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Bliss Ch. 00

By: eric05



DISCLAIMER: You are about to read a story that is strictly fan-FICTION, in no way represents true accounts and is by no means intended to harm or disrespect the persons depicted. I do not- nor do I wish to imply- that I know Mr. Gyllenhaal, his private life or his sexual preferences. This is true as well of all other celebrities mentioned throughout the story.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I owe a tremendous debt to the creator of 'Jake's Merry Band of Men', George66, who lit a spark that set fire to my imagination. His encouragement and support of this sequel was invaluable. 

*

PROLOGUE

December, 2008...

The celebrities were busy "rubbing elbows" as they called while the other guests tried to sneak their way into the conversations of the rich and famous. It was Carrie Fisher's annual Christmas party and she'd invited a vast assortment of A, B, and even D-listers along with the occasional common folk. Among the A-lister's was bright young star Jake Gyllenhaal, dressed in a suffocating black tuxedo and trying his best to enjoy himself. All he had to do was put in a little face time, shake some hands, mingle a little and than he could be on his way. Reese was currently on her way back from visiting her parents in Tennessee and he wanted to get back to the house before she arrived.

'Fa la la la la... La la la la

Deck the halls... With boughs of holly... Fa la la la la'

The old Christmas music, that had initially been quite pleasant sounding, was now verging on downright irritating. Jake scratched his finely trimmed beard; he was well groomed for the occasion—although his dark brown hair was longer, rather shaggier, than usual due his latest role in up-coming The Prince of Persia epic. While he'd become used to wearing hats in public, tonight he'd managed to slick it back well enough so that it complemented his thick brows and blue eyes. Gripping his glass of crystal champagne Jake spotted a cluster of somewhat-familiar studio heads laughing around a small serving table. He took a deep breath and walked over.

"Gyllenhaal," one of the men exclaimed, "Merry Christmas!" They all exchanged more or less warm greetings. It wasn't Jake's favorite crowd but it beat floating around the crowded great room aimlessly. As the three older men began to resume their conversation, Jake smiled politely to mask familiar feelings of desperation. He quickly reminded himself to think like an anthropologist. I'm not one of them. I can still work in Hollywood and not be one of them.           The three men began to resume their conversation; "So Melissa and I have decided to go the Hybrid route from now on. Plus, don't we all have to set an example for the little people."

  This was Karl Bronx, studio boss of Screen Gems and very into "setting examples" for other people. Jake secretly despised the man and found it hard to look his wife in the eye.

  "Hybrids? Those space-ship looking contraptions?" inquired Jonathan Dish, the eldest of the three, and head of the 20th Century Fox back lot. "I just don't understand the fuss. Since when did our city become the spokesperson for environmental protection?"

  Only since people started to take notice of global warming, Jake thought, wishing he had the guts to say it out loud. Jonathan was one of those off-putting corporate sharks, a tall, elaborately made-up man who dressed for a different generation— yet still drove a slick jaguar— and often looked down upon the far left. No matter how many hints Jake dropped to the contrary, Dish refused to believe that, where it really counted, the majority of "his" town actually consisted of bleeding heart liberals. Every encounter Jake had with the man left him determined to set the semi-coddler straight, and every time he chickened out. Jake hated how pompously the man sounded while judging others as if didn't regularly hire hookers to piss on him while he called them Master; an industry rumor that Jake found both amusing and surprisingly plausible.

  "Well, because we're expected to spread the wealth. And you know, 'take steps to preserve the environment for future generations,'" Karl answered sarcastically. "If we don't Greenfarm will be all over our asses."

  Uh, that's be Greenpeace, Jake thought impatiently. Why was it that these so called-liberal, California environmental-conscious elites couldn't even remember the names of such critical organizations as GreenPeace, GLAAD, the ACLU... hell, even PETA.

  "Or Al Gore," chuckled Paramount producer Mark White. A big, raspy-voiced man who often alluded to drinking to much wine the night before, and thus was one of Jake's favorites at these kind of social events. Sometimes, if no one else was around— and always being mindful of the paparazzi— the two of them would sneak a cigarette outback, trading puffs like teenagers and making subversive comments about the utter shallowness of their industry. However, when in the company of men like Jonathan Dish and Karl Bronx, Mark would immediately turn back into one of them. "I just give monthly donations," he said with a shrug.

  Of course you do, Jake thought sadly. There was no easier way to avoid risking your liberal credentials then just writing out a check for some small charity and not even thinking twice about it. People who actually cared did more; like get involved, spread awareness and yes, donate or raise some money— especially considering the state of the economy.

  "What about you, Gyllenhaal?" It took Jake a moment to realize that Mark was talking to him. "Huh, sorry?"

  "Charity, fundraising...?" Mark asked while refilling his wine glass. Jake glanced down at his own drink before boldly looking up across the table at Karl and Jonathan. "Well, I was part of that toys-for-tots fundraiser, it being the holidays and all."

  "Oh yes, of course. How wonderful. My wife contributed to that too you know," Karl said happily. Meanwhile Jonathan's face remained unimpressed.

  "And, well, I've done some volunteer work for Greenpeace, GLAAD, and stuff at the hospital," Jake continued, "but it's been rather difficult lately what with commuting back and forth to Europe for shooting."

  All the men's faces looked genuinely impressed... with the exception of Jonathan, of course, whose expression had gone from skeptical to shocked to resentful all within a few seconds. "Well isn't that sweet," he responded with an undercurrent of sarcasm before looking back at the two older men, "Gentlemen, would you excuse me, I have some mingling to attend to."

Jake sighed inwardly as he watched the man go; marveling at how much the industry's reputation could improve if it weren't for men like Jonathan Dish. 

  "So, Jake..." Karl began while reaching across the table to snatch up a napkin full of shrimp, "GLAAD. Now that's for the homeless kids, right?"

'Fa la la la la... La la la la

Deck the halls... With boughs of holly... Fa la la la la'

  Having had his share of conversing with politically moderate, middle-aged studio sharks, Jake eventually managed to pry himself away and disappear into a sea of mostly half-drunk Los Angelinos. Pushing his way carefully through, exchanging a few nods, waves and "Hey-good-to-see-you-Merry-Christmases'", Jake glanced around for a less crowded place to take a breather. Yet everywhere he turned he found a cluster of people either chatting, half-dancing to the endless Christmas tunes blaring from the candy-cane decorated speakers or staring drunkenly up at the ceiling's diamond chandelier. Eventually, he spotted a pair of couches near the staircase that led up to Carrie Fisher's "strictly-off-limits" upstairs bedroom. The couches were jet-black leather and only one was currently being occupied by... Jake stepped closer; Debra DeWitt. He breathed a sigh of relief. Debra was new in tinsel-town, her jaw-dropping appearance having helped secure her a supporting role on a new ABC sitcom. She and Jake had originally met at a fundraiser hosted by Jennifer Aniston where Jake had instantly taken to her refreshingly sweet, unjaded personality.

  "Debra?" he asked, sitting down on the opposite coach. The actress, barley twenty-four with long brunette hair glanced up from the cellular device in her lap.

  "Jake!" she beamed. They exchanged a hug over the glass coffee table dividing the two couches. "Merry Christmas! I didn't know you were coming to this."

  "Yeah well, Carrie Fisher and my family go way back. Thought I'd be polite to make an appearance."

  "Gottcha," she smiled. "You look... swell." She cursed herself inwardly; 'swell'? Jesus, Debra. But than again Jake's infectious smile, his tall muscular body and puppy-dog eyes— their blue glow— could be quite distracting... not to mention make her knees go wobbly. She cleared her throat, "So, are Maggie and Peter doing well?"

  Before Jake could even reply, he heard a loud, bellowing voice from the middle of the great room; "Gyllenhaal? Oh my god, it is you!"

Jake looked up and shuddered inwardly as he watched Zak Hart push through a cluster of guests. He was holding a glass of champagne in both hands with a puffy cotton Santa hat on top his head— oddly enough, it actually seemed to complement his freshly alcohol-stained tuxedo.

  "Evening, Zackary. Merry Christmas," Jake smiled, trying to remain polite and composed.

  "Ho ho ho!" he bellowed in response before taking a large gulp from his glass and than spreading his legs wide, leaning back into the couch. Both Jake and Debra exchanged dubious looks. Zak set one of the champagne glasses down before reaching up to yank off the Santa hat, hair underneath a total mess. Tossing Jake a mischievous look, Zak put his hand up inside the hat as if it were a puppet.

  "Oh Jaaaake... this remind you of anything," he teased before proceeding to rub his Santa-hat clad fist along his crotch.

  Debra squirmed disapprovingly as Jake rolled his eyes, "Shit, you know something..." he moaned to Debra, "both Santa hats and cowboy hats will never be the same for me. Ever."

Debra giggled in response. God, he's gorgeous.

  "Now, now, I'm sure this fine young lady—" Zak gestured at her questioningly.

  "Debra. Debra DeWitt," she answered.

  "Right uh, Deb here I'm sure, would love to see you ditch that fancy-pansy tux..." Zak turned to wave the hat at Jake, "get buck naked and shake that tiny ass of yours for her—with this on your dick of course," Zak cackled. "Am I right or what?" 

Debra blushed as Jake swept a hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. Fortunately, Zak quickly lost interest in the Santa Hat and tossed it over his shoulder while taking another swing of champagne.

"Ahhh, I'm just fuckin with you, Gyllenhaal." He leaned back into the firm leather, "So dude, how the hell are you?" Jake gave him a forced smile. Zackary Hart was a twenty-three-year-old model-turned-actor whose genetic makeup consisted of a peculiar hybrid; L.A. cool mixed with rude frat-boyishness, occasionally shifting into catty fag all while sporting a physical appearance not unlike that of Zak Efron. He's good looks had helped land him a few minor roles on several episodes of HBO's hottest new series'—the fact that his uncle worked high up on the primetime television latter surely had nothing to do with it. The only reason Jake continued to pay him even the slightest bit of attention was that he wanted to keep his ears open for any possible positions for Austin Nichols; his dear old friend had been suffering through quite a rough spell since HBO had pulled the plug on John from Cincinnati. Unfortunately, all Zak ever seemed to discuss was the misfortune of other celebrities or his up-coming guest appearance on the new season of NIP/TUCK.

"Well," Jake replied, "things have been a little crazy. London is great though. Hey, did you get a chance to watch those last couple episodes of John from Cincinnati I sent?"

"Oh... yea, the one with Austin what's-his-name. Uh I though they were really, really... you know," Zak said, snatching yet another champagne glass from a tray-holding waiter, "...okay, but Jake, my god they was dumb and," then bristling, he complained, "they made Grey's Anatomy look like the fuckin Sopranos."

  "Nah. That's a little harsh... the script did have some real subversive humor in it. Overall, I thought it was actually a clever take on dysfunctional families and coming-of-age," Jake explained, shifting slightly to put more space between Zak and himself on the sofa. "Anyway, I liked it and as for Austin... come on, he did fine— especially when you consider how clichéd that role has become."

  Debra was mulling this over thoughtfully as Zak, sprawled out lazily while taking up nearly a third of the couch, yawned dismissively.

  "Fine, Jake?" he called out while eyeing his champagne funnel. "The dude couldn't act his way out of a paper bag."

  Jake leaned forward to grab his own champagne glass, exchanging a shrug with Debra from across the table. "Shit, Zak. What do you have against Austin Nichols?"

  "Guess," he moaned and dollowed it with a "loser" so loud that both Jake and Debra flinched.

  "So um, Jake..." Debra intervened, trying to change the subject as she could tell Austin was a friend of Jakes, and the latter was obviously not taking to hearing his friend bad-mouthed, "what have you been up to beside filming in London?"

  Jake opened his mouth to reply but before he could Zak hissed and said blithely, "Busy fucking Reese Witherspoon, god, don't you watch the news." Zak than cackled and elbowed Jake, causing the young star to nearly spill his drink, "Wedding bells are ringing. Ain't that right, "Gyllenspoon"?"

  "Uh, well," Jake cleared his throat while dabbing at a wet spot on his suit jacket, "...you shouldn't always believe everything you read, my friend."

  Zak looked at him skeptically—like Jake's was lying through his teeth—but choose not to pursue the matter and instead said, "Fuck. I should call Monica."

He turns back to sink deeper into the couch, now facing Debra. "This chick I'm dating. Smokin hot but still kinda of bitchy, and—" and in the same sentence, without changing tone— "you look really familiar."

He pointed his index finger at Debra, as if genuinely noticing her for the first time, "Did you go to USC?" I think I met you at Blue Lounge, didn't I? With Richey?"

  Debra shook her head while Jake glanced down at his watch. 12:36. Shit.  

"Well, maybe not with Richey, but definitely at Blue Lounge." Debra just stared as if he was from Mars while Zak continued drolly, undulating his head around before pausing to stare intently ahead. "You know, Blue Lounge. Anyway, Blue Lounge sucks balls now. It's terrible. Went to a Golden Globes after-party there, you know for HBO. Oh, my God, please."

"I've, uh, actually been avoiding flashy parties lately," Debra said suddenly. "This is the first one I've been to in mouths. I guess it's just... I feel so violated after... all the cameras and paparazzi everywhere. I, uh, googled myself awhile back—big mistake, I know," she quickly added off both actor's expressions, "and I came across the most... obscene pictures of my head photo-shopped onto the body of this... S&M porn queen or something. Uhh," she finished with a shutter. "It was so gross."

  Jake nodded sympathetically. Zak just stared, "Did she have a hot body?"

  Debra shot him a glare but otherwise ignored the comment, "You know what was even worse?"

Jake raised his eyebrows, encouragingly. "The comments people wrote below the picture," she whispered. "Just... completely disgusting. I felt like—"

"Oh please," Zak moaned. "You spend years trying to get a break in this town so that the public will actually give a shit about you. Then," he sat up chuckling, "then you flip out when someone sees you as a sex symbol. Honey, you need a thick skin in this industry."

  "Excuse me?" Debra spoke irritably.

  Zak sighed heavily and set his glass down on the tabletop. "Look. You, uh, well you belong to the public now, sweet heart. Pretty much anything goes..." he explained, holding his hand out like a queen offering gossipy information. "People are gonna take nasty picture of you, make nasty pictures of you, write nasty shit about you and... pretty soon, well, your gonna start to actually wish for more."

She glared at him, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means any press is good press. If someone makes up a rumor that your, like, anorexic or something, it shows you've actually kinda made it."

"Thanks, but I'm not anorexic," Debra responded flatly, getting a lit chuckle out of Jake.

"Hey you guys, I'm being serious here. Fuck, you think I enjoy all those gay rumors and slash floating around the web about me and Michael C. Hall?"

Jake and Debra exchanged brief but significant looks that went unnoticed by their oblivious friend. "But at least it means I'm like, you know, on the public radar."

"Yea well, when people hear my name, I want them to think of a respected thespian," Debra declared.

Zak let out a shrill cackle, tossing his head back dramatically, "Oh baby, you've been in this town, what, a whole mouth and already you expect people to look at you like Meryl Streep?" Zak shook his finger. "Ah, awe. With a body like yours honey, it's gonna be Debra the leszy before Debra the thesy. Ha!"

"You're a prick," she spat.

"Hey, come on Debra, he's just messing with you."

  Zak turned to round on Jake. "Oh, please Gyllenhaal. Don't think that I didn't see those paparazzi shots of you free-balling it around New York."

  Debra watched Jake blush before turning his face away, suddenly fascinated with his champagne flute.

"Oh, you two kill me. First rule of stardom people; when you become a Hollywood celebrity, you sell your soul to the public... and they can do whatever the hell they want with yea," Zak continued to lecture, "but don't fret Debbie, the paydays make all the pain go away."

"It's Debra" she glared at him.

"You know... there actually might be some truth to this," Jake admitted after slowly taking this all it, "For the amount of money we make can't we live with a little public scrutiny. Those paparazzi pictures do help keep our names in print—but kids... kids should fuckin always be off limits from the paps. Always," Jake stated thinking of his new nephew... not to mention Reese's own two children.

"And cars..." Jake continued, "they should make some kinda new law; 'no paparazzi shots of celebs inside moving vehicles can be published.' It's just too fuckin dangerous for the driver, you know."

  "Uh, good luck getting that one passed, Gyllenhaal," Zak said with unmasked sarcasm. 

Jake was getting ready to announce his leave when Debra rekindled the conversation; "So, um, how, how do you two know each other?"

"Oh, god," Zak began, moaning as if he falsely remembered something utterly embarrassing, "we met at um, oh god, at the premiere for James what's-his-face's comedy in 2002, wait no maybe, 2004? Huh." He turned to give Jake a playful punch in shoulder. "You were still chasing after Kiki remember."

  "Come on man, don't bring Kirsten..."

  "Listen, that bitch broke this guy's heart you know," Zak, continued, ignoring Jake to fully face Debra. "She thought she was all, like, "above it". Then," he pounded the couch with his left hand grinning, "awe then, Jake goes and stars in two hit movies. Wins a fucking Oscar nomination. And... ends up dating the new queen of Hollywood. Oww, that's gotta hurt," Zak laughed. "You ever met Kristen," he added looking at Debra. 
  "Uh, no. Not yet," she cast a sympathetic look over at a sullen Jake, "but I hear she's not that bad."

  "Uh-huh."

  "I mean... the rehab thing was just sad, really—"

  "Bitch is washed-up! Guess Spidy 4 is out," Zak pulled an I-phone out of his pocket, suddenly bored.


Bliss Ch. 00



"I really gotta call Monica now," Zak announced. He leaned back into the couch, phone ringing and cocked his head at Debra.

  "Where do you summer?" he asked Debra. "Malibu?"

  Debra shook her head slightly. "No."

  "Oh, god, it's her machine. She's pissed at me," he wailed, listening into the phone.

  Jake shook his head, "Zak, it's almost 1:00 in the morning."

  "She's a goddamn socialite," he replied, exasperated. "These are her peak hours. This chick is—Hey! Monica it's me. Sorry I didn't call you back. Bunch of shit came up. Listen I'm at this Christmas party thing at—" he turned his head to glance at Jake, eyebrows raised.

  "Carrie Fisher's," Jake whispered with a frown.

  "Who— anyway, I'm at Carrie's Fincher's and I'll try to give you a buzz later," he finished before snapping the phone shut. Jake glanced down at his watch again; it was defiantly time to leave.

  "Dude, do you have any pot? Or some coke. God, I could use some coke," Zak said, scratching his noise.

  "Uh, no, sorry. Look I think I'm about ready to head out guys," Jake said starting to stand up and stretch. 

"Oh, really? Well, let me walk you out," Debra offered standing up beside Jake. They both looked down at Zak and bid him a quick goodnight.

  "Ahhh, come on. Nights just starting. Awe, you guys..." But Jake and Debra were already half way across the room, Christmas music still echoing throughout the house. 

'We three kings of Orient are... Bearing gifts we traverse afar.

Field and fountain, moor and mountain,... Following yonder star.

Jake found himself pause to listen; this was one of the few Christmas songs he actually enjoyed hearing more than once.

O star of wonder, star of night... Star with royal beauty bright, Westward leading, still proceeding... Guide us to thy perfect Light.'

Suddenly, he felt Debra lean up against his shoulder. "How do you manage to put up with people like that?" she whispered. Jake chuckled and resumed heading toward the front door.

"Well, you forget I do earn my living by impersonating others," he replied with smile.

'O star of wonder, star of night.. Star with royal beauty bright, Westward leading, still proceeding... Guide us to thy perfect Light.'

* * *

  Dress shoes in hand, Jake creaked open the door to Reese's bedroom. She was still awake, nightstand lamp shinning while reading a magazine under the covers.

  "You awake..." he whispered, stepping into the bedroom.

  "Hey!" she cried, tossing both her magazine and the covers aside. Clad only in rose-colored underwear and a tan shirt, she hurried over to hug him.

  "How was Tennessee?"

  "Oh god, it was boring," she said whispering the last. "Parents are doing great though. Loved seeing the kids." She hugged him closer. "I'm just glad to be back here," she sighed, holding his body close and inhaling his cologne.

Jake kissed the side of her soft cheek as she slowly withdrew, stepping back to glance him over. God, he's stunning, she thought. "So, how was the Christmas party?"

  "Uh, it was okay. Not really my crowd," he answered with a half-smile, already undoing his cuff links.

  "Mmmmm... I wish I'd been there to protect you."

  "Yeah, well. It was Zak Hart I needed protecting from," he laughed heading toward the bedroom closet.

  "Zak Hart! How the hell did he get invited? I've heard..." Reese turned to see Jake starting to undress under the closet's doorframe. A warm shutter coursed though her; she hadn't been planning on bringing up the intense discussion they'd started right before she'd left for Tennessee... but now, seeing Jake all groomed up in a tux was proving to be far too tempting. May as well test the waters, she thought.

  "...Anyway, I'm glad the next few days will be just us and the kids." She padded over to take a seat at the end of the bed. "Umm, Jake..."

  "Yeah?" he said distractedly, trying to remove his jacket.

  "I um... I've, been giving a lot of thought to what we discussed before. About... you know."

  Jake paused for a moment, face going blank, before resuming to undress. He turned his back to her while considering playing dumb. What's the point?

  "Shit, look, Reese... I think that's great. I really do... I've um, been considering it a lot too. But..." he glanced over his shoulder. "we really have to talk about it tonight?"

  Reese sighed heavily, looking down at her hands. 

"Sorry. It's just... I never thought our sex life would be waning like this."

Jake looked down in shame. He'd never heard that from anyone before. "Well, Reese, you know I'd be glad to..."

Reese put up a hand to stop him mid-sentence. "To be frank," she said cutting him off, "...my vagina is a bit worn out from that tongue of yours."

Jake gapped at her. She couldn't help but laugh.

"No, babe, I'm just kidding but... nice as it is, part of great sex is knowing your partner is getting it as good as you are. It's about mutual pleasure...you know."

Slowly, Jake turned to met her eyes while feeling a stab of irritation for thinking he could act his way through complete sexual satisfaction when the person he was with had both a NYFCC award and Oscar for the very art of pretend. Breaking her gaze, Jake turned back toward the closet, reaching up to unbutton his white dress shirt. Reese stared at his back, admiring the solid frame, broad shoulders, looking down to his long legs and beautifully compact butt. In latter instantly put her in mid of something she'd been agonizing over for weeks— mainly because she couldn't quite accept the reality of it.  

Ever since finding a thick, 10-inch black dildo in Jake's overnight bag—she'd been digging in it to turn off his phone alarm while he'd been showering—Reese had come to understand the object was giving her boyfriend far more pleasure than she was. While briefly considering the idea of proposing a strap-on, she realized it would be far to discomforting for herself. It also seemed like it would confirm something she'd yet to really broach with Jake... that he may be more than just "sexually ambiguous" which is what he'd hinted to her in the past. But she'd always tuck that away far back in her mind for its full acknowledgment would mean yet another doomed, high profile relationship.

And the possession of a dildo didn't actually confirm anything. After all, her ex-husband Ryan Philippe had asked her on more than one occasion to stick her very own vibrator up his ass. But that was always when you were together, when he could touch your naked breasts at the same time.

She hushed the intrusive inner-voice. Surely it was just anal stimulation that excited her new super-star boyfriend, not actual cock. Recently, Reese had discovered what seemed like an answer to her prayers while watching a re-run of Sex and the City; it'd been the episode were Miranda was rimmed by a gym buddy and later asked her girlfriends if she should reciprocate. Reese had been surprised when Samantha said no... but even more shocked to hear Charlotte admit she'd been rimming her new husband for months!

The sound of Jake undoing his belt suddenly brought her back to the present. He was now leaning against the closet, keeping his eyes averted and obviously hoping Reese wouldn't push the matter of their troubled sex life any further.

Go on. Do it. You don't really want to be second to a dildo. Reese closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"You know what Jake... why don't we try something different," she finally proclaimed, bravado and nervousness stirring like a heard of butterflies in her stomach. Jake turned, his suit pants half-unzipped, brows raised.

"Turn... turn around and... drop trou!" she managed to let out, her tone intending to sound stern but succumbing to a mock-authoritative one. Jack arched his eyebrow further but grinned in spite of himself. He soon yielded to a giddy bout of laughter; it never failed to crack him up whenever Reese did or said something that contradicted the virtuous, country gal-image she so frequently projected to the media. Deciding to play along, Jake turned his back to Reese and stuck his fabric-clad butt out, giving it a few seductive shakes.

"Hey! What'd I say boy," she was grinning now too. "Lose the pants. I want to see... those fine Gyllen-buns." Did I just say that?

Jake paused. "Gyllen what?" he asked chucking with a headshake. The name could have been a turn-on but hearing it come from her—in that semi-Tennessee-girly twang was more annoyingly endearing than sexually arousing. Still, Jake found himself lowering his zipper to let the pants slide down his long, muscular legs and pile at his sock-clad feet.

He then yanked down his gray Calvin Kline briefs and let them join the pool of clothing around his feet. Now standing straight and gloriously nude, hands placed on hips, Jake stared ahead into the closet— a bemused smile on his lips.

Silence. Jake glanced slightly over his left shoulder and his playful expression instantly melted when he saw the somber look on Reese's face; her eyes were utterly transfixed to his rear.

Reese's throat had gone dry; as it always did whenever she saw Jake's naked butt fully exposed— whether it was during stolen glances as he changed cloths or a full-on, uninterrupted stare when he walked naked from the bed to the shower—the white, creamy complexion of his diminutive yet muscular buttocks never failing to arouse her. 

Now she was about to get up close and personal with those buns like never before.

Scooting off the bed, Reese waked over to the closet, running a hand through her long blonde hair before slowly dropping to her knees behind Jake's naked form. Taking a deep breath she reached up to grip the taut muscles of Jake's buttcheeks, then slowly began messaging them. Jake jumped slightly, a shiver coursing through his body, but didn't pull away. Reese closed her eyes; you don't want this. You can't want this. You're not the kind of girl who puts her tongue on a man's anus. Reese continued kneading the soft flesh. But I can't lose him, either.

She'd never rimmed anyone before, but if that prude bitch on Sex and the City could do it, how hard could it be. Plus... Reese had stuck a finger up most her boyfriends asses' over the years— and while few would ever admit it, she knew they loved it. In fact, her ex-Ryan had liked the finger play so much that at one point he'd actually begged her to rim him. But Reese had refused. It was just that the notion of doing it to Jake Gyllenhaal was... different somehow and... oddly appealing. The feel of writhing asscheeks teased her exploring fingers. She ran a finger from the base of Jake's spine, down through the crack of his ass, then down to his balls. 

"What... what are you doing?" Jake moaned.

Reese kept all her attention on the sexy expanse of pale, muscular flesh, feeling the tension slowly leave Jake's body as she squeezed the pert buttcheeks under her hands. They tensed, hard as marble, then they relaxed, soft and pliant.

Again, Reese couldn't help but think of her ex-husband and compare the two movie stars' buttocks. Ryan's had much more of a large, pale bubble-butt while Jake's was far smaller in size, taut and compact. And—unlike Ryan's—featured tendrils of dark brown hair around the small crack.

Curiosity getting the best of her, she dug her nails into the smooth flesh and started to spread the cheeks apart. She was greeted first by a line of dark hair along the crack, then a small, pink hole in the center. It winked at her.

"Ohhh" she gasped in surprise, releasing the firm cheeks and falling back slightly. However, when Jake started to turn, she grabbed his hips to hold him in place.

"Reese, what the hell—ahhh!" She had him spread wide, exposing the hole again. Jake looked down over his shoulder, cheeks blushing red. Reese barley noticed; her attention focused solely on what lay between those beautiful cheeks. The inner-crack was definitely hairier than she'd anticipated. By no means a rainforest but still nice and furry— the opposite of Ryan's near clean-shaven pucker. She also sensed a rugged manliness to Jake's anus despite its rather clean fragrance.

  Reese watched the hole carefully, studying the hairs circling the puckered surface. Strangely enough, the image called to mind that of her childhood pet hedgehog... particularly when the tiny animal had yawned; it's pink mouth surrounded by skin oddly evocative of her boyfriend's anus.

She leaned in close and lightly blew on the pink pucker. It quivered, causing Jake to moan and shift his body. But he wasn't resisting.

Reese continued to puff small breaths against its surface, examining its shape and tiny ridges with fascination. She couldn't help it; her country gal eye's had never been privy to the sight of a grown man's anus this close-up before.

  Deciding to take the plunge, Reese leaned forward to allow her tongue one quick flick along surface. Jake let out a gurgled squeal, which Reese found incredibly satisfying. The scent of him hit her outstretched tongue as she slowly began bathing the crack with wet attention, the taste pungent and exhilarating, the warmth from his inner cheeks overwhelming.

Jake shuttered, a soft moan escaping his lips. "No... Reese, wait—" His voice had gone up a few octaves now that Reese her tongue on his pink little pucker. 

She shushed him, "Relax... it's okay Jake. Enjoy it."

Pausing to look down through his legs, she could tell he had a raging hard-on... even seeing past the low hanging balls to watch the pre-com drip onto the closet floor. She smiled, not needing to see Jake's face to know his dreamy blue eyes were glazed over and half-shut, his mouth hanging slightly open.

She stared forward again and then proceeded to trace Jake's masculine glutes with her tongue before running a full line up through his crack.   

Jake writhed in front of her, bringing his arms up and out to rest his palms flat against the wall. One moment he could barely take a deep inhalation, and the next, he was panting. Soon Reese's tongue was lapping at his twitching pucker. Despite himself, Jakes hips began an involuntary, natural trust. He couldn't help but further arch his back out when Reese whispered for him to spread his knees even further, widening her view of his asshole.

"That's it, honey," she encouraged. "Feel it."

Jake was beginning to think he actually might be able to fully enjoy this.

"—flip him over, I want to eat his ass—"      

Jake froze. No, it couldn't be.

"—yeah this shit is tasting seriously good tonight—"

"—stick our your tongue, boy—"

"—my God, Heath come and look at this—"

Jake whimpered, the sudden echoing onslaught of memories overwhelming his mind.

"—go Jakey, go—".

Reese was completely lost in manhole when she heard Jake grunt out a near-desperate plea; "Stop, stop. Stop!" he cried aloud, thoughts changing from erotic to frustrated. She retreated back a few inches, barely glancing up at Jake's bent form, far to distracted by the glistening, saliva-drenched pucker.

"That's enough... Reese," he panted.            "No," she said, her eyes never leaving his hole.

"Reese..."

"It tastes too good," Reese muttered half to him and half to herself. "I need more."

"Oh, shit," Jake screamed as Reese resume her tonguing. Blissful whimpers escaped his mouth as he reached down and grabbed her head, pressing it hard against his flesh. But the feel of soft, long blonde hair against his fingers instantly killed the erotic spell. He started straightening up, gasping, "Stop it," while trying to wiggle free.

Despite his fervent wish to remain in the moment, to block out all extraneous information and memories, Jake found himself thinking of his beloved boys; Austin, Peter, Matthew and, most of all, Heath. He felt an aching need to be surrounded by their presence... not by Reese. His mind raced as a million images came flooding into his head all at once—images of lust, of cock, of man-tongue, of total worship. It was what he truly desired. Not this. What if they'd all moved on... what if he was to be left with only pussy and girl-tongue for the rest of time... Panic crept over Jake like a thick blanket, ruthless and suffocating.

"Seriously Reese, that's enough," he exclaimed and turned around sharply. Reese fell back on her haunches as Jake retreated toward the bed, his fading erection bobbing as he went. 

"Jake?" She got up from her knees, watching as he perched on the edge of her bed, naked except for his white dress shirt and black socks. He brushed a hand through his thick brown hair as if trying to regain his senses. Reese carefully approached him.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered sitting down beside him. She leaned over to kiss his warm shoulder. "I thought you'd really enjoy it."

  Jake sighed deeply, feeling immense regret for just pushing her away like that.

  "I... did. Loved it in fact." Jake was staring ahead now, not wanting to meet her eyes just yet.

  "So... then why'd you stop me?"

  "Because... it's to much."

"Bet no one's done that for you," she nudged, trying to lighten the moment. 

Jake shut his eyes. Five, he wanted so say thinking about all the beautiful tongues that had plowed his hole over the years; Dennis Quaid—the man who'd awakened Jake's sexuality—in a trailer no less, on the set of The Day After Tomorrow... Austin Nichols, who tongued just fine, but had no real sense of rhythm and style... Peter Sarsgaard and Matthew McConaughey—both grade-A ass eaters who simply loved jamming their tongues deep inside their beloved Jake. And then, Jake sighed inwardly... then there was Heath Ledger. Oh Heath... whose tonguing skills were that of a lover; gentle but firm and knowing. Reese Witherspoon had been impressive for a beginner but Jake didn't know how to express to her that it was man-tongue he truly yearned for. 

"Kirsten never rimmed you, did she?" Reese suddenly asked with an eyebrow raised, shaking Jake out of his erotic reverie.

"Uh, no. No!" he anwsered.

She smiled. "Good. Than it was something new and special just between us." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Fuck, thought Jake. She really sounds like she's falling in love with me. While Jake had tried to recapture the Godlike, sexual intensity he'd had about himself in the past, when Reese came into the picture—roughly two years ago—it seemed to have just vanished... or was maybe just sedated. However, his beloved dildo and now this surprise rimming from his girlfriend had stirred Jake's dormant sex god. 

  He glanced over at Reese and smiled. "Let me just take care of you now, okay." Reese giggled as Jake grabbed her and rolled them onto the bed, quickly pulling off her shirt and then his own. "I want to return the favor," he breathed.

And he did; focusing hard on Reese's clitoris—he preferred not to think too much about this part of her anatomy and only touched it to please her—and she came in no time at all. Once it was all over, it didn't take long for Reese to fall asleep, tucked safely in her boyfriend's warm, muscular arms.  

* * *

Jake glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 3:46 am. Shit. As soon as he could tell Reese was fast asleep he'd slid out from beneath her grasp—as he did every night spent in bed with her—and rolled Reese fully onto the other side of the bed. He took a moment to tuck the covers carefully around her small body before sliding back over and doing the same to himself. Lying full on his back now, he stared up at the ceiling.

Their increasingly domestic circumstances had become so stifling and relentless that Jake was starting to worry he'd soon start to resent the very presence of Reese and her children—for imprisoning him in a gilded cage and forcing him onto the hamster wheel of Hollywood couple-dom. While meanwhile, Jake was sure his boys were out smoking pot and shagging like crazed weasels. While Jake's own sexual appetite was once insatiable, he, Jacob Benjamin Gyllenhaal, considered himself a gentleman and felt it rather inappropriate to expose a relatively chaste girl like Reese Witherspoon to his wanton nature deliberately.




Bliss Ch. 00



Sitting there at the threshold of a new life, one that didn't include his worshipful male-lovers, Jake exhaled deeply as a stab of pain coursed deep within his body; a pain in both his cock and heart. Fuck it.

He threw back the covers and grabbed his cell phone from atop the dresser. He'd overheard that Heath was visiting friends in Europe for the holiday. But he knew one boy who never left LA. Jake scrolled down to the name AUSTIN NICHOLS and clicked Text Message. Then proceeded to type 'I miss you. Bike ride tomorrow? 6:30, our usual place?'

Jake hesitated, not sure if re-opening this door was a smart move what with Reese now in the picture. He'd come so far. But than... what harm could come from taking a quick bike ride with an old buddy? Before he lost his courage Jake hit send and carefully set the phone back onto the dresser. Leaning back into the bed, he pulled the sheets back up around his bare chest. He stared at the phone, wondering whether Austin would welcome him back with open arms... or with bitter fists. Either way the mere idea of waking up to a morning spent with one of his boys felt even better than Christmas Eve. Jake smiled to himself, glancing past the dresser toward the bedroom window that looked out into the night. The stars were gleaming bright despite the approaching dawn.

We three kings of Orient are... Bearing gifts we traverse afar.Field and fountain, moor and mountain... Following yonder star. 

The last conscious thought Jake had before falling into sleep was of being at the Christmas party, "We Three Kings" resounding in his ears.

O star of wonder, star of night... Star with royal beauty bright,Westward leading, still proceeding... Guide us to thy perfect Light. 



Bliss Ch. 01



"I'm coming for you mother," Bliss whispered to herself. The scrying pool was formed of near-boiling quicksilver, ringed in flames. Bliss could have bathed in such, had she any desire. Her body was inviolate to fire. Her unnatural, wretched body. 

"Did you say something, dear?" asked a voice of silk, managing to convey concern, sleepiness, and lust in equal parts. Bliss glanced over at Penitent, where she lay on her couch.

"Not you," Bliss snapped, and pointed at the scrying pool, "Her!"

Penitent dutifully looked. The familiar ache came to her groin, the same one that always appeared when she looked on old lovers. Ailztirea. Penitent sighed.

"Do you need you pussy licked again?" She couldn't keep the hope out of her voice. Bliss was getting to a very difficult age for half-demons. Or something. In any event, Penitentia hadn't had a chance to employ her skilled tongue in far too long.

"No!" Bliss shrieked, "I want to get back at the woman responsible for THIS!" As she said it, Bliss gestured at her body with both hands, spreading her wings for emphasis.

Once again, Penitent looked where directed. She drank in the sight. Bliss was tall, a few inches over six feet, nearly seven from the top of her horns, a full head taller than Penitent. Her hair shone like white silk. Glowing eyes, almond-shaped, with perfect snow-white brows. Skin like polished ebony, shining like oil, seemingly darker than the darkest night, but somehow her beautiful nipples were two spots of darker color yet. Long-limbed, curvaceous and muscular at the same time, every part of her speaking of dark beauty and vitality.

The bat-like wings, fangs, horns, spade-tipped devil's tail, and hooves could not detract from her appeal- except in her own eyes. Infernal lust had Penitent hypnotized, and she began to cross the distance to Bliss, intent on falling to her knees in front of the object of her desire.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders, holding her at arms' reach. Penitent whined, an animal sound. It wasn't fair! The stare she angled up at Bliss' face would have melted any mortal's heart. The musk that wafted from her body would have left a man drooling. Not a half-demon, however. Bliss wasn't easy. Even more than her delicious physical charms, the fact that she couldn't be seduced by a glance, a gesture, and spread legs made her all the more desirable. If a mortal somehow managed to resist the charms of a succubus, as Bliss had just done, they still might find that the sex-demon could hold them down and haver way regardless. Not so with Bliss. She was strong, strong beyond belief, and here in this little pocket of Hell, her home plane, Penitent couldn't turn to smoke to escape her grip. 

"Be nice to me, dear. I'm not used to not getting my way. You know what the sight of your body does to me." As she spoke in soothing, dulcet tones, her tail snaked its way up Bliss' thigh and tickled her at the core of her sex.

"My body is an abomination!" Bliss vented, though her conviction -and her grip- slipped and allowed Penitent to entwine herself around her.

"The only thing wrong with your body is too much tension right HERE!" Penitent pinched Bliss' clit between thumb and forefinger as she finished her assertion. Bliss went rigid, only her trembling thighs moving at all. Penitent's other hand grasped Bliss at the base of her neck, hard, further paralyzing her. At least she could play rough with the half-demon girl. As she rolled the swollen button of flesh between her fingers, Penitent could feel the anger and frustration begin to drain from Bliss' body.

"Truly, you were named in irony, you bitchy girl," Penitent stated evenly, moving her lips to Bliss' ear, nibbling and sucking between sentences. "That stupid cunt you're watching in the mirror-pool had next-to-nothing to do with your birth, and nothing at all with your life."

Bliss whimpered, her anger being slowly dismantled by the expert massage of Penitent's fingers on her womanhood.

"Who birthed you? Who suckled you at her milkless tits? Who has kept you safe these last two decades?"

"You did," groaned Bliss.

"That's right, I did. Not the elven baggage in the mirror. I didn't save you just because I enjoy the sweet pleasures of incest so much, either," Penitent's voice rose in a crescendo through her rant, then dropped to a lusty whisper, then continued, "Although I do enjoy it."

The succubus' fingers had strummed Bliss' clit in a wicked accompaniment to her words, a melody at least intricate as any opera.

"Twenty years I've spent hiding you, and that is nothing next to the time I would be punished for keeping a delicious morsel like you from my masters."

Her fingers continued to move like a lute player's, picking out an angry tune on her daughter's flesh. A certain sign language was going on below, a separate conversation. Penitent was more adept at reading Bliss' moods from the feel of her throbbing clit than by the look on her face.

"You, on the other hand, might suffer no longer than a century before they used you up."

Promises of death and torture above, sweet caresses below, and Bliss was finally starting starting to live up to her name. Her body had been tensing like a drawn bow, the succubus turning her anger and frustration into lust, a different sort of tension, and one she knew how to relieve. Not that she would. Not right away. Bliss was offending her with these all-too-frequent moods, and her developing powers were making her arrogant.

"You are in Hell, you dumb slut. Do you really think that being stronger than ME is enough to keep you safe? Ten heartbeats later, and it didn't matter anymore. A demon prince would crush your will and mind with nought but a glance, and believe me, word of your unique charms would reach them within hours of my concealing magic failing. Even another succubus, any of them other than me, would be drinking your blood right now. At least you would die in the ecstasy of orgasm."

Bliss was crying, her tears steaming slightly on her cheeks. Penitent licked them from her face, holding her on the edge of release as her thighs flexed to bring her hungry hips to bear on the source of her pleasure.

"Yes, they'd drink your pretty blood just like that. Your sweet half-mortal blood. A rare treat."

Penitent's anger was now fully aroused, and she meant to teach Bliss a lesson. Fully immersed in lust, Bliss was helpless to object when she felt a familiar intrusion.



Bliss Ch. 01



Bliss. Seems an odd way for me to feel, doesn't it? Considering I'm nude and hanging over the back of a plush chair, my knees on the arms, while the man I love alternates between caressing and spanking my ass. I'll even admit it's an odd way to feel, and I understand you might be dismissing me as a kook (or a kink). A year or so ago, I might have thought the same way. Actually, if I am to be honest, I would have thought the same way. I was an attractive, middle-aged woman (still am, as a matter of fact). Long legs, slightly larger than average breasts (100% natural, thank you very much), 45 but looked late 30's at most, a well proportioned size 10. And more on the pretty side than plain. I had my fair share of both suitors and lovers, and a fully active social life. But love – and life – is funny. Maybe what seems like a choice in love is really fate? And maybe – just maybe – if you heard the whole tale you would be more generous in your assessment. 

It all began last April – I can remember the day clearly. It wasn't raining out, not really. It was schmutzing. You know, that kind of heavy misting, particular to Seattle in the spring, that just hangs in the air until it finds something to stick to? It had been schmutzing out all morning, the view of Elliott Bay and the ferries I usually enjoyed from my desk distorted by the water collecting on the windows. I turned back to my computer screen and re-read the email from Ian, my boss. The promotion I wanted, the one I worked so hard for, the one I was so certain I deserved, was offered to (and accepted by) one of the executives from the London office. To add insult to injury, the transplant would be in the office today. I deleted Ian's message and went back to looking at the watery ferries outside my window.

"You have a minute?" Krissie, my assistant, called from my doorway. I turned around and motioned for her to sit down. "I just need you to go over the final invoice for the toothpaste ad?"

"Sure," I said, taking it from her. I scanned it quickly before signing the bottom for her. "Okay," I said as I passed it back to her, "you're good to send it out."

"Thanks." She got up to leave and stopped. "Oh my god, Mel, who is that?"

"I have no idea," I said as an impossibly sexy man walked past my office. He had an overcoat over his arm and a very expensive looking briefcase in his hand. We watched him talk to Emma, Ian's admin, before continuing to his door. He knocked and went inside. "I think that may be our new Executive Vice President."

"Oh," she said, giving me a sad smile. "Sorry about that, Mel. The job should have been yours."

I waved her off as if it didn't matter, but I was secretly pleased. There's nothing like a loyal employee, is there? She went back to her desk and I went back to looking out the window, fighting the urge to pound my fists on my desk in a tantrum. The idea made me laugh quietly, and I finally got back to work.

Ian buzzed me about an hour later to come in to his office. I told Krissie to put through any calls for me – even if it was a telemarketer – and walked down to Ian's office. Emma waived me on and I paused for a moment outside his door. I could hear them both, the new VP's voice deep and rich, his accent even more pronounced against Ian's soft lilt. I knocked lightly before opening the door.

"Good morning, Ian," I said.

"Mel, please, close the door and come on in," he said. The new guy stood up as I came in, glancing at Ian who remained seated in his big chair. "This is Malcolm White, our new Executive Vice President. Malcolm, this is Melody Williams, Senior Account Executive. She's the 'go-to' girl for problem sales."

"Pleased to meet you," I said, holding out my hand to shake. He was tall, at least 6'2", and well built. He had dark, wavy hair that fell across his forehead, accenting big green eyes. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you," he said, taking my hand and bowing slightly. His hand kind of convulsed around mine, making me blush a bit. "It is very nice to meet you." His eyes slowly traveled all over me, as if he could see under my clothes and wanted to get an eyeful. "I've heard quite a bit about you," he said at last, dropping my hand.

"Oh?" I said, taking the chair next to his and trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yes. I heard you should have gotten this promotion instead of me."

"I hadn't heard that," I said, looking him in the eye. My cheeks reddened a bit; I could feel it but was powerless to stop it.

"Hadn't you?" he asked, smiling. His teeth were the tiniest bit crooked, with a slight gap in front, and as white as could be. I couldn't stop staring at him. I shook my head.

"As I already explained to Malcolm, you are not one to hold a grudge," Ian said.

"No, I'm not."

"So you will be perfectly fine with having him shadow you, to learn the practices we use here and get to know our clientele."

I couldn't say no, could I? It would have looked bad. And, since I am being honest, I liked the way he looked at me. I nodded. 

"Excellent. Malcolm, I'll show you around a bit and we'll get some lunch, then I'll drop you in Mel's capable hands. Sound good?"

"Sounds wonderful," Malcolm said. I stood to leave – I'd worked for Ian for a long time and knew when I had been dismissed – and he stood, too. "I look forward to getting to know you," he said, taking my hand again and giving me another slight bow.

"Excuse me," Ian said, grabbing a folder. "I need to make sure this gets mailed out today. I'll be right back, Malcolm." He walked out the door, not even giving me a second glance.

"If he's paying for lunch, make him take you someplace nicer than Dick's. If he does take you to Dick's, make him take you to the Queen Anne one and not the one on Capitol Hill," I said, smiling at Malcolm. "There's no place to sit up there."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, squeezing my hand as Ian came back in. His eyes were roaming again, almost greedily, and I was enjoying every moment of it.

"Thank you," I said, not sure if I was thanking him for his manners, taking my job, or looking at me like I was his personal feast. I walked out, allowing a little more sashay than usual.I hoped he was watching. 

I went back to my office and called Krissie in. If I was going to play hostess, she was going to play, too. 

"Yes?" she asked, taking her normal chair in front of my desk.

"It seems Ian wants the new VP to shadow me for a day or two," I told her with a shrug. "I realize that's going to put a burden on you, and I don't like it any more than you do, but my hands really are tied on this."

"It's alright, Mel," she said, smoothing her skirt. "I really don't mind." I raised my brows at her, but said nothing. "What's he like?"

"I don't really know. I haven't seen enough of him to form an impression," I lied. I had definitely formed an impression of him, but wasn't going to tell my assistant that. "He's polite. Has an accent. Well dressed."

"He's handsome, too," Krissie said, blushing. I just shrugged again, thinking I would call him sexy before handsome, but didn't say anything. "Is he gay?"

"I don't know," I said. I hope not, I thought.

"I hope not," Krissie said, echoing my thoughts. "But he probably is," she added with a sigh. "Every time we get any kind of eye candy in the office, they're gay."

"Krissie!" I said, laughing. "If he is gay, please try to not show your disappointment so plainly?"

"Of course," she said, laughing. "How long is he going to be shadowing you?"

"Ian didn't say. But he will be starting this afternoon when they get back from lunch, so you might want to clear your desk as much as possible in the interim."

"Alright," she said, standing up and turning to go. 

"Krissie," I called, pausing for her to turn around and look at me, "if it gets to be too much, just let me know. I will have his assistant help you out." 

"Thanks, Mel," she said, giving me a smile and heading out.

I pulled out the soda file, burying myself in the proposal and pushing thoughts of Malcolm White out of my head. I worked through my own lunch (I usually do, though – in that respect it was an average day) and didn't realize Ian and Malcolm hadn't come back until Krissie came in to say goodnight. 

I stayed a while longer, finishing up the glossies for the proposal and wondering if I was more relieved or disappointed that they never made it back. I finished up and left, shutting down the lights and locking up as was my habit when I was the last one out . As I waited for the elevator, I decided I was a bit more disappointed. 

I wasn't disappointed for long, though. The elevator doors opened and Malcolm was there.

"Oh, hello," I said, standing aside to allow him to get out.

"Hello," he said, striding towards the office doors without even giving me a glance. I thought perhaps his politeness and friendliness was dependant upon his superiors being around to witness it. He grabbed the handles and tried turning them, but of course they were locked. I stood and watched him, the elevator doors shussing closed behind me. He shook the doors, almost angrily, as if their being locked was in direct disobedience to him. "You have a key," he said without turning around.

"I do."

He stood a moment longer, staring at the door, before turning to face me. "Would you be so kind?"

"Certainly," I said, brushing past him. I unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. "Will you be long?" I asked as he moved towards Ian's office. He ignored me and went inside, coming out quickly with his overcoat and case. "You may lock up now," he said, walking past me to the elevators. 

"Thank you," I said snidely. I should have been angered by his behavior and tried to act accordingly, but I felt really confused. I re-set the alarm and was locking the doors when I heard the elevator close behind me. "Fucking douchebag," I muttered, really angry he couldn't at least hold the elevator for me.

"Excuse me?" he said from behind me. I was so convinced he had left it scared me, and I turned around and jumped, giving a breathless-sounding 'oh!'. He smiled, holding open the elevator door, and asked if I had thought I was alone. I nodded, cheeks bright red, and walked past him in to the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. I leaned against the wall and looked down at my feet. 

"The lobby?" he asked, pressing the button for the garage and letting the doors close. He leaned against the wall opposite me, putting his briefcase next to his feet. 

"I take the bus," I said. I risked a glance at his face and he was staring at me, a smile in his eyes but not on his lips. I immediately dropped my eyes again.

"How environmentally friendly of you," he said. I shrugged but didn't speak. We rode in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

"Is it an American custom to not speak or make eye-contact in elevators?"

"Not at all," I said, giggling and glancing up at him again before looking back down at my feet.

"I see." He crossed his legs. "You are just really fascinated with your footwear?"

"I'm flustered," I said, looking at him. "Because I called you a douchebag."

"A 'fucking douchebag'," he said, smiling with his eyes again. 

"If you must be exact."

"Indeed." His eyes began their travels again and I felt goosebumps on my back. I looked over his face carefully, noting his long lashes, the way his lips look like a kiss, the thick but neat brows. I was drawn back to his eyes as they wandered all over me. I must have been breathing a little harder – I didn't notice it but he did. "Are you well?" he asked, his eyes suddenly meeting mine. "You're flushed."

"I like the way you look at me," I blurted out without thinking. 

"Tell me why," he said as the elevator reached the lobby. He stepped in front of me, his eyes smiling and holding mine captive.

"It feels like a caress," I said quietly. I stepped around him quickly and hurried out the door to Third Avenue. The evening was mild – the rain had stopped at some point that afternoon – and I decided to walk a bit before catching the bus. I started north, and thought over what had happened. I couldn't believe I had been so frank with Malcolm. I wanted to continually slap my forehead until it made welts, like those monks that flogged themselves in the Dark Ages. I settled for marching up to Pike, muttering under my breath how stupid I was the whole way. I stopped, looking around and noticing for the first time people were looking at me funny and giving me a wide berth. I decided to head down to the market. I got a nice pastrami on marbled rye and caught a cab home. Dinner, bubble bath, some light-hearted TV – that became my plan to forget the day. 

It worked until I got in to the office the following morning. There was no sign of Malcolm, and I had an email from Ian that he wanted to see me first thing. I sat at my desk for a few minutes, rubbing my temples, trying to get my nerves under control. I was certain, quite certain, that Malcolm had contacted Ian last night to tell him how his star Senior Account Executive behaved. I was certain that – if I wasn't being fired outright – I was being demoted. I buzzed Krissie and told her I was going in to a meeting with Ian and to hold all my calls. I got up – surprisingly steady – and walked over to Ian's office. Emma looked up and smiled at me, waving me right in to his office. I knocked lightly and opened his door, my palms sweating so badly I had trouble grabbing the handle to turn it.

Ian was on the phone but waved me in. I took a chair in front of his desk and waited for him to finish up, fighting the urge to wipe my palms on my skirt. "I agree with you completely," he said, smiling at me. "As a matter of fact, she just walked in." He gave me a wink and I smiled back at him tentatively. "I'll mention it to her now, Malcolm." My stomach seemed to fall down to my toes, and it was all I could do to keep from groaning. "I'll see you when you get here," he said after another moment or two and hung up.

"So, Mel, you made quite an impression on our new VP," Ian said, leaning back in his chair and resting his chin on his steepled fingers, looking at me seriously. Well, as seriously as he could. He was about 5'4" and quite effeminate – serious for him often bordered on the ridiculous..

"About that, Ian," I started, clearing my throat. 

"He thinks you should be the one to go after the maxi pad people," he said, smiling.

It took a moment before I realized what he had said. I was so certain – so very certain – he was about to demote me I believed he said I should go work with the mail room people. 

"Really? That's fantastic!" I said once I had finished my internal reality check.

"He wants to work it with you, starting today. You can give Fred or Alisa the soda account and get started this morning. He had a last-minute realtor issue, but should be in the office in an hour or so."

"He wants to work it with me? Or he wants to watch me work it and put his name first?" I asked, skeptical.

"His words were work it with you, Mel. If something else is happening, let me know." I nodded. Ian may be a lot of things, but first and foremost he was fair. In fact, he was the fairest boss I'd had. "I don't think that will be an issue, though. At least not according to his reputation." I nodded again. I had checked him out on the intranet and he seemed to be a fair guy, sorely missed by the London office. "This is what you wanted, Mel."

"I know, Ian," I said, beaming at him. 

"It's huge, Mel. Huge. Don't fuck it up."

"You know I won't," I said, getting up to go. 

"That's our girl," he said, making me laugh. 

I walked back to my office feeling lighter than air. There was a familiar ball of excitement in the pit of my stomach that felt like I just took a major drop on a roller coaster, and I felt almost giddy with it. I stopped at Krissie's desk and told her to give the soda account to Alisa – Fred was bogged down already – and to get the complete ad history for the maxi pad company (I won't drop names, but they are in direct competition with the one wanting women to really enjoy their periods) for the last 10 years. I went in to my office and logged on to the web, Googling everything I could about them and taking notes.

"You don't waste any time," Malcolm said from behind me, making me jump in my chair and knock over a cup filled with pens. They scattered and rolled off the desk. 

"Sorry. You surprised me. I didn't hear you knock." I babbled, getting down on all fours and crawling about, gathering the pens and putting them back in the cup.

"Because I didn't." I looked back at him over my shoulder – I was still gathering errant pens at this point – and saw his eyes were glued to my rear end. I could also see he was enjoying the view. It thrilled me. Hell, it aroused me. I turned away, smiling, and gathered the rest of the pens. I put them on the desk and stood up, smoothing my blouse and slacks as I brushed past him to sit back down. And God help me if I didn't make sure to turn so it was my ass that brushed against him. 

"How shall we configure ourselves?" he asked, leaning against my desk and looking at the few knick-knacks I had on my shelves.

"Excuse me?" I said, sure I missed something he said.

"For working together. How shall we seat ourselves?" he replied. He was looking at me like he had the night before, his eyes smiling but his mouth serious. Did he know what I had been thinking?

"Right. Of course," I said with a slight shake of my head. "Let's bring a chair around and we can just sort of share the workspace?" 

"Sounds good." He grabbed a chair and brought it next to mine. "May I?" he asked, sitting down and picking up the pad I had been using to make notes. 

"Please," I said, nodding at him. I watched him as he scanned my notes (chicken scratches, really; I think much faster than I can write and it shows), his face remained expressionless until the end, when he put the pad down and noticed me watching.

"Good job, Melody. You've really gotten a lot of background done."

"I've been wanting to go after them for a long time."

"Tenacious. I like that," he said, giving me a wink that made me catch my breath. "What are you thinking?" I started talking, getting up and pacing around my desk, as he took notes.I won't bore you with a minute-by-minute replay (although I could, it seems like every moment is burned in to my memory, maybe because it was the first time we worked together, maybe because it is Malcolm), but needless to say we worked well together that day (and every other day, too, for that matter). It seemed like any time I came to a wall, he was already on the far side of it, and vice-versa. I think that's why it all seemed so easy with him, we're compatible, we are equally bright and creative, but in slightly different ways, so we compliment each other. It's exhilarating in it's own way. 

Malcolm left around five to have drinks with Ian. I stayed a little longer, finishing up a few things before I left to have dinner with my best friend, Tony. Weird, thinking back to it, I realize that while I did tell him about the new VP (and how it wasn't me), I didn't really tell him. I didn't tell him he was sexy, I didn't tell him I looked at his lips and longed to feel them at odd places on my body. I wanted to, but I didn't. I figured it was a school-girl type crush, and it would pass. 

It didn't. 

We worked exclusively together nearly every day for the next three weeks. Sometimes I would be pacing and speaking, brainstorming with him, and I would glance at him to find he was... ogling me, and I would lose my train of thought. Or I would find myself inching closer to him, drawn by his delicious smell. Soap and cologne and sweat...his smell was 100% male. But nothing ever happened. He never made a move and I...well, I just figured it was better that I didn't. Something about Malcolm made me think he did not like pushy women. And as the time passed, I just figured it – this undercurrent of sexual attraction – was all me. Until one day, about two and a half weeks later. I came in extra early after stopping at a QFC to buy every women's magazine I could find. When Malcolm got in I was sitting back in my chair, my feet up on the desk thumbing through a 'Cosmopolitan'. 




Bliss Ch. 01



"You should always wear skirts, Melody," he said, leaning in the doorway. 

I glanced at my legs and realized my skirt – a swishy one this day – had slid down my legs, exposing them to mid-thigh level and revealing the top of one stocking. 

"Geez, sorry about that," I said, swinging my legs down off my desk and pulling my skirt over my knees. 

"Please don't apologize," he said, still leaning in the doorway. I glanced at him and noticed he was looking at me greedily again. 

"Shall we get started?" I asked, my voice sounding the tiniest bit thicker than normal. 

"Let's move to the conference room? It has far more space."

I nodded, gathering up the magazines and my laptop. Malcolm hovered in the doorway, moving aside slightly as I passed him, but not enough for me to avoid touching him. I very plainly felt his hand cup my ass and I shivered.

We camped out in the conference room all day, working until almost 7PM, when Malcolm finally glanced at his watch. We had come to a natural stopping point and decided to call it a day, making our way out together and waited for the elevator. The whatever-it-was I felt earlier (attraction? sexual tension? who knows?) had been pushed completely out of mind with the work. 

"By the way, we're going to Houston next week," Malcolm said as we stepped in to the elevator. He pushed the buttons for the garage and lobby before leaning back and looking at me.

"We are? So soon?" I asked, surprised. I knew eventually we would have to make a presentation, a bid, in person, but I was wanting it to be later. I enjoyed being close to Malcolm too much. I didn't want that to end.

"Yes. Strike while the iron is hot."

"Okay."

"You should have your travel information tomorrow afternoon. We'll leave Sunday. Be prepared to stay a week."

"Yes, Malcolm," I said a bit absentmindedly, thinking about being in a strange city with him, in a hotel with him, wondering how far apart our rooms would be. The elevator stopped at the lobby and I started to get out, but Malcolm grabbed me by the arm, pulling me back in and hitting the button to close the doors behind me. "What...?" I began, but he stopped me with a finger on my lips. 

"Say it again, Melody," he said, his voice a low threat, a pant.

"Say what?" I whispered. I was the tiniest bit nervous and hugest bit turned on. I looked at his eyes as they dropped to my breasts. I felt my nipples get hard. He lifted his eyes back to mine and I saw something...something wild in them, something barely held in check, and I felt the heat bloom between my legs at the thought of it. Suddenly, I realized what he wanted.

"Yes, Malcolm." 

He kissed me, hard, forcing his tongue in to my mouth. The elevator arrived at the parking garage and the doors opened, but Malcolm didn't stop kissing me. He pushed me against the wall next to the control panel, pressing himself against me, stepping between my legs and bending his knees somewhat so I could feel his erection against my crotch. I whimpered – a small, almost mewling sound – and kissed him back, surrendering to the dizzying feelings radiating out from between my legs. He pulled the lever to stop the elevator as the doors slid shut on the garage, his grip on my arm tightened and I moaned.

He broke the kiss, leaning his head back to look at me, and began grinding against me, moving his hips in a parody of sex, rubbing his hard cock against me. I sighed, unconsciously angling myself and moving with him, trying to keep as much pressure on my clit as possible. 

"Does that feel good?" he asked, moving a bit from side to side.

"Yes, Malcolm," I whispered, eyes closed. My hands were flat against the wall behind me, giving me leverage to push my hips back at him. 

"Lift up your skirt," he said, and I opened my eyes to look at him. He was looking back at me levelly, his eyes inscrutable, and I knew that I could say no. 

I didn't want to.

"Yes, Malcolm," I breathed, raising my skirt to my hips.

"Do you know what kind of woman wears her panties on the outside of her garter?" he asked teasingly, his hands sliding up my thighs to my hips, grabbing the lace underwear I wore and pulling at it until it ripped. "A slut, Melody. A dirty little slut wears her panties outside her garter." He pulled them harder until he was able to get them mostly torn off and I could feel cool air against my sex. "Isn't that so?"

"Yes, Malcolm," I moaned. I heard him unzip his pants and I drew in my breath in anticipation, spreading my legs a bit more and angling my hips toward him. 

"You want me to fuck you, Melody?" he asked quietly, caressing my cheek with his hand. "Right here in the elevator?" I bit my lip, shame burning my cheeks. But still, I nodded. "Say it. Tell me what you want me to do."

"I want you to fuck me," I whispered, a hot tear running down my cheek. "Please, Malcolm."

He smiled, and in one seamless movement, thrust himself inside me hard enough to lift me off my feet. I cried out, throwing my arms and legs around him as I came, shaking, and he grunted into my neck. 

"Your cunt is so wet for me, isn't it? Like a good little slut," he breathed into my neck as he impaled me on him. Each thrust hit my cervix with a most delicious feeling – pain, but good pain, pleasurable pain – that had me at the edge of orgasm again. "Are you my good little slut?" he grunted.

"Yes, Malcolm," I moaned.

"You want to come again, don't you? My good little slut wants to come, wants her hot, tight cunt to squeeze me. She likes being fucked hard, doesn't she?"

The combination of hearing him speak to me so profanely in that proper, clipped British accent and the way he moved inside me pushed me over and I climaxed again, and again, and again. I called myself his slut, I agreed with everything he said, I begged him to fuck me harder, I begged him to come inside me and I begged him to never stop. In the end, I settled for moaning "please, Malcolm" and "yes, Malcolm" over and over as he groaned and came inside me, my body shaking around his from head to foot as his orgasm triggered another one for me.

He leaned his head on my shoulder, and I could feel the sweat from his brow dampen my blouse as he began to shrink inside me. He kept his head down, resting a moment as I untangled myself from him and slid down. I held on to his shoulders a moment, making sure my legs would hold me up before I tried to push him away. 

"Don't," he said quietly, raising his head and kissing me softly. He looked at me but I dropped my eyes, cheeks bright red and tears blurring my vision. 

"Don't be embarrassed, Melody. You are so lovely, so beautiful." He kissed me again, putting his arms around me. "I could not help myself," he sighed. 

"Oh...Malcolm," I breathed, snuggling against him for a moment, enjoying his warmth.

"Let me take you home."

"I'd rather not," I said, shaking my head. 

"Of course," he said, stepping back and rearranging his clothes. I shook out my skirt and smoothed my hair, wiping the mascara-tinged tears from under my eyes. He took me in his arms again briefly before reaching over and restarting the elevator, hitting the button for the lobby. He put a finger under my chin, lifting my eyes to his. "This is quite far from over, Melody," he whispered as the elevator doors slid open on the empty lobby. He kissed me, slipping his tongue in and out of my mouth quickly, before letting me go.

"Good night, Malcolm," I said shakily, stepping out of the elevator as he gave me a slight bow. I turned and watched the doors slide shut between us, the promise of his words making me shiver.



Bliss Ch. 02



Bliss was on the edge of climax, and Penitent's centuries of experience in seduction let her extend the sweet torture almost indefinitely. Her nether parts were spasming, her body locked upright but shaking, and Penitent grinned wickedly as she flexed her muscles to roll the spade-like tip of her tail like a leaf of smokeweed. It was the succubus' tail that Bliss had felt intruding upon her body, and not in the way she longed to be penetrated.

"So strong, so angry, and now so helpless. You could flex that beautiful little asshole too tight for me to get in... you must WANT me to!" Penitent teased. In truth, Bliss' sphincter was flexing in little pre-orgasmic pulses, and she couldn't keep the pseudo-phallus out. This was a game that Penitent had played with her before. It was uncomfortable, but manageable, when her tail went in, but once there, she would unroll the hand-sized tip, and Bliss would be forced to do her bidding or suffer the pain of having it withdrawn in that state. It slid in, filling her. Bliss even felt a little bit of pleasure, as she wanted to be filled, just not that particular hole. Penitent had ravaged her in many ways, and pleasured her at least twice as often, but her virginity was still technically intact. Penitent thought it might be a useful bargaining chip if the future turned dire. Other than never having been with a man or man-demon, Bliss was becoming a very accomplished sexual acrobat, since it was the core of her mother's life. 

"Now, even though you haven't in any way earned it, you may come." Penitent murmured, and rubbed just a little bit faster on Bliss' clit, enhancing instead of disrupting the waves of orgasm that had been trying to wash over Bliss' body for the past few minutes. The succubus tightened her grip on Bliss' neck, squeezing as hard as she could, for she couldn't hurt the girl. Bliss stayed on her feet, but shook as if in convulsions. Penitent felt the strong muscles of her daughter's ass squeezing her tail several times, almost painfully, and knew that it had been a powerful climax. Bliss felt the grip release her neck, but she stayed on her feet, the slightest movement sending more twitches through her and the intruding tail now impossible to ignore. Her rebellious mood had dissipated, but she didn't feel much better. Just empty. Except for her ass.

Penitent didn't give her much time to brood. She didn't have much experience with angsty teens, being a demon and all, but she knew that Bliss' moods were dangerous, and annoying. She snapped her tail, and Bliss involuntarily moved in the direction Penitent wanted her to.

"Look into that pool, you slut." Bliss had no choice; the appendage in her twitching bowel would brook no argument.

Ailztirea's cruel but beautiful face was still visible in the scrying pool. Pain and hate caused Bliss to hiss like a snake.

"That is NOT your mother, I am." Penitent's tail began to move back and forth, fucking her daughter slowly but mercilessly.

"She did nothing but bring your father and I together."

"I KNOW!" Bliss screamed, then continued softer, "...and I hate her for that."

"You dare insult me like that?" Penitent was also losing control of her emotions; Bliss would be sore for a week.

"I'm not capable of love, but I do feel pride in what I was able to make from the seed your father shot into me. My jealousy and possessiveness are also strong, as is my lust for you. Your sweet, silky black body is something that I have taken very extreme risks to keep around."

Penitent was pushing Bliss' face almost to the surface of the silvery pool, her tail pumping with all the force she was capable of. As it was not a sexual organ, there was really no end in sight for Bliss. She continued to speak, but in a language so vile that Bliss wouldn't even be able to remember it later- which was fortunate for her.

"I won't listen to more of your talk about hating what you are, or wanting revenge on the woman who brought about your conception," Penitent stated evenly, once she had vented enough of her anger to do so.

"What is there for me? I don't go anywhere or do anything!" Bliss grunted through the pain.

"You are twenty years old, bitch! Your father's people aren't mature until thirty, and my species is immortal. You are a child by any measure except that of your bustline!"

Mentioning it reminded her of it, and Penitent began running her hands over Bliss' bountiful curves, relishing in the soft skin that covered steely-smooth muscles over her whole body, except for her deliciously pliable breasts. She applied her knowledge of lust and pleasure with new urgency, making every part of Bliss' body sing with renewed arousal, except her poor, abused bottom.

"You are my slave for now, but I am training you for better things. When you have learned to protect yourself, I will let you loose on the mortal realm, to glut yourself on sex or violence an you choose."

Sick promises worked nearly as well as tender stroking, and Bliss felt another orgasm approaching.



Bliss Ch. 02



"Well," Tony said. It was Saturday evening and we were at the Broadway Grill, sitting at one of the sidewalk tables, for dinner. It had been three days since my encounter with Malcolm in the elevator, and I had just confessed everything to my best friend, even showing him the fading bruises on my elbow from Malcolm's hand. "I can't believe you waited three whole days to tell me," he sniffed dramatically. "What happened on Thursday and Friday?"

"Thursday was weird."

"How?"

"I was really worried about seeing him again, you know?" Tony nodded. "But I didn't see him that much. He had a lunch with Ian, and a few other things that kept him busy. But when I did see him..."

"What?"

"Well, he would just suddenly 'be there'. I was at my desk, going over the proposal for umpteenth time, and suddenly he was there. Or, I would be in the hall or coming out of the restroom, and there he was. It was like..."

"Like what?"

"I should have been embarrassed or nervous, but I didn't have a chance to think about it before I saw him, so I wasn't. But on the other hand...it was like I would get what happened out of my mind, right, and be working along or whatever, and BAM! There's Malcolm again and it all came back."

"What about yesterday?"

"That was oddly...uneventful. We ran over the proposal a dozen more times, the powerpoint two dozen...but that's almost all there was."

"Almost?"

"Sometimes he would...touch me."

"Touch you? Touch you how?"

"I dunno...just little touches."

"Like...?" I shrugged but didn't answer. "What...do you need therapy dolls to show me?"

"Nice" I laughed, throwing a cracker at him.

"Well?"

"He would touch my hand, or my elbow...one time he put his hand on my lower back when we went for lunch."

"The bastard!"

"Ha ha."

"So what happens now?"

"I don't know," I said after a long pause, shrugging my shoulders. "I've never been to Texas."

"Mmmhmmm," he said, taking a sip of his martini. "Let me just see if I have this straight, okay?" I nodded. "Wednesday night you had sudden, intense, super hot big daddy sex with your boss?"

"Big daddy sex?" I asked, leaning forward and laughing.

"You want to revise your story? Because if not there's a whole lot of domination going on."

"He wasn't violent," I hissed. "Geez, you make it sound as if he was in assless leather chaps and carrying a bull whip." I chose to ignore why the idea of Malcolm with a bullwhip made my thighs quiver. I just wasn't going to think about that. Ever.

"All chaps are assless, my dear, that's what makes them chaps. But that's beside the point. I didn't say there was a whole lot of sadism going on, did I?"

"Domination, bondage, S&M...it all goes together, right?"

"Not necessarily, dearheart." He looked at me and shook his head, smiling. "Perhaps a little research on this is in order? Stop thinking 'Story of O' or 'Philosophy in the Bedroom'. Think...'Exit to Eden'."

I raised my eyebrows at that, making a mental note to google those titles.

"Anyway, you had this amazing encounter Wednesday, then spent Thursday and Friday in a weird limbo with neither of you mentioning it, and the only thing you can think to talk about with me tonight is the fact you've never been to Texas? Really?"

"What do you want me to talk about, Tony?"

"Talk about Malcolm."

"I don't know what to say," I said, picking up my drink and chewing on my straw.

"What are you feeling, Melly?" he asked gently.

"I don't know..." I said. "Mostly confused, I guess. You know I was never very...sexually active."

"But you responded to him, to his words and his actions, right? You said you felt like he was in complete control of you, and you liked that a lot, right?" I looked at him as he picked up his glass and looked at it thoughtfully. "Maybe your Dom has found you," he said quietly.

"My 'Dom'? What does that mean?"

"Sounds like you're a submissive."

"Please." I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him.

"Why not?"

"Isn't that a little...disturbing?"

"Not if this is what works for you." I snorted "What? You think you're the only one? You think it means you're sick? Or fucked up? I'm willing to bet there are millions of people who enjoy a little name-calling, a little roughness, even a little whipping." He swallowed the rest of his martini and signaled the waitress for another one. "You are not the first and you certainly won't be the last, Melly. This is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yeah, but...It's the last word anyone -- least of all you -- would use to describe me, right?"

"Why didn't you let him take you home Wednesday? Why did you insist on taking a cab?" I just shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Was it because you were afraid it would happen again?'

"No." I said quietly, leaning forward so he could hear me. "I was afraid it wouldn't. Now...I'm afraid it will never happen again."

"I don't think that will be an issue, my dear," Tonysaid, putting his hand over mine and giving it a squeeze. "How did you feel, Melly, as it was happening? I don't mean physically -- I mean in here," he said, touching his head, "and here," he added, touching his chest over his heart.

"I felt...wanted...desired."

"And that was a good feeling?" I nodded. "Good. Then go with it, let it be what it will be and don't fight it."

I sat quietly as the waitress brought him another martini. "Can we talk about something else now?"

"Of course," Tony said, putting his glass down. "Let's talk about your upcoming trip to Texas with the luscious-lipped Malcolm," he said in his most over-the-top queen drawl, giving me a very elaborate wink, making me laugh.

We finished our dinner and walked about a bit, talking about nothing in particular, calling it an early night. I had a flight to catch in the morning and he had a brunch date. We parted, me heading back down to my condo in Queen Anne with a solemn promise to tell keep him updated, and him heading back to his house in Capital Hill. I felt better, lighter than I had since Wednesday night.

The next day I got to the airport early (it's a bad habit of mine, I'm always convinced I am going to miss my flight) and waited at the snack bar across from the gate. I wanted to watch Malcolm unobserved. They started making the pre-boarding announcements, and Malcolm still hadn't arrived. They started pre-boarding travelers with young children, and Malcolm still hadn't arrived. I glanced down at my boarding pass, knowing they would board first class next, and he was still nowhere to be seen. I shrugged inwardly and slowly walked towards the gate, throwing away my half-finished cup of tea, as they began boarding first-class.

I went to board the flight, glancing around one last time. Still no sign of Malcolm. "Dammit," I muttered under my breath, walking down the jetway. I took my seat by the window and got settled, putting the book I brought in the seat pocket in front of me and buckling myself in. I stared out the window at the early May sunshine -- a rarity in Seattle -- reflecting off the jets as they lumbered by, trying not to think about why the thought of Malcolm not being on the same flight made me want to cry. I sat staring, seeing nothing, not thinking about it, as the rest of the passengers began boarding and the flight attendants began their litany of announcements reminding them to allow others to pass and leave room in the overhead bins. I closed my eyes with a weary sigh.

"Are you alright?" A familiar accent. I smiled at the window while my heart rate doubled.

"Yes, fine," I said, turning my head as Malcolm took the seat next to me. "You?"

"Quite," he said. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes warm. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to change his mind, closing it again. He busied himself with getting settled in, standing up to dig something out of his carry-on in the overhead bin. He was wearing a dark blue t-shirt, not tight but fitted enough to know what was underneath, and button-fly jeans that accented his package perfectly. His shirt lifted a bit, showing fine, dark hair on his lower abdomen that appeared to continue down below his waist.

I turned my head back towards the window and closed my eyes again, telling myself my mouth was NOT watering because of Malcolm. I could hear Tony in my mind telling me 'of course not, you're just suffering from Iwannadickinme Syndrome'. I laughed quietly at myself as Malcolm took his seat.

"Care to share?" he asked, catching the chuckle.

"Just thinking about something my friend said to me the other day," I fibbed, turning to look at him. "Sort of an inside joke, sorry."

"Your friend...Tony?" I nodded. "You're just friends?"

"Oh yes," I said, laughing. The plane gave a slight shudder as we began to taxi out. "I've never been his type."

"No?"

"I...I don't have the right equipment." I raised my eyebrows at him suggestively.

"Ah, I see," he said as the plane took off. I turned and looked out the window as the plane sped down the runway, picking up speed, rushing towards the point of no return. The nose lifted, making the brush at the edge of the runway seem to stretch as the back of the plane followed, gravity giving one last tug that made the plane lurch as it broke free to climb through the clear air. I watched the ground recede below and blue swell above.

"You like to fly?" Malcolm asked, leaning to look over my shoulder out the window. He put his hand on my arm and I gave a slight jump.

"I like the take-off." I said, shifting in my seat to sit back.

"So, tell me," he said, settling back into his own seat and removing his hand, "how long have you known Tony?"

"Since high school."

"So that's ...8 years? 12?"

"Three or four, actually," I said, one eyebrow raised. He laughed and casually rested his hand on my thigh. It wasn't sexual, his putting his hand there. Hell, it wasn't even sensual. It was like he needed a place to put his hand and my thigh was just as good as anywhere else. And yet...and yet...I physically responded to it. There was a tingling feeling radiating out from the heat of his palm, and it hit every nerve.

"So no boyfriend?" he asked. It seemed an odd question, considering.

"No, no boyfriend." He nodded when I answered but didn't say anything. I sat quietly for a moment as I slowly realized his question was a way to let me know what had happened, what may happen, was inconsequential, just for kicks. I almost slapped my forehead for being so stupid, but managed to just give a little groan.

"Something wrong?" he asked, looking at me with real concern. His hand was still on my thigh.

"I forgot floss," I said, shifting over in my seat. "What about you?" I asked him, wanting to let him know his message was received loud and clear. "No girlfriend? No one pining for you back in foggy old London?"

"No. No one." He looked at me closely. "It's always been difficult for me to find a woman I could...connect with."

"Oh?" I shifted again, turning so I was facing him more, my back resting where my seatback and the wall of the plane met. "How so?"

"Oh, well, it seems they were either physically...intriguing," he said, giving me a wink that managed to be both sardonic and sexy. "You know, lovely to look at, and compatible sexually, but no hope of intelligent conversation." I nodded at him to continue. "It's empty, not being able to talk to someone...over dinner or coffee, whenever. There's no real affection. Only..."

"Affectation," I finished for him mindlessly. I was fascinated.

"Exactly." Malcolm smiled at me, a full smile filled with sunshine that captured my heart instantly. "Or I found someone smart, pretty, clever, and she would be...ill-suited to my needs."

"Your needs?"

"Yes."

"Your 'needs' are that hard to meet? What are they?"

"Nothing too outrageous," he said, a small smile on his lips.

"Oh," I said quietly after a moment, blushing furiously. I felt like an idiot.

"And you?" he asked after what seemed like a long while of letting me stew in my embarrassment.

"Oh...well...I never really met anyone I liked, I guess. I mean, I would like them for a bit, you know, but it would always fade."

"Fade?"

"Well...yes. You know, that giddy feeling when you meet someone. You start talking, start dating, start...you know...'doing it'" (great, way to actually be an idiot, my mind screamed)"...but then the fun, the anticipation goes away and it would be dull, predictable."

"Doing it?" he smirked.

"Having intercourse? Screwing? Choose your verb, Malcolm."

"What's wrong with fucking?" he said quietly. He removed his hand from my thigh and leaned with his elbows on the armrest separating our seats. "I happen to prefer that verb."

"Alright then...doing that."

"Say it, Melody."

"Fucking," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I suddenly felt very small and very...shy. It wasn't embarrassment, but I was thinking about the last time I'd said 'fucking' in his presence.

"Mmmmm," he said, so low I felt it more than heard it. I thought he might kiss me. I hoped he would. I looked at his lips briefly, trying to telepathically encourage him to kiss me, but he just smiled and sat back again.

"So you never married?" he asked. He put his hand back on my leg and I realized how exposed I had felt when he removed it.

"What? No...no. Never." I chewed my bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. "I've honestly never wanted to." I looked at him closely. "Is that unfeminine?"

"Not at all," he said, caressing my leg briefly and sending my nervous system in to orbit. "You know your own mind, don't you?"

The question surprised me, but before I had a chance to formulate an answer the flight attendant was there with our lunches. He removed his hand again to have his lunch, and didn't put it back on my leg for the remainder of the flight. We spent the rest of the flight chatting about nothing and everything. We talked about our favorite movies, our favorite books (he and I shared a love of D.H. Lawrence) and music -- he was a child of the 80's as well. We discussed our childhoods, our families and friends, vacations, politics...I don't think there was a topic we didn't touch on. It was one of the best times I'd had on a flight (after take-off I usually find them quite dull), and I was annoyed that the four hours passed so quickly and we were already landing in Houston.

We picked up the rental car and made our way downtown towards the Houston skyscrapers and our hotel. It was warm, much warmer than in Seattle, and I was overdressed in my jeans, boots and sweater. I was looking forward to a quick shower and changing into one of the summer dresses I brought. We pulled in to the hotel and I was surprised Malcolm didn't use the valet service. I never did when I traveled, believing it to be a wholly unnecessary and irresponsible expense, but I also knew it was common among executives. It impressed me. We parked in the garage and walked to the elevator in silence. In the elevator I avoided looking at him, fiddling with my luggage and cell phone, staring at the numbers over the door. I heard him laugh quietly behind me as the doors opened on the lobby and I sprang out, walking as quickly as possible to the front desk.

I checked in to my room -- a junior suite - aware that Malcolm was right behind me, allowing me very little privacy. I got my room key, 709, and turned to head towards the elevator. I wanted to avoid another uncomfortable elevator ride with him, and the knowledge that I was the only one feeling uncomfortable made me almost frantic to do so.

"See you later," I mumbled lamely before I practically sprinted to the elevator. I made my way up to my room -- thankfully alone -- and unpacked quickly (the layout of the room was a little odd, it had a semi-private bedroom/sleeping area with a dresser, but the closet was in the sitting room area). I pinned up my hair and hopped in the shower, relaxing a bit and laughing at myself for being so silly. I decided I would act as if nothing happened, and put the image of the two of us together out of my mind. I just...wouldn't think of it again.

My plan of inaction decided on, I scrubbed quickly and got out. I slipped on a strappy sundress and some flip-flops, pulling my hair back in to a ponytail. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror closely, turning my head to scrutinize my face, noting the shimmers of gray at my temples and the way my eyes wrinkled when I smiled. I stood up with a shrug, deciding to forgo any make-up in the mucky Houston heat. I grabbed my wallet and key card and head towards the elevator. I'd spotted a cute little bistro across the street and I was dying to get some real food in me.

The elevator doors slid open and I found myself face to face with Malcolm. I started to speak but he stopped me, stepping off the elevator and grabbing me by my elbows. He bent to kiss me, pulling me to him. I had always been in heels before so I hadn't really noticed the height difference between us, but in my flip-flops it was impossible to miss. He's six inches taller than I am, and when he bent to kiss me, I instinctively went up on my toes to meet him.

He slowly kissed me, thoroughly kissed me, kissed me like he had nothing else planned for the day and was luxuriating in kissing me. I felt devoured in that kiss. As if I ceased to exist outside his kiss, and when he stopped I would kind of blow out, like a match in a breeze. (Does that sound ridiculous? I don't care.) I had never been kissed like that before and it had my knees weak. When he broke the kiss I had to remind myself to breathe.

"709?" he asked, letting go of my elbows and taking my key card out of my hand. I nodded, unable to speak, as he grabbed my wrist and led me back to my room. He opened the door and gently...shoved me...inside, following me in and locking the door behind us. He stepped up to me, making me step back until I was leaning against the wall. I was so turned on by this point my panties were soaked and I knew they would be sticking to me. He pressed himself against me, and I whimpered, shaking against him. He looked at me closely, thinly veiled amusement in his eyes, and I had the feeling he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"What is it?" he said, his hands pulling down the straps of my dress.

"What is this?" I retorted. I hated the shakiness of my voice but was powerless to stop it.

"This is me getting ready to fuck you."

"No," I sighed as he licked lightly along my jawbone. "I mean...what...what are you and I?"

He looked at me, squeezing my breasts through my dress, talking to me in a soothing voice. "You are so lovely, Melody." He kissed along my shoulders, and it was as if his lips were magnetized, and attracted the iron in my blood; everywhere they touched on my skin tingled. I closed my eyes, relishing the sensation. He lifted my dress up and I obliged, raising my arms so he could take it off me.

"The moment I met you I wanted you," he said, turning me around to face the wall. He ran a hand from the nape of my neck to my ass, caressing it slowly. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you; you are so sensual, so womanly, your movements so sultry. All I could think of was kissing you, touching you, tasting you." He licked the small of my back, just above the waistband of my panties and I gasped. "Is that enough?"

I looked back at him, seeing the need to possess, the greed in his gaze. "Yes, Malcolm."

He turned me around and kissed me, another consuming kiss, and all reason departed. There was only this need, this aching hunger to deliver myself, to give myself over to his whims. He maneuvered us towards the bed and stood behind me, raising my arms.

"Hold on to me," he whispered, running his hands up and down my sides. I locked my hands together behind his neck as he gently caressed my breasts, making my nipples hard. I sighed, arching my back a bit and pushing my breasts out further, and he began to roughly pinch and twist my nipples. I moaned as the rough treatment sent waves of pleasure from my nipples to my clit, and I watched his hands, in a kind of swoon.




Bliss Ch. 02



"You are always so put together, always in control, always so correct," he whispered, nuzzling my neck. "But deep down you're a dirty little girl, aren't you?" I pressed against him as his hands slid down my sides to my hips. "You dress in your fine clothes and live in your posh condo...." He slipped his fingers under the waistband of my panties and pushed them down, making me wince at the way they seemed too peel off me. God! I was so wet already. "Dating nice men. Respectful men. Men who would never grab you and kiss you." He grabbed my ponytail and pulled my head back, kissing me hard. I opened my mouth to him, no resistance, aroused by his strength. "They didn't excite you, did they?" He reached down and slipped his fingers between my pussy lips, gently stroking my clit. "They couldn't. They couldn't see what I see, Melody, what I saw the first time I touched you." He kissed me again and I tried to keep his mouth on mine, sucking at his tongue. He slipped a finger inside me and I moaned into his mouth. "They didn't see the little slut that you are." He kissed me again, his mouth and tongue claiming mine, possessing my mouth and tongue. "They didn't see her, but I did. I saw her, and knew I had to have her."

"Take off your panties and climb on the bed," he said, removing my hands from behind his neck and giving me a push. I stepped out of my underwear and moved to the foot of the bed, glancing back at him over my shoulder. His eyes were on my ass as I climbed slowly on the bed, moving towards the center.

"Stop," he said. I stopped, on all fours, and looked back at him. He had taken off his t-shirt and belt. The bulge in his jeans was unmistakable. He came over to the bed and began caressing my ass. "Lovely."

I put my head down, trying not to think about what he was looking at, but raised it as his fingers slipped inside me again. I shuddered, feeling my pussy clamp around his fingers. He started moving his fingers slowly in and out.

"Malcolm..." I began, but was stopped by a sharp slap on my ass. It stung and brought tears to my eyes.

"Call me Sir."

"What? I don't understand, Malc-"

SLAP! Another spanking, this time harder. This stinging heat seemed to shoot out from where his hand connected with my ass cheek and aim straight at my pussy making me cry out.

"You are to address me as Sir when we are not in public. Do you understand now?"

"Yes, Sir," I moaned.

"Hmmm...." he said, moving his fingers deeper inside me. "I think you liked that, didn't you? Did you like the way I slapped your ass, my little slut?" I shook my head no, embarrassed, thinking back to the conversation I'd had with Tony the night before.

SLAP! SLAP SLAP SLAP! Malcolm spanked me again, four times in quick succession, and I couldn't stop myself from moaning and angling my ass towards him, lifting to give him fuller access to it.

"Liar," he laughed. "I'll ask you again -- you like it when I spank you, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," I whispered, .

"Good girl," he said. "I'll give you a right proper spanking later if you behave." I shivered at the dark, delicious promise in his voice. "Now...spread your legs, and put your head down, your back bowed for me." I obeyed, knowing it opened myself up to him obscenely and feeling my clit throb as I thought about what he was looking at. I was so wet I could feel it running down my thighs. "That's my little slut." I moaned as he pulled his fingers out and began stroking me from my clit to my anus. I lowered my head to the bed and pushed back, angling my hips towards him, as he slowly smeared my wetness around. "You like this?"

"Yes, Sir," I sighed, feeling goosebumps rise on my back.

"Tell me how you feel."

"I feel like an offering to you."

"Yes," he said, as he pushed a finger in my ass. My breath caught in my throat in surprise. I'd never had anything in my ass before. I felt him press a finger on to my clit and then his tongue -- his strong tongue -- was inside my pussy and wriggling around.

"Oh! Oh...oh god....please..." I moaned as he started to move his finger, fucking my ass with it while his tongue fucked my pussy. "So good," I panted, pushing back against his face. He moaned against me and I came quickly, throwing my head back and growling from the pleasure. He stilled his finger as my orgasm subsided and gently lapped around my lips. I whined as he slowly pulled his finger out of my ass.

"Turn over," he said. I did, sort of collapsing on to my side and scooting on to my back, my breathing still rapid. "Spread your legs," he said, pulling off his belt. I did, throwing an arm over my eyes, not wanting to see him looking at me.

"No," he said, grabbing my wrists. He deftly wound his belt around them, securing them tightly.

"Sir! No...please..."

"Sshhhh. I'm not going to hurt you, poppit." He caressed my cheek, looking at me questioningly, and I nodded. I don't even know why I had protested at all, unless it was just to save face. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me towards the edge of the bed. I brought my knees together, feeling beyond vulnerable. "No. Open your knees." I let my knees fall open, my eyes closing in embarrassment.

"Look at me." I opened my eyes and he smiled, running his hands up and down my thighs. He stared down at my sex. "What a juicy cunt this is." He took his finger and began circling my clit with it softly. "This is mine now, my little slut."

"Yes, Sir." I don't know if it was his voice, his tone, his words or his accent...maybe all four...but I knew at that point I would give him my soul if he asked for it. I was his. He could do with me as he wished.

His eyes locked with mine for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Mine." I caught my breath as he went down to his knees, putting my feet on his shoulders and pushing my knees apart.

I felt his tongue lightly running up and down my slit. "Oh...Sir," I sighed.

He pulled my lips apart and started right in on my clit. He licked it, sucked it, nibbled it...going from light touch to hard pressure...using his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. I pulled at my restraints, wanting to grab his head, wanting to play with my nipples. He sucked my clit into his mouth, gently biting it as he flicked his tongue over it and I was lost, my hips bucking as I came over and over and over.

"Please, Sir...please stop!" I finally sobbed. He moaned against me, sending a new brand of ecstasy in to my brain and making me come again. "Please... I beg you... stop..."

"Mmmmmm," he said, running his tongue around my opening and letting go of my lips. He stroked the insides of my thighs as the quaking of my body slowly subsided. "Interesting," he whispered, seemingly apropos of nothing, as he stood and looked at me. At some point he had taken the rest of his clothes off. I stared at his cock -- uncircumcised, not too long, but thick with prominent veins -- wanting to feel it inside me.

He grabbed the belt around my wrists and pulled me up to a sitting position. He kissed me, his face still slick, my taste thick on his tongue. I sighed in to his mouth, my tongue chasing his, desperate to get beneath the taste of me in his mouth and back to just him. He moved his mouth to my breasts, making circles around my left nipple with his tongue.

"Please," I moaned. "Please..."

"Hmmm," he said, moving his mouth to my right nipple and gently biting it.

"Please, Sir...please fuck me," I said even as I arched my back to give him freer access to bite and suck at the underside of my breasts.

"Yes," he said, pushing me back down on the bed and thrusting roughly inside me. I came again, crying out incoherently and clamping around his cock as it filled and stretched me, shuddering again at that delicious pain as he hit my cervix. "Your cunt feels so good," he crooned, his hands caressing my breasts. He remained still inside me for what seemed like a long moment, letting me catch my breath.

"Nooooo," I whined as he slowly pulled out of me.

"Come here," he said, pulling me by my wrists again until I was standing next to the bed. "Turn around and bend over." I turned around and bent over, putting my wrists above my head. I laid my forehead on the bed and closed my eyes. He slipped the tip of his cock inside me, teasing me. "Is this what my little slut wants?"

"Please, Sir."

"Is it this?", he asked teasingly, slamming all the way in to me, raising goosebumps along my spine and making me grunt. "Or is it this?" he asked, moving inside me slowly, gently. I pushed back, angling my hips up towards him, and he laughed. "I see," he said. He started fucking me hard and fast, laying on my back and reaching around to pinch and tweak my nipples. "You like this, little slut?"

"Yes!" I cried, the feeling of him inside me and what he was doing to my nipples bringing me to the edge of another orgasm. "Please don't stop, Sir." He pulled my nipples hard as his balls slapped against my pussy and I came with a breathless shriek.

He pushed against me, getting as much of himself inside me as he could, and groaned. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck," he grunted, biting my shoulder as he came inside me. I felt him explode as I slowly came back down to earth.

He lay upon my back, breathing heavy, as he began to shrink inside me. My legs felt like jello, and I was concentrating on keeping them from shaking when I felt him right himself and pull out completely.

"Here, poppit," he said quietly, helping me stand up and turning me around to face him. He unbound my wrists slowly and dropped the belt on the floor next to us. "Are you alright?" he asked, gently massaging my wrists.

"Yes, fine." I was suddenly feeling really uncomfortable. Not...embarrassed. Just unsure of what to do or how to behave. I very clearly remember being somewhat afraid to even look at him.

"Why don't we clean ourselves up and go get some dinner?" he asked, pulling me to him and putting his arms around me. I laid my cheek against his chest, the soft hair tickling a bit.

"Alright," I said quietly. "Do you want to shower first?"

I felt his chuckle -- a low rumbling that vibrated from my ear to my clit -- at my question, and all of a sudden I wanted him again, I felt painfully empty without him inside me. "Why don't you go first?" he asked, giving me a kiss on the top of my head.

I went in to the bathroom and got in the shower, standing directly under the hot water with my head down. I was relaxing, thinking of nothing at all when I felt Malcolm's arm around my waist.

"Ah...poppit," he said, kissing my shoulder and turning me around.

"Poppit?," I asked.

"It's a term of endearment," he said. "Like 'babe' or 'love'."

"Oh."

He bent his head down and kissed me, hands sliding down to my ass and pressing himself against me so I could feel his half- erection against my abdomen. I tentatively caressed his cock with one hand, unsure if I was allowed to touch him or not, if it was allowed. I just had to. I hadn't had an opportunity to touch him yet.

He moaned deep in his throat, thrilling me, as he grew harder in my hand. I reached behind me, grabbing the soap and lathered up his cock, gently pulling back his foreskin and washing his balls. He leaned back against the wall with a sigh as I dropped the soap and angled the showerhead to rinse him off, watching the suds run down his shaft. (He really does have a magnificent cock, the perfect balance of thickness and length. I am not a connoisseur by any means, but I would say his is one of the few perfect cocks in the world.)

I sank to my knees, glancing up at him for approval and he smiled, nodding his consent. I stroked him gently before grabbing the base tightly and teasing the head with my tongue, tasting the little drop of milky white fluid that seeped out. He grunted, putting his hands on the back of my head and pushing. I placed a hand on his thigh to brace myself and took him in my mouth, sucking at him earnestly, worshipping him, my head bobbing up and down. I danced my tongue along the underside of his cock towards his balls, kissing and tonguing and sucking them. I relaxed my throat, sucking him back until his pubic hair tickled my nose before pulling back, my teeth lightly scraping his length. He began to move his hips, fucking my mouth and I felt him swell a little. I sucked him all the way back again and moaned as I felt him tense up. I was getting really turned on again, and I could feel the stickiness running down my thighs in spite of the constant flow of water from the shower. He gave a sort of hoarse bark as he came in my mouth, tasting slightly salty and slightly tangy, almost like pickle brine. I swallowed quickly, almost greedily, and licked his slowly shrinking cock lightly.

Malcolm grabbed my hands and pulled me up. He put his hands on my cheeks and held me there for what seemed like a really long time, just looking at me while the shower hit my back. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and -- to be honest -- I was afraid to speak. He eventually ran his thumb along my lower lip and climbed out of the shower.

"Take your time," he said over his shoulder as he toweled off. "We'll go to dinner when you are out and ready." He left the bathroom, the door clicking closed behind him, and I slid down the wall he had just been leaning against, my legs giving out. I rested for a moment, allowing this weird feeling of weakness to subside, before standing myself back up and finishing my shower, taking my time and cleaning up as much as possible.

By the time I turned off the taps and climbed out, the mirror was completely fogged. I toweled myself off briskly and wiped the mirror with my hands, clearing a patch. I looked closely -- my mouth was a little puffy and there were red marks on my wrist and the underside of my breasts. It gave me a thrill to see -- my stomach lurched as if I were on a roller coaster -- and I smirked at my own folly, wrapping the towel around myself and opening the bathroom door. Malcolm had laid out my dress, flip-flops and clean panties for me before going to the sitting room area. I could hear the BBC World News theme and I smiled, slipping on my clothes and running a comb through my hair. I went back in to the bathroom, hanging the towel over the door and looking in the mirror again. I grabbed a hair boingie and pulled my hair back, looping it through in a sort of floppy bun.

I went in to the sitting room and Malcolm stood. "Shall we?" he said, holding open the door for me.

We made our way to the little bistro across the street and had a light dinner, making only the most casual conversation. I had a million questions and a billion feelings running around my brain, but I was hesitant to bring anything up. We finished our dinner and Malcolm suggested we go for a walk, as there were things we needed to discuss. (I know this is weird, but I remember -- very clearly -- the look on his face when he said that. He looked like he had tasted something bitter. Funny how odd things stick so clearly in our brains, huh?)

We walked in the waning light for an hour or two. Malcolm took my hand, remaining silent at first. I didn't push him, knowing he would speak when ready, just enjoying being with him. I realize it sounds ridiculous and you will likely roll your eyes, but I felt free with Malcolm (still do!), like I didn't have to entertain or entice or put on any kind of act. I could just be. At the time, it was new, and I was enthralled by it.

He started talking, telling me about how he came to realize he had certain sexual appetites that were not quite for everyone. He spoke quite candidly about trying to ignore it, and the problems that created. He talked about his introduction to the lifestyle and some of the experiences he had learning his place in it. At the time I didn't know what that meant -- I really didn't -- and I interrupted his narrative to ask him. "BDSM," he said, looking at me closely.

"It's a lifestyle?" I asked, feeling a bit wary. It had never occurred to me that my entire life would change.

"Well, yes, it is." We walked in silence for a moment as I brooded on that. "It doesn't have to affect your whole life, Melody."

"No?"

"Not at all," he said, putting his arm around me and pulling me to him. He explained different levels of involvement -- from people who lived as Master and slave to those who had occasional D/s play sessions -- and where he fell in the spectrum. He was not interested in a slave, he said. He wanted someone who would be his equal outside the bedroom, someone who would challenge him and intrigue him, but who could give herself to his complete control sexually. I was listening to him, feeling myself getting wet again, wanting him again, and I didn't realize he had asked me a question.

"Melody?" he said, giving me a slight squeeze?

"Hmmm?"

"I asked if you had any previous experiences?"

"Oh! Sorry. I was just thinking."

"Oh?" He pushed me against a wall and slid his hand under my dress, pressing directly on my clit through my underwear. "I can guess what you were thinking about." He tugged my panties to the side and slid his finger between my lips, stroking my clit.

"Please," I whispered, looking around. "Someone might see."

"And?"

"And...Well...I just..." I was having a hard time formulating reason at that point, as my hips were rocking in a counter-rhythm to his stroking and I was getting lost in how good it felt. It's not like I'd never been petted, or fingered, or whatever, really. But with Malcolm it was...different. Better. With him, it was always at his whim, but it was as if he was inside me, and knew exactly what I wanted before I knew I wanted it. (And yes, it's still like that.)

"You want me to stop?" he asked with a very devilish smirk. I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. "No.... You like the way I tease your cunt?" I nodded, closing my eyes and biting my lip. He was tapping on my clit, some erotic Morse code message my body was able to decipher.

My brain was temporarily MIA.

"Tell me."

"I like the way...you touch me," I whispered.

"Not good enough," he said, stilling his fingers. I was close, just on the verge of orgasm, when he stopped. My eyes opened and looked in to his. He knew.

"I like the way you tease my cunt," I said.

"Yes," he sighed, his fingers resuming their teasing, tapping dance on my clit. I grabbed his elbows and started to cry out, but he swallowed my sounds with his mouth. He pressed me up against the wall firmly, making me completely immobile as he stopped tapping and pinched my clit. I had no option but to surrender completely to what he was doing, my body rigid as I came again.

I could feel him straightening out my panties as I slowly came down, panting and shuddering where I stood. He removed his hand, breaking the kiss and taking a step back to allow my dress to fall back over my legs. I was still leaning against the wall, my hands still on his elbows. I very clearly remember the way he took his fingers -- visibly wet even in the fading light -- and licked them, his eyes on mine. It was so sexy, I still get wet when I think about it.

"Malcolm..." I began, but he shut me up with an all-too-brief kiss.

"Take your time," he murmured, pulling me away from the wall and putting his arm back around my shoulders. We walked in silence for a bit again, me catching my breath and quieting the tremors in my thighs and abdomen.

"What was the question again?" I asked at last.

He threw his head back and laughed, making me laugh with him. "Have you had any previous BDSM relationships?" he repeated once he settled down.

"Oh, right. Hmmm...." I thought for a bit. "Not really. I had a boyfriend in college -- Kevin - that tied me up once."

"Did you like it?"

I thought for a minute, remembering. "Yes, I loved it," I said, my voice sounding far away. I hadn't thought of that -- of Kevin -- for years.




Bliss Ch. 02



"And that was it?" he asked, gently.

"Yes."

"Hmmm..." He was quiet for a while. We had walked in a large circle and ended up back at our hotel. He led me to the pool terrace on the third floor. It was lit up beautifully, the underwater lights making everything shimmer, golden. We took a small table overlooking the street below and the downtown skyline.

"I think you should take some time to decide if this is what you want," Malcolm said, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. He looked very...solemn. Almost sad. "You should...research a bit this week, be completely informed before you make your decision."

"Research?"

"You have wi-fi in your room, Melody."

"I see."

"I haven't changed my mind," he said, taking my hand and giving me a sweet smile. "And I won't. I just want you to be...fully informed before you make your decision."

"Fully informed," I repeated quietly, feeling a tingling between my legs.

"Things can get intense. They will get intense. If you don't know your limits, and more importantly, if I don't know your limits, it will be unpleasant." I nodded. "But if we communicate, if we have full and free honesty, we will be able to go places together. Dark, wonderful places, places neither of us dreamed about" he said, his voice a low rumble. I felt that tingling again.

"I see," I said quietly. "So," I said, clearing my throat as an unpleasant realization dawned on me, "no more...extra-curricular activities?"

"For now.... I think it's best we stop, don't you?"

I nodded. I didn't want to agree, but I knew, deep down, he was right. "So what happens now?"

"Now?" he said, dropping my hand. I could be wrong, but I swear a look of regret passed over his face. "Now we get ready for three days of schmoozing, we get ready to dazzle, and we get ready to win a new account." He gave me a smile. "If all goes well we will leave as scheduled. Thursday, when we arrive back in Seattle, either I will take you home, or you will get a cab."

"Which depends on....?"

"Your decision, Melody." He looked at me, affection plainly visible on his face.

"Alright, Malcolm." I stood to go back to my room. "I suppose I will see you in the morning."

"Meet me in the lobby. 8 AM."

"Yes, Malcolm," I said, my eyes locked on his. How I longed to throw myself at his feet, to consent to anything and everything he wanted. But I knew he was right. And I knew I was not ready to make any decisions. Instead I settled for giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and, with an inward shrug, made my way back to my room.

"What the hell," I said to myself as I climbed in to bed that night. "It's only four days."

They were the longest four days I'd known.



Bliss Ch. 03



****Note*****

Bliss' story was created based around a sketch of her that I drew. If anyone would like to see it, leave a comment telling me so, and how to upload it, and I will incorporate it into Ch. 4.

**************

Bliss' stomach wrenched as she felt her body slipping out of her control. The succubus' fingers were touching her everywhere, lighting fires that could only be quenched in ecstasy. Her anger was gone, and the satisfying climax she had already gone through had addressed the frustration she felt, but this loss of her free will brought about a sense of desperation. Pentitent enjoyed forcing her to respond; very few creatures had ever given even token resistance to her powers of seduction. Now she was being teased. The devil's tail was pumping in and out of her asshole, a painful and uncomfortable violation that Penitent nevertheless knew exactly how to do in a way that both enhanced Bliss' arousal and delayed the final release. The demon probably could have even found a rhythm that would make her climax just from the anal penetration, but Penitent rarely saw a reason to carry out her games in so simple a fashion. Her lips suckled on Bliss' neck, sharp, dainty little fangs nipping her, drawing perhaps a drop or two of blood. Her hands ran up and down the half-demon's body, still exploring all the wondrous curves. The succubus pressed as much of her rosy-pink skin as she could to the ebon-hued body of her daughter.

Long familiarity with her body let Penitent manipulate Bliss into another pre-orgasmic state quickly and efficiently. In a few minutes, she was in the sweet torture that could lead to climax if permitted. Only her ass and lurching stomach protested; all other parts of her seemed hungry and anxious for the ecstasy that Penitent would inflict. A human observer might have thought that Penitent was still trying to torment Bliss, to dominate her and teach her a lesson, but a creature of Lust like her was often governed by emotion. Though she was a sentient, logical being, Penitent was at that moment completely engulfed in the joy of sensual excess. She could feel rather than hear Bliss' moans against her lips, and every caress of her fingers or pump of her tail led to Bliss' delicious body twitching against her. Penitent reveled in the feeling of half-mortal flesh pressed against hers, suspended in a place between pleasure and pain. Bliss would be tormented until Penitent couldn't stand to delay seeing her orgasm any longer, and not a thought would be given to how the half-demon girl felt about it. She couldn't change her nature, couldn't even regret not being able to change it. She gave her daughter what she would; demons don't deal in 'could's or 'should's. 

Artistically working fingers brought the symphony of pain and lust to another crescendo, then gradually brought it back down just before the point of climax, more sweet torture for the misnamed girl. Soon, she would feel her namesake, but not a moment before Penitent willed it. Another time, and then another, Bliss' body trying as hard as it could to reach the ecstasy of orgasm that was so close, but Penitent had been seducing mortals for thousands of years, and knew exactly what she was doing. Finally, she wanted to feel the convulsing muscles and hear the shrieking moans, so she strummed her fingers furiously over Bliss clit, no longer dancing on the threshold, but charging right through. Blood ran in lines over Bliss' neck as the succubus' control slipped, and her other hand clutched and squeezed one dark breast vigorously.

Bliss' every muscle seemed to contract and fight the ones around it, her body tearing at itself in pain and pleasure. Thighs flexing, ass clenching and trying to expel the invader, breasts heaving and mouth screaming, Bliss finally reached her peak of release. As the waves of pulsing pleasure continued to wash over her, Penitent gripped her snowy-white mane and pointed her face once more towards the pool. Just as the face of the hated Ailztirea registered in her mind, her own face was shoved roughly downwards, shattering the image and splashing the quicksilver. A human's face would have been boiled off by this, but to Bliss it was no more distressing than a hot bath. After a few moments, her paralyzing orgasm began to subside, and she pushed back, finally resisting her mother.

Bliss straightened and turned to face Penitent, the motion reminding her of the leash formed by the succubus' tail in her ass. Her face must have shown this, for Penitent smiled and remarked:

"Yes, remember that I still control you. Calm yourself. I will take it out after I've given you one more orgasm, and after you give me one. Then we will talk. I want you calm and rational, daughter."

Penitent's mothering centered around the benefits of orgasmic release, but everyone sticks to what they know if possible. She saw doubt on Bliss' face, so continued.

"I promise to be good. No more pain, just sweet kisses. I'll lick your pussy like you should have let me do in the first place, and then I'll let you lick mine, however slowly or quickly you want."

Bliss followed when Penitent moved to her couch, still tethered by the succubus' tail. Words were replaced with gentle coos of encouragement and gestures, giving way quickly to gentle strokes over her sore body. Bliss was guided into a supine position, and her thighs raised by her mother's strong hands (not nearly as strong as her own, but still supernaturally superior to most mortals). The gentle strokes became a gentle massage, restoring sore muscles and relaxing jittery nerves. When her tongue touched Bliss' vulva, it was in the same vein, a gentle washing to revive her taxed womanhood. Her long dark body stretched a little farther backwards as she rested, enjoying the attention and slowly reaching the state she was named after. Her mother was good at what she did, and Bliss would return the favor with enthusiasm and respect. Penitent deserved it. Someday, Bliss thought to herself, she would be ready to leave, and she would be armed with all the erotic and magical skill that Penitent had to teach. Her incredible strength would be a crude last resort when all else failed, not the sum of her abilities and personality. She still plotted revenge on her spiritual mother, but the dark elves were a long-lived people, and Bliss could afford to wait.



Bliss Ch. 03



"Congratulations to us," Malcolm said, touching his little plastic cup to my bottle of water. "And a job exceptionally well done to you, Melody."

"It was a joint effort, Malcolm," I demurred. It was Thursday evening, and we were on our way back to Seattle. 

"Considering all the ideas originated with you, that's arguable." He smiled, settling back in to his seat. 

"Thank you, Malcolm." I peeled the label off my water bottle and began playing with it, folding it thin lengthwise layers. 

"You're nervous," he said quietly.

"Yes." 

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do." I glanced over at him. He had a very kind expression on his face which did nothing to ease my nerves.

"I...I did as you asked," I said quietly, my hands starting to rip the label in long strips. "And, well, I can't give control over to you like that. I like who I am."

"So do I."

"I don't want to subjugate my will for yours." I took a deep breath. "I won't be shared or choked or marked or scarred. I'm...I just can't be that person." 

"So you won't be moving in to my dungeon?" 

I glanced over at him and he winked back at me. "Don't make fun of me."

"I think I'm entitled to a little teasing."

"No."

"I don't want a slave, Melody. I already told you that."

"I know, but-"

"Hear me out," he said, interrupting me. "I like who you are. I want to go to the movies with you. I want to go to dinner with you. I want to take you on a ferris wheel ride. I want to spend time with you doing absolutely nothing at all. I want to sit around with you and read on Sunday afternoons. I want to stay up late and watch 50's horror movies on TV. I want to do all these things with you because I like who you are." 

"Yeah, but...what about the other stuff?"

"What?"

"You know, the whole 'this is mine, call me Sir' stuff you were talking?" I leaned in to him, my voice as quiet as I could make it.

"That hasn't changed."

"But how-"

"Come here," he said, lifting the armrest that separated our seats and putting his arms around me. He laid his cheek next to mine and rubbed my back gently. It was a bit uncomfortable, the seats – though larger than coach – were not exactly commodious, and there wasn't a lot of room to maneuver. Still, I breathed in the musky scent of his skin and wouldn't have wished to be anywhere else. 

"I also want you naked and over my knee, so I can watch your cunt get wet as I spank your tight little ass," he said, moving his lips next to my ear, making my breath catch in my chest. "I want to tie you down and make you come until you are senseless and weak. I want to tease you and fuck you and use you as I wish because you are mine. I want to make you forget your name and my name and scream Sir," he said, his voice even lower. I could feel the heat of his breath caress my neck. 

"I want it all with you," he said as he released me and sat back in his seat. I blinked, coming back to the realization we were still on the plane almost two hours from Seattle. I sat back and looked out the window, trying to regain my composure and reverse the humidity between my legs. 

"You don't make it easy, do you?" I asked after a few minutes.

"No."

We sat in silence for a bit. I looked out the window at the clusters of light below us and thought about what Tony said – that there are millions of people who enjoyed being called names and handled roughly. What did he call me? 

"Submissive," I said under my breath. 

"Yes," Malcolm said. I glanced at him and looked away quickly. He was looking at me with such heat, such intensity, I almost believed I would spontaneously combust from his gaze. 

I spent the rest of the flight avoiding eye contact. It seemed as if my mind was fighting with itself. The thought – the mere idea – of being a submissive had me more than a little nervous. It had me scared. I don't know why. At one point, resolved to just remember what had happened as a kinky little bit of spiced chocolate in my otherwise vanilla life, I closed my eyes and my mind flashed to Malcolm's face as he deftly restrained my hands with his belt, and I felt the most delicious lurch in the pit of my stomach. Lust. It wasn't in my head. I actually felt it. And my mind was changed. 

By the time we landed in Seattle and made our way to the baggage claim, my decision had been made and changed at least two dozen times. As we stood around the carousel waiting I glanced up at Malcolm to find he was watching me.

"Ask," he said, looking like he was trying his best not to smile.

"First off – how do you always seem to know what I am thinking? And B – how did you know I was a – I would be suited to your needs?" I asked. I felt breathless. 

"You've the most expressive face, Melody. Has no one told you that?" I shook my head. "The way your mouth moves, and your eyes – it's like you're telling me your secrets." 

I thought about what he said and I shivered a bit. The bubble light over the carousel went off and it started to move. Our bags were among the first to come down, and Malcolm made his way through the crowd to grab them. As I watched him move, as I noted his confidence and grace, I realized the decision had been made the first time he touched me. 

He came back to where I stood and handed me my bag. As I stood it up and extended the handle, he placed his hand on the small of my back, gently leading me towards the escalator up to the short-term lot. He didn't ask. He just knew. I don't actually think he ever had any doubt. 

He guided me to a sleek black Jaguar, and put our bags in the trunk as I made my way to the passenger door. He moved to the driver's side and opened the door, motioning me to get in.

"I'm not a good driver."

"Alright."

"Really. That's the real reason I take the bus." 

"I'm not wanting you to drive."

"That's a relief." 

"So get away from the driver's side."

"What?"

"I brought this with me."

"With you?"

"From London."

It took a moment to catch what he was saying. "Right. Of course you did. Why wouldn't you." I said, giggling. "Sorry. I didn't even consider that." I walked over to where he stood and he shoved me against his car, grabbing me by wrists and pressing himself against me. He just looked at me, and I could feel him getting hard, his cock growing against my abdomen, and my body responded in kind. I must have made a sound, or done something, because he gave a low laugh and released me. 

"Soon," he said, stepping back towards the door and holding his hand out to me. I took it, confused, and allowed him to help me in to his car. The interior was rich tan leather with black trim, and walnut accents. The windows were tinted nearly black. It was opulent. 

He got in and made his way carefully out of the garage, heading north towards Seattle. I watched him drive, looking at his face in the dash lights, and thinking he was impossibly handsome. 

"Give me your panties," he said suddenly, not looking at me. I didn't hesitate. I lifted my hips and reached under my skirt, pulling them down to my knees. I sat back down and lifted my feet, sliding them off completely. I made sure they were right-side out and handed them to Malcolm. "You're wet," he said, rubbing his thumb over the crotch. It wasn't a question, so I just sat mute, watching him, getting wetter. "Show me."

I hesitated a moment, unsure what he wanted. I shifted, sliding a hand under my skirt and fingering myself quickly. I pulled my hand out and held it out to him. "Wipe it off on your blouse," he said, glancing at my fingers. I did, watching as he tucked my panties in his jacket pocket. 

He took the viaduct through downtown, making his way towards Fremont, avoiding the interstate. I watched the turn towards Queen Anne – and my condo – fly by, and my heart began to beat a little faster, thinking about what he said on the plane, all those delicious promises. He pulled in to the driveway next to a large, well maintained craftsman. The porch light was on, as well as a light in a second story window. Malcolm opened my door and helped me out of his car, grabbing my wrist and leading me up the porch. He opened the door and pulled me inside, making me stumble a bit. He locked the door behind us and stood still, looking at me seriously. 

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sir," I croaked, my throat suddenly dry. 

He strode towards the back of the house, hand still around my wrist, pulling me behind him. I had to walk quickly to keep up. He pulled me through a hallway and a large room (kitchen? dining room?) and tossed his keys on to a table. I tried to get a look but he turned, heading up a flight of stairs, and I had no choice but to scramble after him. He turned right at the top of the stairs and head in to a large bedroom, richly furnished with dark woods and ruby linens, with cool gray walls and white trim.

"Take off your coat and blouse," he said, dropping my wrist and turning to face me. I shrugged out of my coat, letting it fall at my feet. I unbuttoned my blouse slowly, watching as he pulled an armchair from a window recess next to the bed and sat facing me. I let my blouse fall to my feet as well. I stood, hands fidgeting at my sides, watching Malcolm.

"Take off your skirt."

I reached behind me and undid the hook and zipper of my skirt, conscious of how my breasts pushed out as I did. I pushed my skirt and slip down, stepping out of them and kicking the pile to the side, standing before him in my bra, 50's style garter, stockings and heels.

"You are in the habit of wearing garters, Melody?" he asked quietly. 

"Yes." He raised an eyebrow, making me blush. "I don't like pantyhose." He raised both eyebrows. "I think they're unfeminine, nasty things, that make your thighs sweat and they feel horrible."

"And you always wear your panties over your garters?"

"Well, yes. It's, you know, easier?"

"Easier?"

"It makes it easier to...you know..." But Malcolm just stared at me. "It makes it easier to use the restroom," I said hotly, feeling harassed. I stood looking at my feet, my cheeks flushed. He didn't say anything for the longest time, and I started to fidget a bit. I glanced at him and found him staring at me intently. 

"Come here," he said. I moved to stand in front of him. He took my hand and kissed my palm wetly. "Bend over, arms out in front of you," he said, motioning towards the bed. I complied, pressing my face to the soft cotton coverlet. I could hear him moving behind me, but couldn't see him. 

"You have a nice, tight little ass," he said, suddenly behind me, caressing it. I felt his finger stroking around my anus.

"Oh, Malcolm," I sighed, and his finger suddenly stilled. 

"What did you call me?" he asked.

"Sorry. It slipped out," I said, starting to turn around. A hard slap on my right butt cheek stopped me. "Ow!" I cried, although it didn't actually hurt. 

"Shut up," Malcolm said. He brought his hand down four more times, twice on each cheek, with increasing intensity. It hurt, not just the stinging of my skin but the force, the way his blows lifted and compressed each cheek. I would swear I could feel the tissue bruising. 

Malcolm paused a moment, shifting slightly to stand a little to my left. "Do not move your arms," he said thickly. He began spanking me again, in earnest, and I realized he had been holding back before. I instinctively started to pull my arms back, wanting to shield my ass from his hands, but stopped myself, grabbing at the bed covers and twisting them in my fist. 

My ass began to feel like it was on fire, like his hands were literally blistering my skin, and I began to whimper, feeling tears run down my cheeks. It hurt! It hurt it hurt it hurt, dammit! So why did the heat spread from my ass to my pussy? Why did my entire body throb with each blow? This was way more intense than the teasing spanking he gave me in Houston. 

(A brief aside, if I may? One of our local theaters recently ran a revival of "Secretary" as their midnight movie. Tony took me to see it, as I hadn't caught it when it was originally released. The girl – and I forget her name – who played the title character should have won a freaking Oscar. The first time he bends her over the desk and spanks her, her face goes from scared to confused to serenity. It was perfect. Amazing. Honest. I sat through the rest of the film on the edge of my seat, Tony nudging me the whole time. When the film was over I made a quick escape, caught a cab home and woke Malcolm up. For which I was thoroughly, deliciously and wonderfully punished.)

Malcolm moved behind me again and changed the angle of his blows; instead of coming dead-on, they came from above and below, feeling even harder than before, like he was swinging at my ass from all the way down in his toes. Each time his palm connected with my skin, I felt my pussy clench and my clit ache, making me moan quietly. My hips moved, as if they were searching for his hand of their own volition. I could feel my wetness trickle down my thighs, even as my tears ran down my cheeks, and I knew Malcolm could see it. 

Malcolm stopped spanking me and I felt him kiss my ass with a low laugh that gave me goose bumps. He caressed my ass, his hand unbelievably cool against my skin, and I made a sound that was half relief, half frustration. He gently unhooked my bra, and used his hands to silently direct me until I lay across his bed. The linens felt smooth and cool and good against my skin.

He slid my bra off, eyes roaming over me slowly. My eyes were on his as he undressed down to his boxer briefs. I longed to touch him, to bury my nose in the hair on his chest and run my hands up and down his arms, to caress and grab his ass. He was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. He looked at me and smiled, shaking his head a bit.

"Let's remove the temptation for you," he said, grabbing his tie. He quickly tied one end around my right wrist, looping the silk fabric around the left hand bed post and then tying the other end around my left wrist. It happened quickly, but even had he gone slow, I wouldn't have tried to stop it. As soon as I realized what he was going to do, my heart rate jumped and my pussy clenched in anticipation. 

It may not make sense – to you, anyway – but as I pulled and tested my restraints, I felt free. Released. All expectation (real or imagined)...all inhibition... was removed from me. I was not to act. I was to be acted upon. It was liberating. 

Malcolm lay on the bed to my left, propped up and looking down at me. He leaned over and kissed me, his hand moving to caress my right breast. He rolled the nipple around as his tongue gently probed my mouth, starting to squeeze my nipple, gradually increasing the pressure on it until it crossed the line from pure pleasure to that pain that feels so good. I arched my back and moaned in to his mouth as he repeated on my left breast. 

He moved on top of me, laying between my legs. He brushed the hair back from my face before wiping the dampness off my cheeks with his thumbs. He gave me a soft kiss on each eye, the tenderness of his actions surprising me.

"If you need anything to stop, say your name." He looked at me gravely and I nodded, my heart rate increasing and my mouth suddenly dry. "Tell me you understand."

"If I need you stop, I will say my name," I said, my voice gravelly. 

"Good girl," he said, giving me that sexy smirk again. He slowly kissed down my neck, nibbling every now and then. I closed my eyes and sighed, enjoying the sensations. I pulled at my bonds, wanting to caress him, wanting to run my fingers through his hair, and whimpered every time I re-discovered I couldn't. 

Malcolm moved his lips down my body slowly, stopping at my breasts. He started on my right breast, placing his mouth around the areola and fluttering his tongue on my nipple, making it achingly hard. He moved on to my left breast, repeating his actions, smiling against my skin as I moaned and pulled at my restraints. He squeezed my breasts together, his thumbs rubbing on my nipples for a moment before biting hard on them both at the same time. I cried out and my back arched, lifting myself – and Malcolm – off the bed a bit as the pleasure of what he was doing hit me. Every time he bit down on my nipples it sent a shock to my clit, and I rocked my hips at him, trying to make contact, trying to get off. He raised his hips, lifting his abdomen from my pelvis and removing any possibility of contact with my pussy.

"Please, Sir, please..." I whined. 

"Does my dirty little slut want to come?" he teased. He let go of my breasts and slid his hand slowly down my abdomen. I stilled, breath held, as he slowly reached between my legs, gently cupping my sex. "Does my little slut want me to play with her cunt again?" 

"Yes, Sir," I whispered.

"Hmmmm?" He lightly caressed my lips as he shifted to my right side, using his left leg to pull my legs open. 

"Please, Sir, touch me. Make me come."

"I am touching you," he said, moving his hand to my thigh. He slid his hand around and down my leg, until he reached behind my calf. He lifted, moving my leg over his hips, and I could feel myself spread lewdly. I moaned. He bent his lips to my ear, and I felt a gentle kiss on my lobe. "Impatient." He moved his hand back up my leg, trailing his fingers along my inner thighs to the crease where thigh and hip meet. I whined, looking at him. He slowly slipped two fingers in my pussy, fucking me with them.

"Yesssss," I moaned. 

Malcolm smiled down at me, moving his fingers around inside me. I shuddered, lifting my hips against his probing hand. He pressed the heel of his hand against my clit, grinding in to it as his fingers quickly worked me in to a frenzy and I felt my pussy clench. He raised his eyebrows and pulled his fingers out, smiling as I tried to catch my breath..

He slipped his fingers in to my mouth, and I licked and sucked them, tasting myself mixed with the salt of his skin. He quickly pulled them out of my mouth and kissed me fiercely, his lips crushing mine and tongue forcing its way in to my mouth. His hands ran up and down my sides as he devoured me with his kiss. 

"You are exquisite when you come," he said, breaking the kiss at last. I closed my eyes, shaking my head and biting my lower lip. "You are. My hot, sexy little slut, writhing and moaning, your cunt wet and dripping." He began making circles around my clit with his finger. 

"Oh, Sir," I sighed, spreading my legs for him.

"Hmmm?"

"That feels so good," I sighed.

"You like that?" he asked, kissing his way down my chest. He kissed my nipples lightly before licking between them. 

"Oh....yes." He began kissing down my abdomen, his finger still massaging around my clit, stopping to nibble at my navel a bit. He ran his tongue slowly from my belly button to the very top of my pussy. "Please...."

"Please what?"

"Please...use your tongue."

"I am," he said, running his tongue in circles at the top of my mound. 

"Please, Sir." I drew my breath and held it as he removed his fingers. He began to slowly caress my pussy lips with his finger tips. I glanced down at him to find him looking at me, smiling.

"Ask for it," he said. I could feel his breath on my sex.

"Please eat me, Sir. Please lick my pussy," I said, hiding my face in the crook of my arm. I could feel the heat from my cheeks. I was so embarrassed, talking that way, but it also made me so hot for him.

"A slut has a cunt, not a pussy. Ask again," he said. He spread my lips open and blew on my clit. 

"Oh god! Please lick my cunt," I moaned, feeling cheap and dirty and sexy and desired. And wet. Very, very wet.

Malcolm began probing me gently with his tongue, tasting me lightly, almost delicately. I sighed and spread my legs as far apart as I could, bringing my knees up and to the side, and my mind suddenly thought back to high school and the frog we had to dissect in biology class. Then Malcolm's tongue fluttered against my clit and I thought of nothing but how good it felt. 




Bliss Ch. 03



He sucked and licked at me, repeatedly bringing me to the edge of orgasm and then backing off. Teasing me, taunting me with my own pleasure until I begged him to make me come. He grunted, zeroing in on my clit with his tongue and lips, making me come. He nipped, sucked and licked at it, and I came and came – not sure if it was one long orgasm or a series of small ones – until I could no longer speak and my abdominal muscles cramped. 

He moved quickly, running his tongue back up my body to my mouth and slamming in to me. I whimpered against him, still coming down from my orgasm and over-sensitive, and pushed my hips down in to the bed, away from him. 

"No," he said, grabbing my ass and pulling my hips back up towards him. 

"Please, Sir, it's too much," I sobbed. His pelvis hit my clit every time he thrust into me, sending off stabs of pleasure. 

"Hush," he said, shifting to press himself with even more force against me. I pulled at the tie around my wrists and moaned, unable to move or protect myself. "Let go," he whispered, moving his lips to my ear. 

"I can't. Please. It's too much."

"Relax and let it happen." 

"Too soon."

"No, it's not." Malcolm moved his mouth to my ear, speaking low. "Just let go, close your eyes and think of nothing more than how good it feels. How my cock feels inside your cunt. How your tight, wet cunt caresses my cock as I fuck you." He emphasized each sentence by slamming in to me. "Think of how much your cunt likes it. How much you like it. You like how I fuck you? How I tie you down and fuck you? You like being my dirty little slut, don't you?" 

I grabbed the slack of my restraints, eyes closed, concentrating on the feeling where our bodies met and listening to him. I relaxed, the pleasure intoxicating, seductive. I planted my feet on top of his thighs and moved my hips against him. "Oh god....oh Sir...don't stop...please Sir."

"Tell me what you want," he grunted, letting go of my ass and raising himself to look at me. 

"Fuck me. Don't stop. Fuck me. Use me." I chanted, my breathing ragged. God – he felt so damn good. It was an entirely new experience to me. And when I realized what I was doing and saying, when I realized those moans and sighs and shrieks were coming out of my mouth, I could feel embarrassment rising in me. I couldn't help it. 

I glanced up at Malcolm, and I could see his approval. "My good little slut," he grunted. His eyes were fierce. There was sweat on his brow. "Tell me."

"Don't stop fucking me. Please. Your cock feels so good. I'm your dirty little slut. Keep fucking me. Keep fucking your slut." My embarrassment burned away by the look in his eyes. The more I talked, the dirtier I talked, the wetter I got and the more intense Malcolm's fucking became. I reveled in this new sensation. This feeling of being at once powerful and powerless. I began to move my hips more quickly against him, goosebumps erupting all over at the sounds our bodies made together. Any inhibition I had was abandoned. Every identity I'd ever had was thrown to the wayside, forsaken. There was no good girl here, no feminist, no senior account executive. The volunteer, the community do-gooder was nowhere to be found. There was only Malcolm's slut. 

It was glorious.

"Oh god. I'm going to come. Oh Sir, it feels so good when you fuck my cunt. I'm going to come," I cried. 

"Yes, you fucking slut. I can feel – ," Malcolm said. And then he said nothing, his eyes closing as I felt him come inside me. And then I said nothing, I just wailed and moaned beneath him as I came, too. He thrust into me, fucking me through both our orgasms, with enough force to lift my hips off the bed and double the slack around my hands. 

He must have recovered before I did, because one moment I was shuddering beneath him and the next he was lying next to me, rubbing my clit lightly and teasing my nipples with his tongue. I could hear myself sobbing, begging him to stop, even as my hips moved and my legs fell open. 

"I want you to come for me again," he said against my breast.

"Please, no. I can't." I could feel my hair plastered to my head, and the sweat running off me. I was so sensitive, each gentle stroke of my clit made me shake.

"Yes, you can." He raised his head to look at me and I shook my head. He stopped playing with my clit and spread my lips apart. "Yes," he said, raising his hand and slapping me between the legs. I had never felt anything so wildly erotic before. My body jerked and I moaned, opening my legs wider and angling my hips towards him. It felt so good, it was pleasure laced tightly with pain, each sensation wholly dependent upon the other. He slapped me again and I moaned louder, feeling my wetness splash onto my thighs.

"Oh god, yes," I moaned as he slapped it again. All thoughts of me being too tired and too sensitive to come again had vanished. I felt delirious. "Oh jesus that feels so good."

"Are you going to come for me?" he asked, spanking me between my legs again.

"Ahhh...yes....yessss....make me come." 

"That's it...what a good little slut...come for me," he whispered as he slapped me between the legs with a steady tempo. God, it felt delicious. Malcolm kept whispering to me as he spanked my pussy, dirty things, sweet filthy things, and when I came my entire body locked up, my cries trapped in my throat with my breath. 

I didn't 'pass out', per se, but it took me a while to come back to full awareness. When I did, I was on my side, under the duvet with Malcolm spooned up behind me, my wrists finally free. I had only the vaguest recollection of how I got there. He wrapped his arms around me and laced his fingers through mine. He kissed the side of my head and laid his cheek against it.

"It's nearly 2AM," I said, looking at the clock on his bedside table.

"Mmmhmmm," he said, pulling me to him tighter. 

"I'm going to be a wreck at work."

"You're not going to work."

"What?"

"I spoke with Ian before we left Houston and told him we were both beat after working so hard. He said we should take the day. With pay, of course."

"You did that?"

"Yes."

"You knew I would come home with you?"

"I assumed you would."

"Oh really?"

"I can be overconfident at times."

"You mean a 'cheeky bastard'?" I teased.

"You'll pay for that later," he growled in to my ear, making me giggle. 

"Big talk," I said, yawning. 

"Later, my sexy little slut." He yawned, and I could feel his chest expand behind me. "I am too tired to take care of it now."

I think I opened my mouth to retort, but I fell asleep before I could get anything out. 



It was really weird waking up in Malcolm's house the first time. It was just past 11 AM when I finally opened my eyes, and I had that odd 'where-am-I' panic moment before I remembered. I rolled over to find Malcolm gone, the place where he'd lain smoothed out, which added to the overall weirdness. I considered just laying there until he came back in, but urgent messages from my bladder made me realize that was a horrible idea. 

I sat up, pulling the duvet up to my chin and casting about for a robe or towel or anything to wrap myself in. I spied a note on the bedside table grabbed it –

Melody –

I have gone to the store. There are fresh towels in the bath. Make yourself at home.

M

"No use worrying about being naked," I mumbled, clutching the note and making my way to the bathroom – whoops, the bath I mentally reminded myself with a giggle. As I sat to pee I realized how sore my butt was, and I had to sit forward, keeping all my weight on my thighs. When I finished, I went to the mirror to have a look at my ass. It was bruised a deep purple in spots, but not too bad. It looked almost like I fell roller skating. I pressed my hand on it gingerly, thinking about how the bruises occurred and feeling a little proud and, oddly, turned on. I shook it off, heading towards the shower, whistling at the massive opulence of it. It was open in the back, no door or curtain, and seemed big enough for an NFL team to shower together.

After a few moments fiddling with the shower controls – he had three shower heads, one above and one on either side – I stepped in, both delighted and dismayed to find he had unpacked my toiletries for me. I showered slowly, enjoying the feeling of the three sprays as muscles I didn't realize were tense slowly relaxed. When I finally got out my fingers were starting to prune and I thought I heard Depeche Mode's "Sweetest Perfection" as I toweled off. I quickly combed my hair and wrapped it in a towel, slowly opening the bathroom door. Yes, that was definitely DM, and I smiled at his choice. I peeked out, but Malcolm was nowhere to be seen. 

I tiptoed into his bedroom, looking around for my suitcase. He obviously took it out of the car if he got my toiletries – but he must have left it downstairs. My clothes were folded neatly on his dresser, but I spied his dress shirt hanging on the back of the bedside chair and put that on instead, breathing in deeply that good smell of man. I left the top three buttons undone and rolled up the sleeves and head downstairs as quietly as possible. "Sweetest Perfection" had given way to "Personal Jesus", and I could hear Malcolm singing along quietly. 

I followed the sound of his voice and found him in the kitchen, slicing berries and cantaloupe in cargo shorts and a t-shirt. I watched him, unnoticed, shaking his hips in a very good parody of Dave Gahan, feeling a sudden warm affection for him that surprised me with its depth. I bit my lip to keep from giggling as he unselfconsciously used the knife in his hand as a microphone, but I was a bit too late.

"Come dance with me, poppit," he sang into the steel blade. 

I practically skipped over to him as he tossed the knife into the sink and took me in to his arms. He pulled the towel off my head and dropped it behind him as he danced us into a large, sunken den. He maneuvered me over to a huge plush brown sofa, making me laugh as he pushed me down on to it.

"Wait here," he said, dashing back out. I sat, trying to look demure by tucking my legs underneath me, but it put too much pressure on the wrong place, so I settled for sitting cross-legged, the front of Malcolm's shirt tucked between my legs. 

He came back in carrying a tray with fruit, cheese, croissants and tea and set it on the coffee table, taking a seat on the floor to my right, his back leaning on the couch. We ate, not talking too much at first as we were both pretty hungry, listening to 'Violator' in companionable silence. As we slowed down and began to pick at the food, I slid my legs out carefully, lounging on the sofa, smoothing his shirt over me and propping my head in my hand. 

"Thank you," I said quietly. "That was lovely."

Malcolm shifted, turning towards me. "Are you sore?" he asked quietly, brushing his fingers through my hair.

"Not too bad." 

"Bruised?"

"A little," I said with a shiver. The CD recycled, the synth hook from "The World In My Eyes" suddenly filling the room. I smiled at him and he leaned over and kissed me. I could taste strawberry on his lips.

"What do you have on under my shirt?" he whispered.

"It's a secret."

"I don't care for secrets," he said, smiling.

"Then you better find out quick." I made to get up off the couch, but he grabbed me and pulled me back down, making me squeal with delight as he climbed on top of me and straddled my hips. 

"Oh my," he said, unbuttoning the shirt and spreading it open. I watched his eyes roam over me. "I seem to have you at a distinct disadvantage, my dear," he said, grabbing my wrists with one hand and twirling an imaginary moustache a la silent movie villain with the other.

"You have an odd idea of disadvantaged," I laughed.

"How so?" He let go of my wrists and started kissing my neck, slowly moving down my body, flicking his tongue lightly over my skin.

"There are few places I would rather be than naked beneath you," I whispered. I ran my fingers through his hair, enjoying the luxury of being able to touch him.

"I can think of one," he said. He lay his length on top of me and kissed me deeply, sliding his hands beneath me. I rand my hands down his back and tugged at his shirt, wanting that skin-to-skin contact. 

"Where's that?"

"Naked on top of me?" he asked, sitting back on his heels and taking off his shirt. He undid his shorts and, rising to his knees, pushed them and his boxers down. His cock stood out, erect, pointing slightly up. I bit my lip, a silly thought almost making me giggle. "What?" he asked, pulling me up and helping me to my knees. He pushed his shirt off my shoulders and I felt it fall over my calves.

"The music makes me feel like I'm in my 20's." I grabbed his cock and began stroking it softly. He slowly leaned back, watching my hand as it stayed in contact with him, until he was flat on his back. I positioned myself between his knees and slowly licked at his balls, my hand still stroking him gently. I ran my tongue up the bottom of his cock, pulling back his foreskin and lightly flicking my tongue against his frenulum.

"Come here," he groaned, grabbing me by my biceps and pulling me up to him. "I need to be inside you."

"Yes, Sir," I whispered, lowering myself slowly onto him. I was still a little sore from being so...well used... the night before, so I moved painstakingly slow, sighing as I finally sat fully upon him. I leaned forward a bit and rocked with my thighs, slowly sliding up and down on him, the pleasure quickly replacing the pain.

"Melody," he moaned, his hands squeezing my hips. I smiled, moving a tiny bit faster, watching him. "You feel so good and wet and hot."

"Oh, Sir," I whispered, dragging my nails down his chest, scraping them over his nipples. "Say my name." He held my face in his hands, looking at me intently. "I want to hear you say my name."
"Malcolm," I whispered, reluctant to say it loudly. 

"Yes." He pulled me to him. holding me tight against him, and began thrusting up from beneath me. "Say it."
"Oh, Malcolm." I was getting close – so close – to coming already I was almost embarrassed. He just made me feel so very good. "I want to come."
"Yes, Melody. Yes!" His hips moved erratically, jostling me about, grinding me in to him. I felt my body tense, my toes curling beside his thighs, as I came. He came quickly after me, hips elevated, holding me fast against him, softly saying my name over and over. 

He lay back down, and I stretched out on top of him, thinking. I felt him shrink and fall most of the way out of me and I flexed, unable to stop myself, pushing him the rest of the way out. 

"Unfair."

I slid to his side, wedging myself between him and back of the couch, throwing my leg over his and running my fingers through his chest hair. His hand ran idly up and down my back a while, before resting on my hip. 

"Stay the weekend with me?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I answered quickly.



Bliss Ch. 04



The third orgasm was approaching fast, as Penitent was no longer attempting to draw out the process. She had rubbed new life into Bliss' limbs, and was now licking her clit with abandon. The succubus' appetite had been awakened, and she ate Bliss hungrily, a demonstration of how she wanted it done to her in turn. Her dainty fangs were pinning Bliss' labia open, allowing her supernaturally gifted tongue to pleasure her daughter's plump, worn-out clit. The pinprick pain held Bliss, daring her to move, and she could barely keep from writhing. The slightly uncomfortable pressure did not constitute a breaking of Penitent's promise in her mind, as it was very erotically stimulating. Soon, the rhythmic pre-orgasmic pulses began again. Penitent felt her tail being squeezed, a sensation that started out soft and pleasant and quickly became much more intense. It actually made her wish she had a real phallus to violate Bliss' ass. She also wished that she could whisper in Bliss' ear and eat her pussy at the same time. It took a little extra concentration, but she eventually managed to solidify her thoughts enough to send a telepathic string of dirty talk straight to Bliss' brain, an innate ability of her kind that was rarely used.

'I can feel your ass massaging me, daughter, you whore, oh yes, a demon prince would love to feel that on his cock, he might never try your pussy at all, you'll remain a virgin forever, your ass is just too sweet, serves you right anyway, slut, chain you face first to the wall, sew your useless mouth shut, fuck your ass hard, fuck it long, fuck it harder and harder, maybe let some slutty succubus lick your cunt to get those muscles flexing, that's the only pleasure you'll get without me, remember that when you worship my pussy with your tongue, you dirty little cunt, with your tight little virgin pussy, and tight little dirty ass'

The words came in a strange rush, but they did their job. Bliss was shaking, and rushing towards orgasm, this time without any pretense of control on either of their parts. Penitent's tongue moved back and forth, faster than any mortal could, as she kept her face pressed to Bliss' bucking crotch. She rode her through the whole climax, licking as fast as she could and swallowing as much of Bliss' pussy juice as she could hold. Two more little lines of blood ran down either side of Bliss' hungry sex-hole, evidence of her mother's recurring loss of control. The half-demon rested, content, and Penitent allowed her to do so until her own need asserted itself too strongly to delay any longer. 

The succubus' hands guided Bliss down off the couch, making room for her to climb up and take her place. A moment of slight jealousy and rage came over Bliss as she gazed up at her mother. Despite her isolated upbringing, she had somehow gotten the idea that dark skin was not beautiful, and the succubus' rosy pale-pink flesh filled her with envy. Penitent, on the other hand, lusted after Bliss' ebon beauty in a way that left very little time for her to wish she looked the same. The succubus closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of her dearest object of lust, trying to remain calm enough to let the dark, troubled girl proceed at her own pace. A slightly cruel, slightly beatific smile touched her lips. She would let Bliss proceed at her own pace, yes, but her tail still skewered the half-demon's ass.

Dark-skinned hands parted pale thighs, and Bliss knelt before the flower of Penitent's womanhood. Not that she was a woman, but she was in her natural form. Succubi can take any form to complete a seduction, and they can drain the life energy from mortals without them feeling anything but sensual abandon, but only in their true form can they reach orgasm. Penitent had earned her current name by pretending to relent of her demonic ways while imprisoned by the priest of a goodly god. First in supplication and false repentance, then in unbridled sexual servitude, she had spent enough time on her knees in those months that her irony-mindful peers stuck her with the name. Sometimes she went by the more formal-sounding Penitentia, and on the rare times she returned to the physical realm since Bliss' birth, she often went by Penny. The story of her naming was one of great pride for her, as she had seduced a powerful mortal spell-caster with his full knowledge of her Hellish nature the entire time. However, he had sired no half-demon child on her, and when Bliss came along, she was glad that she hadn't let the portly bearded cleric beget her with his undoubtedly ugly offspring.

The priest had not fathered a child on her because he had not survived. In mortals, the seed is important; in demons, it is the spark of life in the mortal parent's soul. Typically, when mortals and demons pillow, there is no spark of life afterwards. Bliss' father had been protected, and had only given a little seed. Penitent could have held back, letting the priest live and bearing his bastard offspring, but sucking his soul out through his throbbing member had been such a pleasurable option, and there was really no gain in not doing it. 

As fluttering kisses worked from the inside of her knees to the juncture of her thighs, Penitent thought back to the day Bliss had been conceived. For her, it had been a happy day; a turnabout of the usual formulaic steps of seduction, and the start of a wonderful (by demon standards) mothering experience. The sex had been the total opposite of the slow, worshipful treatment Bliss was now giving her, but thinking of it nevertheless made her daughter's oral attention all the sweeter. Finally, Bliss had reached her outer labia, suckling at them, licking up and down, her strong, strong hands holding Penitent's thighs apart. Her tongue plunged into the succubus' fragrant hole, tasting pure sex, not sweet, not bitter, not tangy, just sex turned into a flavor. She pumped her face at the demon-pussy, making her tongue act as a small, slippery phallus, teasing the her mother by not giving her clit any attention yet. Penitent struggled to remain patient, to not rush the marvelous job Bliss was doing of prolonging her pleasure. When ebony lips finally sucked the swollen, pearl-like clit towards the pink, tlented tongue, Penitent threw herself fully into the memory, going into a trance of pleasure, once again projecting her thoughts into Bliss' brain.



Bliss Ch. 04



We spent that first weekend just kind of hanging out at his place. Getting take-out, playing Parcheesi (Parcheesi!), watching the original Godzilla. And talking. Looking back, it was a perfect way for Malcolm to show me what I was getting myself in to. What he expected of me. It was a time for me to learn. To question. And question I did. I questioned him and myself and what I felt and what was happening between us and the way my whole being responded to him. He must've thought he'd taken up with the daughter of 'The Riddler'. But he didn't seem to mind. Like when I asked if he would take me home to pick up some underwear, he refused. He told me I wasn't allowed to wear panties when I was with him. "I want to know that when I reach under your clothes I will touch nothing but you. No knickers between me and what I want," he said plainly. 

It was new, and exciting. And also frustrating at times. I'd never been with a man who forbid me to wear panties; I found that both arousing and irritating. And the fact that it irritated me aroused me even more, that Malcolm assumed such control over me to presume to tell me what I could and could not wear got me so hot for him I couldn't stand it. I wanted to fight him on that, I really did. But I knew it was only to save face, to save the idea of myself as a fully liberated woman of the 21st century. So instead I gladly agreed, the idea that he had such unfettered access to me too tempting, that he had that much control of me too enticing. 

Okay, maybe 'agreed' is the wrong word. I gladly obeyed. I think, in looking back, those couple of days were also the beginning of a re-training, or a re-conditioning, of sorts. It was almost 'Pygmalion-esque', really. You may think I'm looking back through rose-colored lenses, but I'm not. It was never threatening. Not once did I have any fear of Malcolm. (In fact, I can't remember ever being afraid of him. I've been afraid for him, but that's different.) He never raised his voice. He never coerced me to do anything, to accept anything I didn't want. He pushed my boundaries, my limits, for the first of many times that weekend, but I was – and I remain - a willing party to it. 

I was supposed to meet Tony for brunch at Glo's that Sunday. I had called him the day before Malcolm and I left Houston and told him everything that had happened so far, and I knew he was anxiously waiting to hear how it all went. I didn't want to break the date. But I also didn't want to cut short my time with Malcolm. Stupid, I know, but remember everything was still so new with him. I considered asking Malcolm to join us, knowing Tony wouldn't mind as he was already dying to meet him, but decided against it. I wasn't sure – at that time – if it was my place to ask him. So instead, I simply told him I was supposed to meet Tony for brunch on Sunday, and told him when.

"I suppose I should have you home in plenty of time to make your date then?" he asked, giving me a funny smile. It was Saturday evening, and we were sitting around the coffee table in his living room, eating cold pizza. "You will, after all, want to wear some knickers."

"I...umm...yes, I...I will..," I laughed breathily. I was suddenly very aware I was in Malcolm's Chelsea FC t-shirt and nothing else. 

"Does it make you uncomfortable to be so exposed? To know I can touch your cunt anytime I wish?" he asked quietly. I shook my head, staring at his lips as he spoke as if mesmerized. "No? Does it excite you? Does it make you wet to know I can play with your slutty little cunt whenever I want to?" I nodded, feeling the heat between my legs increase. "Answer me."

"Yes," I whispered.

"Yes." He looked at me closely. "In fact, you're getting wet right now, aren't you?"

"Yes."
He suddenly leaned forward and swept off the coffee table, pushing our napkins, water bottles, the pizza box, a book and some magazines to the floor. I jumped at the noise it made when it hit. He patted the table in front of him, looking at me. It took me a minute to realize what he wanted. I slowly stood and walked to him, standing in front of him for a moment before sitting on the edge of the coffee table facing him. I kept my legs together and pulled his t-shirt down over my thighs. Malcolm surprised me by leaning forward and softly kissing each of my knees. 

"Ass on the table, poppit," he said. I looked at him for a moment, then leaned forward and lifted my backside a bit, pulling the hem of his shirt up and sitting back down. "Good girl."

He sat back, leaning on his hands behind him, looking at me appraisingly. His eyes roamed with that greedy look to them, like a child looking through a candy shop window, and I could feel my heart speed up a bit. 

"Open your legs." I let my knees fall open a bit, and his shirt fell between my thighs. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Spread your legs as wide as you can." I did as he asked, his t-shirt still between my legs, as if keeping me modest against my will. I slid my legs open until they were in front of the table legs and I was nearly doing the splits. My hands rested on my thighs as I watched Malcolm's gaze run up and down my legs. "Very good, poppit. Sit tight, I won't be a minute," he said, standing and walking out. I could hear him rummaging about nearby for a brief moment. 

When he came back in he was carrying something that looked a lot like a tripod with a video camera on it, but at first I refused to believe that's what it was. When he set it up at an angle to the table, just off to my right, and began fiddling with it, checking through the viewfinder and making slight adjustments, I had to acknowledge it.

"What the fuck are you doing with that?" I asked. My voice sounded shrill. I was seriously stunned and more than a little pissed. I stood up, watching him.

"Do you really need to ask?" Malcolm said, coming over to me and putting an arm around my waist. He stroked my hair, smoothing it back, with his other hand. He meant to soothe me, I know, but it didn't work.

"No. I won't."

"Won't what?"

"I won't be filmed."

"Why not?"

"I just won't," I said. I put my hands on his chest, meaning to push away from him, but he moved, putting both arms around me, pulling me close. He held me tightly, my hands still on his chest, my lower body pressed against his. I leaned my head back and looked at his face.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing," I lied. 

"Then why are you trembling?" I shook my head, dropping my eyes. I didn't know why the camera scared me. I just knew it did. "Look at me." I met his eyes again, the tenderness I saw in them making me weak. "I will not show this to anyone. I give you my solemn promise on that."

"Why?" I squeaked, wincing a little at the sound of my voice. 

"I want to watch you come." He kissed my brows softly. "I want to watch your eyelids flutter while you twist about." He kissed my cheeks. "I want to be able to watch your lips pout and nipples flush whenever I please. I want to be able hear you moan and say dirty things when you're not here." He kissed me softly, his tongue lightly tickling at my lips. I opened my mouth to his with a sigh. He moved his hands to my hips and gently pushed me to sit on the coffee table again.

"Please-"

"I love to watch you come, Melody. You are so achingly beautiful when you do." He dropped to his knees in front of me, kissing my neck. "I just want to be able to see that whenever I wish." He gently spread my legs and ran his hands up and down my calves. "I am the only one who will ever see it." He moved his lips back to mine and kissed me deeply. 

"Promise?" I whispered, looking in to his eyes. He nodded, meeting my gaze. "Alright. But if this ends up for sale on the internet, I want a seventy-percent cut." He gave a small laugh and smiled, pulling the t-shirt off me and tossing it on the sofa before sitting back. 

"Lovely," he said quietly, unleashing his eyes again. I could feel my skin erupt in gooseflesh as his eyes wandered. "Are you wet?" he asked, his voice low. I nodded, looking down and chewing my lower lip. "Show me." 

I spread my legs out as before, turning my head to the left and closing my eyes. I felt almost dizzy from excitement and nervousness. 

"Yes, you are quite wet, aren't you?" I nodded, my face still turned to the side. "Do you like showing me your cunt? Displaying yourself to me like a common whore?" I sucked in my breath at his words, shifting my hips to expose myself even more fully to him. "Yes. I can see you do. I can see it excites you." I watched out of the corner of my eye as he took his cock out of his shorts and began stroking it. His cock looked impossibly hard, with come oozing out of the tip in small amounts. 

I thrilled to think looking at me did that to him. That the sight of me naked and open before him made him that hard. I leaned back on to my hands, turning my head to face him and opening my legs a little wider. I could feel my wetness run from my opening down the crack of my ass to pool beneath as Malcolm watched. I shivered a bit, getting more excited. 

"Touch yourself. Play with your cunt for me." I had never done that before, never masturbated in front of any man, but I didn't even hesitate. I moved my right hand, running two fingers from my opening to my clit and back down. I arched my back, sliding forward a little to the very edge of the table, my fingers slowly running up and down, watching him stroke himself. "Do you like that? Do you like to play with your cunt while I watch?"

"Yes."

"Feed it to me," he said, getting up onto his knees between my legs. I held my hand out to him and he sucked and licked my fingers quickly, almost frantically, making me moan. He pulled my fingers out of his mouth and put them back on my pussy. "Keep playing with your whore cunt for me."

"Yes, Sir," I moaned, rubbing my clit in a circular motion, my hips moving. 

"Do you want to come? Do you want to come all over your own hand like a slut while I watch?"

"Ohhh...yessss..." I cried, getting close. 

"Do it. Be a good little whore for me and come." I leaned back further as I got closer to coming. Malcolm stood up, his shorts falling to the floor as he stroked his cock. "Are you my dirty little slut?"

"Yes, yes I am!" Pleasure washed over me, taking me by surprise as I came. 

"Tell me!" He was standing over me, stroking himself quickly. I could see the muscles of his forearm working. "Tell me who you are!" His thighs clenched and I watched his cock spurt his come on me. It landed on my face and neck and breasts, the heat of his creamy, iridescent liquid a shock on my skin. 

"I'm your dirty little slut, Sir," I moaned, watching him milk his cock as I felt his come slide down between my breasts. He dropped to his knees between my legs and put his hands on my shoulders, pushing at them. I laid back on the coffee table, feet planted on the floor. I could feel Malcolm's come cooling and getting tacky on my skin and it made me feel unbelievably sexy. 

"I have to eat you," he croaked, hooking his arms around my thighs. He leaned forward, lifting my legs and blew on my slit. He started at my ass and lightly licked his way up, his tongue teasingly lapping at my pussy. 

"Yes. Please. Yes, eat me," I gasped, running my fingers through his hair. Malcolm's tongue danced on and around my clit as he sucked it, quickly making me wild. "Oh god. It's so good. Please don't stop." I grabbed his hair and started thrusting my hips at him shamelessly, reveling in the freedom of being his whore, fucking his face as he tightened his grip on my thighs. He shook his head from side to side, like a shark tearing at its prey, pulling my flesh with him and I went over the edge, coming all over his face and begging him to stop.

Malcolm slowly untangled his arms from my legs as I lay there catching my breath and shaking. He gently put my feet back on the ground and leaned forward, kissing the inside of my right thigh softly before laying his head on it. His hands wandered up and down my legs. 

He sighed, a great, heaving sigh, and I felt his fingertips trailing lightly up and down my pussy lips. "Shhh," he whispered in response to my moaning. He started slowly finger fucking me with two fingers, using his other hand to spread apart my pussy lips. 

"Oh god, what you do to me..." I whispered, curling my toes against the pleasure I was feeling. "So good." I felt him lift his head and suddenly felt him snick my clit, making me cry out. 

"More?" 

"Yes." I gripped the edges of the coffee table as he kept snicking at me. He changed the angle of his hand and his finger snapped against me with more force, making me jump a little. It hurt, but the pain was it's own pleasure. It felt like he was touching the very center of my soul, like he was communicating with a secret part of me, every time his finger made contact. My legs twitched as if they would close and I had to force them open. I loved it.

"Oh yes! Harder!"

"You want it harder, baby? You want me to spank your slut cunt?" his fingers still moved inside me. 

"Please," I cried. 

Thwack! I felt something hit me hard along the length of my slit, making my knees jump as I squealed. I glanced down and saw he had rolled up one of the magazines he had knocked to the floor and was using it as a makeshift cudgel against my pussy. 

"Oh god," I moaned as I shifted, hooking my feet around the table legs. My ass was almost completely hanging off the edge of the table. I saw him lift the magazine and closed my eyes.

"Do you want it?"

"Please." Thwack! "Oh god. YES!" Thwack! "Harder! Please!" 

"Who's my dirty little slut?"

"I am!" Thwack! "I'm your dirty little slut!" Thwack! "Harder!" THWACK! "Oh god! I'm going to come! I'm going to come!"

Malcolm got up on his knees and quickened his blows, swatting at me rapidly with the magazine in his left hand while swirling the fingers of his right around inside me. I went rigid and screamed through clenched teeth as I came, gripping the table tight. I shuddered with the intensity of my orgasm hard enough to bruise the tops of my feet. 

Malcolm stilled his fingers, dropping the magazine to the floor, as I eventually stopped spasming. He caressed my stomach, removing his fingers slowly as my body relaxed. I could sense him moving, leaning directly over me, and I felt him kiss me gently. The tenderness was such a contrast with what had just happened, and I could feel tears running down the sides of my face. 

"Look at me," he said quietly, brushing his fingers through my hair. 

I just shook my head. I was burning with shame over my behavior. 

"Come here," he said, caressing my arms and slowly working my fingers off the edge of the table. He got up and sat on the couch, pulling me with him to sit on his lap. My head rested on his shoulder, my face buried against his neck as he rubbed my back. It was soothing, and I couldn't stop the tears. I wasn't weeping, I didn't sob or make any noise, and it wasn't even for very long, really. I just silently cried, my head on Malcolm's shoulder while he held me with one arm and rubbed my back. 

"Are you alright?" he asked as my tears stopped. I gave a shuddering sigh and nodded. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," I said quietly.

He turned his head and softly kissed the tip of my nose before gently helping me off his lap. He stood up and took me by the hand, wordlessly leading me upstairs and into his bedroom. He sat me in a chair in a window recess and went in to the bathroom. I put my face in my hands, elbows on my knees, and leaned forward, fighting a sudden urge to get dressed and run out. I heard the water start in the tub and sat up. 

"Come – let's have a bath," Malcolm called from the doorway. I sat mute for a moment before going to him.

"OK," I said meekly, moving past him to the huge tub. He had put some oils in the water, making the steam fragrant. I picked up the bottles from the ledge. Chamomile and lavender. 

Malcolm got in and lowered himself in to the water, leaning back against the tub. He took my hand and guided me in to sit between his legs, my back to him. I bent my legs, wrapping my arms around my thighs and resting my chin on my knee. I felt him shift behind me, the water splashing at the sides of the tub like waves against a ship's hull. He gathered my hair and put it over my right shoulder.

"Talk to me, poppit. Tell me what's bothering you." He picked up a soft washcloth and began sponging my shoulders and back. I sighed as he squeezed the cloth, making warm water cascade down my spine. He scooted forward a bit to sponge down my arms, and I could feel the damp hair on his chest press against my back, feeling like silk. I let go of my legs and put them straight out in front of me. He dropped the cloth and pulled me back to him, scooting himself to lean against the tub again, my head leaning on his shoulder. 

He slid his arms around my waist and nuzzled my ear. "Why are you upset?" he murmured. He sounded so forlorn, not answering was not an option. Still, I sat for a minute, thinking, before I did.

"I'm embarrassed," I said, my voice shaky. He kissed my ear but didn't speak, allowing me to continue at my own pace. I took a deep breath and held it for a moment before I did. "I acted like a bitch in heat." I closed my eyes and chewed on my lower lip, not wanting to cry again. Malcolm tightened his grip around my waist and kissed my neck to reassure me. "And isn't that what you do to a bad dog? Swat it with a rolled up magazine?"

"Is that what has you upset? The means I used?" he asked. I thought for a moment before answering. It wasn't the only thing that upset me, but it was a rather large part of it. 

"Yes and no." I rested my hands on his thighs, noticing for the first time how muscular they were. "I'm trying to figure out... No, wait. Not figure out. I'm trying to understand... I don't know why I am so...drawn by this, to this, to you, to what we're doing. Does that make sense?"

"Of course." He moved his arms, wrapping them around my upper chest, effectively pinning me to him. 

"Why does my body respond to you like it does? Why do I feel like a long-seated ache I didn't even know existed has been soothed? I feel as relieved as I do embarrassed. That's just...off," I sighed. 

Malcolm nuzzled my cheek and gave me a squeeze. "I need to speak freely, alright? And I need you to listen. No questions. No 'but' or 'what about' or 'what if'. Not until I've finished."

"Alright."

"I understand what you're going through, poppit. I really do. I went through it myself. All I can say is that it just is. For whatever reason, you're built for this. You're just...made this way. There's no other reason. It's in your DNA. You're built to submit to me, to domination and to pain, to respond sensually and sexually. It's just part of who you are." I raised my eyebrow skeptically at that but remained silent. "It's no different than people who can do physics in their heads. Like Stephen Hawking. His brain is wired to do physics. Your brain is wired to submit. Neither of you are right or wrong for being the way you are. It is only when you try to repress it, when you try to go against your true nature, that it becomes wrong." 

"I never was like this...before you," I said.

"Hmmm? Think back to what your former lovers were like. Did you tend to choose men who seemed to be strong only to find they were blowhards? That they were bullies or buffoons? Think back to your college boyfriend – Kevin? – and what happened with him. Did it end because it frightened you? And maybe frightened him?" I remained silent, thinking about that, but shrugged. He was closer to the truth than I was comfortable with at the time.

"I know what you're going through. The self-loathing, the shame, the doubt."

" Doubt is a germ, Melody," he said, his tone serious. "If it is allowed to grow it will quickly overrun its host with disease." He squeezed me slightly, pressing me even tighter to him as I felt his cock start to grow a little against the small of my back. 




Bliss Ch. 04



"And using a magazine had no particular meaning, it wasn't a negative reflection of your behavior. I like how you respond to me, to what I do to you. Never be embarrassed. Never. The abandon with which you give yourself to me excites me, and I look forward to more. So much more. The magazine was just the most expedient tool at my disposal. Had my belt been handy I likely would have used that." An image of Malcolm between my legs whipping my pussy and breasts with his belt instantly came to mind and I shivered. 

"Cold, poppit?" Malcolm breathed in to my ear. I shook my head as he used his foot to flip the lever on the tub, letting the water drain out. "No? You shivered and your nipples are quite hard. Are you certain you're not cold?" 

I nodded, feeling his cock harden more. He nibbled at my earlobe, making me sigh. I could feel myself getting wet again, my body burning for him. 

"Was it what I said?" He began kissing my neck lightly, giving me goosebumps. He relaxed his grip, sliding his hands below my breasts, using just the tips of his fingers to caress the underside. I moaned, tilting my head to allow his lips freer reign. "Was it my words that excited you?" His lips planted soft kisses along my shoulder.

"Yes," I whispered. I turned my head towards him, aching for a kiss. 

Instead, he grabbed my arms and pulled my upper body away from him. He stood up and climbed out of the tub, turning and offering me his hand. I took it and let him pull me up and help me out of the tub. He pulled me to him, our bodies pressed together and our mouths millimeters apart, but I remained un-kissed. I was about to initiate the kiss myself when I felt his hand slide up my back and grab me by my hair. He firmly pulled my head back and I gasped, my nipples and pussy throbbing from being so manhandled. He smirked at me and kissed me, roughly, stealing my breath. 

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly, taking my wrists in his other hand and holding them tight.

"Whatever you want," I sighed. No inhibition. No shame. No doubt. 

He let go of my hair and kissed me again, grabbing my ass, pulling me to him. "Go lay on the bed. I'll be right there." He let go of my ass and pushed me away from him. I went to the bed and laid in the center, listening to him head down the stairs. I stared at the ceiling, thinking about all the conflicting emotions I'd been feeling the last few days. It astonished me to realize I hadn't had more than one of his shirts on since Thursday night, and was usually naked. I could feel myself blushing to think of it. I never was very comfortable being naked around others. 

I heard Malcolm coming back up the stairs and raised myself on my elbows, watching him as he came in. God, he always looks so sexy. Tall, broad shouldered, muscular but not beefy. The dark, soft hair on his chest narrows down to his navel before continuing down to even softer hair at the base of his cock. It was like he was made to be naked. He glanced over at me and froze for a moment, smiling. 

He approached the foot of the bed and stood still, staring at me. Not smiling any more, but not scowling either. Just staring. He had a book, twine, some towels and what looked a lot like a roll of duct tape in his hand. I started to squirm, feeling uncomfortable, but stilled again when he gave a slight shake of his head. 

"I have a million things in my head that I want to do to you," he said darkly. "But when I am confronted, like this, by how beautiful you are, they all leave me, and I am reduced to the simple desire to just...consume you." 

I looked at him, a bit stunned by what he said. He moved to the head of the bed and I saw that yes, it was indeed duct tape. He put the book, a slim paperback, on the bedside table. Placing it in a way to ensure I couldn't see what it was. A very impish thought ran thru my mind and I smiled.

"What is it?" he asked, taking my right wrist and wrapping a hand towel around it.

"I was thinking you really don't need a book. You seem to know what you're doing." I glanced at the table next to him.

"Hush," he said, wrapping duct tape around the towel on my wrist. I looked at him questioningly, but didn't speak. 

"Your wrists are a little chafed. I don't want to make them worse, and since I don't have the right equipment – and leaving you unrestrained is not an option – this will prevent any further bruising or injury."

He did the same thing to my left wrist before turning and wrapping my ankles, too. He then tied my limbs off to the posts, pulling me spread-eagle and leaving me little room to move. He took the last hand towel and balled up one end before moving to stuff it in my mouth.

"No." I looked at him, panic stricken.

"Shhh." He caressed my cheek tenderly, looking at me reassuringly. "Do you trust me?" I thought for a moment, then nodded. "You know I won't harm you?" I nodded again. "Then relax, poppit." He looked at me, eyebrows raised.

I thought a moment, just a moment, and nodded. He gently put the end of the towel in my mouth as he explained. "You can easily push the gag out any time you want to, I'm not tying or taping it off, alright?" He reached in to his bedside table drawer and pulled out a black sleep mask. "I want you to think only of my voice and my touch, poppit, so I am removing all other stimulus." I could feel my breathing quicken, but it was from excitement and not nerves. "If you need me to stop, snap your fingers three times or push out the gag, alright?" 

I nodded at him again and he leaned over, kissing my forehead before slipping the mask over my eyes and looping the elastic behind my head. I felt him get off the bed and strained to listen to him move about the room. It suddenly grew quiet, and I tensed a bit. 

"Hilda was a beautiful Parisian model who fell deeply in love with an American writer, whose work was so violent and sensual that it attracted women to him immediately," Malcolm began. He was reading aloud to me. His rich voice seemed to wrap itself around me as I concentrated on the words. They sounded familiar and I was straining to place them when I felt his fingertips lightly caress my calf. 

"She felt that woman was meant to respond to man's desire. She had always dreamed of having a man who would force her will, rule her sexually..."

'Nin,' I thought, recognizing the author if not the title. 

Malcolm's voice washed over me as he read, relaxing and seducing me in to the tale, his voice finding my most secret core and caressing it. I could feel my limbs tensing and pulling against my bonds as I writhed, as if trying to meet and mate with his voice. He was slowly, almost carefully, moving me towards orgasm. Sometimes it was just his voice. Sometimes it was just his touch as he used just his fingertips to lightly dance on my skin. He never touched me anywhere overtly sexual. His fingers caressed my arms, my legs, my sides. He ran a finger oh-so-lightly down the bottom of my feet, making me tense up and hold my breath. Yet I could feel my wetness running from my sex to pool beneath me. I felt myself getting closer and closer to coming. My breathing became shallow, rapid, and I grew absolutely still, waiting, aching, dying for the touch that would push me over the edge, yet not wanting this build-up, this tension to ever end. 

It was the most delicious feeling. 

"He was like a demon crouching over her, his hair wild, his charcoal-black eyes burning into hers, his strong penis pounding into her, into the woman whose submission he first demanded, submission to his desire, his hour," Malcolm finished. He leaned over me, removed the towel from my mouth and kissed me, effectively replacing one gag for another, and I came, moaning into his mouth as my body, untouched, vibrated. 

"You liked that," he said, breaking the kiss after what felt like an eternity.

"Yes," I breathed. "Nin."

"Very good, poppit." He kissed me again, briefly. "Close your eyes so I can remove the mask." I did, nodding to let him know I had done so. I felt him pull the mask off, gently lifting my head to get the elastic band from behind my head. "Open your eyes slowly, or you'll likely end up with a headache." 

"Alright." I felt totally wiped out. But I also felt totally at ease. Any embarrassment or shame or doubt I had felt before seemed to be gone. I looked through my lashes as Malcolm removed the make-shift cuffs from my limbs, massaging them as he freed them. He scooped me up a bit and pushed me to the side of the bed, climbing in beside me. 

We lay on our sides, facing each other, not speaking for a while. Malcolm took my hand in his and held it in the space between us. His green eyes met mine and I wanted to lose myself in their expression, in their flecks of gold and grey. I traced along his lips with the fingertips of my free hand and he smiled at me.

"Your lips are so very soft," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, almost reverent.

"All the better to taste you with," he said, kissing my fingertips. 

"Can I ask...what...what happens on Monday?" I pulled my hand away from his mouth and laid it on the edge of my pillow.

"We go back to the office."

"And...?"

"And what?"

"Do we just go on as before? As if nothing happened?"

"Is that what you want?"

"No. Of course not." I gnawed my lower lip for a moment, thinking. "I don't think...I mean...I think I would like to keep this separate from work. There's no reason we'd need to tell anyone at work, is there? It would just be fodder for the gossip mill, and I'm not comfortable with that."

"Agreed. I can see no reason to air our private business in the office." He pulled our linked hands to him, kissing the backs of my fingers. "Of course, it will mean you have to keep your hands off me at work. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Yes, I think I so," I said, drifting off to sleep. "How about you?"

"No promises." 

"Grrrllll! You are absolutely glowing!" Tony exclaimed, handing me a cup of coffee and removing his jacket from the chair next to his. The weather was decent, and everyone in Capitol Hill was out this morning. The wait for a table at Glo's was already up to 30 minutes.

"Stop," I said, feigning modesty. 

"Do we have your English gentleman to thank for the sparkle in your aura?"

"Did you just say 'aura'? Did I step through a rip in the space/time continuum and come out in 1988?"

"Answer the question."

"What is the question?

"You were with Malcolm last night, weren't you?"

"Actually...I spent the weekend with him."

"Two whole nights together? So soon?"

"Well, no...I went home with him Thursday night....So actually, it was three," I said, clearing my throat and looking into my coffee cup as if it held the keys to the cosmos.

"Really? How was the carpool on Friday?"

"We didn't go to work on Friday. We took a PTO day." 

"PTO? More like PT OH MY GOD!" he drawled, wagging his brows suggestively.

"Tony!" I punched his arm, laughing.

"You look wonderful, Melly. Much more...assured than the last time I saw you," he said, being serious.

"I do?"

"Yes." He sipped his coffee. "I'm not going to pry. I will only say that, as you seem so very content this morning, it is enough for me. You're happy, I'm happy."

"I am."

"Good." The hostess called our name and we got up to head inside. "But you may want to wear long sleeves at work, Melly. You're wrists are chafed." 

"Dammit." I looked down and groaned.

"Relax, Melly. You're in the Swish Alps. No one notices or cares, remember?" 

We had brunch and chatted, sitting for just over an hour, mindless of all the angry stares coming from people waiting outside. We talked a bit more about Malcolm. I know Tony was dying to ask me more questions, but he was kind enough to respect my privacy. After we left, we wandered about the hill, hitting the shops on Broadway before heading to Purr for an early afternoon cocktail. I picked up some falafel and a gyro and splurged on a cab back home, wanting to unpack, shower, and get to bed early. It was a perfect end to a pretty perfect weekend, I thought. 

When I opened my suitcase, Malcolm's Chelsea FC t-shirt was on top. He must've put it in there after I'd packed up. I picked it up and hugged it to me, like a security blanket, and spied a slip of paper, folded in half.

Smiling I picked it up and opened it.

'I am keeping the knickers' was all it said. I smiled and got ready for bed.





We had discussed what would happen when we went back to work, Malcolm and I, lying in his bed Sunday morning. And while we didn't want to pretend that nothing had happened between us, we didn't want to be fodder for the work gossip-mill. (You know how that can be.) So we decided to keep everything other than work out of the office. I seriously thought it would be easy to be there with him, to be next to him every day, to smell him and feel the heat of his body, and act like it meant nothing. 

Yeah, right. I found out soon enough how difficult it could be.

It was Thursday afternoon of that first week after Houston, and I was hip-deep in trying to help another account executive, Marly, with a local chip company when Malcolm suddenly appeared in my office. I glanced up from my monitor and smiled as he stood in front of my desk.

"Good afternoon, Malcolm," I said, sounding as casual as I could while trying to breathe him in. 

"Melody. How are you doing?"

"I'm well," I said, unsure of what he wanted. I sat back in my chair and gave him my undivided attention.

"Good." He put his right hand to his face, making a "V" with his middle and index finger just below his lower lip. "I just wanted to state, again, it was a pleasure working with you these past few weeks." He stuck his tongue out between his fingers and waggled it about in the most lewd, obscene and sexy gesture. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head and I got wet watching him. 

"Thank you," I said thickly. "I enjoyed it, too."

There was a light knock on my door as Krissie came in, making Malcolm drop his hand quickly. "Melody? Here's the files you requested." She walked towards my desk. "Hello, Mr. White," she said, looking at Malcolm with a frank interest that made me feel oddly jealous. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Krissie," Malcolm nodded at her. "I was just leaving." 

"Oh man, I really hope he's not gay," Krissie said, handing me the files and turning to watch Malcolm as he walked towards his office. 

"Didn't I hear you say something about a boyfriend?" I asked her. I was half amused by and half angry at her behavior. The anger stemming from jealousy, of course. 

"I know. Still...a girl can dream." I laughed at that a bit, but I think it was to cover the urge to grab her and scream "Hands off, he's mine!"

"Thank you, Krissie. Would you please reconfirm the meeting with Marly tomorrow?"

"I'm on it, Mel." She left my office and I put my head in my hands, wanting to laugh and cry and scream.

This 'keep it out of the office' thing might be a lot harder than I had bargained for.



Bliss Ch. 05



'The dark elves, so sensual, so sexy, so uninhibited, yet so repressed, they don't hold back because of morals, for they have none, but rather fear, fear of being vulnerable from lust, and when they do indulge, it is always to excess, for their appetites are dark and ravenous from denial'

Bliss knew all this from before, but she had no choice but to listen to the words in her head. She continued to suckle on Penitent's clit, holding off on pleasuring the succubus with her tongue for the moment.

'Ailztirea was more imaginative than most, more powerful too, matron of her house, ruling as Drow elves rule, crushing rivals, betraying, punishing, insane, wild, with the cruel careful cunning of a spider, she was mother of many daughters, no sons, sacrificed them to the Spider Goddess, always beautiful, nothing could mar her face or figure, I lusted for her like no other, only you are more pleasing to my eyes, daughter, she broke me to her will, forced me, bound me, made me her slave, she was the first to resist my charms, I was allowed to please her, but she kept me muzzled, above and below, with devices of Drowish cunning'

Bliss had heard the story of Penitent's imprisonment under Ailztirea, had obsessed about it even, how an enchanted chastity belt and a locked muzzle had kept all of her orifices blocked. Her hands and breasts, even her tail, were there for use by all within Ailztirea's house, but being on the mortal plane unable to be pleasured or take in the seed of mortals was a horrible blend of starvation and sexual frustration. The muzzle fit like a mask, with a grate over her mouth, and she received countless loads of semen through it, from Drow males and even some from their lowly slaves of other species, but this was mere teasing, with very little beneficial energy for her to absorb. She recalled dozens of encounters with lust-maddened males clawing at her restraints while she hissed and scratched in her own frustration at them not being able to reach her intimate parts. Her body, her musk, her voice, every aspect of her drove them wild, and there was no release. She needed a man's cock in her, needed to draw out the semen while it was still embedded within her, in any of her holes. The stream of semen formed a silvery cord that she could use to draw out a man's soul, but the cord was broken if it passed through air before reaching her needy holes. She could only take in tiny dribbles of their energy, and her other method of feeding, sucking blood, was also impossible.

'She left me that way til I was mad with lust, my passion locked away, and her with the only key, then she brought in Durzai, he of the steely muscles, he played with dangerous magic, made himself stronger than Drow were meant to be, and that magic carried through his seed, daughter, Durzai's child, child of fire and strength, he was her other favored lover, and she wanted to watch us rut for her amusement'

The story of her conception tipped the scales, and Bliss clamped her lips down on the demon's clit, licking without any pretense. Her hands trailed up Penitent's body, her nails leaving red lines on pink flesh. She was seeing the images, feeling a small fraction of her mother's suffering, and hearing her words at the same time. The image of a Drow was projected in her mind, a male version of herself, seven feet tall WITHOUT horns, muscles lean but corded, dark leather armor being shucked for the upcoming task, tattoos of power on his face, a sneer on his lips, as the cruel matron undid the locks binding the creature he was to engage sexually.

"Feed the pathetic creature, Durzai. She is so very hungry."

The words, spoken more than two decades ago, rung in Bliss' mind, in the voice of her hated spiritual mother.

"Must I, Matron? She could be simply starved to death and replaced. The House soldiers would probably prefer a slave they could use properly."

Any other male would have been on very dangerous ground debating his orders from a matron like Ailztirea, but he had given her six daughters, and the game she played now could use a little pretense and repartee. Penitent simply moaned in response.

"The succubus has her uses. I care nothing for the base needs of this House's males. They have use only as convenient places for our enemies to sheathe their swords. You alone in this House have seed worthy of me and my daughters, and I will find another male to replace you if you continue to question my orders."

Durzai was as proud and arrogant as a male Drow could be, but he knew better than to anger his mistress any further.

"I obey, my Matron. This demonic slut will get what she wants."

"No, she won't, fool. She wants your life and soul, a full meal, not a mere morsel like you're going to give her. The stupidity of males makes me glad I did not keep any."

Durzai bowed his head, acceding to her point, as the last of his armor fell away. He was not aroused, but still impressive. His dabbling left him filled with anger and dreams of battle, and passions of the flesh had left his mind for the most part. His slow arousal also brought great staying power, and though Ailztirea claimed he was only around to sire daughters, Penitent and Durzai both knew she lusted after him for more than that. Penitent, with her senses always primed for sex, detected the scent of Ailztirea's arousal wafting from under her skirt; this game was for her viewing pleasure, not the flimsy excuse of giving the succubus sustenance. 

"Here, let me show you one of her uses."

The female dark elf cruelly wrenched one of Penitent's constantly-stiffened nipples, and caught a flood of pussy juice with her other hand that seeped from beneath the chastity belt. Durzai's limp member sprang instantly to life when she slapped the sopping hand beneath his nose, the musk finally working when concentrated enough. The sight of a virile naked male, combined with the promise of her ravenous hunger and lust being satiated, caused her to whine with frustration. 

The image began to break up at that point, as the emotions became too intense for the succubus, but her stream of rushing words came back in a moment.

'Only a little, not enough, we coupled, I pleasured him, took him in my mouth, swallowed his first spurt, he never went soft, I straddled him, two more times he came without withdrawing, his soul began to drain into me, I could feel it, my insides filled with warmth and energy, and the spark of your life was kindled, I've felt it before, but it goes away once the whole soul is consumed, but she stopped me, yanked on the chain around my neck, not enough, not enough, so hungry, so horny, I didn't even come'

Ailztirea had watched carefully as her two favorite lovers sported for her amusement, and put a stop to it when it began to get dangerous. She had pulled Penitent away by a chain on her neck long before the she-demon was satisfied, but not before Durzai had lost a significant portion of his essence. She knew the basics of succubi's vulnerabilities and methods of draining their victims, but she didn't realize that what she had done would result in a child. The drow matron then gave Penitent a single orgasm before locking her sexual organs away again, and the memory of sweet black lips on her clit was reenacted by her own daughter, and Bliss was treated to the intense experience of having the memory of that long-ago orgasm, and the current one, projected directly into her mind. As they both lay entwined in post-orgasmic bliss, Penitent's mind continued to play old memories. Bliss took them in, living through stories that her mother had only told her with crude dead words before. 

The mental link was taxing on the succubus, and she soon fell into a deep sleep, and Bliss kept listening in on her dreams until she also fell asleep. Penitent's descent into sleep was interrupted for a moment as she became aware of the continuation of Bliss' mental eavesdropping, just in time to stop a dire secret from leaking out, and the half-drow, half-demon girl was none the wiser. They both slept the deep sleep of sexual satiation, though it was a luxury for the succubus, not a necessity.



Bliss Ch. 05



Submission.

It's an interesting word, isn't it?

Submission.

What comes to mind when you think of it? Weakness? Passivity? Consider that even the Latin root of the word translates to 'lowering oneself'. Maybe that's why, initially, I fought so hard against thinking of my self, aligning myself if you will, with that word. If someone were to describe to you a third party you'd never met, and they described them as a submissive, what would you have pictured?

Me? I would have pictured someone small, frail. A wallflower. No, more than that. Someone shy to the point of neurosis. Mousy. Mostly, I would have pictured someone so personally damaged they held no value in themselves beyond how others used them. A person with no will and little, if any, personality. It would have been the last word I would have used to describe myself in any way.

Except....

Except...if I am totally honest with myself, I kind of was a bit on the submissive side. Not so much in the business world, really. I mean, I always strove to keep my clients happy, but that is what we all do. And I was tough, I am tough, an aggressive go-getter, the barracuda of the office. If there was a client that was difficult to secure, I worked my ass off getting them on board and drove all who worked with me like a team of mules. Quite frankly, a lot of people thought of me professionally as a bit of a bitch. But in my personal life...different story.

Don't get me wrong, I was never a pushover. And I'm still not. But I was always...trying to please in my personal relationships. Trying to make sure all around me were happy. Never ignoring my own happiness, but always putting theirs first. And the men I dated -- when I dated -- tended to be physically imposing and have more domineering personalities. Note I say domineering and not dominating intentionally. I think I was drawn to them because I thought they were more than that, but it was never long before I realized they were all brutes or blowhards, and I lost all interest in them.

I think I was looking for someone dominant without even realizing.

Then along came Malcolm, who seemed to recognize my submissive nature and unflinchingly pushed himself in to my life. Don't misunderstand me, my submission to Malcolm is an active decision on my part. I realized after that first weekend we spent together this is a choice I make to give him myself, give him the gift of my complete surrender. I am not weak or passive with him. My will is strong, I am strong. It is that strength, that will, that draws him to me. He doesn't break my will, he has no desire to; he simply wants me to give it over to him. And I can. I do. I give him this gift of myself, my essence, and I submit to him as he demands, because I am strong enough to do so. And in his power, in the freedom of my surrender to his dominance, my weakness is expunged, my insecurities annihilated, and I am reborn. And, in a way, he surrenders a part of himself to me. It's almost like he takes my strength, he takes my power, and in doing so he gives me his weakness, his insecurity, exorcising them through me.

Am I rambling? I don't mean to. And I don't mean to make it sound "kumbayah". I really don't. Or easy. It wasn't -- it isn't. There is a great deal of trust involved between us. I trust him, I trust in him, completely and utterly. As he does me. And there is a freedom in it, in this trust, this connection, for both of us.

So when, late that first Friday evening after our trip to Houston, Malcolm grabbed me as I left the ladies room and pulled me in to the mens, I felt no fear. No nervousness. Just excitement.

And arousal.

A lot of arousal.

He spun me around to face the wall next to a bank of urinals and pushed me against it, leaning against me from behind. I dropped my jacket and purse on the floor, all thoughts of rushing for the bus evaporated. I could feel his cock -- already hard -- against my ass and I gave a small sigh, feeling my pussy start to get wet in response. He removed the clip holding up my hair and threw it on the floor. I watched it tumble as it skittered along the floor, coming to rest in the shadows beneath the row of sinks. Malcolm's nose nuzzled my hair as my cheek was pressed against the wall and I could hear him breathing deeply, as if he would inhale me whole.

I felt him press his pelvis against me harder as he began to slowly move against me. The steely length of his arousal moved across my backside, pressing into my flesh through my clothes and moulding me around it, and I felt my skin tingle with an odd sense of pride at making him so hard. I pressed against him as well as I could and gave a slight moan.

"Are you wet for me?" he breathed in to my ear.

"Yes," I whispered.

He twisted his right hand in my hair and pulled, making me arch my back. I could feel my nipples harden behind the lace of my bra as goosebumps erupted all over my skin. I love it when he pulls my hair, the tighter and harder the better. I looked at him, his big green eyes revealing something exhilarating and wild, and my lips parted in anticipation of a rough kiss that never came.

"What do you want?" he grunted, pulling my hair a little harder.

"You," I moaned softly.

He used my hair in his fist to turn me around to face him. I glanced down, licking my lips a bit at the visible bulge in his expensive suit. He put his left hand on the wall next to my head, making his suit jacket spread out behind him like a cape. He leaned forward, touching his forehead to mine, his tie moving between us like a pendulum.

"Unbutton your blouse." I quickly obeyed, pulling it out of the waistband of my slacks and allowing it to hang open. Malcolm pulled his face away from mine, using his pelvis to hold me against the wall. I stared at his lips, aching for him to kiss me, and he smirked, seeming to read my mind.

"Put your arms behind your back, holding your forearms with your hands," he said, letting go of my hair and standing up fully in front of me. I obeyed, pouting a bit at the loss of contact while I lift my head to meet his gaze. Even in heels, he kind of looms over me, being so much taller and broad-shouldered. But it's not at all threatening. It's actually rather sexy.

The posture he put me in made me thrust my breasts out and I could feel my nipples straining against my bra. Malcolm tugged the cups down roughly, exposing my nipples and areolas, the bra cups lifting my breasts a bit. He used his right hand to twist and pinch my nipples, making them harder.

"Do you know what these are?" he asks suddenly, his left hand dangling a silver chain in front of my eyes. At each end of the chain was a mean looking alligator clip with rubber or plastic covers on their tips. My first thought was 'roach clips', but I knew it couldn't be that. I just shook my head, watching the chain sway in front of my eyes. "No?" he teased, pulling at my right nipple, stretching it out away from my body before gently putting one of the clips on it and letting it go. He turned a small knob I hadn't noticed on the back of the clip, increasing the pressure on my nipple until I sighed; he then repeated the exercise with my left nipple. I looked down at my breasts, the clips making my nipples purple, the chain connecting them shivering with my breaths.

"These are nipple clamps," he said, placing a finger under my chin and making me look at him. "Do you like them?"

"I don't know."

"What?" he asked, wrapping his right hand in my hair again and pulling. "You don't know?"

"I...I never...It's...yes. Yes, I like them." I did. I'd never had clamps on my nipples before, but they felt good. Almost like they made the very tips of my nipples super-sensitive.

"I see." He tightened his grip in my hair and gave a hard tug at the chain between my breasts, causing the clamps to tug painfully at my nipples and making me cry out. "And now?"

"Yes," I hissed. The pain from my nipples making me so aroused I imagined I could smell myself over the cloyingly sweet odor of urinal cakes.

"What about now?" Malcolm asked, snicking at my nipples with his left hand. My hips jerked towards him involuntarily every time he made contact. "Do you like them?"

"Yes." Barely audible. "Please..."

"Please what?"

"It hurts."

"Yes." Malcolm tugged at the chain again, making me moan. "It hurts but you like it, don't you?" I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. He pulled my head back more and looked at me closely, his eyes like super-heated emeralds. He bent his head briefly and bit at my lower lip -- I could feel the slight gap in his teeth when he did -- before urging me down to my knees. He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out with his left hand.

"Open," was all he said. I obeyed, and he pushed his cock into my mouth. I tried my best to suck it without using my hands, but he held my head steady with both his hands wrapped in my hair and pulled out of my mouth. I groaned in protest -- at that point the only thing that mattered to me was having Malcolm's cock in my mouth, I didn't care that we were at work, I didn't care that there were one or two other people still in the office this late on Friday, I only wanted his cock in my mouth again -- but he hushed me quickly.

"I am going to fuck that succulent little whore's mouth of yours, poppit. I am." He looked down at me questioningly. I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Good girl. Open."

I did, and he thrust his cock back in my mouth, holding my head steady. He thrust in and out, each time sliding a bit more in my mouth. It was odd at first. All I thought to do was cover my teeth with my lips and try to relax. The angle was a bit off, though, and I could feel him rubbing further and further back against my palette. I tentatively used my tongue, trying to coax him in to changing his angle a bit -- I was afraid of gagging on him -- but to no avail. He sucked in his breath with a moan when I started using my tongue, but he didn't change his stance at all.

He began pushing himself deeper down my throat, making me gag slightly with each thrust. Every time my throat tightened around him he moaned and stilled his movements for a moment. By the time I could feel the heat of his balls near my chin and felt the first tickle of his pubic hair on the tip of my nose, he had pushed past the gag reflex and was effectively smothering me with his cock. I raised my eyes to his, feeling them bulge a bit as the need to cough pushed tears out of their corners.

"That's a good cock-sucking whore." He moaned, brushing my tears away. "You like having your throat stuffed with my cock, don't you?" He pulled back a bit and I moaned in assent. "Take your clamps off," he commanded, pushing back down my throat. I had forgotten they were even on, my nipples having gone a bit numb. I did, using both hands to take them off at the same time. Suddenly, I moaned and my body shook as my nipples seemed to come to life. They tingled with an ache that was the sweetest feeling. There was a heat to them, as if they would burn the surrounding tissue, and they were so sensitive I thought I could feel the movement of the air over them and specks of dust hit them.

I was excruciatingly close to coming, but couldn't quite get there. I moaned and whined and slobbered around Malcolm's cock as he fucked my face faster. I could feel him get stiffer in my mouth and sensed his balls drawing up a bit. I did my best to relax my throat, but the continued sensations from my nipples and Malcolm's swearing and calling me names just heightened my own arousal, making me tense up. He pushed himself completely in my mouth, burying my nose against him and coming down my throat. I nearly gagged in spite of the large blockage in my mouth and my near-desperate state of arousal, my arms flailing a bit at my sides. I managed not to. I just swallowed as best I could as he praised me.

He pulled out of my mouth and stood in front of me, his mostly flaccid penis covered in saliva and his own semen. I instinctively leaned forward and slowly licked him clean, putting my arms behind my back again as before. He sighed contentedly and caressed my hair as I finished.

"Stand up, poppit," he said, tucking himself back in his pants and zipping up. "I want to look at your nipples." Again, I obeyed, though it seemed an odd request. He must have seen the questioning look on my face because he explained, "You had them on for a bit. I want to see if you're bruised or not."

"Too long?"

"Probably not," he said, stroking the tops of my breasts gently. "But clamps can do serious, even permanent damage. And too long is, well, subjective. What might be too long for one person is nothing to another." He brushed his fingers over my nipples, making me moan. "They seem to be fine, but a slightly closer inspection might be in order." He bent his head and took first one nipple then the other into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them. I couldn't stand it; I was already so turned on and the feeling of his tongue on my overly-sensitive nipples was making me crazy. His left leg was somewhat nestled between mine, and I began trying to rub my crotch against his thigh, desperate for anything that would push me over the edge and get me off.

He stepped back, laughing deep in his chest as I grunted in frustration. "Patience is a virtue, poppit." He straightened his clothing before smoothing his tie and hair. "Give me your bra," he said, holding his hand out for it. I unbuttoned my sleeves and slipped my blouse off, holding it by the label in my teeth as I reached behind me and unhooked my bra. I slid it off and handed it to Malcolm. "Put your blouse back on." He moved over to the row of sinks and washed his hands as I put my blouse back on. My hands shook as I buttoned my sleeves, making it difficult. When I moved to button the front of my blouse, Malcolm came over and pushed my hands aside, buttoning my blouse for me.

"What is it, poppit?" he asked quietly. "Nervous?"

"No," I said, shaking my head and breathing deeply. I could smell him -- his cologne, his sweat, his skin, that addictive mix I craved more than oxygen -- but still imagined I could smell myself. "Just a bit frustrated."

"I know," he said, finishing my buttons. He took the hem of my blouse and pulled it down, pressing my breasts flat and causing my nipples to stand out through the fabric. He began moving it back and forth slightly, the friction of the fabric against my skin making me weak. I grabbed his arm to steady myself as he let go of my top. "My poor little slut," he said tenderly, giving me a peck on the forehead. He grabbed my coat and purse and handed them to me.

"It's going to get a lot more frustrating for you." He grabbed my hand and led me out of the men's room to the elevators. We waited for them in silence, my head ringing with his implied threat. I was about to ask him to explain when the elevator doors shussed open in front of us with a 'bing'.

He gently pushed me in to the elevator before him, his hand on my lower back. I leaned against the wall near the control panel, memories of Malcolm fucking me where I now stood making my need even more pronounced.

"Your cunt is swollen," he said, standing in front of me and rubbing his right hand over my mound. "And wet. So very wet, isn't it? I can feel the humidity of your slut cunt through your pants." I nodded, my eyes on his. I felt hypnotized, and was afraid my voice would break the spell. "Turn around," he said, removing his hand from between my legs. I did, pressing my forehead against the elevator wall.

"You have a perfect little slut's ass. Did you know that?" he said, his hand lightly tracing between my ass cheeks. "Has anyone ever told you that before?" I shook my head slightly, still unwilling to speak. "You do. Perfect." His hand kept running up and down my backside, his touch light, more soothing than sexual. "Have you ever had a cock in your ass, poppit?"

"No," I said quickly, tensing up.

"Perfect," he said as the elevator opened on the garage. He grabbed my elbow and directed me towards his car, opening my door and seating me inside. I smiled a bit at his impeccable manners; some may call it antiquated or archaic, but I found it chivalrous and totally disarming.

"What?" he asked, catching my fleeting smile as he got in and started the car.

"You make me feel special."

"You are," he said matter-of-factly. He pulled out, heading towards his Fremont house. I briefly considered asking him to stop at my condo so I could at least get an overnight bag, but decided against it after glancing at his face. He seemed a study in purposefulness.

And just going along with whatever he wanted excited me.

We didn't speak on the drive. I kept glancing over at Malcolm as he drove, the setting sun turning his skin golden. Traffic was heavier than usual, and we seemed to inch our way for a few miles. I looked at the people on the streets as we slowly made our way through Belltown and lower Queen Anne, watching their faces and bodies. They seemed unreal, dim, made from dirty plastic or encased in individual clouds of drab grey, separate from everyone, oblivious to their own aloneness. It was only when they met up in pairs or groups that they seemed alive, in Technicolor; yet even then, cocoons of separateness still seemed to be there, held open temporarily, but seldom shed completely. It occurred to me that I was likely one of them, too, and maybe, even with Malcolm, I never completely shed my own cocoon.

The thought was grim enough to cool the simmering between my thighs. Malcolm must have sensed something, because he reached over and tucked my hair behind my right ear before softly caressing my cheek. I glanced at him, that disconcerting feeling of affection for him making me angry with myself. I looked back out the window, chiding myself for mooning over him like an immature girl.

By the time we arrived at Malcolm's house I was in a funk, giving him the smallest of smiles as he opened my door and helped me out of his car. He grabbed my wrist and led me into his house, stopping and pushing me against the foyer wall as he pushed the front door shut with his foot.

"Drop it," he said, indicating my purse and coat with a slight nod of his head. I did, my mouth suddenly dry with excitement and my mood instantly elevated. "I want you to go upstairs, undress completely, and get on the bed," he said, his lips a hair's width from mine. I could feel the humidity of his mouth. "Be on hands and knees, facing away from the door, by the time I come up."

He stepped back and I blinked at him for a moment, suddenly chilled without his heat in close proximity. He tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow, and I smiled at him, quickly making my way upstairs. I undressed as fast as possible, dropping my clothes in a pile on a chair. I climbed on to his big bed and positioned myself on my hands and knees, toes touching the edge and ass pointed towards the door, and waited for Malcolm.

And waited.

And waited.

By the time he came in, the sun had set and I was in a half-doze, sitting on my heels with my head on my forearms. He was so quiet when he came in I didn't even realize he was there. I had been thinking about my motorcycle, contemplating taking it out of storage and getting it ready to ride again or just selling it when suddenly what felt like a hundred tiny pebbles slapped into my ass.

"Ow!" I yelled, sitting upright and turning to look at Malcolm. He had his jacket and tie off, the cuffs of his shirt rolled up to expose his forearms. In his right hand he held a thick wooden handle with what looked like hundreds of ribbons of leather, velvet and silk dangling from the end of it. Each ribbon was about 18 inches long and had a large knot at the end of it. They swayed as Malcolm moved.




Bliss Ch. 05



"On your hands and knees," he said, pushing at my back with his left hand.

"Please," I whisper, bending over, the mixture of nervousness and desire making me feel breathless.

"You can stop me any time," Malcolm whispered, bending to my ear. "Just say your name." He looked at me and I nodded. He stood and moved out of my line of sight. I heard him moving behind me and concentrated on not looking back.

I jumped as I felt his hands around my left thigh. I watched as he buckled a wide leather cuff around my leg just above my knee before moving to do the same to my right leg. There were three silver D rings sewn into the cuff. They gleamed mellowly in the dim light of the room. I felt almost hypnotized watching him.

"Lower your head down, arms at your sides," he said quietly. I obeyed quickly, my forehead on the duvet, as he bent my arms at the elbow so my wrists were by my shoulders. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he buckled another, slightly narrower cuff above my left elbow. I looked, wondering why this one had only two rings attached, as I felt him do the same to my right arm. He tugged on my arm a bit and I heard a metallic clink. I turned my head and saw he had used a large carabiner to connect the cuff on my arm to the cuff on my leg. I felt a ball of excitement in the pit of my stomach as he attached my left elbow and leg the same way. I waited, tense with anticipation.

"I wanted you like this -- naked, bound, at my disposal -- when I first met you,' he said quietly. What felt like fringe caressed my skin and I knew he was dragging that wicked looking whip over my ass. "From the moment I shook your hand." His fingers caressed my sex lightly, making me sigh. "I was looking forward to getting back to the office and working with you that day, but I was kept away." He slipped his fingers between my pussy lips and began making circles around my clit. I tried to shift, to open myself to him more, but couldn't move. "I was quite cross with Ian for that." His tone sounded almost conversational. Anyone hearing him and not in the room would never guess he had one hand in my cunt and the other using a flogger to tickle my ass. "That's why I proposed we work together. Ian had let slip over lunch how you wanted to go after them, and I jumped on it. I couldn't get your eyes, your blush, your delectable little ass out of my mind."

"Oh god, that feels so good," I moaned, lifting my head off the bed as his fingers massaged my clit. "Please don't stop." I could feel my body tense from my toes to my scalp, I was already so close to coming. Malcolm gave my clit a slight pinch then withdrew both his hand and his whip. "No...please," I nearly sobbed as he stepped back.

"Not yet." I heard a whoosh and felt a gentle push of air on my skin as he brought the flogger down across my ass. I heard it hit with a snap and suddenly my ass felt like it was being sprayed with needles of fire -- millions of them. I howled, more from surprise than pain, and I felt the flogger connect with the tops of my thighs.

"The entire time we worked together, I would find myself picturing you like this," he continued, punctuating his story by whipping me. He didn't even sound out of breath and I realized he was holding back, he could be hitting much, much harder. "Your ass striped, in the air, cunt wet-" the flogger came down again on my ass "-cunt dripping, unable to move, to get away." He struck me four times, criss-crossing down my lower back to my thighs.

And a funny thing happened. The pain didn't go away, but it seemed to...change. I don't know why, or how, or even at what point it changed. Or I changed. It was like my body stopped treating the pain as something bad, and changed into something good. Very, very good.

I had to bite my tongue against begging him to do it more. Do it harder.

He must have sensed something, some change in my stance or my breathing or the angle of my hips, because he stopped the whip.

"I would look at you, picturing you bound and writhing on my cock, and you would stop whatever you were doing or saying, as if you could read my mind."

He ran his hand over my skin, the sweat from his palm stinging slightly against the welts he'd raised. I shivered, moaning deep in my chest as I pressed my forehead down on the bed. I felt that sting in every nerve, every sinew, every vein, follicle, cell and corpuscle.

"Could you?" he continued quietly. "Could you read my mind? Did you know I was thinking dirty, lascivious thoughts?"

"No."

"No? I don't believe you," he teased, dragging the flogger across my skin. "Why else would you stop what you were doing or saying?"

"I didn't," I panted. "I...I hoped you were thinking about me. But I didn't know."

"Thinking what about you?" He slapped the knots at the ends of the ribbons lightly against the welts on my thighs, and I nearly came.

Dammit! He knew exactly what I meant. "About fucking me. I hoped you were thinking about fucking me." I lifted my head and looked back at Malcolm, surprised to see he was still dressed. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me," I begged.

"Not yet." I heard him moving behind me and strained as best I could, but I couldn't see him or what he was doing. I put my head back down; my thighs and back were starting to ache from the tension of keeping it up.

"Your thighs are wet and sticky," he said, suddenly behind me again. I felt his finger run along the inside of my thigh. I nodded, looking back between my legs to see his cock staring back at me. The head was swollen, a dark red that was almost purple, and oozing slightly. I smiled to myself at the knowledge he was as affected as I was.

"What got you so wet, poppit?" he asked, suddenly sliding two fingers inside me.

"You, sir." I breathed, smiling secretly again. I knew what he wanted to hear. He would have to work to get it out of me.

He pulled his fingers out of me, sliding them down to make circles around my clit. "How?" He was being as obtuse as I was and I could hear the smile in his voice. He started running his fingers from my clit to my anus, audibly smearing around my wetness. I caved (I know, I'd make a pathetic spy); he made me feel so good.

"Your whip, sir."

He used his left hand to lightly pinch along the raised welts on my skin, every pinch and caress sending urgent messages to my pussy, while his right hand kept up the travels from my clit to my ass and back. I was so wet it sounded like he was splashing about a shallow puddle. I began gyrating my hips slightly -- so close, maddeningly close, to coming. "Very good, poppit. Now tell me what you want."

"I want...I want ...." I stopped moving, concentrating on feeling, trying to help my orgasm along. I could feel the sweat rolling off my back, stomach and breasts as my toes began to curl and I leaned my hips back as much as possible, trying to force more pressure from his fingers.

"Want...what?" he asked, stopping his teasing torment and resting his hands on the outside of my thighs. Bastard.

"Please... please sir..."

"Tell me." I looked back at him, my want, my need, written plainly in my eyes. "Tell me," he repeated. I bit my tongue, putting my head back down on the bed. If he wanted to wait until I beg to have an orgasm, he's going to have a long one, I thought.

Suddenly, I felt his tongue lightly flicking over my asshole, and my entire body tensed again. I could feel the moisture in his breath as his tongue swirled around my anus. I'd never felt anything so deliciously dirty before. My breath caught in my throat as Malcolm dragged the flat of his tongue the length of my ass. All I could do was moan "Please" with every lap of his tongue. It was wildly erotic, the ultimate tease, leaving me dripping, wanting, pushing me tantalizingly close -- right to the edge of orgasm but totally unable to achieve it. He danced his fingertips lightly along my stripes, combining them with his tongue to make me insane. To make me beg.

Bastard.

"Please. I want to come," I moaned. "Make me come. Please." Malcolm groaned against me, but his fingers and tongue kept up their torture until I was reduced to a whining, incoherent bundle of sexual need. I think it took about 10 seconds.

I felt him climb on the bed behind me and nudge me forward a bit with his thighs. He ran his hands up and down my back as he centered himself behind me. I felt the tip of his cock at my opening and I stilled, knowing it was left to him to fuck me, not the other way around.

"What do you want?"

"Please, sir, fuck me. Make me come."

He moved his hands to my hips and slammed in to me, holding me against him. I felt him hit at my cervix and I was lost, shattering to a million pieces in the most intense orgasm I'd ever felt. Wave after wave of soul-scorching pleasure came at me, each one pulling me back together before shattering me anew, from a million pieces to a billion to a trillion. (I am not doing it justice, I know, but I am doing my best. Just imagine the best feeling you've ever had -- EVER -- and then multiply by the largest factor you can think of. It was like that. Only more so.)When Malcolm grabbed my hair in his fist and pulled I realized -- vaguely -- that he was coming, jerking his hips into me as if he needed to get deeper, to get his balls in with his dick.

"What are you?" he asked as the nails of his left hand dug into my shoulder. His voice was a growl, a sinister and breathless sound.

I didn't even have to think. I knew what he wanted to hear, what I wanted to say. "I'm your whore. I'm your dirty little slut whore. Please don't stop fucking me, don't stop fucking your whore." I rambled, I babbled, I moaned, I cried and I came. And came. I remember thinking at the time I could die a happy girl, because I would never be able feel anything so intensely pleasurable again. (I was wrong on that one. So sue me.)

When I finally quieted, catching my breath, Malcolm laid across my back, his cock limp but still inside me. I could feel him panting and wanted to lift my head, but I didn't even have the strength to do that.

"Oh poppit," he breathed. "That was beautiful." He righted himself as he ran his hands up and down my sides and I sighed. "Beautiful." He pulled out and I whined involuntarily as I felt him move away from me. He removed the carabiners and cuffs, and tossed them on the floor.

"You're going to feel a bit stiff when you move." He helped me to lay prone on the bed, my back and my knees popping loudly, and started to gently massage my back. His hands knead the muscles along my spine, moving down slowly, releasing any tension that remained. I purred, content, as I felt him bend over and kiss first my left then my right shoulder blade. His hands continued down and he massaged my hips and legs, placing little kisses on the back of each knee.

When he was satisfied I wasn't going to end up in a ball of cramped muscle, he lay down next to me. I turned my face to him, languid from my orgasm and Malcolm's massage, and smiled at him.

"Hungry?" he asked, smoothing my hair from my face.

"Not really," I said after a moment's thought. "Just thirsty."

"Of course," he said, turning towards the night stand. He turned back with a glass of water. I propped myself up on my elbows and he handed it to me.

"Thank you," I said, after I drained the glass in one long drink. I handed it back to him and plopped back down on the bed, giggling.

"What?" he asked, smiling at me.

"I feel a little drunk."

"Come, let's have a bath," he said, sliding off the bed and holding his hands out to me. I rolled towards him, giggling at my own silliness, and sat up. I put my hands in his and let him pull me off the bed. He steadied me on my feet before putting his arms around me and -- finally! -- kissing me deeply. I put my arms around his neck and tried to make that kiss last forever.

"I've been waiting all evening for you to do that," I said when I finally let him end the kiss.

"I know, poppit." He removed my arms from his neck and took my wrist, leading me to the bathroom. I leaned on the sink and watched as he got the tub ready, pouring some scented bath salts -- lavender -- and swirling them a bit to make them bubble. It was about a quarter full when he stepped in and sat down, leaning against the back, and signaled for me to join him. I did, hissing a bit at the way the hot water bit at my cold feet. He guided me down to sit between his legs.

"Ow ow ow ow ow," I said quietly, as the hot soapy water made my welts sting.

"It goes away," he said, pulling me back to lean against him.

The sting faded -- rather quickly -- and I relaxed into him as the water rose around us. He turned off the tap when the water reached about nipple height and we just sat in silence for a bit. For my part, I still felt giddy, almost high, and I wanted to hold on to that feeling a bit longer. I had never had an experience -- sexual or not -- that left me feeling so very complete. I sat in the tub, leaning back against Malcolm with his arms around my midsection, with what must have been the goofiest smile in history on my face. I couldn't help it.

"Alright, poppit?"

"Oh, yes. Indeed. I feel wonderful."

"Wonderful?"

"Yes...I mean, not physically, you know...in my soul, you know. I've never felt this...this good...in my soul before."

"Ah, yes, I understand." He kissed along my shoulder, his hands moving to rub the underside of my breasts. "And physically?"

"I feel utterly spent." I closed my eyes, leaning my head back. "Like I used up my personal orgasm allotment and will never come again," I said with a giggle. I knew I was throwing down the gauntlet. I also knew he would pick it up.

"Impossible," Malcolm whispered in my ear. He moved his right hand between my legs and started gently massaging my clit. I raised my knees and let them fall open as much as I could to give him freer access. He used his left hand to stroke and caress my breasts, occasionally tweaking my nipples. He kissed my neck as I began to moan quietly. "Let me prove it to you, poppit." He began to alternate caresses on my clit with light pinches, and I began to pant. I didn't think he could play me so well, but I was wrong.

Happily wrong.

"Oh god," I sighed as his teeth started to nibble at my neck. He made it so effortless, so easy, I was already on the edge.

"That's it. Come. I want you to come again." I cried out a little and shuddered as I came again in his arms.

We remained in the tub until the water turned cold and then made our way to bed. We lay awake, facing each other and holding hands, for a long time, talking quietly into the wee hours of the morning. I woke up to Malcolm caressing my face tenderly, and when I looked at him and smiled, he moved on top of me, kissing me deeply -- morning breath be damned -- and slipping effortlessly inside me.

We made love, tender, generous love, that morning. I mean, he did lace his fingers in mine and pin my hands above my head, but even that seemed sweet. We kissed the entire time, swallowing each other's murmurs and moans when we came, laying entwined for a while after. When he rolled off me to make coffee, I grabbed his pillow and held it to my face, breathing deeply.

It occurred to me at that time I was falling for him.

Feck, I thought, silently groaning, not what I wanted to happen. 



Bliss Ch. 06



Bliss dreamed, her own dreams, but from before she could remember. She had spent the first three months of consciousness as a prisoner of the flesh of a prisoner. She had been the instrument of both their escapes, however. Durzai's magical dabbling had translated into his seed, and for the succubus pregnant with his half-demon child, this meant an occasional increase to her own strength. Bliss was aware of her mother's thoughts at that time, which were mostly on how she was being subjected to slow sexual starvation. Even the loads of semen sliding down her throat were commandeered by the child growing in her belly, and she didn't have the means to abort. 

Bliss' couldn't later articulate or understand her pre-birth experiences, but she new that she was unhappy, and she never knew that her belief in her inherent wrongness and inferiority came from her own mother's thoughts. The lust for revenge came from another source entirely. Durzai's emotions at the time of Bliss' conception were incorporated into her very soul, for she inherited no spark of life from Penitent's desolate womb. Later, when it was too late, Penitent would repent truly for the first time in her long, long life, being thankful that Bliss was in her life once she was saved by the magical influence of her strange pregnancy. Penitent had been growing weaker and weaker, but when the unborn demon-child in her womb had become angry, Penitent had as well, and with a strength unknown to her since then, she tore off her magical bindings and fled the mortal plane. 

The easiest means for a demon to flee the mortal plane is to commit suicide, as their bodies there are just a way to interact with other creatures, and they find themselves banished back to Hell. Only on their home planes are demons able to be destroyed. Somehow, Bliss survived, and Penitent found herself still pregnant in Hell. This event indelibly marked Bliss' soul, though she couldn't remember it, and combined with her inherited anger, had formed most of her personality. In a rare state of gratitude, Penitent had decided to keep her once safely back in Hell.

Bliss grew up learning the sensual side of life before taking her first steps. Her unending anger was antithetical to the succubus way of life, but she often inspired it in Penitent with her contrary ways. At all times, her behavior seemed more in line with that of other types of demons. Her mother managed her through an uneasy blend of brute force and seduction, until brute force was no longer an option. 

However, despite her disdain for it, Bliss had a natural talent for seduction, and was resistant to it herself, even against the extraordinarily effective wiles of a sex-demon like Penitent. The succubus, in turn, remembered her treatment in the House of the dark elves, and wondered if anything she could do would prepare her daughter to destroy the object of her hate. Unlike other demons, when succubus finds herself beaten at her own game, she does not plot revenge, but rather sits up and takes notice.

In her sleep, the succubus licked her lips at the memory of the mortal hands that had broken her and forced her. She had once licked Ailztirea's womanhood well enough to sneak a few drops of blood without the elf noticing. It was that memory she held back from Bliss, for it was also a part of her conception. She was actually right to call Ailztirea 'mother,' in a roundabout way, and that angered Penitent the most of all. She knew that Hell would not be Bliss' home for much longer; the girl grew in power every day, and her arrogance followed close on her heels. 

Penitent's suicide marked the beginning of a hundred years of banishment from being summoned to the material world, not long as demons and elves measure the years, but far too long to contain the whirlwind of raw emotion and power that was her daughter. Demons were always trying to escape from Hell, and Penitent had no more favors to call in to get Bliss out. Sometimes literally prostituting herself out, and doing whatever else she could, had allowed her to scrape together enough resources to raise Bliss to adulthood. Her breasts gave no milk, but she could drain her own life-force out through them, a dangerous process for her kind, and it left her in need of other sources of energy. Penitent's experiences had led her to be able to derive pleasure from pain and abuse, but motherhood was the most taxing task she had ever undertaken. As she cradled her now-grown daughter to her prodigious chest, she reflected on the sacrifices she had made, and did not regret them. It wasn't love, but it was as close as the demon could come. 

The succubus wasn't really awake, but as demons don't strictly need to sleep, she couldn't be called asleep either. Her lustful fingers roamed over Bliss' body, almost of their own accord, but without conviction. 

Meanwhile, across the dimensions, Durzai was dreaming of the daughter he never knew. She had come to him often, in his sleep, and he thought that it was a temptation from Hell. The wings, the tail, the horns, and the hooves all made her demonic origins obvious, but she was his physical match in all other ways, and she whispered of death to Ailztirea, a match in personality. Her every movement was grace and strength and sensuality, but sex was never on her mind in his dreams. No, she had the heart of a true warrior, one whose rage fills them, consumes them, but never leads them astray, a righteous wrath to purge the weak and unworthy. She seduced him, mind and soul, without being seductive. He wanted her, a fitting mate, matched in strength and beauty, worthy. 

It was normal amongst the dark elves for males to be subservient to females, but it was so shameful as a warrior of his stature. Event the stately and powerful Ailztirea stood only chest-high to his mighty body, yet he had to submit to her wishes. It seemed obvious that his visions of Bliss would have to be a mere figment, a temptation custom-tailored for him by some Lord of Hell. Her beauty, so Drowish, so Infernal, but so irrelevant to her true nature, was too much for him to believe. Just the same, he wanted her, wanted her badly, and longed for a way to meet this vision in the flesh. 

He was a male whose seed was in demand, but he was required to only service Ailztirea and the five daughters who weren't his. Though all were beautiful, and inventive, none were truly worthy of him, in his private opinion. Every day, he longed for a chance to be with the demonic apparition in his head, a Drow-like beauty with the Infernal lust of the succubus he still remembered. The pleasure had been so intense that he didn't break away even as his soul was draining out through his manhood. Somehow, he had to have her.



Bliss Ch. 06



"Do you know what this is?" Malcolm asked, interrupting me. It was a Friday morning in late July, and I was sitting in a chair in front of his desk, going over the lost ad contracts for the last quarter. I had come in to invite him to dinner with my family – my brother and his family were going to be visiting from Portland – but got a bit sidetracked. (Ok, I lost my nerve. It happens.) I looked up to find him holding up an oddly shaped pink rod, about an inch or so long, with a wire coming out one end and two half-moon shaped flanges on either side.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "What is it?"

"It's called an 'Oyster'." He held it out to me and I took it. The pink plastic was soft and smooth, it felt almost greasy. 

"New client?" I asked, handing it back to him.

"No." He looked at me and gave me his slow and wicked smile. Knowing what that smile usually meant, I felt my stomach clench involuntarily at it in a Pavlovian response- one of many he was capable of producing in me. 

"What is it?" I asked again, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Come here, poppit," he said, leaning back in his big leather chair and motioning me to him. 

"Luna could come in at any moment, Malcolm," I said in a half-hearted protest as I stood up and moved to stand in front of him. 

He smiled and reached past my left hip, buzzing his assistant.

"Yes, Mr. White?" Luna asked, her voice soft but nasal. 

"Please see to it that Ms Williams and I are not disturbed, Luna."

"Yes, Mr. White."

"Thank you." Malcolm leaned back in his chair again and looked up at me. "Any further protests?" He grabbed the hem of my skirt and started raising it up.

"We're at work," I said softly as Malcolm continued to raise my skirt, gathering the fabric as he went.

"I am well aware of where we are," he said, tucking the front of my skirt in to my waistband. He caressed me over my panties, running his hand down over my crotch and between my legs.

"We agreed..." I began. 

"I made no promises," he said, caressing my thigh and smiling at me. "Spread your legs a bit."

I obeyed, as I always did, even at work. I had laid down the ground rule of keeping our involvement out of the office, but thus far it had been more of a guideline. It seemed one of Malcolm's favorite past times was teasing me, and one of his favorite ways of teasing me was getting me turned on just to the point of distraction and then backing off. He never impeded my ability to do my job, but he came amazingly close to it. Every time.

I gasped a bit as he reached inside my panties, placing the pink rod against my lips. I felt his fingers brush along my skin and smiled, my eyes on his. He removed his hand and I felt him smooth my panties down, pressing that pink thing in to me. 

"This is made by a very reputable English company," Malcolm said, smiling at me with pride. 

"It's from England?"

"Yes."

"Did you wash it after you last used it?" I teased, smiling at him. After I had refused to let him insert a plug in my ass on the grounds that I didn't know where it had been before me, he had explained to me that every implement he used to touch my body was brand new. He had, in fact, indignantly sworn it, and I had enjoyed teasing him about it ever since. 

"Keep making those accusations and I will be forced to punish you," he said, smiling at me darkly, looking into my eyes. There was nothing more I wanted at that moment than to be punished. Nothing. I was so tempted to tease him more, but time and place restricted me. He took a small white gadget, about the size of an old pager, and clipped it to the waistband of my garter before attaching the cord from the thing he placed in my panties. He untucked my skirt and smoothed it over my thighs before rising from his chair. There was a slight bulge at my waist, but it was covered by my blouse.

"Malcolm?" 

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, standing in front of me and holding up his keyring with his car fob in his hand.

"Your car fob?"

"No. This is my car fob," he said, turning his hand to show me the remote for his car against his knuckles. "This is far more valuable," he said, showing me what was in his palm again. 

"What is it?" I asked, feeling a bit breathless.

"This is my poppit fob," he said. He pressed a button and the thing in my panties came to life, vibrating gently against my pussy lips, the sensation traveling to my clit.

"Malcolm," I sighed, reaching out and grabbing his left arm. "Please..."

He grabbed a fistful of my hair with his right hand, pulling my head back as he pulled me against him. I moaned (I couldn't help it. I love it when he grabs me by my hair.), and he shushed me, that wicked smile back on his face. I closed my eyes, concentrating on breathing and trying to ignore the maddening vibration in my panties.

"It's only on one, poppit. Let's see how you react to two." 

"Please, no." I whispered as the vibrations increased. It wasn't unbearable. In fact, I didn't even think it would be enough to make me orgasm. It would just keep me wet and wanting all day.

"Look at me, poppit. Open your eyes," I obeyed, looking up at Malcolm. He was watching my face intently, his expression serious but detached, almost clinical. "Let's try three."

"Malcolm," I moaned, my right hand tightening on his arm as the vibrations increased again. The evil little vibrator was sending waves of sensation against my clit, making it swell as my pussy got wetter, but still stopped short of making me come. 

It was maddening. 

"You like three, poppit?" Malcolm pulled my hair tighter, forcing me to arch my back against him. "Should I leave it at three all day?"

"No. Please, Malcolm. Please don't. People will hear it," I whined.

"No they won't," he chuckled. "They won't hear a thing. The Oyster is practically silent."

"No," I whimpered. 

"Hush.... Just listen," Malcolm said, bending down to put his lips next to my ear. I closed my eyes and concentrated on listening. I strained my ears, and while I could feel the vibrations, which made me think I could hear it, I couldn't actually hear anything at all. "No one will hear a thing, poppit. Unless you make noise." 

"Oh god, no..."

"Tell me...how does four feel?" 

The malignant little toy began to thrum frantically against my lips, sending its pulsing sensations right through me. It felt good, but it still wasn't enough to get me off, and it ended up making my pussy ache for Malcolm, desperate to feel him inside me. I raised my left hand to Malcolm's shoulder and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself and control my breathing.

"Do you like four?" Malcolm asked, his lips brushing my ear. I shook my head, not quite trusting myself to speak. "Liar," he hissed, his tongue tracing along my earlobe. The vibrations dropped suddenly, becoming almost imperceptible, and I gave a heavy shuddering sigh.

"Please stop," I whispered, looking into his deep green eyes. The vibrations jumped back up. "It's going to make me crazy."

"Why?" The vibrations lessened a bit again. I looked down at his hand and realized he was randomly pressing buttons. 

"Oh god, I'm so wet," I sighed as the vibrator slowed again. 

"That's the point." Right back up to four.

"Take me home and fuck me. Please. I can't stand it. I want you to bend me over and fuck me as hard as you can. Please." The sensations abated slightly as he took it down one level. "Please."

"We can't. We have a meeting in 30 minutes, remember?" He tasted my mouth, licking my lips lightly with his tongue as the torment between my legs increased again. I leaned against him and felt his hard cock against my hip. 

"I don't care," I pleaded. "Please. I need you to fuck me. Let's just go – anywhere – please. I need to feel your cock in me." The vibrations picked up yet again and I squeezed his shoulder harder. "Oh god, Malcolm. Please. You can even fuck my ass. Please." He raised his eyebrows in surprise at my words; he had been hinting for weeks about having me anally, but he never pushed it, and under ordinary circumstances I certainly wouldn't bring it up. I'd never had anal sex and the idea scared the bejeezus out of me. 

"I will remember that," he said quietly, turning the vibrator off. He kissed me softly on the corner of my mouth before moving his lips to my ear. "And I will take you up on it soon enough."

He extricated himself from me and sat back down at his desk, leaning back in his chair to smile at me. I leaned against his desk and started to reach under my skirt to take out his new toy, but he stopped me with a shake of his head. 

"You can go clean yourself up, but I want you to leave it in during the meeting."

"You can't be serious?" He just looked at me levelly. "But...I can't..."

"You can and you will," he said, cutting me off. "And you will keep it with you, and wear it when I tell you to." He grabbed my right hand with both of his and held it palm up. 

"But..." I began again, not even sure what I was going to say. It didn't matter if I had a speech prepared and memorized; Malcolm kissed my palm before tracing its lines with the tip of tongue, and I was lost. 

"Do not disappoint me, Melody." He dropped my hand and sat back again.

"I won't," I whispered.

"Take a moment to collect yourself, and then I think you better visit the loo before the meeting?"

"Right," I said, giving him a shaky smile. I gathered up my paperwork and stood at the door, my hand poised on the handle, taking a few deep breaths. I turned back towards him. "Better?" I asked.

He simply nodded at me. Funny, I can remember exactly how he looked at that moment. His suit was a dark charcoal, his shirt a gorgeous burgundy that made his eyes look even greener. There was a slight bulge in his suit pants, and he sat back with his left hand on the armrest of his leather chair, his right hand tapping a pen against his lips. He looked back at me with an odd look on his face, almost a surprised look, not smiling. He just looked so commanding, sexy; I wanted to kneel in front of him and just stare. 

I may not remember what I had for dinner last night, but I will remember how he looked that clear July day for the rest of my life.

I walked out and handed the files to Luna, asking her to make sure they made it to the conference room as I had to use the restroom before the meeting. She took them and smiled without looking up at me, assuring me they would be there for the meeting. 

I made my way as quickly as possible to the bathroom, afraid others may be able to hear me squelch as I walked. I took the stall farthest from the door and carefully lowered my panties, the little pink demon nestled in the crotch. I sat and grabbed some paper to clean it off, picking it up and looking at it in near-wonder. It seemed so innocuous, so nondescript, if you didn't know what it was you would likely never guess. It was hard to believe something so unremarkable looking could cause so much internal mayhem. 

Leave it to Malcolm, I thought, dropping it in the crotch of my panties. I cleaned myself up best I could with only toilet paper, considering my options. Option one: I could take this off and suffer the punishment. The idea was incredibly tempting and I smiled at that, wondering what he would come up with as a punishment. I had a masochistic side of me that surprised me with its width and breadth; the first time the pain he lavished on me pushed me to orgasm left me shell-shocked and weeping in his arms, unable to stop for what seemed like hours. I eventually managed to maintain my composure when it happened again (and again and again, etc), accepting within my deepest understanding of myself that I can enjoy pain – his pain – and far from upsetting me, the realization made me happy. I remarked to him once, after he broke a crop over my thighs as I came, that my enjoyment of his 'punishments' may prove to be a premium on failure, that I may strive to be punished so he would again tie me up, tie me down, tie me over something and welt me. He just smiled at me and stroked my cheek. 

Option two: I could obey him, as I usually do, knowing that Malcolm was a very generous lover, and that there may be much to be gained from allowing him his fun today, knowing my reward for doing so could be tenfold tonight. And, given my nature and his understanding of it, my reward could very well include time spent cuffed, clamped and whipped. I shivered at the possibility. My decision made, I stood up and carefully re-dressed, reseating the little tormentor where Malcolm had originally had it. I flushed and left the stall to wash my hands. 

I looked up as I lathered my hands at the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Every time I saw Tony he would comment on how different I looked, usually exclaiming how amazing I looked. And he was right, I did look different. I couldn't exactly put my finger on it, but it was there. Other people had noticed, too. Krissie kept asking me what I was doing and where I was going for my facials. Even Ian took notice, asking me if I was using this product or that product. I smiled at myself, wondering what they would say if I told them the reason I looked so different was because I was regularly bound and brought to orgasm repeatedly before being fucked absolutely stupid. Still, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror, with results like these, if it could be bottled and sold people would buy it. 

I smiled at that thought as I dried my hands. I wondered, as I made my way to the conference room, what that ad campaign would look like. I saw Alyssa talking to Ian and Malcolm just outside the conference room and smiled as I passed by them, always surprised at the height difference between the two men. I couldn't catch exactly what she was saying, just enough to know she was asking for help with something about the soda account. I paused on my way in, but the grouping gave me no notice and so I went and took my accustomed seat towards the head of the large table, making small talk with the others already seated and those who trickled in.

At long last Ian, Malcolm and Alyssa came in; Ian took his place at the head, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as Malcolm pulled Alyssa's chair out for her. She looked up at him when he did and smiled, batting her eyes a bit, but it was lost on him. His actions seemed perfunctory more than chivalrous. I smiled a bit smugly to myself at that, believing if it were my chair, it would be the opposite. 

Ian droned on for forty minutes or so, giving updates on new accounts and possible leads before turning the meeting over to Malcolm. Malcolm went over the lost accounts, highlighting problems with the account management that may have contributed to them jumping ship, and pointing out ways to curtail any further losses. He was as brief as Ian was longwinded, but I couldn't concentrate on either of them. I was too focused on the little pink vibrator in my panties, too preoccupied with wondering when it would go off again. To say I was on the edge of my seat is an understatement. 

As soon as Malcolm finished, he opened the floor up to any questions, and I felt that demonic little toy between my legs come to life again. I bit my tongue to keep from making any noise and kept my eyes on the folders directly in front of me. After a few questions from others, the meeting was over and everyone stood to leave. 

I got up, grabbing my folders as the vibrations between my legs increased, and made my way towards the door. I walked slowly, concentrating on appearing as normal as possible, walking as normal as possible (which is hard to do, really, as you never really think of how you walk when you're not concentrating on walking normal, so there's not much to compare it to), when suddenly that mean little vibe began thrumming even faster, and I dropped my folders on the ground. They exploded, the papers sprawling out across the carpet. I dropped to my knees to gather them up, closing my eyes a moment to try and collect myself.

"Let me help you, Melody," Malcolm said, quickly rising and moving around the table. The vibrator stilled as he squat down next to me. I started gathering papers and putting them on the table as quickly as possible – I would sort them later, I just wanted to get back to the sanctuary of my office. 

"Feeling alright?" Malcolm asked under his breath, smirking at me in that infinitely sexy way he has as he gathered a folder and leaned over me to place it on the table.

"You are a criminal," I whispered at him, my entire body flushed not only with his tormenting of it but also his nearness. I would have given anything at that moment to be alone with him. He just winked at me and handed me the stack of papers and folders in his hand before standing back up.

I rose, gathering the papers from the table and joining them with the ones in my hands. Alyssa came around the table and stood next to Malcolm. "What a mess, Melody," she said. 

"Yeah," I sighed, smiling at her tiredly. "I guess my mind was on something else."

"Are you alright?" she asked, sliding herself closer to Malcolm. I watched the space between them disappear and gave an inward groan. Alyssa was tall. Alyssa was thin. Alyssa was so beautiful she was often mistaken for a model. And, worst of all, Alyssa was thirteen years my junior. 

"Fine, really," I said with a sigh. "I think I just need to get out of here. It's so stuffy." This was a lie. The conference room was so cool I was surprised I couldn't see my breath. I could see Malcolm looking at me closely for a brief moment, but kept my face down. "Time to get back to work," I said, as cheerfully as possible, moving around them and walked quickly back to my office. 

I closed the door to my office and dropped the pile of papers and folders on my desk, heading for the window. I stood, looking out at Elliott Bay, thinking about Alyssa and her gravity-defying tits, how close they were to Malcolm. Every time I had glanced over to them during the meeting she was touching him or leaning in to him, openly flirting. I felt my fists clenching, and had to concentrate on relaxing them. 

It's not that I was jealous, exactly. Well, no, I was jealous, but not of her. I had asked Malcolm, at the start of our...whatever...why he wasn't pursuing a much younger girl. Everything I had read or viewed about D/s and BDSM, without exception, had an older man/younger woman theme, with the men being called Daddy or Master and the women being called baby girl or kitten., referred to as a pet. It was one of the things that put me off, and very nearly caused me to walk away from what Malcolm offered me. But he assured me he was not interested in such a situation. He'd tried something like it before and it wasn't for him. (He didn't offer any details, and I certainly wasn't going to press the matter.) He didn't want a pet, he wanted a lover, and his simple statement was enough reassurance for me.

I smiled at the memory of lying with Marcus, holding hands and talking quietly. I was beginning to wonder if just being lovers was going to be enough. A knock at my office door brought me back to the present. 

"Come in," I said, not turning around. I knew who it would be.

"You seemed upset," he said, closing my door behind him. I turned to face him, noting his concern.

"I'm not upset, Malcolm."

"Are you not feeling well?" He seemed unsure, which surprised me. He was never unsure. "Was it the Oyster? Was it too much?" he asked gently. 

"I'm fine, it's fine. Really." I walked back to my desk and sat down. "Don't you have a more...pressing appointment?" I asked, grabbing the mess of documents and starting to sort them. It was a job I would normally ask Krissie to do, but I wanted some mindless, busy work time.

"Alyssa?" Malcolm asked. I could sense him looking at me closely, but I wouldn't look up at him, afraid to give anything away by my facial expression. Instead I just shrugged, more fool me. 




Bliss Ch. 06



"You're jealous," he said, stepping up to the front of my desk and placing his hands on it. I looked up at him, his expression fighting between incredulity and humor. "Of Alyssa. I can't believe it."

"I'm not jealous of Alyssa," I said hotly. He raised an eyebrow but didn't speak. "I'm not, Malcolm."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know if I can explain it without seeming childish."

"More than you already do?" he teased.

"Thank you, Malcolm. I was feeling merely uneasy, but you managed to push that right up to embarrassed." I leaned back in my chair and looked up at him. "What's your next trick?"

"I am sorry, Melody, but I cannot believe you are jealous of Alyssa."

"I'm not jealous of Alyssa," I said. I got up and went back to the window, my back to him. "I'm jealous of her freedom with you," I said, watching a coast guard patrol boat as it rode alongside a ferry. 

"I beg your pardon?"

"She can laugh and...and...flirt with you. Freely. In front of everyone. She can bat her eyes at you and lean in to you and tease you." I turned back to him, crossing my arms over my chest and shrugging. "And I can't."

"This was what you wanted."

"I know."

"This was your bloody rule."

"I know." 

Malcolm came around my desk and stood next to me, looking out the window. "Two things to keep in mind, Melody. A person cannot be tempted or teased by dangling something in front of them they don't want." I looked at him and he nodded. "I'm not daff, just not interested." 

"I wasn't implying -"

"I know." He turned and looked at me, smiling. He grabbed my right arm above the elbow and gave it a gentle squeeze. I smiled back at him, knowing he understood made me feel a lot better.

"I do need to be going," he said, glancing at his watch. "I will see you later." I nodded and he head for the door.

"Malcolm – wait. What was the second thing?" I asked. 

"Right, sorry," he said, turning back towards me, his hand on my door knob. "I would gladly let everyone in the company know we were fucking. I could give a damn about their opinions." He winked at me and left, closing my office door behind him.

I turned back to the window, feeling heartsick at his choice of words. I traced the wakes of the boats in the bay and chewed my lips, willing myself not to cry. It was foolish of me to pine after him like this. From the start – the very beginning – he had let me know whatever we had together was purely physical, just a passing enjoyment of each other, nothing more. I sighed and went back to my desk, turning my chair around to face the window.

I thought back over the past couple of months with Malcolm. All the nights spent in his big bed, holding hands and talking softly to each other. It was – compared to what we were most likely doing earlier in the evening – almost obscenely sweet. And every time I spent the night with Malcolm, I would wake up with his arms around me or his legs tangled with mine, as if we had to keep contact with each other to ensure neither of us floated away. I thought on all the small considerations he always showed to me, like finding he stocked up on all my preferred brands of toiletries after that first weekend at his house or always having my favorite soda in the fridge. It was all those things and more – the looks, the caresses, the affection – that made me think we were both feeling more, that we were both falling. 

I turned back to my desk and sat with my head in my hands, elbows on the spread of papers. I felt confused. I kept thinking I should be at the very least hurt, if not downright angry, but I couldn't really justify that. Malcolm never lied to me. He never mislead me. When we went out to the movies or dinner or wherever, he didn't fawn over me or molest me. Hell, he didn't even hold my hand. But he was always attentive to me and only me, as if there was no where else in the galaxy he would like to be. Even after his rugby games and practices, with all the girls there just kind of hanging around and flirting with the players, he always ignored them and zeroed in on me. 

I looked over at the clock on my computer and saw it was just after noon. I picked up the phone and called Tony. Some things you just need your best friend for.

"We were just talking about you," he said when he answered.

"You're not telling Carl about the time the house fell on my sister again, are you Glynda?" I joked, smiling. 

"There are some secrets even I won't tell, you wicked thing."

"Such a gentleman." 

"What's going on?"

"What are you doing?"

"When?"

"Now."

"Now?"

"Yeah, now."

"Nothing. Why?"

"I need a big shoulder."

"Oh no – something happen with Malcolm?"

"No....well, maybe. Not that something happened, really. I....just need to chat. Just you and me," I emphasized. I adored Carl, but I'd been best friends with Tony since I was 15, and I really wanted to talk to just him. "I figure I'll cut out early and we can go hang out for a while."

"Sounds good. Just let me change and I can come downtown. I need to go to Sur la Table, anyway. I'll meet you at the market newsstand in about thirty minutes."

"Thanks. You're the best."

"This I know," he said, and hung up.

I sent Malcolm a quick email –

Feeling a bit blah so took aft off. Will be up for game tomorrow.

-M

- then gathered the spread of papers and folders on my desk. I neatened the pile and picked them up, standing and going out to Krissie's desk. I passed off the unappetizing chore of re-sorting them to her with the reward of taking comp time as soon as she was done. She jumped at the offer to extend her weekend, more than happy to sort for half an hour if it meant she could get out and enjoy the warm sunshine. I emailed Ian to let him know I was cutting out a bit early and letting Krissie do the same before updating my calendar and out of office notice. Then I quickly gathered up my bag and left, wanting to be long gone before Malcolm and Alyssa were done with their little meeting. 

I walked out in to the clear July sun and head towards the market. It was a fine day and the middle of cruise season, so the market was packed with tourists taking pictures of the fish throwers and the giant brass piggy bank. I spied Tony looking at a copy of 'Out' and pushed my way to him.

"Thank god," he said, spying me behind a group of people, all wearing the same shirt and a name tag lanyard around their neck with the name of a cruise line on it. "I hate the market in the summer," he said with a sniff.

"You hate the market all year," I said, smiling at him. 

"It's just so bourgeois."

"God, Tony, you're such a snob."

"This I know. Come, let's push our way to Sur and then get something really greasy and bad for lunch." We linked arms and made our way through the main crush of people to the curb. "Now, tell me what's got you upset," he said as we waited to cross.

I recounted the happenings of the morning, speaking plainly, starting with Malcolm's new device to have fun and ending with me standing at my office window and trying not to cry. Tony was aware of the nature of my relationship with Malcolm, so the bit about the vibrator didn't faze him, although he did make a few choice comments. By the time we were in line at Sur I had finished and was waiting for his response.

"You know I absolutely adore you, Melly, but you really can be a fucking idiot," he said, looking at me closely.

"Thanks. Your sympathy is underwhelming."

"This is all your doing. Don't you realize that?" He stepped up to the register and made his purchase, chatting about hollandaise sauce with the clerk for a moment. When he was done he grabbed my hand and led me outside. 

"I know, I said keep it out of the office. Malcolm reminded me of that himself."

"Not that," Tony said, shaking his head at me. "Come on, treat me to a big falafel platter and we'll talk then, okay?"

"Sure," I said, allowing him to lead me to the Armenian take out on 1st Avenue. We ordered and took one of the two tables set up on the sidewalk, waiting for the food and not talking. The proprietor, a woman of about 100, brought our food to us and grabbed one of our hands in each of hers before bowing her head in prayer. Tony looked me, his face a perfect mask of surprise and I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. When she was done she dropped our hands and smiled at us, showing all four of her teeth proudly, and head back to her place behind the counter.

"That was seriously odd," I said, cutting in to my falafel to help cool them. 

"I certainly hope you tipped her well, my dear."

"Oh?" I said, taking a sip of my soda.

"Yeah. I hope that wasn't a curse."

"Live in fear."

We ate in quiet for a few moments. The falafel was delicious, as was the hummus and pita and schwarmer platter we shared. I thanked Tony for introducing me to the place. I had been by it a thousand times before but never even noticed it. It was now going to be one of my favorite and frequented places to eat, weird table service notwithstanding.

"Do you know why Malcolm is so stand-offish with you, Melly? Not just at work, but when you go out?" Tony asked. I was happily munching away on some roasted chicken and hummus and didn't notice he had stopped eating. 

"Not really, no. Sometimes I think it's because we have a sexual relationship. Everything else is secondary." I took a sip of my soda. "But when we're together, just the two of us, it seems like there's more to it."

"There is more to it." I snorted at that, but didn't say anything. "Do you remember the first time we went out to dinner together? We all met at Lola's?" he continued. I nodded, picking at the falafel. "We arrived before Malcolm, remember? Do you remember what happened when Malcolm walked up to us?"

"He kissed my cheek?" 

"Only because you turned your face. He went to embrace you and kiss you and you got really stiff. As if you were uncomfortable being in public with him."

"No I didn't." I chewed my straw a bit, thinking. "Did I?"

"Yes. And he looked quite confused. I know we were."

"I didn't know I did that."

"To be quite honest, Mel, we got the impression you were ashamed," Tony said quietly.

"What? No." I sat stunned, thinking. "Really? I mean, I've never been ashamed of him."

"I know that."

"Shit," I groaned, so much making sense now. "Shit shit shit."

"Relax. It's not that bad. It's not like he isn't totally smitten with you."

"Oh really?" 

"He lights up every time he looks at you, Melly. Every time, without fail." I glanced at Tony, wanting to see his expression. He was looking at me seriously, "It's the truth. You both do, really, but with him it's like...he's always so surprised you are there, like he thought you couldn't be real or would disappear; and when you smile at him it's as if he was waiting for something – some cue – to tell him to breathe and that was it."

"Really?" The old woman came back and gathered our dishes, giving Tony and I approving nods for having cleared our plates.

"Yeah. I'm seriously surprised no one at the office has picked up on it yet."

"Hmmm..."

"Now you just have to figure out how to backtrack a bit, rescind your ban on public displays of affection."

"Isn't that why you're here? To help me figure that out?"

"Oh please. If I could do that, I would have been living happily ever after long before Carl came along, wouldn't I?" 

"True." Tony was never known for his long-term relationships. Every man he met was THE ONE for about a month or two, then he turned in to HE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED. Until Carl – who seemed to be able to cut through Tony's melodramatic bullshit and be his anchor. The two really made it look effortless sometimes. 

"One piece of advice – be honest, be up front, and be prepared to grovel."

"And dinner with my family?"

"Ask him."

"That's it? That's your advice?"

"I am giving you pearls, here." He stood and grabbed his bag. "Now, if you don't mind, I am off to grab a cab home. It is warm and I am not up to a bus ride today." He bent and kissed my cheek. "We will still see you and Malcolm for dinner Sunday?"

"Alright," I sighed. I sat for a few minutes more, thinking back to what Tony had said. I knew he was right. I pushed him off because I didn't want him to feel obligated, like he had to make a show for anyone, least of all me or my friends. It was a ridiculous, immature thing to do, and I cringed at my own insecurity. 

I got up and made my way slowly up Pike to 3rd. I was going to catch the bus home, take a long shower, and was just debating with myself on whether or not I should go to Malcolm's and surprise him tonight when I heard someone calling my name. I turned to look, thinking for some reason it had to be Malcolm, but didn't see him. 

"Melody! Melody Williams!" I looked across the street to see a tall, skinny blond man waving at me. He looked vaguely familiar. I waited as he crossed the street and wove his way through the mass of pedestrians towards me. 

"I can't believe it's you!" he said, putting his arms around me and hugging me tightly. I accepted his hug, recognition just out of reach. "It's been at least twenty years." Then it clicked.

"Robbie Baker!" I squealed, hugging him back just as intensely as he held me. Oh my god! Robbie Baker!"

I hadn't seen him since shortly after college. We were good friends, sharing the same major and a love for Tony. Unfortunately, Tony was never interested in Robbie, a fact which hurt him all through college. Robbie had moved to San Francisco after graduation and we had lost touch. 

We leaned back, looking at each other and smiling goofily before embracing again. We laughed and talked over each other, firing off questions and compliments too fast for either of us to answer, leaving a plethora of unfinished 'when did...', 'what about...' and 'how did...'. We both suddenly stopped and hugged tight again, laughing, not heeding the people passing us with odd looks. 

"You look amazing, Melly. Amazing," he said at long last, stepping back and grabbing my hands in his.

"Please.." I started, flattered.

"You look exactly how I remembered you. Exactly." His eyes seemed misty, and I looked at him closely. He was skinny, too skinny, almost emaciated. Dark circles under his eyes made his face look absolutely gaunt, and his hair was thin. My first thought was addiction, but he didn't have that ash to his skin that always seemed to me to be the telltale sign of heavy drug use. I looked even more closely, seeing a sore just inside his collar.

"Oh, Robbie," I said quietly, feeling the tears in my eyes. I was afraid to blink, I didn't want him to see them run down my cheeks. "What...?"

"I popped positive eleven years ago, Melly." He looked at me calmly. "I've been totally healthy, totally asymptomatic until this past March." 

"I had no idea."

"I know. No one did, though. No one from home."

"No one?"

"Not even my mom, not until I got sick.

"Why?" I hadn't realized we were walking together towards 3rd until we reached the corner.

"I guess it was half disbelief and half defiance. Does that make sense?" I nodded, and he smiled. "I have to go, I'm meeting my mom at the Met. Give me your number and I'll call you."

"Absolutely," I said. I gave him my number and had him read it back to me to be sure. "Please call, Robbie. I would love to catch up."
"Of course," he said as we hugged again. I felt how skinny he was and suddenly felt very cold despite the warm July sun, and I started to cry a little. "It's alright, Melody. Really." He stroked my hair at my sniffling. I looked up and kissed the corner of his mouth softly.

"Call me, Robbie. I know it's been ages, but...call me. I am still your friend."

"I know. And I will."

"Alright." He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried across the street. I watched him until he was lost in the sea of pedestrians, and crossed to the bus stop just as it arrived. I got in and quickly made my way towards the back, taking a seat on the aisle. It was almost 3PM, so the bus shouldn't get too crowded, but still I didn't want to chance being on the inside if it did fill. I hated that.

I thought about Robbie, the joy of seeing an old friend cut with the pain at his condition. I got a napkin out of my bag and wiped at my eyes. It was unfair – running in to Robbie was like getting a puppy you knew you couldn't keep, the happiness in your heart tinged with the knowledge that soon you it would be ripped from you forever. I sat on the bus and thought about college, about how we fell out of touch, kicking myself for not trying harder to keep our friendship going. I had gotten so disgusted with constantly having to hunt him down, the unreturned calls and unanswered letters, the time I was in San Francisco on business and he never even bothered to meet up with me. I think that was when I gave up on him. 

The last time he was in town...10 years ago?...he called my parents' house, but I never returned his call. I figured he was bored and just needed an escape, and – to be honest – my feelings were still hurt. I saw his not meeting up with me as a rejection. I wonder if he would have told me had I called him back. I sighed, chalking it up to one more thing in my past I desperately wanted to undo. 

I got off the bus a block before my stop. I needed some comfort, the kind of comfort a girl can only get from Ben and Jerry. I stopped at the QFC, picking up a pint of their finest chocolate as well as a package of double stuffed Oreos, microwave popcorn and a bag of barbeque chips. I toyed with the idea of getting some whipped cream, but figured the billion calories in my basket would get me through the night. 

I walked up my block slowly, swinging my shopping bag at my side, still lost in thought. I turned up the walk to my building, getting out my key, when suddenly my left wrist was grabbed and I dropped my groceries. I turned to my left and found myself looking in to Malcolm's green eyes. They were narrowed, but opened wide when I looked at him fully.

"Malcolm?"

"You've been crying," he said softly, dropping my wrist and squatting down to pick up my groceries. He stood back up and looked at me intently, concern plainly written on his face, as I shook my head and shrugged at him. I didn't speak; I knew if I did I would cry and I didn't want to stand at my building's entry and cry in front of him. 

He took the keys out of my right hand and opened the door, leading me with an arm around my shoulders. He pulled me to him slightly as we waited for the elevator, his hand caressing my shoulder, and kept up the reassuring contact in the elevator. He didn't ask questions or make small talk, he was just there. I turned and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my cheek to his chest and closing my eyes. Greedily enjoying the warmth of him, the smell of him, the feel of him. He stiffened slightly at first, and I thought he was going to push me away, but he didn't. Instead he tightened his arm around me and laid his cheek on my head. When the elevator opened he gently led me to my door, still holding on to me until he unlocked the door and followed me in.

I took the bag from him and made my way to the kitchen, putting the groceries away. Malcolm followed me in, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the back of the stool before taking a seat at the breakfast bar, watching me silently. I stopped when I was finished, looking at him, suddenly feeling at a loss. 

It was odd, seeing him there. He was so seldom at my place.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I needed to see you."

"Oh." I looked around. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Vodka rocks."

"Alright." I got him his drink, looking over at him frequently, as if I wanted to make sure he was really there. I put it on the counter in front of him and watched as he took a sip. "Why?" 




Bliss Ch. 06



"Why vodka rocks?" 

"No. Why did you need to see me?"

"I just wanted to see you."

"You said needed before."

"Did I?"

"You did."
"Well, then, I needed to."

"Why?"

"Because I did." He took another sip and looked at me hard. I don't mean he looked at me closely, I mean I felt his gaze. It was hard, and it pierced right through me, making me want to gasp. "What happened?"

"I was feeling a bit...you know...so I took the afternoon off, and I...," I paused, thinking about what Tony had said, about how I had put the barriers up between Malcolm and myself. I walked around the kitchen island and took his hand, ignoring his look of surprise. "Come sit with me, please?" I asked, my voice low. 

"Of course." 

He stood up and let me lead him in to the living room, sitting next to each other on the sofa. I took his hand in both of mine and held it on my lap. 

"I called Tony and we met at the market. He had some errands to run and we had lunch. Chatted a bit." I stopped again, my hands caressing and massaging his mindlessly. "I told him about how much it bothered me to not be able to touch you or kiss you or anything, how aloof we are with each other, and he pointed out very plainly what you so elegantly stated earlier."

"What was that?" he asked quietly.

"That the walls between us were designed, funded and constructed by me. I had no one to blame but myself." I sighed, fidgeting a bit. "As such, I would also be responsible for their demolition."

"Arguable." Malcolm said, finishing his drink. You may have been the master architect but I was a willing engineer." I smiled at that. "You're not talking about at work, are you?"

"No." I sat for a minute, sizing my hand against his in my lap, wondering at the size difference. "I mean...anywhere but work, I think."

"I see."

"I was thinking about that as I was making my way for the bus – I was actually thinking of getting a cab later to surprise you at home – when I ran in to an old friend from college."
"Oh?"

"Yeah," I leaned back, smiling. "I hadn't seen him for at least twenty years. Which was weird because we were so close in school. We did just about everything together." I grew quiet, a small smile on my face, looking at the wall and not seeing it, remembering being young and immortal.

"What happened?"

"Hmmm? Not sure. He moved to the bay area and got really...flakey. He wouldn't return phone calls or letters. I don't know why, but I just chalked it up to he couldn't be bothered." I sighed. "But when I saw him today, he was happy – so genuinely happy – to see me, and so damn lively it was like Robbie circa 1990 again." I stopped, feeling my eyes start to tear and powerless to stop it. "Except it's not quite 1990 Robbie."

"What is it?" he asked quietly. 

"HIV. AIDS. He has a pretty big lesion on his throat, and what looks like the remnants of one on his temple," I said. I tried to blink back the tears and wasn't very successful. 

"I'm so sorry, Melody."
"You know, I have been trying to figure out why I am so upset by this. We haven't been close for a long time. So why am I so upset? I am angry, no – I am pissed the fuck off, at having seen him again only to find that he's sick, he's sick and he's dying, and there's no way for him to get better and it's just so unfair. My heart burns with rage over it." I was crying, not sobbing, but the tears ran freely down my cheeks. 

"You may not have seen him, Melody, but you never stopped caring for him," Malcolm said as he gently pulled me on to his lap. I laid my head on shoulder, soothed by his nearness and the feel of his arms around me. "I think it would be odd if you weren't upset."

"You do?"

"Absolutely. It's natural for you to feel a bit...cheated."

"Thank you," I sighed. We sat in silence. 

"Can I ask if Robbie is tall? Thin with blonde hair?" Malcolm said after a long while.

"Yes, he is." I sat up on his lap to look at him. "How did you know?"

"I saw you with him as I was heading over here."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

I looked at him closely, at his expression of frank and open affection, and my breath caught. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen this expression before, I had, all the time in fact, but I gave an internal groan at my own stupidity in misreading it for so long. I took a deep breath.

"Malcolm, I..." I looked at him, his green eyes widening just a bit, and realized what I was about to do. "I think I'm going to make myself a drink. Would you like another?" I asked, sliding off his lap and feeling like a grade-A USDA choice idiot. 

"Just some water would be lovely," he said, looking at me funny.

I made my way quickly to the kitchen and stood against the wall, taking deep breaths. Shit, I thought, what the hell is my problem. The first time there's affection between us, non post-coital affection anyway, and I'm about to tell him I love him. Idiot! He'll think I'm a complete moron. 

I detoured to the powder room off the hall and splashed some cold water on my face, scrubbing it dry with the towel. My skin looked shiny, my eyes were red-rimmed and still looked teary, but on the whole I wasn't a wreck. Satisfied there was no major case of raccoon eyes from my crying to frighten him off, I head back towards the kitchen.

"What are these boxes with the glittery 'D's on them?" Malcolm called from the living room.

"Hmmm?" I called back, washing Malcolm's glass and placing it in the drain to dry.

"On the shelf next to the barrister's case? There are three large boxes with big, glittery double D's on them?" 

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. "Nothing, really. Just leave them be," I called back. I stilled for a moment, two empty glasses in my hands, listening. "Malcolm?"

"Oh my," he laughed. "Duran Duran, huh?"

"Fuck," I said, putting the empty glasses on the counter. I hurried back in to the living room and found Malcolm looking through one of the boxes. "You looked."
"I can see why you didn't want me to open them," he said, pulling out an old magazine in a clear plastic protective envelope. "Tiger Beat?"

"It was for young teenage girls."

"1985? You would have been...?"

"17," I admitted shamefacedly.

"Young teenage girls?" he teased, smiling at me.

"Well, that was the target market..."

"I see," he said, turning back to the magazine. "Are you Roger Taylor's perfect date? Take the quiz!" he read. He looked at me and gave me a wink, taking the magazine out. "Let's see how you did," he thumbed through the pages quickly.

"Malcolm, please - "

"Wow. 100%. I'm impressed," he laughed. He slipped the magazine back into the plastic and put it back in the box. 

"Okay. I was a bit obsessed with Duran Duran when I was a teenager."
"A bit?" he asked, looking like he was trying not to laugh.

"A lot?" 

"You have three boxes filled with Duran Duran memorabilia?"

"Okay, I had an unhealthy obsession with Duran Duran when I was a teenager."

"And...?"

"And what?"

"And as an otherwise normal adult?"

"No," I said, smiling at him shyly. "I just can't bring myself to throw it all away." I closed the lid and slid the box back in to its place. "Let me get you your water," I said softly, but Malcolm grabbed my upper arms and pulled me to him. 

He slid his hands up my arms and held my face, looking at me intently for a moment before kissing me hard, his hands sliding to the back of my head and pulling me up to my toes. His kiss seemed urgent, desperately so, as he alternated pushing his tongue into my mouth with sucking and biting at my tongue when I explored his. I moaned a bit, out of shock at the intensity more than anything else, while my hands were raised to my shoulders before dropping down to hang impotently at my sides. 

"Strip," he growled, breaking the kiss for the briefest of moments. I complied, unbuttoning my blouse and letting it fall to the floor at my feet. My bra quickly followed, before my hands shakily unzipped my skirt. I shimmied, letting it slide down my legs before stepping out of it and pushing it away with my foot. I pushed down on my panties and garter, taking my stockings with them, wiggling my hips and sort of goosestepping in place to get everything off at once. Malcolm's toy fell to the floor with a thud.

"What was that?" he asked, moving his lips down my neck.

"The Oyster."

His hand grabbed at my hair, pulling my head back, as he stood up tall and looked at my face closely. "You had it on all this time?" I nodded, my mouth dry, not sure if he was upset or happy. "Why didn't you take it off?"

"You didn't tell me I could," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

With a groan, Malcolm seemed to...attack me. His mouth and hands and teeth seemed to be all over me, sucking at my nipple, biting at my ankle, caressing my neck. I grew dizzy, unable to keep up with his sensual assault, until I found myself on my back in front of my overstuffed chair, a suddenly naked Malcolm between my thighs, his cock pounding at me mercilessly while my heels dug in his ass to spur him on. 

"You're mine, Melody. You belong to me," he panted against my neck. He slid his arms beneath me, his hands splayed on my shoulder blades, pulling me to him tightly. "Every bit of you. Mine."

"Yes." I slid my hands across his back, arching myself in to him. "Yours, sir" I breathed as he bit at my shoulder. 

"Malcolm," he groaned in to my ear. "Say 'I'm yours, Malcolm."

"I'm yours, Malcolm," I whispered. "Oh god, please, don't stop." I could feel myself tense up as he began thrusting in to me harder, pulling almost completely out before slamming back in to me with each stroke. I leveraged myself against him with my legs, raising my hips to his, moving my hands to my breasts and pinching my nipples as I came. 

Malcolm slowed, fucking me shallowly as I recovered from my orgasm. He raised himself up on his hands and looked down at me, the hair at his temples and brow damp with sweat. I reached up to touch his lips, but he darted his head and took my fingers in his mouth, sucking on them for a moment before pushing himself backwards. My legs fell off his hips and he withdrew from me completely. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him, his cock still hard, glistening against my thigh. 

"Come," he said, holding his hand out to me to pull me up. "Get on your knees, head resting on the chair," he instructed, patting the overstuffed chair. I did as he asked, closing my eyes and sighing as he ran his hands up and down my back before kneading my ass. I felt him lean over me, the hair on his chest tickling my back, as he bent to whisper in my ear. "Don't move." 

I nodded, crossing my arms on the cushion and resting my head on them. I closed my eyes, thinking over what he'd said – that I belonged to him – the idea giving me a thrill that wasn't exactly sexual. I heard him come back in and kneel behind me before he placed his left hand on my hip, moving me to lift my hips off my heels. 

"Do you remember what you said in my office today?" he asked quietly, his right hand sliding slowly from my hip to between my legs. He slipped his finger inside me as I shook my head. "No?"

"I said a lot of things," I said.

"True. But I am concerned with one particular utterance." He pulled his finger out, sliding it forward to tease my clit. "Can you guess what I refer to?" I shook my head as I felt the slicked up fingers of his left hand rubbing around my ass gently. I was pretty sure I knew what he was talking about, but just in case I was wrong, I didn't want to give him any ideas.

My eyes flew open as I felt him slipping his finger – greasy with something – in my ass, and I groaned. 

"Now, my sweet Melody, can you remember what you said this morning?" His finger was pumping slowly in and out of my ass, so slicked up it moved freely. I groaned, my teeth clenched, trying to not tense up completely. "Is that a no?" he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper, as he added a second finger. 

"Malcolm, please, I - " I began, raising my head to look at him over my shoulder. He looked back at me hotly, his eyes searing my words in my throat, a small smile on his lips. 

"Do you remember?" I nodded, mesmerized by his gaze and the slow, steady motions of his hands. "Tell me."

"I said you could fuck my ass."

"Yes."

"I'm nervous," I said, my voice barely audible. And I was. I was downright scared. Nearly petrified. But I was also intensely turned on, and quite conscious of the curiously erotic feeling of his fingers stretching me as they slid in and out. It was so different from the plug he sometimes used on me. This seemed far more intimate. 

This was flesh to flesh.

The thought made me shiver.

"Trust me," he whispered. I nodded and lay my head back down on my arms. Malcolm moved his other hand from my clit to slide two fingers in to my pussy, moving them in a tandem rhythm with the ones in my ass. I moaned, goosebumps marching up my back as his fingers slowly worked my body, preparing me for him.

He added a third finger in my pussy, pressing down with the fingers in my ass and up with the fingers in my pussy. I cried out, arching my back and lifting my hips as he slid his fingers back and forth together, pressing firmly but not hard. It felt insanely good, being gently stretched and filled by him, the friction from his fingers slightly painful. 

"Oh god...so good," I moaned, throwing my head back. My hips rocked slightly, seeming of their own volition, in concert with his fingers. "Please don't stop," I begged as my hands moved back to grab my ass and spread myself wider for him. 

"Hands on the chair, Melody. Grab the arms," he said, his voice sounding ragged. I obeyed quickly and looked over my shoulder, surprised at his use of my name instead of what I'd come to think of as his pet names for me, to find him watching me closely. "You need to come," he stated. 

"Yes...please," I panted, grateful at his knowledge of my body.

"As you wish." He changed the rhythm of his hands, moving them in tandem again, making the friction constant. I lowered my head to the cushion, whimpering as I felt my abdomen start to tighten. "That's it, come, come for me, Melody," Malcolm said, before bending over me to run his tongue down my spine. I arched my back, pushing my head deeper into the cushion of the chair, as I felt my toes start to curl against his thighs. My hands clamped down on the arms of the chair as I moaned incoherently into the cushion, my orgasm moving slowly through me, making my entire body pulse, my ass and pussy clamping down around Malcolm's fingers for what seemed like hours. 

When I finally came back to my senses, Malcolm slowly pulled his fingers out of me, groaning softly as I whimpered. 

"Are you ready?" he asked, his hands roaming up and down my sides. I nodded, not wanting to speak. I couldn't remember ever feeling as excited and apprehensive at the same time. "Relax, Melody," he said, kissing my back softly. He rubbed his cock along the trough of my ass lightly, making me shiver. I felt him shift behind me, pulling back, and braced myself against the chair, trying to keep my breathing even.

My head shot up, looking back over my shoulder at Malcolm as I felt him slide deliciously into my pussy. He smiled sweetly at me, almost sheepishly, and my heart forgot to beat for a moment. 

"What - " I began, but he just shook his head, sinking down on his heels, pulling me on to his lap. 

"Fuck me. Ride me," he breathed in to my ear, sliding his hands around to my breasts and pinching my nipples. I moved my arms back to wrap around his neck to help stabilize me, and began to move. I didn't ride him so much as I just sort of...undulated on him, wriggling my hips about as I minimally moved up and down. (In all honesty, this was an entirely new position for me, and my legs already felt a bit rubbery. I did the best I could.) I began twisting, angling as I moved up and down, creating an intense pressure inside me, using my hips to hit my g-spot as much as possible, wondering at how effortless Malcolm always made it seem.

"Oh god...Malcolm..." I whispered, feeling what little rhythm I was able to manage skip as my body tensed.

"I know," he said. He slid his hands to my hips to help me, and started thrusting up from below. "Touch yourself," he whispered against my shoulder. I pulled one hand from his neck and dropped it between my legs, gently stroking my clit in pace with his thrusts. 

"I'm going to come," I moaned, my other hand grabbing at Malcolm's hair. He began licking and nibbling along my shoulder and I began to shake and buck on his lap. "Malcolm," I rasped as his teeth sank in to the back of my neck, his hands pulling down on my hips as he thrust into me from below. I grabbed his hair and pulled it into my fist as I came, the suddenness and intensity of my orgasm surprising me. 

"Oh...Melody" Malcolm cried, his voice hoarse, as I felt the heat of his come bathe me on the inside. 

We remained like that, our bodies tremoring against each other, as our breathing slowly returned to normal. I sighed as I felt Malcolm's arms move to encircle my waist and pull me tight against him. 

"I believe I bruised you," he murmured, his lips against my neck.

"Hmmm?" I was totally blissed out, my hands resting on his forearms at my waist, my eyes closed, head against his shoulder.

"I bit you too hard."

"Hmmm?" I repeated.

"Melody," he said, his voice half laugh and half sigh. He kissed down my neck to my shoulder, murmuring something, before laying his head against mine, "...what you do..." all I could decipher.

"Malcolm?"

"Hmmm?" I laughed softly at his mimicking tone.

"What were you saying? I didn't quite catch it."

"It is not important," he said after a moment. I turned my head to look at him, and he smiled and kissed my cheek. The gesture making me choke up a bit for some reason. He shifted, pushing the coffee table out of the way and maneuvering our bodies until we were laying on the floor. He grabbed a big pillow and the throw off the couch, keeping us spooned together, my head resting on his arm, before covering us with the chenille blanket. 

"Why didn't you?" I asked after laying together in silence for a while. I turned around to face him, pushing my legs through his and laying my head on his shoulder. 

"I don't particularly enjoy it," he said, sliding his hand from my shoulder to my hip. I gave a snort, an 'as if' snort, to that. "I really don't. It's not nearly as satisfying to me as your cunt."

"No?"

"Not at all. Your cunt is hot and wet, so very wet, it feels like I am wrapped in liquid silk, a garment meant only for me, fitting me in a way I never imagined was possible. And when you come around me, it's as if your walls don't squeeze so much as they caress me, demanding with the most sensual of gestures that I join you." He took a deep breath, pulling me closer to him. "It's incredible." 

"So you're telling me it was just an empty threat?"

"No. I am telling you it was an empty threat today. Tomorrow or another day...I make no such assurances."

"I see," I said, laughing. He chuckled, the low sound vibrating through me. We lay quietly for a while, my hand idly toying with the hair on his chest while his hand ran up and down my back. It was an oddly content feeling, and it made me even more nervous to bring up meeting my family, but I knew I had to. And, I reasoned with myself, it would save me from having to see his expression if I could ask directly to his chest.

"Can I ask you something?" I began tentatively.

"Anything."

"Well...you remember me telling you about Danny?"

"Your brother."

"Yes, exactly." I took a deep breath. "The thing is," I started again, wincing at the tightness in my voice, " the thing is, Danny is going to be in town in a couple of weeks – with his family – and there's a big family brouhaha when they're here. And I am expected to be there. I mean, of course I want to be there, too." I took another deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Malcolm's hand had stilled on my back, but he remained quiet. "I was just wondering if you would like to go with me?" I finally asked, my voice squeaking ridiculously on the last word.




Bliss Ch. 07



After sleeping a few hours, Penitent slipped out of her embrace with Bliss and crept out into the underworld. Desperation was beginning to claw at the edges of her mind. Her daughter, her pride and joy, would not be able to stay in Hell unnoticed much longer. Finding soul-essence to sustain her was getting harder and harder, and her actions were starting to get her unwanted attention. She'd already had to kill one curious imp, which normally went unremarked, but it wasn't a good sign. A tug went through her groin as she thought of the possibility of selling her daughter for favors from a demon prince. The Black Lord of Sensuality would certainly take an interest... but it was dangerous to think of such things, for if she even thought his name, he would hear. Still, he might not abuse Bliss much, and she would be rewarded. She certainly didn't want to do it, but it might save both their lives. Or just hers.

The Satin Lord would have to be banished from her thoughts. Though the most likely to not kill Bliss, he was still likely to rape her to death, and as erotic as that would be, Penitent wanted her to live. Even so, she would have loved to suck on the massive shaft of the Master of Pleasure and Pain, but he would read her thoughts if she got that close. Instead, she sought out her sister succubi.

"Hello, Penny, hungry again?" a familiar voice asked, full of sultry mischief.

"Yes, Missy. You know me."

The succubus was looking sort of plump, though her curves were perfect, and perfectly within the bounds of Infernal beauty. The appearance of plumpness was the energy of the mortal souls she had just acquired in the material world. Her shining black eyes danced with her namesake, Mischief. Penitent knew what her price would be. Mischief liked dominating her fellow succubi. At least it wouldn't draw much attention to accept her treatment; Penitent's reputation was that of liking abuse. 

"You're always burning through the souls I give you..." Mischief intoned as she curled her tail around Penitent's neck. 

"You could go somewhere else, I suppose, so you must like this..." Mischief's banter was eerily like that which Penitent had teased Bliss with earlier. The tail tightened, and the succubus reacted like a mortal; it really was uncomfortable, but she could have chosen not to acknowledge that or show any outward signs.

"Yes, abuse me." Penitent's hoarse whisper sent tingles straight to Mischief's core. She was almost glowing with stolen energy. Wisps of smoky vapor issued from her perfect coral-colored nipples, her body falling into the semi-routine game that the two sex-demons had created between them. A pink tongue wiggled in the direction of those nipples, and Mischief swung her chest out of Penitent's reach.

"Not yet, slut. I'll have my pleasure first."

"Let's not lie to each other; you like my suckling. You're already leaking..."

Mischief tightened her grip, but allowed Penitent access to her exquisite breasts.

"A little then, to take the pressure out. I'm so full, you know." 

Penitent felt like golden light was pouring into her mouth, filling her with warmth. The strangulation of her neck kept her from swallowing, and soon she felt like she was drowning, but of course she couldn't choke on the vaporous soul-essence. Mischief held her like that for a long while, clutching Penitent's face against her generous bosom, a position that would have smothered a mortal. All the while, Mischief's taunting continued, bragging about her abundance of life-giving energy, and rubbing Penitent's imprisonment in her face- and her apparent squandering of Mischief's gifts.

Eventually, Mischief released Penitent's neck enough for her to swallow, and then tightened down again, letting her mouth fill once more.

"I'll admit, this does feel good, despite the loss of souls. It's not as good as acquiring them in the first place, but still nice."

Penitent's reply was muffled by delicious breast-flesh, then she sucked in a breath of air as Mischief switched her to her other nipple, beginning the cycle over again. Lack of air couldn't kill a succubus, but not breathing could become uncomfortable.

After draining a like amount from Mischief's other breast, Penitent felt the smothering sensation go away, then a sharp pain as Mischief slapped her across the cheek.

"Now pay for what you've taken, you greedy slut."

Even the slap and admonition were more sensual than most creature's kisses. Penitent's pussy began weeping its liquid arousal. She knew Mischief would expect an orgasm, and leave her unsatisfied; she grinned, knowing that Bliss would take care of that, despite Mischief's best attempt at, well, mischief.

Her grin earned her another slap, again both stinging and arousing. She had a part to play, and her subservient attitude was at least as important as orgasms to Mischief. Another loop of the spade tipped tail wound around her neck, both tightening the constriction and pulling her face closer to the other succubus' crotch. Another loop, and Mischief's swollen flower was in her face, and her breath was completely cut off.

"You'll breath again when I come."

None of the playfulness remained in Mischief's tone, just the cold statement of an angry dominatrix. Most succubi were only superficially different from one another at most, but Mischief was perhaps a bit more full-bodied, a bit more generous in the curves, and her attitude was sexy in all styles of seduction. As such, Penitent would have loved to slowly caress and enjoy the glistening folds of deep peach-colored flesh in front of her, but the threat had her licking with frantic abandon. Mischief's weight bore her to the floor, and soon she was on her back with the other succubus straddling her face. The sadistic sex-demon began grinding her hips on Penitent's mouth, at first reaching behind her to roughly maul her victim's breasts (which were no less exquisite than her own), and then reaching down to pull on Penitent's head by grasping her horns. Penitent's licking was irrelevant now; the pressure kept her from being able to make many significant movements of her tongue.

It still wasn't enough for Mischief. The orgasm would come, but the humiliation would have to be complete. She began flapping her wings, driving her body downwards, pressing on Penitent with more 

force than just her body weight. Falling fully into the role, Penitent was now simply screaming into her cunt, just the way she liked it. Her orgasm was strong, long, and loud; a mortal would not have survived it, and indeed, a few hadn't.

Like all succubi, Mischief could only climax in her true form, despite the endless number of alluring shapes she could take on in the physical realm. As such, when loose in the material realm on a mission of seduction, succubi often got the souls they craved, but only a truly broken or deranged mortal would knowingly make love to a demon. If they could manage it, all succubi preferred to complete a seduction while revealing their true nature, but it was risky. It also formed the basis of a sort of competition between them all. Penitent was famous amongst her brethren for the seduction of the priest. Her current state was most puzzling to them; they knew that she had died on the mortal plane, and that dark elves had been involved, but her current need for souls was not explained. Some, like Mischief, took advantage of her desperation without much thought; indeed, she preferred to play her games of domination, humiliation, and sadism with a succubus who was formerly held in high regard by her peers. Others were getting suspicious.

After her orgasm, Mischief returned to her playful ways, a seemingly different being altogether. Penitent was used to such reversals from her.

"Let's gossip, Penny. I should tell you how I got the souls I just gave you."

Penitent agreed; vicarious seduction was better than nothing.

Mischief's voice had almost a little-girl glee to it as she began to relate her tale.

"A wizard pulled me up this time, with a mission other than to service him... strange, I know! He wore a blindfold, so I guess he knew his own weakness for our kind. Wychar, his name was. He was suspicious of his wife and his brother, strongly suspicious, and wanted me to take on his wife's form and approach his brother Mychal... he knew his weakness, but he didn't seem to know I would seduce and consume his brother either way. Ha! He put a geas on me, to lock me in the form of his wife until I knew the truth (he had a painting of her for me to copy, and she was definitely a looker, though not as good as I usually try to look). Thought he was so Heavenly clever... every detail planned this one! His blindfold kept him from seeing my hand dug into my cunt, that I then waved under his stupid nose. Not subtle, I know, but how do YOU flirt with a blind man? So anyway, that planted the idea of using me afterwards in his mind, and off I went..."

Mischief's voice took on a sort of droning quality, then faded from Penitent's awareness as a picture of the events started playing in her head. Perhaps it was because of her earlier use with Bliss, but the telepathy of their kind began to play out the scene for her, and for a while, neither one was really aware of their mental bond.



Bliss Ch. 07



The next couple of weeks were relatively uneventful, in spite of the emotional turmoil from that Friday. Or maybe because of it. We went to Malcolm's game, had dinner with Tony and Carl, we went to work, we met afterwards most nights and I stayed over at his house. I met up with Robbie alone and then with Malcolm ( never with Tony, though that was Robbie's choice as Tony wanted to). And in all of those things it was mostly the same, but there was a new...tenderness...to our interactions. Not that we were all over each other, pawing at each other (neither of us are particularly fond of explicit public displays of affection, the sight of couples writhing together in public inciting nausea instead of desire); rather, we seemed more attuned to each other. Any touching or physical gesture was minimal; a hand on his thigh at the movies, his arm slung over my shoulders at a restaurant, taking my hand as we walked. Small things, I know, but of mountainous significance to me. To us. 

And the subtle change manifested itself in other ways, as well. As the date for bringing him to meet my family neared, I grew nervous, agitated. I was beyond prickly at work, not short tempered exactly, just obviously tense. I'd told my family I was seeing someone, but made it sound far more casual than it was. And I hadn't brought home anyone – let alone someone like Malcolm – since high school. I decided on Friday morning to call and let my folks know I was bringing him with me. I grabbed my cell phone and quickly dialed before losing my nerve. When I told my mother I was bringing him with me, she grew so quiet I thought I'd lost the call.

"Mom? You still there?"

"I'm here. Just thinking, Melly."

"About?"

"I didn't know it had gotten serious."

"Serious?" I scoffed.

"Hasn't it?" she asked. I didn't know how to answer, so I didn't. She grew quiet again, so quiet I was starting to think I might have lost the call again and was about to call out when she finally spoke. "Don't worry, Melly," my mom said with a laugh. "No one is going to sit him down and demand he make an honest woman out of you."

"Not funny, mom," I said with groan.

"Why don't you and...?"

"Malcolm."

"Why don't you and Malcolm come early Saturday? Your father and I would like the opportunity to meet him before Danny and Mary and the kids get here."

"What time are they coming?"

"Around three or so, depending on traffic."

"I'll see if he has anything going on. We may not be able to get there early." I didn't lie, exactly. I mean I knew his schedule inside and out and knew he had nothing after his practice. I just...hedged a bit, giving us an out. Although I think my mom was a genius in suggesting bringing him early like that. 

"Well, let us know. And we'll be happy to see you when you do get here."

We talked for a few more minutes and hung up after I promised to let her know for sure. I looked at my phone for a minute, contemplating calling Malcolm when it chirped in my hand, startling me, making me drop it into my lap. I picked it up and looked at the caller ID to see it was Malcolm. 

"Hi," I said, smiling.

"I'm coming to get you." No question, no doubt. Just telling me.

"I'm just about to catch the bus," I protested lamely.

"Take the day."

"What? I can't," I protested. (Even as my mind was calculating the amount of time off I would have left and what my workload would be like on Monday. Who was I kidding? Certainly not myself.)

"I'm on my way."

"Are you listening to me? I can't take the day off."
"You can and you will."

"But - "

"You're tense, and you would be worse than ineffectual at the office today." I was quiet at that, surprised that he'd picked up on it so easily, though to my credit I didn't try to deny it. "Take the day."

"Fine." I sounded far more sulky than I was actually feeling. 

"I am on my way," he said and clicked off. 

I looked at the phone, torn between wanting to throw it at him when he arrived and jumping into his arms and telling him I was falling in love with him. Was. Had. Whatever. Instead I just called Krissie and told her I was taking a personal day because my brother was coming to town. Which was true. For the most part, anyway. 

I changed in to a pair of black linen capri pants and a red t-shirt, slipping on some sandals and grabbing a cardigan before heading to the kitchen to wait for Malcolm. I sat at my breakfast bar, drumming my fingers, feeling oddly impatient to see him, and worrying a bit at how completely wrapped up I seemed to be. (To be frank, I think it was my lack of worry at how into him I was that had me worried. If you know what I mean.) I started thinking about the last time he was in my condo, and could feel the smile spreading on my face as the heat spread in my groin. When he finally arrived, I had to pause at the door and take deep breaths, thinking about ice and snow and concentrating on listing the most effective disinfectant bathroom cleansers in order to attempt to appear even somewhat normal. 

"Hey," I said, opening the door. I was going to try for nonchalant, but any pretense died as soon as I saw him. He was dressed in tan cargo shorts and a tight black t-shirt. Not rent-boy tight, just snug, perfectly fitted, as if it was woven to him. He hadn't bothered to do more than run his hands through his hair, and I had a startling image of me running my fingers through his hair as I pressed his face to my pussy. 

"Pack a bag," he said, stepping in and closing the door behind him. 

"Alright." I instantly turned and walked quickly to my bedroom, going to my closet to grab a small suitcase. I leaned out and put it against the wall, turning back to my closet to look over my clothes. I grabbed a sundress, a cream colored, whispy cotton thing with an empire waist and green and blue embroidery on the bodice. I hung it over my arm, scrutinizing my clothes.

"How long am I packing for?" I called out over my shoulder. It wasn't an unusual request, not really, even though I had clothes that had migrated to his house and seemed to have taken up residence there. 

"A couple days," Malcolm said from right behind me. I squealed and jumped, turning around to face him. He seemed to...loom... in the doorway of the closet. 

"Don't do that," I said, my hand pressed to my chest to try and slow my heart. I was visibly shaking.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me like that."

"I didn't." He stepped to me and cupped my face. "Why are you so nervous?" he asked, forcing me to look at him. I just shook my head, unable to decipher his expression. He frowned at me, but didn't push the matter. "I'll wait for you in the kitchen." He caressed my cheeks with his thumbs before dropping his hands and leaving me to pack. 

I finished quickly, grabbing a couple more changes of clothes just in case, and heading to the kitchen. Malcolm was sitting at the breakfast bar, one leg stretched out in front of him and the other bent with his foot resting on the rung. His head was turned and I could study his profile, the small bump on his nose from when he broke it in his 20s, the full softness of his lips, the fringe of his dark lashes. "Are we ready, then?" he asked, not turning to look at me.

"Yes." He slid off the stool and took the case out of my hand, gesturing towards the door with his other hand. He followed me out, and I could feel him watching me closely as I locked my door. I slipped my keys in to my purse and turned to him, smiling up at him even though he looked a bit pensive. "Let's go."

"Let's," he said, taking my hand in his and weaving our fingers together. It was a simple gesture, one probably done by millions of people every day, but the natural way it was done, as if it was instinctual, soothed me. We stayed connected like that, holding hands, as we rode the elevator in silence, and I felt some of the tension I'd been carrying around the last few weeks start to lift by the time we reached the ground floor. 

We made our way to his car, Malcolm seating me inside before putting my case in his trunk. He got in and put the keys in the ignition, but didn't start the car up right away. He sat for a moment, hands on the wheel, just looking ahead.

"Malcolm?" I asked, wanting to lay my hand on his thigh but unsure.

"What's been bothering you? You've been jumpy and irritable all week."

"I haven't."

"You have, poppit." He looked at me seriously. "You've been a right bitch at the office."

"Please."

"You have."

"I...it's nothing."

"Alright," he said with a nod, looking forward again and starting his car. He turned to look over his shoulder before pulling away from the curb. He made his way to Aurora and waited to turn left. "Do you think you will ever be able to trust me?" he asked quietly, not looking at me.

"What?" I turned in my seat and shook my head at him. "I trust you. I trust you completely. Jesus, Malcolm, how can you even ask that?"

"You don't," he said, making the turn and heading north on Aurora. "Not really." I snorted at that, turning back in my seat, but he continued before I could say anything. "You trust me with your body, granted. You trust me when we're...intimate. I will concede that. But you don't trust me when we're not. No matter how close we are, no matter how open you are in my bed, outside of it you close yourself off to me. Why?" His voice sounded both hurt and angry.

"I don't mean to," I said quietly, watching the 'no tell motels' roll by outside the window, catching glimpses of the locks and Ballard. I blinked, surprised to feel tears on my cheeks. 

"Why don't you trust me?"

"I do," I turned my head to look at him, but he didn't look back at me. "I do," I repeated with a heavy sigh. I glanced around, noticing for the first time he was getting on the interstate heading north. "Where are we going?"

"For a drive," he said, still not looking at me, the clipped tone of his voice made even more noticeable by his accent. 

"No destination in mind?" 

"No." He drove in silence for a few minutes, and I was about to break it when he did. "What's been bothering you?" he repeated. 

"I...it's just..."

"Just?"

"I'm a bit nervous about tomorrow."

"Are you afraid I'll embarrass you?"

"What? No! Of course not."

"Afraid your family will?"

"No." I sighed. "I mean, I've told you about my family, they're really outgoing...gregarious. Sometimes that can be a bit overwhelming. Especially when it's one new person in the group, although I think you're going to fare just fine," I grinned to myself at that. "But my family's great, really. Friendly. And once you meet them...well, you're kind of instantly brought in to the fold."

"I can see why that would make you nervous," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "No deep, dark secrets or skeletons you're afraid I'll uncover?"

"No, of course not...well...except...I haven't introduced anyone I've dated to my family in a really long time."

"How long?"

"Senior year."

"College?" he asked, glancing at me skeptically as he merged on to the 525.

"Senior year of high school," I said quietly, watching his face closely.

"I see." He stared straight ahead, his hands on the wheel. "Why?"

"I never cared for anyone enough to," I admitted softly, turning my face forward but watching him closely out of the corner of my eye. He gave an odd sort of grimace and I turned my face towards the window and closed my eyes, not wanting to see any more. I felt the car slowing down but resolutely kept my eyes closed. I could tell we were on surface streets again, could feel the sun heating my face even through the tinted glass, but I didn't want to see anything. 

After what seemed like a long time we came to a stop, and Malcolm turned off the car. Neither of us made any sound for a while, until he gave a big sigh and I heard him get out of the car. I opened my eyes to see an expanse of beach and the Sound laying beyond. My door opened and I looked up at Malcolm. He was looking down at me, his face not mad or disgusted or...anything, really. At least nothing I could decipher. He held his hand out to me and I put my hand in his hesitatingly, not sure if this was a gesture of affection or civility. He pulled and I obediently got out of the car, feeling relief wash over me when Malcolm once again threaded our fingers together as he closed my door. He pulled me along with him as he walked towards the water.

"Where are we?" I asked. 

"Meadowdale Beach." He stopped at the edge of the beach, glancing around at all the people there. It was a popular destination on a warm summer day. He turned and started walking south, towards a huge cedar that had been uprooted from somewhere in a long past storm and washed up on the beach. We walked slowly in silence, leaving the people behind as we went. The beach became more and more rocky, and the beachgoers seemed to prefer the smoother sands on the north end. 

"This reminds me of England," he said, waving his free hand towards the beach. "Some parts of the coast are so coarse and rocky."

"Oh?"

"Yes. But very few mountains and forests as close to them."

I laughed at that, looking at the way the trees did seem to march right down to the water's edge. It was something I'd never noticed or even thought of before. I glanced around, the wilderness I'd grown up with, lived with my entire life, seeming wilder, and somehow exotic. We reached the downed tree and walked around it, pausing to look at it's roots at the water's edge before continuing back up towards it's top.

"That's why I like coming here. It reminds me of home. Holidays at the beach with my family and mates." 

"Wasn't it too cold?" I asked, trailing my hand over the tree trunk. The bark was long gone and the wood was a polished white-gold, made smooth by time in the Sound and wind.

"We have summers in England," he said, the laughter in his voice drawing my attention to him.

"I know." I looked at him, confused for a moment while he smiled at me and waited. "Oh," I eventually said when the lightbulb finally clicked on. "You mean holiday as in vacation. Not like Christmas or New Year."

"Very good," he said, giving me a wink. He turned to face me fully and started walking again, moving backwards, and I was struck by the playfulness in his eyes. "So delighted to see we're moving past the language barrier at last."

"I'm not daff," I said, giving him a smirk at throwing his own term back at him.

"No," he said, suddenly serious. He pulled me to him hard enough to push the air out of me with an 'oomph'. "Neither of us can be accused of that, can we?" I shook my head. "No. In fact, some may say we are too smart for our own good. We over-think, we over-analyze things. Wouldn't you agree with that, poppit?" he asked quietly. I nodded, afraid to speak and break the spell he was weaving around us. "Yes. And that can be a problem, can't it?" He grabbed my other hand and started pushing me back away from the water and towards the woods at the edge of the beach. It wasn't shoving, it was more like gently forcing me back. "It can keep us from saying the things we want to say, the things we need to say, to each other. We stop ourselves, don't we? Thinking about all of the possible implications of what we want to say to each other, considering all the negative repercussions, making them bigger, giving them the greatest of weight in our considerations." The Sound disappeared behind a screen of dense ferns and trees as Malcolm maneuvered us through the woods, his eyes flicking away from mine for the briefest of moments as he directed where he wanted us to go. 

"But do we give as careful a scrutiny to the consequences of not saying what we want, what we must?" His hands squeezed mine as he stopped our progress. I shook my head, unable to form any coherent thought past I love you. "And the consequences of that can be so much worse, can't they?" I nodded at him, biting my tongue to keep from saying anything. "In fact, the more we fight against saying what we want to, what we so desperately need to, the harder it becomes." He stepped up to me, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him, and put my hands behind my back. "So why do we do it?" he dropped his voice to a whisper. 

We stood like that for a while, a long while, just looking at each other, so much unsaid in each other's eyes and just behind our lips. I squeezed Malcolm's hands as they held mine captive behind my back, and he gave me a slightly questioning look. I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry and the sound of my quickening breathing drowning the sound of the woods and beach around us. 

"I love you," I said, the words spilling out breathily.

Malcolm gave the barest of smiles and bent to kiss me lightly. "I know," he said, his voice low. He took my lower lip between his teeth and nibbled on it as he moved one of my hands to grab the other. He slid his hands along my waist to my stomach before pushing my t-shirt and bra up roughly, exposing my breasts. My eyes widened in alarm, but I offered no protest and kept my hands clasped behind my back. 

He let go of my lip and put his forehead to mine, his fingers finding my nipples and playing with them, twisting and pulling at them roughly. His eyes stayed on mine, the affection in them telling me he loved me, too. Though I ached to hear him say it, I felt it in the way he looked at me and the way he touched me. I had to let that be enough. I could feel myself starting to get aroused, and welcomed it, a happy distraction. 

His hands left my breasts, and I was about to bemoan the loss, when suddenly my nipples were being pinched tight – so tight! – in my clamps. I threw my head back with a moan as the intense pleasure shot straight to my clit, making it throb. I hadn't had them on in a while and the initial sensation was so intense. 

Malcolm stepped away from me, moving towards a young maple tree to my right. He pulled a branch down and peeled off a smaller one, about three feet long. He stood in front of me, slowly peeling off the leaves and twigs. His movements were deliberate, calculated, and he kept his eyes on mine as he prepared the switch. He tested it, slicing it through the air with a most wonderfully wicked sound, and I could feel my mouth start to water. I closed my eyes, cursing myself for responding so even as I was trying to keep from shivering in anticipation. 

"You love me?" he asked quietly, bringing the switch down on top of my clamps.

"Yes!" My entire body jerked at the contact. 

"You've been afraid to tell me," he said, punctuating with the switch on the underside of my breasts. I gasped but said nothing. It wasn't a question and I was too busy concentrating on the stinging heat radiating out from my breasts as he continued the torment. "I am happy" – whack – "you told me" – whack – "even if it took" – whack – "so fucking long" – whack. I moaned with each contact, each time getting closer to orgasm. My legs began to feel weak and I was afraid I would fall. I looked at him and he grabbed my face, kissing me, his tongue coaxing mine, and I drew strength from the kiss. 

"Drop your pants," he said, letting go of my face. I untied my capris and pushed them down my hips, letting them pool at my feet. "Turn around and grab the tree." I turned, surprised to see a large maple behind me. I leaned forward and grabbed around its trunk, my arms not quite encircling it. 

"Do you have any idea what you mean to me?" He bounced the switch lightly on my lower back as he spoke. I shook my head, afraid to speak. He seemed to be full of nervous energy; I could hear him pacing back and forth behind me. "No?" he asked, punctuating his question with the switch on my right butt cheek. "You are a treasure, a jewel, my jewel." He brought the switch down on the left cheek. "Harder than diamonds" – whack across my thighs – "more beautiful than rubies" – whack across the top of my ass – "more precious than emeralds" – whack whack across the middle of my ass. "The rarest gem, brilliantly cut, and all mine."




Bliss Ch. 07



I felt him step up behind me and his hand started caressing my ass, his fingers lightly trailing along the welts he'd raised. "So precious," he whispered. I sighed, my eyes closed, as I angled my hips towards him. "Oh, poppit, how I love you like this." I felt his lips brush along my hip. "So open to me, so wild for me, just waiting for me to act, trusting me. The way you respond to me." He stepped back and I braced myself against the tree. "Giving yourself to me. Being mine."

"I love you like this." He brought the switch down twice, criss-crossing my upper thighs. "And I love you at work. So collected, so in-control, so cool." He added a welt to my upper thighs. "I love all sides of you. Everything about you." He struck across my ass again. "I love the way you sing to yourself when you cook, the way you twirl your hair when you are absorbed in a book, the way your toes twitch when you laugh, the way you try to not cry at sappy movies, your odd obsession with Duran Duran." He bounced the switch against my ass as he spoke, but I barely felt it. Tears were streaming down my cheeks and I felt like my heart would burst out of my chest listening to him. "I love that you can face down a pack of CEOs in a boardroom but can't face a single spider in the bathroom." He struck me again – three times? four? – but I barely felt it, lost in the shock of his words. "I love you," he finished quietly, throwing the switch down.

He stepped up behind me again, and I felt him reach around to my breasts and remove the clamps. I moaned as the fiery ache started at the tips of my nipples and radiated out. Malcolm's hands were on my shoulders, pulling me back against him, before he slid them down to my breasts. I laid my head back against his shoulder as he began to massage my breasts, his fingers brushing over my over sensitive nipples, making me jerk and moan. I heard people nearby, laughing and shouting coming from the beach, but they seemed inconsequential, far away.

"Please," I whispered, my need for him overwhelming.

"I love it when you beg," he chuckled darkly. "Turn around, poppit." I shuffled around, my capris still around my ankles, to face him. He pulled my head back with his fist in my hair and smiled at me. It was his same wicked smile, but it was also different. A brand new smile. Or I was seeing it with new awareness, new eyes. A newly free heart. He slid his left hand from my nipples to my pussy, lightly running his fingers along the outer edge of my lips. "You're sopping wet, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," I breathed. I was panting, right on the edge of orgasm. I couldn't help it. I didn't even want to try to help it. Jesus, why would I, right?

"You want me to make you come? Here? In public?" he asked, looking at me closely.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Yes...?"

"Yes, sir. Here. Please make me come."

He kissed me intensely, his lips nearly bruising mine with the force of it, before releasing me and taking a step back. He unzipped his shorts, letting them drop to his feet, and pulled out his cock, pulling back the foreskin and stroking it a bit. I moaned as the realization he wore no underwear hit me. The sun and shadow danced across it as the breeze ruffled the forest canopy, and I dropped to my knees, mesmerized by the glistening moisture on the tip. I licked my lips, my throat parched, thirsting for him.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded. 

"Your cock in my mouth." I looked up at him and he smiled, raising an eyebrow. He wanted it, just as much as I did. He nodded at me and caressed my cheek as I leaned forward, bracing myself against his thighs. I slowly licked the head as it oozed his come, looking into his eyes as the taste of him took over my senses. I took my time, my tongue making lazy circles around his crown, raising one hand to caress his balls and toy with the ridge of skin that hid behind them. I could feel him tensing, getting ready to grab my head and force himself down my throat, and I ran my tongue down his shaft, licking and sucking at his balls. He moaned, sending a shiver down my spine, and I flicked my tongue back along his shaft to the tip to tease him, lashing his slit with the tip of my tongue.

"Enough," he grunted, grabbing my head and forcing his cock down my throat. I moaned around him, wrapping my right hand around the base of his dick, squeezing and stroking him in tandem rhythm to my mouth. "Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to fuck your mouth?"

"Mmmmmm," I groaned against him, swallowing against the gag reflex as he hit the back of my throat. Every time I hummed and swallowed, Malcolm's hips twitched. I took the middle finger of my left hand and slipped in my pussy, fingering myself for a moment to make it as wet as possible before lifting my hand and pressing my finger against his anus. His fist clenched in my hair and I looked up at his eyes.

"You are about to play with fire," he warned. I smiled around his cock playfully and gently pushed my finger inside him, feeling along the wall of his rectum to his prostate, holding the pad of my finger against it.. Holding his gaze, I began to stimulate it, increasing and decreasing pressure in time with my mouth. He threw his head back and clenched his teeth around a groan, the sound making me shiver and moan around his cock.

"Oh god!" he breathed, looking back down at me and fisting both hands in my hair. His hips began to jerk and I could feel tremors in his thighs. "Fuck," he said as I pulled my head back, sucking harder and rubbing his gland with steady pressure. "Oh fuck. Yes. Suck it hard." His hips began jerking erratically, and I could feel his cock tense in my mouth as he pushed himself further down my throat. I swallowed against the gag reflex and moaned, my finger still working in his ass, looking up at his face. He closed his eyes, his head down, grunting as his body tensed up and his hands pulled at my hair. His face hardened, his mouth twitching in a grimace as I felt his come hit the back of my throat. I stilled my finger, sucking his come out of his cock as it jerked in my mouth. I could feel my juices running down my thigh as I nearly came with him. 

I pulled my finger out of his ass when I felt his hands relax in my hair and begin petting my head. I moved my head back, letting his shrinking cock slip out between my lips. I leaned forward and lightly licked it, smiling at his sigh as I moved my dancing tongue to his balls. He stilled for a moment before moving his right hand to cup my cheek, tilting my head up to look at him. He smiled, rubbing his thumb along my lips, holding my eyes with the sweetest affection visible in his.

"Dress. We're going home," he said at last, stepping back to give me room to stand. He pulled up his shorts and stood watching me right myself. I pulled up my pants and tied the drawstring, letting the capris lay lower on my hips. I was painfully conscious of how wet I was and was trying to avoid having the linen stick to me as I walked back to Malcolm's car through the crowded park. I glanced up at Malcolm and found him watching me closely, looking like he was trying not to smile. 

I groaned a bit as I eased my bra down over my breasts, my nipples still quite sensitive after the clamps. I pulled my shirt down and smoothed it best I could, nodding at Malcolm. He held his hand out to me and I took it, entwining my hand in his and smoothing my other hand over my hair. He stopped me and pulled me to him, smiling as he grabbed the waist of my pants with his free hand and tugged them up against me. I hissed, pushing his hand away from my pants and tugging them back down, grimacing at the wet fabric as he laughed. 

We made our way to a path, Malcolm unerringly leading us back to the parking lot. I glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. "You know your way around here pretty well."

"I do. I like it here," he said as we stepped in to the parking lot. We walked to his car, hand in hand, glancing at each other and smiling. He opened the door and handed me in to the passenger seat before letting go of my hand. I shifted a bit, trying to sit so as not to pull my pants up against my crotch.

He got in and buckled up, glancing at me as he started the engine. He backed out and turned the car towards the exit. I shifted in my seat with a grimace, tugging at the fabric of my pants to try and keep the dampest parts from sticking to me. I heard Malcolm chuckle quietly at my attempts and looked at him.

"What?" 

"I like the dance you're doing," he said, smiling as he glanced at me. He reached over with his left hand and grabbed the front of my pants, yanking them up roughly. The seam mashed against my clit, making me gasp. 

"Please."

"Please what?" he asked, sliding his hand down between my legs and rubbing my pussy through my pants. I opened my legs as wide as I could and rolled my pelvis forward. 

"Oh yessssss." I thrust against his hand shamelessly, desperate to keep enough pressure on my clit to come. 

"You dirty little slut. You've soaked through your pants." He pinched my labia together hard through my pants.

"Please," I cried out, sliding forward in my seat.

"Please what?"

"Oh god. Please make me come."
"No," he says, withdrawing his hand from my crotch. My hand moved to take it's place before I even knew what I was doing, but Malcolm stopped me. "No." He glanced at me with a wicked smile in his eyes. "If you cannot stop yourself, sit on your hands." I took several deep breaths and rested my hands on knees. I closed my eyes, determined to ignore what was happening between my legs.

"My poor little slut," Malcolm purred beside me. I turned my head to look at him, watching his profile as he navigated the streets back towards Fremont. "Your clit is swollen, isn't it? You can feel the seam of your pants against it, thrumming with the engine, your clit getting more and more swollen as your cunt drips." His voice was low, rhythmic, almost hypnotic, and I was unconsciously rotating my hips slightly in cadence with his speech. "You want me to lick and bite your cunt. You wish you could feel my teeth nip at your clit." 

"Please," I nodded and moaned, the images he was creating making me crazy with lust. I had no idea how far we were from his house, but if I knew if he kept talking like that I wasn't going to make it. 

"Quiet," was all he said in response, putting his hand back in my crotch and once again pinching my lips together. He released them and began rubbing his fingertips lightly up and down my lips. "Sit still and do not come," he said, his voice low. I closed my eyes tightly against the sensations, concentrating on not moving my hips to try and increase contact. It was maddening, and he kept it up until we pulled in to his driveway. I was shaking by then, sweat on my forehead and temples matting my hair down. 

He got out and came around to open my door for me, offering me his hand and helping me out before he pressed me against his car. 

"What...?" I began, but was cut off when he moved his left leg between mine, bending at the knee and raising it up until my crotch rested on his thigh. He put his hands on my hips and pulled at them to make my pussy grind against him, and I moaned, dropping my head and closing my eyes.

"Look at me," he said, hands holding my hips tightly. I obeyed – as I always did – and locked my eyes on his. He began moving my hips, or at least guiding their movement, grinding me into him. I placed my hands on his biceps, feeling them flex a bit beneath my fingers, as he raised his leg a little more against me. I began to breathe heavily as, already swollen and sensitive, I quickly neared orgasm. "Do you like this? Do you like grinding your slutty cunt against me in public to get off?"

"Yes," I whispered. His words inflamed me even more, making both my nipples and clit throb, and I threw my head back, on the cusp of orgasm.

"You'll have to wait," he said, taking a step back. 

"No!" I whined, reaching for him. He easily evaded my hands, laughing softly. I stumbled, feeling at once lightheaded and tense. "Shit." I muttered, leaning back on his car and looking at him.

"It's hard to wait, isn't it?" he asked, his smile almost tender - almost. "When you want something so badly it clouds your mind?" He grabbed my chin in his hand, looking at me closely. "Your pupils are dilated and you keep licking your lips. You're so desperate to come, aren't you?" he teased. His words were cruel, but his expression remained kind. 

"Yes, sir," I whispered. 

"Take off your pants," he said, dropping his hand to my left breast and pinching my nipple through my bra. 

"Sir?" I asked, hesitating. He just looked at me and increased the pressure on my nipple briefly before dropping his hand to his side. I got the message and undid my pants, quickly pushing them down before stepping out of them and putting them on the roof of his car behind me. I could feel the air cooling the dampness on my thighs; after the humidity of my pants it gave me goosebumps.

"Bend over the boot," Malcolm said, his eyes fixed on my upper thighs.

"What?"

"The trunk," he said with a little laugh. "Bend over the trunk."
Again I hesitated, looking around. The car was far enough in the driveway to shield most of it from the street, but if I were to lay over the trunk, my head and torso would be visible. Anyone walking or driving by would be able to see me. I looked back at Malcolm and he raised an eyebrow at me, not speaking. "Yes, sir," I said at last. I bent over the trunk, splaying my hands next to my head so they were flat against the warm metal. 

Malcolm moved to stand behind me, kicking my legs apart with his foot. I felt his hand caress my ass, running along the welts he'd put there with the switch. I sighed, turning my head to rest my forehead against the trunk lid. I closed my eyes as he removed his hand from my skin. I wanted to look back and see what he was doing, but I wouldn't let myself. 

His palm suddenly connected with my ass in a sharp slap that made me jump and moan, but I kept my head down and eyes closed. He continued to spank me – not hard, just enough to keep me exceedingly wet – alternating cheeks and aiming carefully at the same spots over and over. The only sounds I could hear were my soft grunts and moans and the sound his palm made against my flesh. 

Suddenly he stopped spanking my ass and began slapping at my pussy instead. I moaned loudly and angled my hips back to give him better access. 

"Your cunt is soaking wet and so swollen." He spanked me a few more times between my legs before slipping a couple fingers inside me and fucking me with them slowly, moving his fingers periodically to stroke my clit softly, his actions performed in a way that would move me to the edge of coming without allowing me to. 

It was torture. Delicious, sadistic, wonderful torture. He kept me dangling at the edge of coming for what seemed like hours, centering my universe on his hands as they manipulated my flesh. All I could do is lay across the trunk of his car and submit to him, whimpering incoherent pleas for release as my pussy juices ran down my thighs and his fender to collect on the ground below and the sun pinked my ass. 

"What was that?" he teased, his finger stroking me so lightly I could barely feel it. 

"Please," I mumbled, my forehead still pressed against the trunk. I was making fists with my hands, closing and opening them repeatedly.

"Please what?" he asked, lightly slapping my pussy. I was so wet it sounded like a rubber ball hitting the surface of a pond.

"Please make me come," I whispered. He rewarded me by pinching my clit briefly before slipping his fingers back inside me. I whined in protest.

"My sweet, dirty little slut wants to come?" He pulled his fingers out of my pussy and used both hands to spread my lips wide. 

"Please," I begged.

"You're so swollen," he said, spreading me even wider. "Your clit is so hard and your cunt is dripping all over my car." He began making circles around my clit, using a barely perceptible touch. I tried to angle my hips to increase the contact but it didn't work. "So desperate to come, aren't you my little slut?"

"Please. Please. Please," I sobbed. It was the only word I could form, all other thought obliterated in the riot of need from my pussy. I was panting and sweating and drooling, and all I could think about was how badly I needed to come. I felt my lower body tremor as Malcolm caressed my ass with both hands, the gesture at once consoling and enflaming. 

"You want to come?" he asked, squeezing my cheeks before slipping his fingers back inside me. 

"Yes," I panted. 

"Yes..?"

"Yes, sir. Please make your slut come," I begged. 

"Very good," he whispered, bending over me to speak directly in my ear. "Come for me."
He began moving his fingers in and out of me hard and fast, thrusting them in and down, creating delicious pressure while he used his thumb to flick and rub my clit. He kept his mouth by my ear, whispering to me about how hard he wanted me to come, how wet and hot and swollen my pussy was, his words sounding like the sweetest love ballad. It was almost too much after such a long build up, and I came instantly, and kept on coming. I was crying and moaning, my head tossing from side to side while my entire body jerked in spasms as if I was being electrocuted and I took in air in great gulps. 

I don't know how long it lasted, how long I laid over his car crying in ecstasy, how long he whispered so sweetly in my ear while his hands played my body. When I could think again I was still crying and breathing hard, still over his car, my hands in fists and my legs shaking while Malcolm ran his fingers through my hair and planted soft kisses on my neck and ear. 

"Malcolm?" I croaked out, my throat parched.

"Right here," he whispered. I turned my head to look at him. He was leaning on his elbow to my left, looking down at me and smiling. He wiped at my cheek with his right thumb.

"Sorry," I said, wiping at my face with hands that shook uncontrollably. "I don't know why I can't stop crying." He smiled and leaned forward to kiss my cheeks.

"Can you walk?"

The question struck me dumb, bringing me back to the realization we were still in his driveway. I began to giggle, blinking at him through the tears I couldn't seem to stop. I could feel hysteria nibbling at the edges of my consciousness, seeming to search for a way in. Malcolm must have sensed it, too. He started murmuring to me softly and placed a hand on my forehead, forcing my attention back to him. It calmed me.

"Sorry," I said again, my voice the slightest bit steadier.

"Shhh. It's alright, love." He leaned forward and kissed me lightly before standing up. "Come, let's get inside and have a shower." He put his arms around my waist and helped me stand, letting me lean on him for support. My legs felt like jello, but I wasn't totally incapacitated. We made our way inside and up to his bathroom; he kept an arm around me the whole way, nearly carrying me up the stairs. He sat me on the counter and started the shower, helping me take off my shirt, bra and sandals before undressing himself. 

We got in and just stood under the water for a bit, arms around each other. I had my head on his chest and could hear his heart beat. It was strong and steady, and it soothed me so much I could have closed my eyes and fallen asleep where I stood. Eventually we moved, washing each other gently and thoroughly, taking our time. I don't remember either of us speaking the entire time we were in the shower, even though we were in there for quite a while. 

We spent the rest of the day inside. I didn't even bother getting dressed, just put on one of his t-shirts to lounge around in. We ordered Chinese for dinner and watched 'Evil Dead 2' before going to bed to sleep. I felt emotionally drained and overflowing at the same time. 




Bliss Ch. 07



It was a great feeling.

"Melody?" Malcolm asked as he spooned up behind me.

"Hmmm?" I murmured, running my hands up and down his forearm as it laid across my abdomen.

"Move in."
"What?" I asked, turning over to face him. I could see his expression clearly in the light that came in through the open curtains. He looked serious. And confident.

"Move in."
"Here? With you?"

"Yes," he said, chuckling a bit and kissing the tip of my nose.

"Yes," I said after a moment's thought. (Seriously – like I could've said no, even if I wanted to.)



Bliss Ch. 08



Through the eye of Mischief's memory, Penitent saw the wizard's study, then the wizard. Wychar. He had let his name slip. He was obviously an amateur. His summoning circle was textbook. Textbook perfect, and textbook basic. He had successfully bound her- Mischief -to his will, but there were none of the personal variations of a practiced summoner. This had obviously been part of a general course of study for him, and probably only the first time he'd done it on his own.

In all likelihood, it would be his last summoning circle as well. The blindfold was there, just as predicted by their conversation. This detail showed how truly uninformed this particular spell-slinger was. Penitent felt fingers, her own fingers, burying themselves in the fleshy lips of her swollen vulva, but realized that she was feeling Mischief's memory of the action. It was hard to distinguish her own self from Mischief's memory of herself, but it didn't matter, she realized, for nothing the other succubus had done would clash very much from what she would have done in her place. So she felt as if she were masturbating herself in front of the blinded mage, and while most of her mind simply enjoyed the experience, part of it was cognizant of the fact that it was not her experience, but someone else's.

Self-stimulation was a tool that succubi did not often employ; Mischief's use seemed to be one of the few cases in which it made sense. A succubus couldn't reach climax through her own hand, just as a person cannot tickle themselves. It could arouse them, though that was almost never necessary, and that was it. Using it as a means to spread her musk through the air, however, was a clever trick, though Penitent felt she would have reached the same conclusion. She could see the twitch of the mage's cheek as he caught the compelling scent wafted in his direction. His arousal had started shortly after he had began to give out orders to the succubus; it was the arousal brought by feelings of power, a form of eroticism with which Mischief was particularly familiar. Then came the physical response of being exposed to her supernaturally alluring fragrance. His twitching cheek was the moment of doubt in which an idea was seeded, one that was deliciously, gut-wrenchingly sweet, a notion to play the dangerous game of sporting with the succubus once her primary mission was finished. Penitent could read all of this even with half his face covered. If it had been her, with her hunger, she likely would have licked her lips and purred with lust, but Mischief wasn't quite so desperate as that.

"Yes, Master," she said, pouring all of her sultry Mischief into her voice. Those two simple words solidified the idea, and the wizard was as good as dead. She had barely listened to the orders; magical binding would carry her through the mission regardless of whether she paid any attention. In her stolen body, she started down the hall. Penitent was treated to the sights, sounds, and smells of the wizard's keep, not that she or any succubus would ever care. The sight of the wizard, his weakness of flesh and his simple lust, had filled her with want, and though she knew another waited in a room not too far away, the knowledge of a man who was almost certainly hers to take, but who would require waiting, made her hungry groin weep its frustration. The feeling was so strong that Penitent realized it was because they both felt exactly the same at that moment, a doubling of emotion and sexual greed. A small part of her mind noted that she really was getting aroused.

Her stolen body was becoming an annoying prison, a shape that could help her catch a man, but not get her what she really wanted. This was the frustration known to all succubi. Some called it a Rule, others simply a Limit, but all hated the need for wearing other bodies. All demons were cursed creatures, and a restless groin and endless hunger were the fate of Penitent, Mischief, and all their sisters.

She came to the room of the wizard's brother, Mychal. He was a man. To a succubus, that was all that mattered. It was, beyond the perfect shapes they usually took, one of their most appealing attributes. He had two arms and two legs, a face, all the usual bits, and she could see in his sleeping tunic that he had the only part she truly cared about, and in a moment, she saw that it was in working order. That hardly mattered; a man of ninety years might be coaxed to performance by the Infernal experts of sex. Mischief/Penitent stepped up and embraced him, a sweet kiss planted on his lips.

"You're early," he murmured, breaking the kiss and nipping at her ear.

"No, you're dreaming," Mischief replied in her own voice, a voice of pure sex.

"You went with the 'You're dreaming' line?"

Back in reality, Mischief giggled, breaking the vision for just a moment.

"I stick to the classics."

Penitent missed the man's reply; it hardly mattered, as it revealed little that anyone needed to know. His reaction had broken the geas to stay in the form of the wizard's wife. 

"Is it me you want, lover? In your dream, I could be anyone..."

"Even were you not a vision of loveliness, I would still prefer to cuckold my pompous ass of a brother," Mychal chuckled.

Mischief puffed out her breasts, making them match the size of her normal form.

"Are you sure?" she inquired with all the innocent sweetness of a girl of ten summers, even while flexing her bosom in the most salacious manner possible. Mychal swallowed, lust making his throat scratch.

"My golden locks look far too innocent, I think." 

Mischief darkened her hair as she spoke, and the man indeed seemed to find it a positive change.

"I think in your dreams, you can forget your brother and his irritating ways... you deserve the wanton slut you truly desire..."

Lush curves replaced the graceful, slender body of Wychar's spouse, and her face lost its regal hauteur, naked lust replacing it with ease. Except for the obvious demonic parts, Mischief was in her true form.

Finally, nearly completing her transformation, her clothes simply fell off without needing so much as a touch.

Mychal encircled her once more with his arms. He still was not being as aggressive as Mischief wanted, so she writhed against him, bumping her naked crotch into his clothed manhood. He lifted her bodily, and she wrapped her legs around him, the animal sounds of lust that she had repressed since Wychar's study finally given voice. She found herself on the bed, and she released the man long enough for him to doff the offending tunic. He thrust into her immediately, recognizing that there was no need for tact or pretense. Her pussy flexed and bucked against his rod of flesh, a velvety soft massage with Hellish urgency. He spurted within her in seconds, paused a moment, then began thrusting again. This time he lasted a minute, then flooded her hungry innards again. Mychal then came a third time, and Mischief then decided to begin drawing out his soul. To Mychal, a feeling of draining was the only negative in what was the most erotic experience of his life. It felt like orgasm, but the pulses of spurting fluid didn't stop.

When he was too weak to resist, Mischief's wings, horns, and tail sprouted from her body, revealing her true form. She disengaged from him, though she was not yet satisfied. She had a more intricate plan.

"Now you know what I am. I'm leaving you here to go and consume your brother's soul."

Mychal looked visibly drained. His body seemed to have lost substance, and he was too weak to make any response.

"You might be thinking of escape right now, but you won't be able to."

Mischief took a moment to lick a little life back into Mychal's member. It might only take a few more moments of stimulation to bring him to the point of no return, causing him to jet his soul and semen into her until he was no more than a limp rag.

"I will give you back just enough energy so that when that trollop you stole form your brother shows up, you will be able to return her embrace. While you dribble out your pathetic little load into her dirty snatch, try not to weep with the memory of how it felt with me. I want all your fluids. You will let me suck you dry when I return, because after fucking her, you'll realize no mortal woman will ever match me."

Mischief smiled, then continued.

"You're going to Hell, mortal, and you're going to let me take you there, because my cunt is the most pleasurable way to go."

She cradled the drained man's head to her chest.

"Here's that little bit of energy I promised."

For a few brief moments, Mychal was suckled just as Penitent would be later.

"Taste good? You should like it. It's a little bit of you, after all."

Mischief turned and left the room, ostensibly to report her mission's success to her Wychar, but she and Mychal knew it would be his death.



Bliss Ch. 09



Bliss' dreams were formless and empty, until she heard her mother calling her name. No, that wasn't right. Penitent was saying her name, but not to her. It still wasn't right. Penitent was THINKING Bliss' name. And she wasn't dreaming it. Bliss didn't know it yet, but Penitent's use of her innate telepathy had awoken the ability in her. Except stronger. When Penitent thought of her, she heard it, even when her mother didn't intend to transmit her thoughts. 

She saw images of herself, being raped by a massive, ebon-skinned male figure, and felt her mother's mingled fear and erotic titillation at the prospect. Her mother had told her of the Dark Seducer, the Master of Pleasure and Pain, though she said that she couldn't speak his name safely. Demon princes were nearly god-like in their power, and combined a deity's wisdom with an animal's cunning. He would hear her thoughts or words if his name was invoked, and Penitent, as a succubus, would be immediately summoned to him and her mind stripped of all her hidden knowledge.

All of this was conveyed to Bliss in an instant. It chilled her that she could glean such knowledge so quickly, and that the Black Prince would be able to do it with the alacrity of millennia of experience. Another conduit of power had opened within her, this mental ability that would make her all the more formidable, yet it brought fear instead of confidence. She had had no experience with the art of telepathy before that day, and she had already learned so much, and the greatest threats to her existence had this same ability, except on a level that dwarfed hers. In fact, every being except Penitent would probably raise a hand against her, unless they had designs on her body. In a matter of minutes, Bliss had grown up by a significant amount, and it was not a good experience.

With concentration, Bliss found she could pinpoint Penitent's location, then saw through her eyes, and then began to share the vision that Mischief was imparting to her. Through this link, she found herself in Mischief's mind, sharing the images even more closely than Penitent.

Penitent felt a slight tickling in her mind as Bliss began to purposefully rummage through her thoughts, but it was hardly noticeable and soon ignored in favor of the more erotic fare that her sister succubus was supplying. 

Bliss was disoriented for a second as she found herself in Mischief's body, and Wychar's study. Her lips, or rather Mischief's, seemed to form words of their own volition, then she quit fighting the memory and watched it unfold.

"It is as you feared, master. Your brother immediately embraced me in your wife's guise."

Wychar's blindfolded face twitched once more, this time in anger. His mouth bit around words, angry words, possibly those of magical power, but he did not give voice to any of them.

"I took some of his life-essence, master. He is helpless at this moment."

Wychar finally found his voice.

"You lie!"

"No, master, open your eyes. You bound me to your wife's form, and I cannot lie to you."

Wychar forgot the reasoning behind the blindfold and swept it from his face. He looked at the luscious succubus in all of her Infernal glory. Perfect breasts, skin somewhere between pearl and pink, rounded hips and flat belly, all surrounded by the accoutrements of Hell. Her horns, and small fangs, her hooves and wings and tail, somehow they couldn't take away from the appeal of that perfect body. Coral-colored nipples that would later tempt Penitent seemed to beg to be kissed and suckled. Wychar was literally starting to drool, barely catching himself at it.

"Master, you must be careful if you want to rut with me. It isn't safe."

The warning was delivered with a tone and expression that sent an opposite message. Her eyes, formerly glowing green, faded to normal greenish-hazel. Her blood-red lips pursed to hide her small, neat fangs, and she curled her bat-like wings behind her. There seemed to be only promise of endless pleasure in her, no menace at all.

"How can I safely bed you?" the wizard asked, his tongue seeming to work around a mouthful of cotton.

"You have only to order me not to steal your soul, master."

"Then I'll be safe?"

"As long as the order stands..."

Mischief's answer was full of her namesake, and finished by a dazzlingly sweet smile. 

"Then I command it, succubus. Pleasure me, but do not steal my soul."

Mischief's smile was again dazzlingly sweet as she sauntered across the room to Wychar. Her hips swayed to a rhythm that spoke of sex, her tongue bathed her lips in a fashion that spoke of hunger. Lush, rounded breasts bounced perfectly, their firmness obvious.

The wizard's robes could not hide his arousal. In a near mystical fashion, Mischief disrobed him with a few deft motions of her hands. She knelt in front of his engorged member, staring pointedly into his eyes as she opened perfect lips to engulf it. She may have been on her knees, but it was obvious who the real slave was to any who might have observed them.

Wychar groaned with pleasure, nearly spewing his seed at her first suckling kiss. Her pointed teeth just barely brushed his veined shaft, holding it in place as her tongue energetically washed over it.

"A perfect seduction."

Penitent's voice once again broke the spell formed by Mischief's reminiscence. A giggled agreement was her sister's reply. To the succubi, Mischief had played their game perfectly, ensnaring a mortal who knew her nature from the very beginning, using her own natural form to entice him.

"Oh, it gets better..." Mischief began, and then both fell into her reverie once more. 

Mischief sucked the semen from Wychar's member in what would have been record time for the most practiced backstreet prostitute, but it was simply routine for one with eons of experience in harlotry. She gulped this first spurt greedily, relishing it as it flowed down her throat and began to turn to energy and warmth. 

"My pussy now, master? Oh, how I'd love to take you there," Mischief said, and nearly giggled at the pretense that the mortal wizard was still in control. Wychar was nearly delirious with pleasure, but he responded with a vague affirmative. 

The succubus guided Wychar to his back, and straddled him. She held her fleshy lips poised at the tip of his manhood, pausing a moment to savor it. The wizard recovered enough to begin thrusting upward, and Mischief let the tip tickle her entrance for a moment, then plunged down to the hilt, gyrating her hips at the farthest point of the downstroke, then raising up until just the tip was inside to repeat it again.

The clenching muscles of her sopping sex could probably have given Wychar release by themselves, but she needed to do more than that. It would take a little more pleasure for him to forget that to fuck her too long would mean his death. So she clenched, thrust downward again, ground her hips against him before raising up again, and built a compelling rhythm out of the process. She combined centuries of experience with a profound joy at what she did, and for the hapless Wychar, it created unbelievable ecstasy. He came again, and she didn't even slow down. His hardness faded for a moment or two, then resurged as the supernaturally appealing succubus kept up her game. After a third orgasm with no pause, Mischief stayed down, continuing her hip's movements, and whispering urgently in the wizard's ear.

"May I please come, master? It won't take long! Oh, please!"

She may have been in control of his living or dying, but he could still deny her an orgasm.

"Yes," croaked the weary mortal.

Mischief began grinding her hips against him once more, rubbing her clitoris against his pelvis, flapping her wings for more downward force, just as she would later do with Penitent. In a few moments, Mischief was orgasming, shrieking loudly. Her whole body shook, those marvelous muscles milking another load of semen out of Wychar's fading manhood. As she came down from her sexual high, she monitored the feel of the seed and member within her. He had reached the last point he could with her without any loss to his soul.

"Master, I can go on, but you will lose a small portion of your soul."

Wychar made an exasperated gesture.

"I can take perhaps three more orgasms from you without danger, though it will leave you weakened."

His hips' movement seemed answer enough.

"Oh, thank you, master! I will stop before you are in danger..."

The she-demon hopped off and returned her mouth to Wychar's rod. She licked it clean of their mingled juices, relishing the taste and the jerks and twitches as it came back to life under her expert touch.

'Of course I'll stop to ask your permission again,' she thought to herself. 'I love it when mortals go to Hell with both eyes open. Just like your brother will when I'm done with you.'

Wychar lay back and relaxed as Mischief prepared him for the fucking of his life- and death.



Bliss Ch. 10



Penitent clapped with glee as Mischief continued her story.

"That was masterfully done! You have to really break them for them to beg to be fucked to death!"

Mischief smiled and preened under the praise.

"Oh, I know. He was so weak-minded. I stopped each time for four more orgasms, asking permission to continue, and I told him the last time would be his death, and he still did it."

"Did he thrust up the last time himself?"

"You know it! Suicide by succubus!"

Penitent applauded again. 

"And the brother? You got him too?"

Mischief grinned, a secret dancing in her eyes.

"Of course. That was a given. It's the wife you should be asking about..."

"No! Really?"

The vision began to play out again.

Mischief prowled the halls of Wychar's keep, stepping into Mychal's bedchamber near the end of his tryst with his brother's wife. Her slender body was atop his, her back to the door. Due to Mychal's weak state, she was putting forth the effort for their lovemaking. Mischief watched the bouncing of her well-formed buttocks for a moment, then allowed her shape to dissolve into smoke, swirling around the woman and re-solidifying with her wrapped from behind in an intimate embrace. The woman started to shriek in surprise, but was paralyzed with pain and fear as the succubus' fangs bit into her neck, at the same time as her arms were drawn behind her back. After a long, satisfying draught of blood, the succubus murmured into her victims ear, her breath sending tremors through the woman's already shaking body.

"You die tonight, slut, but if you cooperate, your last breath will be as ecstatic as a thousand years in the Celestial realm."

Without getting an answer, Mischief coiled her tail around the woman's wrists, binding her hands behind her. She began to bite again, small nips at sensitive areas on the woman's throat and jawline. She drew more blood, but it was more arousing than painful. At the same time, her hands were free to roam up and down her victim's body, gently caressing stiffening nipples, massaging taut stomach muscles, and finally one hand made its way down to the juncture between Mychal's body and that of his brother's wife. Mischief artfully rolled the swollen clitoris between her fingers, and used her other hand to guide the woman's hips up and down, restarting the rhythm she had interrupted when she entered the room. 

Mischief's guidance, sometimes forceful, sometimes with artistic finesse, had Wychar's wife rushing towards orgasm faster than she could have managed on her own. 

"What's your name, whore?" Mischief whispered into the woman's ear.

"W-wenecia," gasped Wychar's wife.

"Mine is Mischief. Say it!"

"M-mischief," Wenecia bit the syllables out around a sensual moan. As she approached orgasm, Mischief began to play rougher and rougher with her breasts, first caressing, then squeezing, and finally raking them with her claw-like nails. In her lust, Wenecia was only stirred to further heights of arousal by this treatment, and she barely registered that the demon had once again began to bite down hard at her neck, draining more of her blood and life-force. Controlling the tempo that the sexual dance moved at, Mischief kept the woman on the edge of climax for what seemed an eternity, building up tension throughout her body, but focusing it at her throbbing clitoris. Wenecia was feeling a level of lust and pleasure that she had never felt or even imagined was possible. Eventually, she reached a plateau that was so close to orgasm that she didn't believe it was possible to go any further. The tension felt like an immovable, unbendable rod within her, and frustration began to set in as it appeared that the demon had somehow broken her body.

Mischief could sense this feeling within her victim. She had felt it herself, the succubus' curse, when she had been involved in a seduction in which she was prevented from climaxing. She held Wenecia on the edge for a few moments longer, then applied her flare for the erotic in earnest. The tension broke like a glass rod giving way, and Wenecia exploded, her entire body gyrating, her juices literally spraying from the point of her and Mychal's intimate connection. Mischief put her body through intense abuse, knowing that more extreme, the better, as Wenecia wouldn't feel anything but rapturous pleasure until it was over.

She came down from ecstasy and immediately became aware of the bloody scratches across her torso, and the hand that had left five deep bruises on her throat, though Mischief ceased her rough treatment as soon as the climax finished.

Standing up, Mischief jerked Wenecia off of Mychal, snapping her tail to send her sprawling. The woman found herself unable to move or even protest. The succubus turned towards the man that the woman had come to for a lover, though he had become little more than a prop. It took no more than a few moments to finish what she had started earlier, draining out his soul and leaving a withered husk after one orgasm. She took his seed with her mouth, once more relishing the feeling of the warmth and energy filling her insides.

When she was done, she once again focused her attention on the woman. Wenecia was dizzy from pleasure and didn't have the strength or will to move. Mischief threw Mychal's remains out a window. The sack of skin and bones had already been already coming apart, and didn't even seem to weigh what a human skeleton would.

"You might survive another orgasm like that, maybe even two, but only if I will it. I want one of my own, bitch, and you will give it to me, or die in agony instead of joy."

Wenecia made no reply, but Mischief dragged her back on to the bed. She began to play her favorite game, the one that she had perfected with Penitent. The mortal, however, had to be dealt with much more gently, and after what Mischief had already done, the tail coiled around her neck was there for little more than a show of control, barely squeezing at all. She was even forced to give Wenecia a little energy from her magical breasts, just like Penitent. For Bliss, the memory was nostalgic as well as confusing; she had only ever been on the receiving end of that treatment.

So Mischief came as well, all the while cursing Wenecia's mortal weakness that kept her from playing as she would have liked. Penitent had also played that game from the other side, and knew full well the pleasures to be had. A grave mistake nearly occurred then, as Penitent thought of the pleasures that she had with Bliss, wishing she could taunt Mischief about her delving into incest as well as domination, and her thought almost made it happen, as their minds were still connected. As it was, the other succubus was too enraptured with her own story to pick up on Penitent's smug thoughts, though Bliss of course heard them. It wasn't really news, though the strength of her mother's desire to tell her secret, to brag to the other succubi, was surprising. Penny was nearly bursting with the need to confess her "crime" to anyone who would listen. Bliss felt another chill go over her, and began to wonder if Penitent would reveal her to the one she feared so much, to give her away as a gift to curry favor and deflect punishment. Would her mother do that to her? She thought the answer was yes, if she had to. Penitent would always do what she had to. 



Bliss Ch. 11



Penitent took wing, ready to deliver the meal she had collected to her hungry offspring. This time, Bliss could track her direction and distance through their mental connection. She was also aware of the shivery feeling that the succubus felt when she anticipated draining away her newly-acquired energy. Bliss hadn't realized that Penitent was afraid of getting completely sucked dry; she had had the strength to do so for some time now. Was she really so erratic that her mother thought she couldn't control herself in that regard? And furthermore, what exactly had she thought Penitent did to get that energy? She hadn't thought about it, plain and simple. A strangely similar shiver went through her, distinctly different in origin yet familiar in the end result. Mortals were dying to feed her. Her soul came from the callous and cruel drow portion of her heritage, so the thought was not completely disagreeable. The thought dissipated as she sensed Penitent's return

"How was Hell today, mother?"

The she-demon didn't like the false politeness in her daughter's tone, and the calm was also suspicious. 

"It was hot."

Her flat reply didn't seem to put Bliss out in the slightest. She didn't know whether or not to be grateful. The souls that Mischief had given her were weighing heavy on her, though, so the two of them fell into a routine that had formed over the last two decades. Penitent usually cradled Bliss, as she always had, even though the girl was now larger than she. She had the strength to hold a creature larger than herself to her chest; Bliss, on the other hand, could tear a creature stronger than Penitent in half. More than tradition, the succubus hoped that holding Bliss in such a manner would continue to make her feel small, make her feel vulnerable and dependent, de-emphasizing her strength. It didn't work so well when Bliss could read her mind like an open book. Except, she WAS dependent. 

So she suckled. Like a baby, the twenty-year-old, nearly seven feet tall, amazon-like demon girl sucked at her mother's pink, luscious nipples, nipples made for male temptation rather than nourishment. Bliss drank in the souls of Wychar, Mychal, and Wenecia, and they tasted all the more delicious for her familiarity with how they were acquired. She felt gratitude towards Penitent as well, but had no idea what it meant. Her mother hadn't been able to teach her about emotions she couldn't feel herself. A small part of Bliss, the tiny shred of soul she possessed, even loved the succubus, but it manifested itself in equally small ways. 

Bliss stopped before she was full, a rarity. She could now sense when Penitent was getting in distress, and decided she didn't need any more.

"Wonderful, mother. And, by the way, I don't plan on draining you to destruction."

Penitent was shocked that her fear was known, and that magnified it significantly.

"Bliss, I- how- what do you mean?"

"I have been reading your thoughts ever since you sent them to me on purpose."

The demoness' mouth dropped open, a reflection of her time amongst mortals.

"Yes, Mischief gave you -and me- quite a show. Although, the vision of me being raped to death was perhaps a better show..."

Penitent began backing away from Bliss.

"Mother, I know what you are. I know you would throw me away to any of the Dark Powers to save yourself. Don't be afraid. There is no betrayal for what was never promised."

This did not relax the succubus. 

"Really, training me as a sex-slave is probably the best thing I can hope for..."

Bliss gave Penitent a dangerous look.

"Mother, I DO actually love you. You don't know what that means, but I wouldn't hurt you for minor gain. You wouldn't even do that to me, and you CAN'T love me."

Penitent finally seemed to calm a little. However, she still seemed bewildered, and frightened. Bliss had had a very dangerous tone in her voice, and her words were no less disconcerting. The succubus' mind was racing; Bliss' new power might mean danger, something more than just her growth.

"What danger?"

'The danger that you might advertise yourself to the wrong someone or something, and come under the attention of a Prince of Hell'

She had meant to say it out loud, then simply thought it instead. Bliss nodded.

"Yes, that is a legitimate fear, but I can't undo it. I seem to be unable to stop listening. Perhaps I can escape notice by not using it to speak in turn..."

Penitent thought the idea had merit, but was still uneasy. She thought it best to stay in their abode for as long as Bliss could last on the energy she had just delivered.

"I agree," Bliss stated, nodding again.

'Get out of my head!' Penitent thought angrily.

"I can't, mother," came the girl's reply, then, in a teasing tone, she continued: "Think pleasant thoughts."

In a fury, Penitent thought about her worst fears for Bliss: a variation of the thought of her being raped by the Black Prince, but not he, rather one of his ilk who would have no use at all for keeping Bliss alive. In her mind's eye, she saw the Formless One's hideous gelatinous bulk flowing over Bliss' body, pseudopods invading her orifices and dissolving her from the inside out. Soon, Bliss was nothing more than a bag of black skin with a face like a deflated mask. The skin turned translucent, and then melded with the surface membrane of the body of the Prince of Oozes, where other deflated, similarly-translucent skins of various mortals floated and screamed voicelessly. 

Then she thought of the Lord of Undeath, and Bliss saw the skull-headed demon lord spearing her relatively tiny satin-skinned body on his massive member, only to have it stab into her far beyond the capacity of her love canal, rending organs and flesh. The bat-winged humanoid, in Penitent's tableau fully twice Bliss' height or more, held her impaled on his mighty rod until she stopped twitching, then gestured with one clawed hand to surround her corpse with black and red necromantic energy. Bliss watched her own reanimated body begin to force itself back and forth on the demonic manhood which had killed her, until the body tore itself apart atop the invading appendage.

Next was the two-headed, tentacle-armed Prince of All Demons. Both heads seemed to agree that they should grab her legs with one tentacle each, and encircle her arms with the two ends of their forked tail, but after pulling in four directions and dislocating all her limbs, they fell into an argument over whether or not they should eat or rape her, then elected to do both, initially meaning to rape her first, but biting off her head in mid-stroke.

Bliss fell, the horror of the images overwhelming her. The succubus caught her.

"You see now. You thought you were ready for the horrors of Hell..."

The demon-girl began weeping hopelessly. The succubus continued to hold her, but would not comfort her.

"You know I've never had a use for that crying. A good fuck is the only cure I know for it..."

Bliss struggled to regain her composure; the images of three horrible deaths did not her leave her wanting to play Penitent's favorite game.

"You see, I hold out the hope that the Dark Prince of Pleasure and Pain may want you as a consort, seeing the superficial physical similarity. It would be entirely within his personality to want a dark trinket like yourself to drape over his arm, for the sake of fashion if nothing else. So I struggle to train you, hoping you may be worth more than a simple fuck-slave to him if he discovers you. I am one of his creatures, you know. He will likely catch us eventually. Maybe I will be rewarded for grooming you for such a role, or maybe I will be chastised harshly, but your only hope is to pleasure him ceaselessly from the moment you are allowed to."

Bliss did not relish this new fate, preferable though it may have been to the others.

"Maybe we can get you to the mortal realm; I wasn't lying about trying that. It is possible, though unlikely, that you could be summoned."

This did not comfort Bliss as much as Penitent may have hoped. Before the succubus' next thought had fully formed, Bliss was already shaking her head in denial.

"No, we can't trust Mischief. No one can trust her. She's a demon," Bliss said, sounding as if the thought were hers. Penitent only nodded.

"I could read her thoughts when her mind connected with yours. I could have read more, instead of watching her tale unfold. Perhaps if you go out into the underworld and form such connections with the other demons here, I can sift their thoughts for something useful."

Penitent thought of the danger of Bliss making herself known by using her mind-powers too frequently, and it was of course picked up. They spent the next hour in strange debate and argument, Penitent hardly needing to talk at all, Bliss voicing her thoughts so that they were effectively thinking with two minds, but they had no better ideas than the most dangerous ones. Finally, both were exhausted with mental exercise. The succubus and her daughter both retired to the couch once more, where Bliss had strange half-dreams of hers and Penitent's thoughts, and later on, a tickle in Bliss' mind became stronger and stronger, until she was pulled into another's dream.

She was back to torment his dreams again, the nude black valkyrie. Durzai snarled at the phantasmal charms he suspected he would never savor. This time, however, the vision of the demon-drow was looking puzzled, not angry. She turned towards him, seeing him as if she had not haunted his dreams for a decade or more, a look of surprise and recognition coming a second later.

"Durzai."

The drow was also surprised for a second, then it turned to anger.

"You acknowledge me only now, you Infernal temptress?"

Bliss managed to remain calm, the omnipresent anger held in check. Understanding fell over her.

"You dream of me."

Durzai scoffed.

"Do you have anything to say but the patently obvious?"

Muscles and breasts rippled as Bliss approached her father's image.

"I will say what I will. And you do not wish to talk."

The demon-girl reached the massive warrior, though she barely had to tilt her face up to look in his eyes. Her skin glistened like black silk, her chest heaved, and a hot breeze rippled her chalk-white hair. Overcome with lust, Durzai reached for her, and was not rebuffed.



Bliss Ch. 12



Bliss returned her father's embrace. Her nails clawed his back, drawing blood in a way that both hurt and enhanced arousal. Tiny fangs nipped over his throat and neck, then moved up his jawline to his elegant pointed ears. Ears like hers. Their bodies moved closer, and Bliss felt his hard length press against her belly. She grasped it in wonder and awe; never had she felt a male organ in her own hands. It was more vital a thing even than Mischief's vision had made it seem. She ran her hand up and down the shaft, clumsily pleasuring him as she explored all his ridges and veins. Unlike his normal slow buildup of lust, he responded immediately. Bliss was his ultimate fantasy. 

He attempted to pick her up, then tried to force her to her knees, but she would not be hurried, and didn't move. Her biting kisses moved dow to his torso, and she sucked his nipple into her mouth, enjoying it even though she was used to Penitent's puffy, coral-colored wonders.

Durzai tried once more to hurry Bliss, and was rebuffed.

"I have never been with a male before. If you want my virginity, you will be patient."

The dark elf felt a flare of anger as he realized he would once more be subservient to his lover, but her hand was becoming more sure of itself, and he realized that she WANTED to pleasure him, though at her own pace. He thought that her strength was perhaps slightly inferior to his, but not enough for him to force her. In any event, he had never forced a female before, and it seemed that it was impossible even in his dreams.

Her mouth left his nipple and moved farther down his body, approaching the rod of flesh she still pumped slowly in her hand. Her soft lips contrasted with her sharp teeth to give him a burning pleasure-pain that hurried him towards orgasm.

With a sudden movement, she spun him around and pushed. His warrior instincts rebelled for a second, then he allowed himself to be shoved to all fours. Bliss pressed her body to his strong back, hovering over him with slow flaps of her wings. She reached around to his front and firmly grasped the root of his masculinity once again. Durzai felt the vulnerability that she intended, but her delicious body was now molded to his back, lighting further fires of passion within him. He felt her tongue washing over him, licking up the blood she had drawn earlier, then her lips returned to his pointed ears.

"Do you know what I am?"

"No," croaked the lustful dark elf.

"Do you think I might drain all your blood?"

"Yes," came the reply.

"Would it be worth it?"

"Yes," Durzai croaked again.

Bliss laughed.

"You think this is a dream. Do you think I am real?"

"I think a Demon Prince has made you as a temptation for me, a construct of smoke and shadow."

Bliss laughed again.

"No, no Demon Prince. I will not drain you dry, Durzai, and I will tell you who made me when we are done."

Moving from his ear, Bliss trailed her lips down the drow's back, around his sculpted buttocks, and pulled his member to her lips, forcing it to bend backwards. Her pointed nipples had lit lines of fire where they brushed him as she did this. She kissed the helmet-like head of his ebon rod, licking and sucking as she familiarized herself with it. She began to pump her face back and forth, the shaft going farther and farther into her mouth. She vowed to take it all, wanting his testes to brush her lips as she pleasured and dominated him. Durzai was trembling with the effort of maintaining his stance in the face of her stimulation. 

After a few minutes of work, she became accustomed to his length and girth, and she managed to bring her lips to the base of his shaft. She pulled her head back, then plunged it all the way until her lips brushed his testes again, and he let loose with a strangled cry. His seed pumped into her throat, and she swallowed it with only a minor flinch. His hips tried to buck as he climaxed, but it only put further discomfort on his bent manhood.

As the final spurts subsided, Bliss released him, and bade him stand. He did so, turning to face her.

Bliss locked lips with him in a fierce kiss, letting him taste her sweet mouth and his salty semen. Their tongues entwined for a moment, then she broke away.

"I will return to you dreams again, Durzai. Do you wish to know my name, so I may be summoned to your mind more easily?"

The elf nodded, eagerness and exhaustion warring on his face.

Bliss pulled his ear to her lips and whispered her name. He absorbed this without comment.

"Now, can you do my maidenhead justice, or do we wait until you sleep again?"

Pride led Durzai to answer that he was able.

"Your dream is coming to an end. Don't worry, there will be other times. I promised to tell you who made me before I left..."

Bliss put her lips to his ear again.

"YOU made me... father."



Bliss Ch. 13



Bliss woke at the same time as Durzai's dream ended. She believed that it had been a dream, not real in the strictest sense, but the exchange of words and caresses had been experienced by both of them. Her actions had seemed a bit strange to her; it had been more instinctual than logical for her to do what she did.

On the other hand, after she reasoned out the results of such actions, she realized that they made sense. Durzai would bring her to his dreams once again, and she could give him the knowledge to summon her to the mortal plane. She had seen in his mind that he would be a powerful ally against Ailztirea.

The knowledge that she needed to give Durzai was not something she had yet acquired herself, however. Penitent would have to help her. 

"Mother, there may be a way out of Hell for me after all."

The succubus roused herself at the sound of Bliss' voice. She had been dreaming of sex, of course, and perhaps her connection with Bliss had been affected by it. The words registered, but her mind was back where it had been when she first seduced Bliss to curb her anger and inadvertently awakened her mind-reading powers.

"Think with your head, not your cunt. We need to talk."

Penitent's smile did not indicate that she had any intention of talking, or that she had even heard. Halfway across the room, she stopped her approach as Bliss used her telepathy to send her a vision of the dream she had just shared with Durzai. Bliss sent it as strongly and quickly as she could, stunning Penitent for a few moments as she assimilated what now seemed like memories to her.

"Th-that's... dangerous," she stammered. "And hot."

The succubus' arousal was obvious as she continued her walk towards Bliss; even without the her scent spreading through their abode, she seemed to move as if her groin itched, and it did, in a way. She wanted to be touched so badly it caused discomfort, and it couldn't come from her own hand.

"Mother, I can read your thoughts, now. Don't try that."

Bliss never understood how Penny could reach the state of raw animal lust so quickly and so often, but she was nearly insensible again. She could tell from the thoughts emanating from her mother that she was not prepared for any useful conversation.

"A single orgasm, then. Then we talk."

Pentitent got on her knees a pace from where Bliss stood, earning her name once again. Bliss' tail lashed out, the spade-shaped tip striking Penitent like a slap. 

"Do you think I want this?" Bliss growled.

Her tail lashed out again, doing a quick figure-eight and slapping both cheeks in rapid succession.

"Yes, abuse me..." Penitent whispered.

"I know what you want," Bliss replied. She used her tail like a riding crop, moving down to the succubus' torso, striking the upper sides of both breasts, then the tender undersides. Moving closer, Bliss planted a rough kiss on Penitent's lips, using the closer range to curl her tail all the way around to strike at her mother's taut buttocks. She began questioning her demon mother, using her telepathy to get her answers. Whatever Penitent wanted, Bliss gave just short of it, whatever she didn't want, she pushed just beyond. The sex-demon was reaching her limits, her arousal being teased and pushed to greater and greater heights, her affinity for abuse being pushed a little too far. Bliss twisted her nipples a little too hard, fingered her pussy not quite long enough, slapped her a little too hard, ended her kiss a little too early. The teasing was bringing on the succubus' curse, that level of lust that could break any creature, could leave them unable to ever reach climax, to be locked in a state of want and need.

However, Bliss knew exactly where that line was. As it approached, she pinned Pentitent's wrists and stopped pleasuring her, except for her tongue lightly stroking the demoness' throat. Slowly, she released her grip on one of Penitent's hands, which dove immediately to her burning groin. At this stage of the curse, every touch of her own hands was like fire to Penitent, but she was so lost in lust that she kept trying to stroke herself to climax. 

Soon the damage would be irreversible, and Penitent would never reach orgasm, never do anything but try to pointlessly pleasure herself. Just as that moment came, Bliss plunged her hand into the succubus' hole, filling its greedy depth with four fingers, then squeezing in past the palm. Penitent's hips bucked and jerked, bringing her off instantaneously, an orgasm that may have been twenty small peaks of pleasure, or one long continuous ordeal. Bliss opened her mind fully, sharing in the pleasure that her mother felt, but not the pain and frustration that had built up to it. She also shared the feel of her fist being squeezed by the rhythmic pulses, and Penitent kept on having more and more muscular contractions until all the tension was gone. Eventually, she simply lay there and shivered.

"Now, can we talk?"

At first, Bliss didn't think Penitent would answer. She knew that as dangerous as that had been, Penitent had enjoyed it and would take that risk again.

"Yes. I may be satisfied for days from that." Bliss felt the fear that emanated from Penitent's mind at what they had just done, and felt the shiver that accompanied it through her embedded fist.

The she-demon was quiet a little longer, then added:

"If you do that to Mischief, we could trust her. Any succubus would gladly do anything for the promise of more pleasure like that. Nothing that she could gain by revealing you would be worth losing that."

Bliss' eyes narrowed, and she checked Penny's mind again. It seemed from what she could read that Penitent would still try to help her escape from Hell, but she would be even sorrier to see her go now.

"Where will you get such pleasure when I am gone, mother?"

Penitent thought a moment, and Bliss slowly withdrew her soaked hand. Though she was in no mood for sex herself, she inhaled the scent that had been marinating that hand. It was profanely compelling, as expected. A faint stirring went through her loins, where a raging inferno of lust would have been boiling in almost any other creature.

"I will have to wait, dear. My banishment is over in eighty years. If I did not think you would live at least that long in the mortal realm, I wouldn't let you go."

Bliss absorbed that.

"You expect me to summon you to the physical world?"

"Wouldn't you?"

Bliss nodded thoughtfully. Yes, her mother was her only friend, and she would want her to join her.

"You are not known for waiting well, mother."

"I've been patient with you for twenty years!"

Bliss held up a hand in a stopping gesture. Penitent wondered when her daughter had completely taken control. 

"Cease, mother. There is something else I wished to discuss. Durzai could summon me. He dreams of me, as I showed you. His lust would have me come to his side, if it is possible."

Penitent nodded.

"Yes, he could be taught to summon you. Summon you to the House of the one you both hate. Lust? Maybe lust wouldn't factor in to the situation once you find yourself free to glut yourself on violence the way you've always wanted."

Bliss' thoughts turned to exactly that. Anger, the will to rend and maim and kill, rose up within her, thoughts of revenge flooding through her and washing aside the maturation of the past few days. A growling scream burst from her sensual lips. Her mother continued to doubt her! She was already more powerful than any succubus could ever hope to be. Vitality flowed through her veins like the rivers of magma that feed a volcano's angry eruptions. She had the power to enact her revenge, and if she couldn't do it on her own, her father was there as well, surely her equal in might with his years of training in arms and dabbling in strength-enhancing magics.

Penitent was not receiving Bliss' thoughts, but her face displayed the gist of them.

"That anger will get you killed. I thought you were maturing, but no, I see that once again the growth of your power has outpaced that of your mind."

Penitent's rebuke had the desired effect. The war for control was evident on Bliss face.

"A moment, mother, that is all. I did nothing rash in my anger. I do take your point, though. I need more than my raw strength to survive on the mortal realm if that is where I am to be summoned."

Bliss smiled.

"And I know where I shall get what I need. I know one who is a master of weapons and drow politics, one who lusts for me, one who will consider the exchange of knowledge to be the most favorable of deals..."

"Durzai. He will train you to use that strength, and in return, your maidenhead."

Penitent's statement was delivered in a conspiratorial tone, indicative of the fact that she found no fault with Bliss' logic.

The two females stood facing each other, smiling at their consensus. Pentitent, momentarily freed of the constant lust of her nature, felt genuine friendship and affection for her daughter, uncolored by her weakness for the toned, curvaceously muscled body in front of her. It still wasn't love, but it was close.

Bliss, of course, felt this, and could find no fault with it. As she reflected on its meaning, a voice sounded in her head, calling her name. It was faint, but growing stronger, and possibly had been calling for some time, unnoticed.

Only one other person knew Bliss' name, so she didn't waste a moment wondering who it was.

"Why is he dreaming again already?"

Bliss sent her thoughts out to answer the call.



Bliss Ch. 14



*******NOTE*******
This chapter has very little erotic content and serves mainly to move the story along. You have been warned.
******NOTE********

Durzai had woke from his strange dream in a cold sweat. Dark elves lived far beneath the surface, where lava flows and the emanations of magical crystals kept things at a pleasantly warm temperature. It made him feel strange. He felt as if the ejaculation had at least been real; all the signs were there, including a wetness beyond what could be expected from sweaty sheets. However, a dream would not explain the phantom pains from where he had been clawed by the apparition claiming to be his daughter. He checked his body, and found no marks, but the pain was there. No matter. It had indeed been pleasurable, and the minor pain after the fact was nothing a warrior like him could not endure.

He stood and stretched, the normal waking routine of any mortal race, but it soon melded into a limbering exercise specific to the drow elves. He had gone the route of strength, using his brute force whenever he could, but he had vowed long ago that his speed and flexibility would not be sacrificed. 

So he stretched. He thought of how Ailztirea would appreciate his range of motion in her bed, and a small growl escaped his lips. A knot of hate formed in his belly, and he thought of the half-drow girl from his dreams. He would not couple with his Mistress if he had any choice.

He thought of her as a spider. She had certainly played the black widow's game in the past. There was a sadistic coldness to even her most heated moments. Her erotic games were calculated, planned, designed to give her the most pleasure. It was adherence to her expectations that spared him the brunt of her punishments. Lesser males had died trying to please her. He had had to become attuned to her wishes, understanding exactly how much resistance she expected and supplying it, but also submitting at precisely the moment she expected. For all his skill at her games, he still believed that it was his size that gave her the greatest thrill, the domination of a hulking warrior, proving that she was stronger.

Durzai believed in passion, not planning. He hated the way she had forced him to become as calculating as her. He was happiest when he faced an opponent, and he could let his emotions run wild, using the pent-up anger to fuel his strength, then knowing a few moments of peace as he stood over their broken corpse, with their blood on his face. 

A close second to that was when he was instructed to stud for the daughters of the House. Though the five who weren't his own were cut from the same cloth as their mother, none were at her level of madness and cruelty, and two were wild like him, full of angry passion that made their lovemaking anything but. He wondered if Ailztirea had not lied to him and if he was the father of those two as well, not the six that were acknowledged as his. Even among the depraved drow, that would be a crime. Perhaps their goddess would punish Ailztirea, he fantasized. He doubted it, though. The Spider Queen would not deign to punish one of her most favored servants for breaking such a taboo.

Durzai headed for the practice floor as he mused; he needed to work out some of his aggression.

As he stepped into the round, arena-like room, he scanned for a sparring partner, though he was really in no mood for it whatsoever. He NEEDED to work out the aggression; he didn't necessarily WANT to. He spotted a small female in the abbreviated robes of a novice priestess. She was awkwardly swinging a short sword, obviously distressed with the balance, but just as obviously unskilled. Her small pointed breasts heaved under a tight silk shirt, framed by the stiffer fabric of her vest, the vest that marked her as a minor servant of the goddess. It was the informal clothing of her station, not the temple robes she would wear at the academy she was no doubt enrolled in. Another little future tyrant in their matriarchal society.

Durzai thought she could use some practice, and closer scrutiny.

Modesty is not a dark elf virtue; her vestments were of the type that might be worn over armor in battle, just a vest and half-skirt of their House's color. Underneath, she wore leather shorts and that breast-molding silk shirt, less clothing than the sleepwear of some of the more prudish races of their world.

She glanced up nervously, as well she might, when he approached. She quit her fumbling with the small weapon, and waited for him to speak. Good. She didn't have the haughty attitude of a priestess yet.

"You seem to be having some trouble," came Durzai's rumbling baritone, deeper than most drow.

"Yes."

No excuses. Another point for her.

"Worry not about that weapon, until you can survive long enough to use it."

Her pretty brows furrowed.

"You are to be a priestess, in service to the Spider Queen. You will always have a retinue of protectors, and your own divine spells to defend yourself. If someone is swinging a weapon at you, worry about defense, not swinging back, little princess."

The way he ascribed the title to her made it clear it was not a compliment. He didn't know who she was, but she must have been very young. He envisioned her tiny body beneath his, smiling evilly for a moment, then he remembered the unlikelihood of that happening, and his face curled into a snarl. He whirled his practice chain around his head, the only moment of warning the diminutive priestess got. The chain, a simple length of metal links with a sheath of black silk, wrapped around her ankle, and she was jerked from her feet. The real weapon that it represented would have sawed at her leg with it's barbs, and he favored poisoning it for battle.

"Defense, little princess."

Durzai dumped the female on her rear many more times, wishing he was playing a far better game with her, wished it was a whip in his hands, wished she was naked instead of nearly so. Her weapon flew from her hands as her arm was nearly wrenched from its socket. She had no defense, no way of threatening him, and he could have done anything to her, except what he wanted to do. He held her tangled by the chain a moment longer, seriously contemplating hauling her that way to his bedchamber. He thought of trying his hardest to split her in two, then anger rose up as he thought of the one who was worthy of such attention: Bliss. She had said her name was Bliss.

"Go. Your lesson is over." Durzai couldn't keep the growl from his voice.

Durzai watched her hips sway as she limped from the practice room. Some of the House soldiers were staring, and he thought he might be reprimanded before the day was over. He left, still snarling.

Nothing in his waking life could interest him at that moment, so he took out his handcrossbow, a weapon the drow were famous for, and pricked himself with the bolt. His steps were faltering by the time he returned to his room, and he was asleep, put out by the dart, before his head touched the pillow.



Bliss Ch. 15



"Bliss!" he called, knowing he was dreaming.

"BLISS!"

He was standing on a plain of cooling lava, with walls of flames ringing him. What might have been smoke, shadow, or dark stone formed a roof. Hell, in other words. He saw a dark figure flying towards him on bat-like wings, and then she was standing in front of him, in all her dark splendor. Her succulent but virginal breasts rose and fell with the exertion of flight, and her muscled stomach rippled.

"You call me back so soon?"

"I want your maidenhead."

Bliss smiled.

"And would you fight off my other suitors?"

The dark elf scowled.

"Yes."

Bliss projected the memories of Penitent's visions of her being torn apart by the Demon Princes.

"Unless you rescue me from Hell, one of them will take my virginity."

Durzai was visibly shaken.

"I will never give it to you here in this dream. Only on your own plane of existence will your lust be consummated. You must learn the art to summon me."

Durzai nodded, though angrily.

"Don't worry, father. I know of other tricks to keep you happy in the meantime, but first you must teach me some of your tricks.

Though Bliss was less trained than the novice priestess had been, after a half hour of training with a weaponmaster like Durzai, she surpassed most students who had trained for years. Her father's thoughts flowed into her, and she absorbed his martial skill greedily. With the cheat of reading his thoughts, Bliss soon became able to match Durzai's movements, even to the point where she could defend herself ably from him, though she was not quite inventive enough to pierce his own defenses in turn. She knew the knowledge he imparted was real, but she wondered if she would be a match for him in the real world.

So they fought to a stalemate, though Bliss found that she probably would have lost, as her iron muscles failed her; she had the strength, maybe even more than Durzai, but not conditioning. As their sparring came to an end, they found themselves clutching one another, Bliss getting ready to fend off a throw, then deciding to let it happen. She clutched Durzai to her body, bringing him to the ground with her. As he settled on top of her, she planted a passionate kiss on his snarling lips, then whispered in his ear.

"I think I have learned enough of combat today. It's time for another sport..."

Durzai stiffened, literally and figuratively. Up until that moment, he had remembered his lust, and not that she had said she was his daughter. He had managed to not think about it so aggressively that he had almost forgotten. Bliss sensed his hesitation and wondered aloud at it.

"You said I was your father when we last talked."

Bliss sighed.

"Yes, it is true. And therefore, you must know who my mother is."

"The succubus that Ailztirea had me sport with for her amusement."

"Indeed. And such a being has no compunctions when it comes to incest. It is just another perversion to be explored and, in this case, savored for its rarity."

Durzai's manhood did not share his dismay, and the half-drow girl could feel it.

"You had every intention of fucking me when you summoned me to your dream, now quit stalling. Our bodies aren't even physically together."

Durzai leveled his manhood at her entrance, but her strong hands grasped it and aimed it a bit lower.

"I told you my maidenhead will not be taken here."

Bliss' soaking, velvety flower had overflowed, drenching her anal passage and easing Durzai's slow steady penetration. She felt every inch of his veined shaft, squealing at first as the mushroom-shaped head crowned inside her. It was easily the largest thing she had had in her ass, despite all the practice Penitent had put her through. As it became painful very quickly, Bliss decided to share that pain by grasping Durzai at the root of his shaft. She squeezed it harshly, and guided him to thrust forward as she breathed out, her sphincter muscles relaxing for brief moments.

Finally, it was all the way in. Bliss rested a moment, slowly relinquishing her grip on the embedded member.

"I am not quite a virgin at this form of sex, father, but yours is the first fleshly rod to explore me there."

Bliss flexed the muscles that gripped Durzai's shaft, and heard a gasp form in his throat.

"Those muscles are as strong as the rest of me. Mother says I can make it very enjoyable for a male lover."

Durzai kept gasping as Bliss continued to massage his penis with her ass. Her legs came up to encircle his waist, and they fluttered open and close, pulling him forward as she flexed, and pushing him back a little ways when she relaxed. Slowly, they began a rhythm of thrusting in and out, with Bliss squeezing on his downthrust, and relaxing to allow him to pull out. She continued to guide the movement of his hips, and having been trained his whole life to accede to the wishes of females, Durzai obeyed. He believed he would have already pumped his seed deep within her anal passage if it didn't grip him so tightly. 

She increased the tempo until he was fucking with abandon, then she confirmed his suspicion by relaxing completely, and the pumping of sperm commenced immediately. He thrust five, six, then seven more times as his orgasm subsided, a deeply pleasurable one that left him dizzy, despite his great vitality and conditioning.

Bliss had been trying hard, but hadn't quite been able to orgasm herself just from the anal stimulation. As Durzai recovered, she instructed him pleasure her in return.

"Lick my clit, and keep your fingers out of my hole. I showed you my fate if I am discovered here in Hell. Mother thinks there is a greater chance that I'll be kept alive if I'm intact when captured. I won't risk that this dream could leave me deflowered." 

Durzai stuck out his tongue and did as she asked. She lay back, exhausted, and allowed the orgasm to happen. It didn't take long, and the burning in her ass had merely added warmth to the process. She hoped that the soreness she knew she would feel soon would not translate to the waking world. 

"Now return to your world, father, but remember how much you want me there with you. Think of it! If I have my way, you will deflower me atop Ailztirea's broken corpse!"

Bliss' laughter was the last thing Durzai remembered before returning to the waking world.



Bliss Ch. 16



Her ass burned with phantom pain, but Bliss could tell it was only the memory of it that she felt. It would soon pass. In fact, she enjoyed the reminder of her accomplishments in the dreamworld. She had gained real combat knowledge, and confirmed her confidence in her abilities to seduce and pleasure a male lover.

Her limbs also held a certain burning, a remembrance of the soreness of overworked muscles, but it too passed quickly; her real, physical self practically itched to put Durzai's knowledge to use. It felt like fire in her veins, violence in her blood, begging to be used. Soon. Soon her promise to Ailztirea would be kept.

Anger would fuel her strength, but she needed to be calculating at the moment. She needed to plan her next actions carefully.

To Penitent, it appeared that Bliss was entranced by something only she could see. She waited, and the half-demon girl eventually looked her way, appearing to notice her for the first time since she had awoken.

"Teach me the summoning ritual, mother, so I may teach Durzai."

Penitent began to speak aloud the incantations, then describing the circles and geometric symbols of the summoner's art, but Bliss plucked the knowledge from her mind before the words formed in her mouth. The sultry voice faded as Bliss soon indicated that speaking wasn't necessary. Eventually, she absorbed the knowledge, and the use of her mental powers finally began to take its toll and exhaust her. The summoning ritual did not immediately assimilate in her mind the way the natural lessons of killing had. She needed to rest.

Waking and sleeping blurred for Bliss as she met Durzai many more times in her dreams, giving him the knowledge that she had received from Penitent, and learning more of the deadly arts of drow combat.

And of course, she gave him every part of her body, except that which he wanted most.

Finally, she had teased him to his limit, draining his seed in every alternate way that he or she could think of, biding time while he covertly acquired the resources to summon her to the physical world.

He expressed his need to her, though he knew he couldn't yet bring her to his side.

"I can do something for you, I think," Bliss mused.

Gathering her mental abilities, Bliss sent her thoughts back to the waking world, her half-souled essence casting about blindly, listening for a certain whisper.

Only one other person knew her name, so she didn't worry that she might be connecting with the wrong succubus. Penitent's thoughts eventually drifted to her daughter, and Bliss heard the mental call. She pulled Penitent's mind into hers, then exerted her will to bring the demoness into the shared dream.

Durzai watched, uncomprehending, as Bliss shut her eyes, standing stock-still for a moment. Then, a pretty frown crossed her face, and he heard a sound like air being drawn into lungs. Looking down, he saw Bliss' abdomen swell, as if she were pregnant, and a new thrill washed over him at the image, followed by a chill of horror and guilt. Did he really want to impregnate his own daughter?

Then she was expelling smoke from her mouth and nose, an action somewhere between coughing and vomiting, accompanied by the shrinking of her ripe belly. The smoke formed the shape of a curvaceous woman, then solidified into a dark-haired, pinkish-pale beauty with bat-wings and a tail. A moment of confusion crossed the succubus' face, then she smiled, showing her sexy fangs. Her green eyes smoldered from a normal mortal shade to a glowing, supernatural light as her lust flared in response to the naked male drow in front of her.

"Durzai..."

The dark elf was reminded of the power of a true seductress; her voice turned his name from simple syllables into something as tangible as a caress. It held the promise of Infernal pleasure and all the fond reminiscence of a lifelong friend, which sent another thrill through him as he recognized her and thought of the reason that this particular demon knew his name.

Then the she-demon was embracing him, one hand tugging at his manhood while the other sought the muscles of his buttocks and back, an urgent, fanged kiss nipping at his lips. He gripped her breasts, practically lifting her by them as she discerned his wishes and clambered up his mighty frame, legs and tail wrapping around him so she could poise herself above his rod, then thrusting her hips violently down, taking him all the way to the hilt and gyrating her hips when she got there. A litany of filth was soon being whispered in his ear, as she began syncopating syllables by slamming her body onto his.

"Oh, I've LONGED to take this manHOOD again, the one that gave me BLISS, oh yes, she's given me SO much pleasure, and now YOU too, you dirty fucking elf, FUCKing your own daughter, but WHO could blame you, she's FUCKing hot!"

Durzai handled her weight easily, keeping his feet apart for balance, but he was fucking no mortal woman; her wings would have allowed her to keep her weight from toppling the feeblest octogenarian. She began to beat them in time with the frantic rhythm of their lovemaking, and Durzai soon spurted within her, despite having just spent himself on their daughter. She didn't stop, not completely, but she slowed down to accommodate his momentary need for recuperation. Her words did not slow, however.

"You fucked her ass, didn't you, I'd know it even if she didn't tell me everything, it was made for fucking, born, bred, and trained for fucking, by me, by you, oh, I envy anyone with a cock, anyone who can enjoy Bliss to her fullest, her pussy and tongue are my playthings, but oh! That ass! It begs for cock!"

Penitent's tail began to snake around Durzai's backside, then worm its way inside, her words nearly hypnotizing him.

"Has she told you who taught her to be such a good ass-slut? I won't tell you, I'll show you! Yes, my tail did most of the work, just as it will put life back in your glorious cock now."

Durzai felt a pressure building, slightly painful, still erotic, as Penitent slowly pushed inside of him. It wasn't a game he usually enjoyed, whether a male or female did it, but it had happened enough to make him a least familiar with the feeling. Penitent stopped all motion of her hips and concentrated solely on the appendage working its way inside her lover, then nipped his ear and whispered.

"Of course, I AM a succubus. I don't NEED such tricks to make you perform, but aren't they fun?"

Finally, she breached him fully and found the spot that made such an intrusion pleasurable. His fleshy shaft flared back to hardness at her command, twitching inside the sopping pussy he had wanted for so long, wanted like no other except his own flesh and blood.

Bliss watched, rapt, as her parents began fucking each other. Penitent's tail pumped in and out nearly as roughly as Durzai's shaft pounded into her. It continued for several minutes, and the succubus abandoned her dialogue for base grunting in the vile speech of Infernal creatures. Penitent came several times, then Durzai came again, and they moved to another position as Durzai's muscles tired in his release. He lay down on his back, straddled by the demoness, and she rode him to several more orgasms, but before her reached another himself, she jumped off, hissing.

"It was good, elf, but I'm not getting any of your soul in this place. I need to leave. My hunger cannot be sated here, only my lust, and it has been."

Bliss gestured, and the succubus' form turned to smoke, then dissipated. She turned a wry grin to Durzai.

"Do you need a REAL nap, or to finish what she started?"

Durzai glanced down at his still-stiff but fading erection and shrugged from the ground.

"I'm of no mind about it right now. I don't have a need of more, but you can do as you wish with me."

"Hmm, I think I'll coax that python back to action..."