion of reflexive resistance, but at least now there was no continued leverage being applied. She listened as her Master cursed, standing at her feet. She understood most of his profanities by now. He began to tug at the knots holding her in place, shaking her legs in the process. It was nowhere near the pain of his previous exertions, but as his manhandling strained her ankle the wrong way, she recoiled, not getting far as the rope still bound her. His attention fell on her, and she looked down past her breasts at him. Her expression seemed to say, what can you do that you haven't already? In a surprising move for him, he simply turned to the door and marched. He rapped on the surface just briefly, and it opened at once. There was a brief scuffle of noise and words beyond the portal, and he came back. Aeriel saw that he now brandished a machete. She felt that she knew their arrangement well enough to not fear death or mutilation, but this had been a day of uncertainties. As his powerful stride brought him to the bed once more, he gripped one of Aeriel's ankles. She kicked it at him futilely, and he held strong. The blade came up and swung down in a fluid arc, and the tension on Aeriel's leg was released with the sound of metal slicing cord. Her ankle throbbed as blood was again able to circulate under the skin, and also on her other side as he repeated this process. There was just but a moment for her to enjoy her partial release before she heard a loud thump and looked back to her Master to see that he had planted the machete a quarter of the way through one of the bed's posts. Wasting no time, he held Aeriel by the knees and dragged her lower body toward the edge, this time unhindered. He crawled upon the mattress with her, pushing her legs apart as he wedged himself between her thighs. He leaned forward and scooped his arms under her back, lifting her as he righted himself. He then released her with more grace and care than he typically showed, and she rested in a rather less than comfortable position. Her shoulders were on the bed, but her back was forced upward, her ass resting on her Master's thighs in his kneeling position. Her Master grabbed his own cock with one hand, mostly flaccid but pulsing with his heartbeat and now tacky from Aeriel's drying saliva, and roughly placed his other palm on the soft, hairless flesh above her vagina. She felt her body thrill at his touch, perhaps just craving satisfaction after being forced to service him earlier. He seemed to have little regard for her needs however as he casually stroked his shaft. He slid the hand that fondled her closer to himself, and his thumb parted the wet lips of her labia. She suppressed a gasp as the digit pushed inside of her. The broad thumb worked in and out, his hand kneading her mound all the while. Despite her restrictions, Aeriel found herself swiveling her pelvis in time with his actions. Each few moments their combined movements would align just so and stimulate her clit, and her body would jump in reflex. As she was slowly building toward an eventual climax, her Master as well grew more aroused. All lingering lubrication had worn away, and he now pumped furiously, the skin of his shaft sliding with his hand. With nearly no warning, her Master simply stopped and drew his hand away, resting it on the side of her hip. She looked up at him with an expression of dissatisfaction, but he did not return her attention. He was busying himself with the task of aligning his penis to enter her, and as soon as this was done, he pushed the length of his cock into her wanting hole. Aeriel's moan from his penetration devolved into a growl. When she had first been brought here she had simply accepted her Master's rough nature. Now, thoroughly used to serve his lusts many times, she practically depended upon it. Though her fantasies often were for a much gentler touch, she knew on some level that she needed the control that he was exerting right now, so very well. She closed her eyes and let her head loll on the soft bedding. She breathed deep, her arms still straining against the ropes that bound them, and felt as her Master's weight shifted. He pulled back from their union, and Aeriel's cunt ached to be filled again, and was rewarded in the next moment as he thrust forward. His balls slapped against her ass pornographically. Arching her back in the enjoyment of the situation, Aeriel was unprepared for the sting of wax that again assaulted her. A now familiar burning sensation shot through her abs and her eyelids flew open, every muscle in her body tensing at once. Between her thighs knelt her Master, taking great care as guided a wide river of liquid wax across her stomach. It dripped upward and pooled beneath her breasts, then rolled to the sides. The soft flesh was unused to this sort of stimulus, and she felt as if her chest were being sliced open. As the heat faded away she began to breathe again, searching her Master's stoic face for some sign of his intentions. He did not meet her gaze. His focus was on the red wax as it cooled, and as he looked upon her body, Aeriel watched and felt him draw out from her slick vagina, and push in again. He did this twice, slowly and steadily. At the end of his second push, he tilted the candle again and curved it in a wide arc. A cascade of bright red showered Aeriel from hip to chest, and out onto her left bicep. She managed to keep her eyes mostly open as she weathered the stinging of the splashing droplets. Her body still tensed, just a moment before impact now that she was able to anticipate it, and she struggled instinctively for escape, writing against her restraints. She saw the face of her Master relax as she did the opposite, his eyes closing and his jaw relaxing. He silently moaned with pleasure, and Aeriel understood what was happening. When her body began to ease, his face returned to the emotionless visage it was at every other moment. Now aware of his motives, she could feel the pulsing of his member inside of her as her contraction faded and she stopped squeezing him. She was panting again as he leaned to one side, replacing the candle he held and retrieving the final two. Once he had returned to his starting position, he rocked his hips back and forth a few more times. She was exceptionally wet by now, and his cock was well coated in her lubricant. Aeriel knew that no good was to come of the tools he held, but as she simply enjoyed the pleasurable feeling within her loins, she didn't care as much. Even with the threat of impending pain, she felt somehow closer to her Master in the vulnerable state she now was confined to. His wrists began to turn over, and his elbows bent to bring the candles dangerously close to his own body. Aeriel could see a large buildup of wax within the glass, and feared for the duration it would take to cool as it assaulted her. The moments before the liquid was released stacked up inside of her mind. She was anticipating the result so greatly that she could already feel the muscles inside of her sex clamping down on her Master's pulsating rod. And as the meniscus reached the lip of the glass, she felt for a split second that she could actually enjoy what was to come. And then the wax met her skin. Two hot streams landed on her body, one on the inside of each thigh. For some reason Aeriel found that her body reacted by bringing her thighs together rather than moving away from the incoming heat. Still, there was nowhere for her legs to go, and she simply pressed them into her Master's flanks. As the concluding bits of wax fell, they pooled in the crease between her legs and the sides of his abdomen. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth at the heat. Aeriel's muscles tightened even more as she realized what she had done. His body contracted as well, and his pelvis jutted forward, forcing his cock even deeper into her snatch. For a few moments they both remained still, rapt with pleasure and pain all together. With the wax already cooling, Aeriel began to ease her body back to a resting state. Her Master opened his eyes, and looked down at her. He brought the candles toward his face, and exhaled two quick breaths, extinguishing the flames. All the while he stared into her eyes, looking enraged. He casually but forcefully tossed the spent candles aside, and Aeriel felt herself flinch. In the blink of an eye he descended on her, simply falling forward and trapping her body under his weight. Her Master forced his arms under her shoulders, crushing her chest in an awkward hug of some kind. His head was beside hers, and she could feel the heat of his breath on her neck. She didn't know what was happening. He was still pressed deeply into her, and she could feel his heart race, both where their chests were crushed together and through her aching, sensitive vagina. He wasn't moving, and Aeriel tried to remain as still as she could until given some indication of what she should do. His head lifted a little as he worked to slowly reposition himself. He reached down and looped his arms under Aeriel's legs, bringing her knees toward her chest and rolling her hips to give him better access to her cunt. She bit her lip as this new pose eased his cock a little further inside. Once he had stopped moving she attempted to relax a little, but his breath now fell on her ear. The heat of it and the closeness of his lips tantalized her senses. It felt to her as if her spirit were being tickled in a most sensual way, and her body reacted. Her pulse gained speed, and she could feel the muscles in her pussy tensing ever so slightly. Perhaps in response, perhaps oblivious, her Master tugged his hips backward, retreating from her sex, and clenched his ass to press in once again. His breathing remained mostly steady against her ear and neck as he built up to an even pace. Aeriel's body rocked as his weight would settle onto her, and as he lifted off once more she could feel his weight press down from his palms into the mattress. Though they had been intimate -- if it could be called that -- many times in the past, never before had Aeriel actually felt this close to her Master, her husband. She consciously began to press back into his thrusts, unsure of whether he would even feel it given her restricted situation. Still, to her, their bodies moved as one, bringing them both pleasure in unison. Rapt with unusual heights of emotional bliss, she couldn't help but release a small gasp of pleasure, risking the wrath of her Master if this was not his desire, but on some level hoping to test the true nature of his whims with her defiance. There was no reaction; he simply continued his steady rhythm, panting into her ear now. Aeriel closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock moving inside of her, and swelled with enjoyment. She relaxed every muscle in her body, and moaned low and long, the sound eventually becoming a word. "Oooooh... yessss." Her Master stopped suddenly, his breath moving away from Aeriel's neck and her legs released to fall back to the mattress. Though the change was immediate, her mind was slowed by ecstasy and she did not at first react. When the absence continued, she was forced to open her glassy eyes and look upward. He looked down upon her with an expression somewhat akin to revulsion. Aeriel's hopes began to wash away as she realized immediately that the closeness she felt had been apparently one-sided. There was only a moment for revelation before her punishment came. One side of her face stung as her Master's open palm collided with her cheek, and then the other side as the back of his hand and knuckles returned for a second reminder. She could feel her face flushing with heat and her eyes welling with tears already. There would be no lasting injury, there never was, but his message was always received loud and clear. Image of Perfection Ch. 03 The hand that had struck her now enclosed around her throat, tight enough to frighten her but not so clenching as to cut off her air supply. His face was next to hers again, beside her ear but not in the sensual way as before. His voice did come out breathy though, as he said angrily, "This is not for you. You are not to enjoy this." His words hurt more than his hands could. Aeriel had always known that it was vain of her to expect any more than physical satisfaction from her Master, but to have the truth laid so terribly bare before her made her stomach churn. She felt him moving again, pulling back at his same slow pace, and stalling for just a moment when he had withdrawn as much as he could. Rather than the steady return however, he jammed back into her pussy forcefully, giving her cause to grimace and grunt. His hand remained around her throat as some sort of perverse reminder that none of this was her idea, and he pulled his hips away for another go. The enthusiasm he had for their union didn't seem at all hindered by the brief pause Aeriel's moan has caused. In fact he appeared to have even more fervor, his grip on her neck tightening every few strokes, but relaxing as she gasped for air. His assaults came with such force that Aeriel could feel a stinging, tingling sensation in her inner thighs, where his pelvis slapped against her repeatedly. She was somewhat thankful that the momentum could not go on indefinitely as he began to slow to a speed closer to his previous timing. The familiar rocking came back, but this time now accented by a little pelvic jab at the end of each stroke, satisfying some primal need in her Master for dominance. Aeriel couldn't mind this, as it forced him just that much deeper, stimulating her in a new and unexpected way each time. His rasping breath came labored once more, and as his muscles grew more tired he rested more of his weight on Aeriel's body. Soon, his head was beside hers again, and she felt the return of heat with each exhalation. Whether he was unaware or unmoved by what this did to her, Aeriel was simply content to take pleasure in the sensations it brought to mind. Their bodies, both slick with sweat, dried wax long since forgotten, rubbed against one another. Aeriel did her best to remain still, but knew that her body was not heeding the commands. Her Master's tempo became steadily more chaotic as his climax approached. He began to buck and jerk at irregular intervals, tensing and flexing his muscles errantly. Aeriel noticed when his thrusts simply became a hungry grinding. He stopped pulling out of her and began to just roll his hips back and forth against her pelvis. This new tactic caused a constant pressure against her clit, and hastened the speed at which she could feel his shaft sliding against her moist inner walls. Coupled with the hot panting against her neck, now coarsely arduous, Aeriel's breath too became short and shallow. In one way or another her orgasm had been building since the moment her Master stepped into her chambers, and now being so close to it she could hardly contain herself. Her arms struggled against the ropes as she tried to embrace him, unsuccessfully. Her legs and hips forcefully pressed back into his thrusts, but were entirely pinned under his unyielding weight. She battled with her surrounding to have some influence over her oncoming climax, but there was no way. Out of frustration, arousal, and satisfaction, she began to moan again. Her Master's entire body clenched all at once. His hips slammed downward into her, his chin buried into her shoulder, and his hand tightened around her throat, silencing the screaming moan that was just beginning. As Aeriel felt her own orgasm wash through every fiber of her being, she also could feel his cock inside of her spasm, and hot semen flood into her. It was like an explosion within an explosion, each fueling the other and causing her entire body to be alight with release from the agony of desire. She gasped for breath against the hand that restricted her, struggling for consciousness as she did not wish to miss a moment of this pleasure. Her vaginal walls tensed and writhed against the unrelenting shaft inside, even as it continued to spew jet after jet of cum. She felt as if her pussy were hungrily swallowing the sperm, pulling it toward her womb. She even tried to push against him once more, as if she could somehow take an even greater volume of cock into her. Aeriel shuddered repeatedly as satisfaction ebbed over her body again and again. She squeezed her knees together as best she could, hugging her Master's flank between her thighs, and bent her elbows as she again impulsively attempted to enfold him within her arms. Meanwhile his thrusts had slowed, and on the final plunge he stopped with his dick as deep as it would go. His arms relaxed and he slumped forward, releasing Aeriel's throat as his weight fell entirely upon her. He simply lay there, gasping for breath. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. In her mind she could envision what they looked like from another perspective; she was lying on her back, arms and legs splayed out on the soft bedding, head tilted to the side without a pillow and curly brown hair fanned out above her. He was pressing down and into her, his chest crushing hers as they both huffed in great swallows of air. His knees and elbows were slightly bent, and his arms had somewhat casually slipped under hers, entwining their bodies. It was impossible for Aeriel to ignore the feelings that coursed through her as she thought of how they looked together. She took a deep breath, straining to fill her lungs as her expanding chest lifted her Master just a little. Exhaling she released a soft, blissful purr, at the same time feeling her Master's breath against her shoulder. There were several precious moments that followed just like this one, and Aeriel would have been content to remain here. She could feel his softening member inside of her being gently massaged by her pussy as was given a few moments to relax. Deep remorse filled her as it all ended, her Master abruptly lifting himself on his arms and casually stepping to the ground. She didn't open her eyes. He moved to the door and spat an order in his own language. Aeriel recognized it, having heard this in the past. He was announcing that he was finished. The door swung open, and closed as he walked through it. Now, there was only silence. Aeriel breathed a little easier. She languidly stretched her legs, which were sore from being restricted for so long, wiggling her toes. The routine from this point on was well known to her. In a moment or so a nursemaid would show up to clean her and take away the sheets. It had been humiliating at first, but she had been through so much in these past years that it hardly mattered to her now. As she reflected on her past, she closed her eyes and yawned. Allowing her limbs to become dead weight, she breathed deeply and relished in the more recent memory of her Master's quivering muscles and uneven respiration as he was atop of her. She knew that it was just her imagination, but she felt as if there had been a deeper connection somehow. With these strange, sweet thoughts, she drifted to sleep, her legs still spread wide. A small trickle of semen escaped her slit and ran down the crack of her ass, the majority of it still being held within her. No attendant came to clean or release her.