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Captive of Desires

By: mlyn



She had been left alone in the room for quite sometime now... Just how long she had no real idea. He and his men had captured her small band of "freedom fighters" as they had been termed by the people who still spoke with a free voice. But unfortunately, these numbers were dwindling much too rapidly. She hung her head, and her long hair trailed to the floor around her. She had been separated from the others in her group. No one had said anything, and unless they had separated all the women, she could only surmise that they had discovered she was the "leader" of the band. She shivered against the cold stone of the floor, covered only by a thin mat of woven reeds. For a castle, it certainly was sparsely furnished. The stone was not gray though, but rather a warm soft yellowed with age color. She had seen the castle so many times, this last year from the outside, but never from the inside.

She had not seen much of it though as they had been brought through the gates. Almost from the minute they had been captured, she herself had been blindfolded and gagged. She did not know if they had subjected the rest of her band that way also. Funny, even though she had not chosen to be a leader, they had chosen her. She considered a far cry from a "good leader." But they had managed to evade capture for over a year, so she guessed she must have been doing something right. Or at least she had, up until yesterday at twilight. She heard faint noises coming from just beyond the wooden door that prevented her escape. There was only one window, and it was more than 6 feet off the ground. Suddenly the door flew open. Two guards, both well over 6 feet stood there. She stared up at them from her place across the room, on the floor. Then the guards parted, and he walked in.

He was tall himself, over six feet, and very broad shouldered. His hair was darker than she remembered, but it had been trimmed to a fashionable length. He was no longer the rebel, she was. That was the difference this time. His light brown eyes bore into her own green ones for several long moments of silence. She noticed his mustache was still present, but straggly beard of the vagabond rebel leader of the past was now gone. The silence continued as if both refused to be the first to speak. His own eyes had scoured her face and figure eagerly, though he was a master at concealing his emotions. It had been a year since he had seen her face to face. She was still the same, basically. Although he could tell that a year of running for freedom, and living off the land had taken a toll on this beauty of old. She was no longer the pampered only daughter of the usurper of his own thrown. She was now his captive. The tides had turned indeed. As she stared up at him defiantly, he could see that she was thinner from the crevices in her face and collarbones. Her clothes though were ragged and baggy, so he couldn't tell how much she had changed physically yet. Her hair was so much longer now, and he had never seen it unconfined before. God, he thought to himself, she was still the most appealing woman he had ever met. If only...

But he had learned long ago, while a usurper occupied his lawful position as ruler, that you dealt with reality, not what ifs. That was a waste of time in the real world. Then he noticed the bright purplish bruise that she had pulled her hair forward to conceal. It was across her right cheekbone. Obviously, the little vixen had put up quite a fight, as several of his men had reported. Not verbally reported, but many of his men, even though they had taken the band of rebels by surprise, had suffered a number of cuts and bruises themselves, especially since he had specifically stated that if anyone of the band was seriously injured, so would be the whole group of soldiers be that he had sent out after them.

After several long minutes of staring at each other, and in spite of steel-like control over his emotions, he could feel himself becoming more and more aroused by the site of her. He turned abruptly from her, and walked from the room. She heard him say, just before the door closed, "It is time. Have all of them prepared as planned and brought to the main hall in two hours. The sooner we deal with this, the sooner we can return to normal."

His words sent a chill of fear through her veins. She herself had long ago prepared herself to die, if need be, in defense of her father. But she could not help but worry about her group. She curled up her knees to keep warm, wrapping her arms around them. They had been just 7 women when they had started a year ago, she remembered silently as she waited for the guards to return. She had somehow managed to escape. Her father had died in the last hours of the battle to defend the castle stronghold. She had spent her entire life, except for the last year, in the castle. She had thought her father was the natural ruler. She had never been exposed to any rebel factions. She had been carefully protected and shielded. Her mother had died many years earlier; she could barely remember her at times. And her father, well he had been a emotionally remote kind of man. She could not remember a single time when he had spontaneously hugged her. The only time he touched her, or even really saw her, was at celebrations, when other guests and royalty were present. Ha! She laughed at herself now. She had not been royalty all along. Her father had taken the throne by force, having no right to it by birth, or by the king's edict. He had seen a young boy/man trying to hold together what his father had bequeathed to him. And he had struck. He had tried many, many times over the years to kill the true ruler, but he had always failed. 

Of course, she had only learned all of this after she had fled from the castle. It had not been all that hard to escape. Lord Braden's men had looked at her with her lily-white skin, soft hands that had never truly done a lick of real work, and saw her as no threat. So no guards had been posted outside her door, or in the hallway. Her father had kept her isolated in a remote part of the castle, far from the main hall, and the other sleeping quarters. That had been Braden's only mistake... was letting the guards decide she was no threat. If he had had his way, she would have been placed in his bed, and kept there, until he tired of her. But she had not had any inkling of what the new lord had been thinking. All she had known was fear, and the need to survive had overwhelmed her. And so, with the aid of old nursemaid Selma, she had fled into the night, alone, for the first time in her life.

She had wandered for several days, before coming upon a small group of women. They were all alone, no men, that is. She soon learned that they were alone themselves, all for different reasons, but they had somehow found one another over time. They had taken her in, given her shelter, and protection. They had given her old clothes to wear. And they had not pried into her past. 

Over time they had all become friends, and she had revealed who she was. It was then that she had learned the truth. Learned that her father had "stolen" his throne from another, learned that true, rightful leader was Braden, and learned that if she wanted to survive, until she could decide what to do, she had a lot to learn. And so, Lady Madeline had ceased to exist, and an earthy creature known as Maddy had come into existence.

Her early days had been very hard, never having had to do anything at all around the castle. And with her new friends, well she had learned a lot, to put it mildly. It wasn't long, after the blisters healed that her hands became strong. And she sought out any knowledge that she could find. There had been an old man they had come across, and he had taught her many secrets of fighting, with many different types of weapons, including her hands. And then she had decided to help the people they came across who were in need. And of course, the only way she could find to help them was usually to "borrow" some of Lord Braden's money, animals, food stores, weapons, whatever she deemed necessary, to help these people survive. And slowly, a legend had been born, and a name put to the legend. Lord Braden had been assailed from stories of pilfering, sometimes more, from all over his land. And the name was always the same- Maddy. He didn't know who this was. He didn't connect the disappearance of the refined, delicate Lady Madeline with the scruffy thief Maddy. He had no real reason to even consider it. He had ranted and raved at his men for weeks after her disappearance. He had led several bands himself out to find her, but they had found nothing. Not even her body, and he had unconsciously steeled himself for that possibility from the first day he had learned of her escape. Upon interviewing the old woman Selma, who had been her lady's maid, he had found out how truly ill-prepared she was to cope outside the protected environment she had been raised in. 

It had been about 5 months ago, when he had learned the true identity of the pesky Maddy. He had been at a festival, and there had been hundreds of people milling about. He and his men had agreed to participate in some sparring, and weaponry shows for the public, as entertainment. A small fee was charged, at his suggestion, and this could be used to help the people who had less in that area. He had been standing off near the side of the exhibition area, not really paying attention to what was going on in the center of the ring. One of his soldiers, a braggart himself, had accepted a challenge from an outsider. Rumor had it later on that it was to impress a woman that he had done so. So this soldier of his, Sir Randolf, had agreed to swordplay with another, and a wager had been placed. 

Well, the word had passed quickly. A thick crowd had gathered directly around the two combatants. And it was the cheers, louder than anything else he had heard that day, that drew his attention finally. He had made his way through the crowd to see Randolf in the dirt, and on his backside. Standing over the fallen soldier, was the challenger. A slight, smaller in stature man, who held his sword proudly. It was an odd looking sword, very old in appearance. The challenger had held the purse with the winnings aloft.

And then time had stopped for Braden. The challenger had torn his hat off. A yard of long auburn hair had spilled forth. My God, he had realized in that instant. It was the Lady Madeline. When she spoke, though he could not clearly see her face yet through the crowd, he knew it was she. But her words inflamed him.

"Tell your lord that the people need more than the pittance this 'game' will raise. They are starving in some areas. Tell him to wake up to his responsibilities before it is too late. Or I shall have to open them for him."

Braden's voice cracked through the crowd like a sword itself. "Madeline!"

She turned. No one had called her that in months. And there he was. The cause of her present situation. The man who had taken her home from her. The man, though not directly, had caused her father's death. Emotions rushed through her at that moment. She could feel his magnetism even across the distance. She had to escape! Turning to the beautiful raven-haired woman at her side, she whispered something. Braden saw the woman look his way, and then, Madeline spoke again. 

"Here is some of his lordship's money for you, take what you need!"

And she threw the hundred gold coins in the air, towards Lord Braden. Well, the crowd headed towards him, effectively blocking him and allowing her to scoot through the people easily and escape. As the people clambered and grabbed the coins, he heard what they saying finally.

"Yes! That was her…that was Maddy herself."

"That was so brave of her!"

"She is so wonderful!"

Now the mystery was solved. The pain in his side, the thorn in his kingdom was Lady Madeline. By some miracle, she had survived. And obviously she had been busy learning the fine points of survival as well. He had questioned Randolf, but he could reveal nothing more except that the raven-haired beauty was called Theresa, and he was very frustrated at having lost his quarry. Not to mention having lost a sword fight to a woman!

Finally the door opened, and she was ordered to stand and follow the guards. She was led to the bathing room. Here she saw her fellow women from her band of friends. They all wanted to rush to hug her in relief, but they held back because of the soldiers. They were forced to undress by some servants, women, and then all were bathed and their hair washed. The bathing tubs were concealed from the soldiers, but there was no avenue of escape that she could find. She was glad to see that none of her friends had
 been hurt. She was only one sporting a bruise on her anywhere. They were finally perfumed with a soft floral scent, a different one for each woman. Their hair brushed until it was dry and shown brightly. And each was given a gown, of a soft diaphanous, almost see-through material, to wear. Maddy smelled of sweet lilacs, and her gown was a beautiful lavender color. Her auburn hair looked beautiful as it rippled down her back to her waist. This was strange behavior she thought. They were suddenly not being treated as prisoners or captives.

She tried to adjust her gown. It was really just 2 pieces of material, stitched at the shoulders. And the belt, of the same material, held the 2 pieces in place. Her large, full breasts were barely concealed by the flimsy material. She had the feeling if she moved the wrong way, all would be revealed. And the diaphanous material could not conceal the fact that her pussy fur was auburn also. They were lead into a room of the main hall. It was somewhat dimly lit, except for the center of the room, and it was here they were placed, the seven of them. They stood huddled together somewhat, in a very tense silence. Around the room, she could sense eyes were watching them… It had been a very long 2 days since her capture. And the tension was mounting almost unbearably fast. Finally, she heard his voice from the edge of the darkness.

"You have led my men and myself a merry chase, Lady Madeline. But that is now over, for ever." He stepped into the ring of light. He was dressed quite finely she thought, the darker, somber colors he chose suiting him well. His hair, quite short, gleamed in the bright light, showing the reddish highlights in his brown depths. She hated the feelings he engendered deep within her. She could feel the turmoil, mixed with fear of what was to come.

"I have decided to break up your 'little band merry women.' Your 'robin hood' days are over. Now, for the future. I have decided that the best way to control your band is to give them individually, to someone else to watch. Six of my officers are going to choose one woman each from your band." He paused and turned to a man she had not noticed before. Dear God, it was Randolf, the man she had last seen sitting in the dirt. She felt Theresa step closer to her. Silence reined as Randolf stepped over to the women. Without pause, he reached in and grabbing hold of Theresa's slender wrist, he pulled her away from the others. It was useless to try and hold on to her. It seemed as if the fight had gone out of the beautiful women in the small group. Without a single word, Randolf nodded once to his lord, then turned and took Theresa away from the room. And so it continued, until each of her dear friends had been pulled away from the others. Only she remained. And Lord Braden watched her in silence. After several long heavy minutes of silence, he spoke. His eyes half closed as he gazed at her. He had checked his emotions very well, he thought. The diaphanous gown, which showed off her bountiful breasts, and soft white skin elsewhere, had tested him to the near limits of his endurance.

"I doubt we will hear from any of them for several days." She could hear the remaining soldiers in the room chuckle. She straightened her spine, throwing her shoulders back. She would show him no fear. But she did not realize that this only thrust her wonderfully large, round breasts out even further. Her nipples had become taut due to her emotions, and made little tents in the lavender material. She had no idea how near the edge his lordship was, nor did she consider how excited the soldiers might be. But Braden did consider that.

"Enough!" he shouted. 

He walked over to her, and then she knew. It was in his hooded gaze. He was choosing her. He wasn't leaving her for one of his soldiers. In that moment, she truly didn't know which would be worse. She knew that his calling her Lady Madeline earlier had not been necessary. After all, she knew, as did everyone, she had no royal blood, as he did. Her father had been an impostor. To her amazement, he didn't grab her wrist. He bent when he reached her and slung her over his shoulder. When she wriggled in protest, he gave her a hard slap to beautifully round bottom, which showed so clearly through the pale lavender material. And thus he carried her from the room.

She couldn't see anything for her hair hanging everywhere. He walked up stairs, and a door opened, and then she was flung onto her back onto a soft surface. When she shoved her hair out of her face, she realized she lying on his bed. Before she could move, or decide what to do, he had smoothly tied one leg and one wrist to the bed. He very easily captured the others and did the same.

There she lay, on her back, on his bed. Her gown had become displaced during the scuffle, and her right breast was now totally nude. Her skirt had ridden up to high above her thighs. She stopped straining against her ties as he spoke.

"You are now mine. I will do with you what I will. You have no recourse. Is this understood?" He paused as he waited for her to answer.

She didn't answer, just lay there in silence. He continued. "There is no one here to help you. I have made it quite clear that anyone who helps you will be cast out of the castle, and the lands I rule. I doubt you will find any allies to help you with that threat over their heads. I want you to understand that you are mine. And I will do whatever I please with you. Now, answer me!"

She finally nodded her head in agreement. Her feelings were in total turmoil. She had no idea what he intended to do with or to her. The fact that he had brought her to his bedchamber, and tied her to the bed probably meant just one thing. He was going to rape her she thought. A jolt of excitement coursed through her veins, along with her fear. God, she thought, what is wrong with me. How can I possibly feel anything other than hate and loathing for someone who plans such a terrible thing? 

He moved over to her, placing one knee on the edge of the bed. From the sheath at his waist, he withdrew a very sharp knife. Her breath caught in her throat. He slid the cold blade flat against her left collarbone and cut through her dress. He pulled the soft material away until both of her breasts were totally revealed to him in their entire naked splendor. Her full breasts jiggled a bit with each rapid, nervous breath she took. She watched as he moved his left hand over her breast. He didn't touch her for several long moments, just let the heat of his hand meld with the heat rising from her hot breast. And then he cupped the large, round breast, and began squeezing her. As her nipple rose up tauter and tauter, she heard his soft mocking laughter. His index finger circled the tight, pink bud of pleasure, making it pucker up even more. When he was satisfied that it was the perfect size, he lowered his head and took it deep inside his hot, sucking mouth. His tongue bathed the tender, pink flesh deep inside his mouth, while he suckled her like a hungry babe. There was no way she could stop the writhing of her body in response to his erotic touch. And, she thought, God forgive me, it feels good!


Captive of Desires



His hand moved slowly over her body, untying the sash at her waist, and pulling the skirt the short distance left to reveal her womanly body. His hand caressed her softly rounded belly, and then moved down, down. When he touched her pubic hair though, he stopped suddenly. He raised his head and looked down at the soft reddish fur that shielded her womanly mound from him. Then he looked back up into her eyes.

"That will not do, my sweet." At her confused look, he smiled softly. "No pussy fur allowed in this bed."

He rose and left her lying on the bed, exposed, both physically and emotionally. She strained, but there was no way she could release her ties that bound her to his bed. She watched him nervously as he crossed the room. He had removed most of his own clothes, and she could his cock straining against the front of his soft pants. She was amazed as herself, as she wondered what he might look like…without the pants.

He sat a few things down on the bed…she saw soap, a brush, and what looked like a mans' razor. What in the world she wondered…?

"Now," he said as he sat next to her hips. "This won't take long, and it won't hurt. And I'm sure you will like it." With those words, he began soaping up the brush, and then to her astonishment, he started applying the soap lather to her pussy fur. She strained to lift her head from the bed. And then, he oh so carefully, began using the razor in short, sure strokes to remove all of her red pussy fur. She strained to keep her hips still, as he told her, to prevent any mishaps with the razor. But she kept trying to raise her head so she could see just what he was doing 'down there.'

"Nearly done," he finally said after what had seemed like an hour, but was really only a few minutes. He lifted a warm, wet rag and removed all traces of left over lather, and hair. When he was all done, he laid his hand over her pussy mound, and proceeded to move his fingers over every millimeter of skin she possessed that he had just shaven smooth.

"Now that is acceptable," he pronounced. His index finger had stolen in between her lush, pink feminine folds, to find her button of pleasure. He flicked it once with his finger, and she gasped out loud. Then he began exploring her deeper and more intimately, and with certain touches, she could not stop a soft, surprised cry from escaping her parted lips. And when he found one spot, and then found it again and again, her hips bucked uncontrollably in response to his touch. He laughed softly when his fingers were suddenly flooded with her womanly fluids. He used the wetness to slide his finger backwards, until he found entry to her special place. He gently probed the area where his own cocked throbbed impatiently to be, and slowly slid in one finger, then two, and finally three fingers. Her hips bucked against his hand and her open mouth gasped in air she needed desperately to keep from passing out from this rush of passion. Her head thrashed about wildly, tangling her hair hopelessly into knots. He pulled away from her then, seeing the mess she was making of her hair. He moved to lift her head and pull her hair to the side. He paused to stare down into her lovely face, that only moments earlier had been so near climax, that he had had a hard time not coming himself from just hearing her throaty moans and shouts of desire.

"Tell me Madeline, will you fight me, or give into the desire you feel?" 

He asked of her while slowly caressing her right breast. He played with her almost absent-mindedly, as if he did it all the time. But she still felt the surges of desire shoot through out her body, radiating outward from her full, sensitive breast. 

"There is no way for you to escape. And to fight will only harm yourself." He spoke to her softly still, but now his hand had travelled down, was caressing and stroking her newly bared pussy. His fingers touched her smooth skin, and with her legs pulled apart, there was no way she could stop his inevitable intrusion. As he fingers moved between her soft, pink, wet folds of skin, she whispered 'stop' but her hips lifted as if of their own accord. He smiled as he continued to plunder her smooth bare pussy. As he slid one finger inside her sweet, womanly passage, he began massaging her breast. He gave her firm, tender breast squeezes, and caresses, alternating between gentle and firm squeezes. With each squeeze of his clever fingers, her breast seemed to grow firmer and plumper in his hand. When she bit her lip to stop a soft moan of desire, he lowered his own mouth to hers. He kissed her for the first time, really kissed her. He pressed open her lips, insinuating his tongue into her mouth, and began imitating the same in and out, around, back and forth motion of his finger down below. Her hips bucked upwards in several hard jerks, and he felt her moisture wet his fingers as her sweet flesh spasmed around his finger.

It was several moments later that she opened her eyes, blushing deeply. She was stunned by what she had just felt, let alone with whom she had felt it. She should be fighting him, doing everything in her power to get away. And yet, here she lay, nearly nude, her pussy freshly shaven, and a man's hand between her thighs. He was idly caressing her smooth flesh. His hand resting on her shaven mound, while his fingers stroked and touched and fondled her lightly. He watched her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths.

"I guess I don't have to ask if you enjoyed that, now do I?" He asked her idly. He laughed as her blush heightened even more. Good Lord, she thought, what is he doing to me? Why am I reacting like this? He reached to the side of her head, and pulled a pillow free. He deftly maneuvered the pillow beneath her hips. He moved to the foot of the bed. "Aah! Now that is a truly beautiful site. A naked woman, completely helpless, and widespread for my enjoyment. You know, sweet Maddy, you have a lovely pussy, now that I've taken all that pussy fur away."

With her head raised up, she could see her own hips pushed upwards by the pillow. Then she saw he had removed all of his clothes. God, he was so hard! He moved onto the bed, slowly stroking her wide-open thighs, as he came to lie above her on the bed. When he pressed against her, she could feel his hard, hot flesh searing her skin. And then, he thrust deep inside her. Her cry of surprise, and a bit of pain, rang out in the room. When she opened her eyes, he was watching her, still not moving, but she could feel him deep inside her womanly passage. And then, holding her eyes, he began thrusting, back and forth, deeper almost on every plunge. On and on he kept thrusting, his manhood sliding in and out of her wet passage. When he was almost near climax, he slipped his hand between them, and found her clit. He knowingly touched her in the just the right place, just a few times. And soon, his thrusts met her own writhing and bucking hips. With a shout of completion, he filled her with his manly fluids. Her own body came yet again as he finished inside her. He rolled to the side of her on the bed. Lying quietly as their breaths slowly returned to normal.

He said nothing, stunned at the intense feelings she had aroused in him. His intention had been to have her a few times, and then he would make sure she left his lands forever. He would be free of her spell he was sure. But as he lie there, listening to their breathing, he wondered if he would ever be free of her. He had never climaxed like that before. He had never felt a woman's flesh that seemed as sweet, as sensual, as responsive as hers. God, he thought to himself, he might not be able to let her go.

After a short while, he rose to rest on one elbow next to her on the bed. He pulled the pillow from beneath her hips. Neither of them missed the small blood tinged stain on the pillow cover, but they said nothing. She could not stop the blood rising up her cheeks. He then turned back to gaze down at her. He was still a bit stunned by the emotions he had been overwhelmed with while he was deep inside her soft body. Yet he had no intention of showing any sign of that to her.

"I've made a number of changes around the castle since you left."

Madeline just stared at him for a moment. Amazed that he could talk of something else while lying naked in a bed. Yet there they were, and he had resumed idly stroking her breast again. His touch sent shivers through her entire nervous system. She nodded her head just once.

His hand moved up and stroked her reddish hair off her face. "I like people here at the castle to be ... orderly." He paused as he saw her frown of confusion. "I like the women who live within my walls, and work here, to have short hair." He paused and let the words sink in. "It is a… fetish of mine you might say." He stopped stroking her hair and went back to caressing her breasts. "I will cut it for you."

She could only stare at him open mouthed in stunned surprise… He had to be kidding… surely. Her mouth opened to deny him, but no words came out. He reached upwards and quickly untied both wrists, bringing them down and tying them in front of her at her waist. He then had her sit up on the bed, but he had to untie one ankle for her to be able to so comfortably. Then he left her alone for a few moments. When he returned he held a brush in one hand, and a scissors, a large shears, and a silver hand mirror.

Dear God, she thought, he was serious. She moved a bit on the bed, and realized again, that she was truly helpless. If she struggled too much, well, one of them could get seriously hurt. So she sat the quietly, while he began brushing the tangles from her long hair. On and on he brushed. The sensual feel of him brushing her hair was hypnotic. She felt paralyzed physically to stop in. Deep inside, she couldn't help but feel a jolt of what she recognized as sexual need, when she thought about him cutting off her hair. It had been long all her life. Her father had insisted on long hair.

He finally set the brush down, and ran his hand down the length of her hair, as if to smooth if for the chopping off. She thought she knew what to expect, but when he slid the shears in, catching her hair beneath the blades, the cold blades touched the skin right at her ear lobe. 

God, she thought, that is so short! And then she heard the noise, as if in a long tunnel… the schhnick of the blades, closing together, severing her long red hair. She felt the hair slide downward against her skin, pooling in a puddle where her buttocks sat on the bed. She wanted to raise her hand and feel that area, but before she could move, he had chopped off another lock, and it slithered down over her naked body. Over and over she felt and heard the shears severing lock after lock of hair.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped. He picked up the brush, and again brushed her hair, only this time there was really hardly anything there to speak of. Her red hair now ended abruptly at her ear lobes in a blunt, bobbed cut. When she moved her head, the hair swung forward onto her cheeks. It felt so short! And then he picked up the shears and began snipping away at the nape of her neck until all that hair was nearly gone. She could just imagine what she must look like. And then he held the mirror in front of her for her to see the aftermath. Her hair was so short that it swung forward, and caressed her mid cheek. She couldn't see but a bit of the back, but she could tell it had been cut to nearly a 1/8" all the way from hairline to where the blunt cut began. It was almost like a "bowl" cut. She could feel the tears on her cheeks at the loss of her beautiful hair. She had loved touching it, combing and brushing it. People were always telling her how beautiful her hair was. No one would be telling her that now, she was sure. But she could not deny the moisture that had gathered between her upper thighs as he had cut. She had been incredibly aroused by the whole thing.

She became aware that he had tossed the mirror, brush and shears off the bed. And when he moved to her side, she saw that his cock was just as hard as before. She realized that cutting her hair had been just as an arousing experience for him as it had been for her. He pushed her back onto the bed and untied her wrists. Without bothering to retie her, he covered her body with his own. He didn't move for a long moment, enjoying the feel of her soft body beneath his own. Her short hair fell back from her face now, and he touched the shorn strands with his fingers, playing with the cut ends. He had been so turned on by cutting her hair he couldn't believe it. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her right now, as they lie on her shorn hair. Now she was truly his. He felt the rapid rise and fall of her big breasts against his chest. Everything about her excited him more. Every second he was with her seemed to just make him harder and want her more. He wondered at the feelings that were growing inside of him. And then he put such worrisome thoughts from his head. Her body was warm, and wet, and he thrust deep inside her. She was so strung out in sexual excitement herself that in but a few thrusts she was spasming around his hard cock, gasping in total astonishment at her feelings. He followed her quickly to completion, thrusting harder and faster, until he filled her with his cum. 

For long moments he just lie within her, not moving, just feeling the aftershock little spasms of her pussy around his softening manhood. Exhausted, he finally slid to rest at her side. He pulled the covers up over them. He remembered to untie her other ankle, then he pulled her to rest with her bottom pressed against his now soft manhood. Her ass cheeks nestled so sweetly and warmly against him. Moments before she fell asleep, she thought she heard him whisper "I will never let you go," but she was sure she was mistaken.

© m'lyn 1999

If you would like this story continued, please let me know.