Nawashi (15 page)
Authors: Gray Miller
Tags: #thriller, #action, #bdsm, #sex magic, #rope bondage, #kink, #graydancer
himself think about the improbability of it. It had its own strange
internal logic, and like the dancing that had defeated the two
earlier, it would only work if it were done, not debated. He
reached out to the second ward, and made a slight change in the
pattern.
Breathing in the energy swirling around, he
exhaled… and cast out along the new line.
was still no sign of the Daughters, though the fall of twilight
implied they would return soon. But something had changed in the
house, something had adjusted, and even their strange and altered
eyes could not exactly see what it was. Everything looked just as
it had; at the same time, there was something about the entire
setting that was different.
Suddenly they realized it did not matter. At the
end of the block, rounding the corner, Phina and Lisbet were
walking as they tossed the frisbee back and forth, often so
convulsed in giggles that they dropped it, slowing their progress
toward the Mother’s house.
One of the Mauls made to get out of the car, but
the other laid its hand across a shoulder. The Wrinkled Man in his
room smiled, agreeing.
The prey is always sweeter if you let them come to
you.
hand on her shoulder, and she leaned back for just a moment. The
back of her head pressed into the firm erection blousing out his
trousers, and she felt a resurgence of the lust that had consumed
her earlier, this time with a measure of calmness mixed in, a
secure knowledge that this cock would become a part of her,
eventually, as sure as the hemp that now bound her.
“Steady, slut. There is one more
binding necessary.” Brian wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he did.
The energy was strong, but an element was missing, like a choir
with one of the voices silent. The room seemed to be trembling
around them as they stayed in that between moment, their breathing
slowly matching pace. Her skin where he’d spanked her earlier was
still a stinging burn, but it was a sweet spice added to the waves
of pleasure that flowed between them, the rope
shinju
giving her a grounding for
the wild energy that flowed through them.
in the word; it was the most accurate way to describe her current
state of arousal, and even the implicit dirtiness of the word added
to her lust, her labia feeling heavy, engorged beyond her clitoris,
as if her entire mound was as sensitive as that tiny knob of flesh.
She shifted her knees wide, closing her eyes and letting the
feeling of the air cooling the fluids add to the rush of stimuli,
all of which seemed to bring her closer to explosive release.
Brian took another length of the
hemp rope and began the final binding, a
matanawa
, crotch rope. The doubled
length passed between her legs, the bight held by one hand just
under her navel as the tails pulled up and through the cleft of her
ass. She shuddered as the two strands touched her labia and she
twisted slightly, letting them part and take the strands deeper
into her slit, pressing into the lesser lips until she could feel
them flanking the hood of her clitoris. She dared not move any
more, after that, for fear of losing her ability to continue to
hold herself up.
through the bight in front of her, drawing them back loosely around
her hips and holding them there while his other hand moved to a
point just over her mons. He paused for a moment, and then brought
his face close to hers.
“Look at me.” Her eyes snapped open, pupils
dilated, and for just a moment he knew how Vashte must have felt
when he’d pushed her off balance in her ceremony. To stare into
those eyes too long would be to fall and fall, with no end to the
soft silver depths they held.
Desire. Beauty. Discipline.
“You will not cum yet, slut. I am going to adjust
the ropes right now for one reason only. And that reason is not for
your pleasure. You will want to release and let the orgasm flow,
and I am telling you, you will not.” His eyes held hers as his hand
dipped down between her legs, fingers pushing into the cleft labia
and spreading them around the edges of the rope… and then
continuing, spreading her
labia
minora
until they also rested on either
side of the ropes. She did not move a muscle as she held onto his
gaze, eyes wide, but a low moan grew in the back of her throat as
he finished by pushing the bight down further on her mons, until
the loop of rope, drawn open just a bit by the two tails flowing
over her hips, rested just over her clitoris. He gave her a small
smile. “Well done, slut.” Continuing to hold her eyes, he pulled
the tails in his other hand suddenly taut.
The slack disappeared as the tails
pulled the bight of the rope open, and her labia spread wide while
her clitoral hood was pulled upwards simultaneously, pressure
increasing across the mound above it as he secured the
matanawa
behind her with
another simple knot, this time ready for the burst of power it gave
both of them as the energies were magnified by her arousal and the
patterns of the rope binding her.
fell softly to her side on the mat, legs slowly scissoring as she
moaned with the ropes’ enforced exposure and stimulation. Brian
watched her, felt the echoes of her arousal through the saturated
air around them. He felt his own need grow, his own cock throbbing
with the need to fulfill its purpose, its only reason for
existence: to join with the object of his desire.
But something wasn’t ready. He could feel it, the
dissonant thread in the harmonic symphony of lust they’d woven
together. He followed the thread, eyes unfocused on Sally’s
writhing form as he tried to find out where something had been left
awry… and there, deep within, he found it.
now, and the two Mauls, disguised as Men, got out of the car and
walked towards the porch. Each of them reached into their breast
pocket and withdrew a hypodermic needle from a small black pouch,
holding them out of sight of the two girls.
Lisbet looked up, and saw the young men. Her smile
faded, and she looked worriedly at her sister. “Aw, fuck, “ she
said softly. “Mom invited the missionaries to dinner again.”
in the buffeting storm of unfulfilled desire and roiling streams of
power, Sally’s fortress still stood. She still was unable to let go
of her will, the very desire to do so interfering with the loss of
self towards which she was striving. Her spirit, locked deep within
the walls, was twisting and fighting along with the storm around
her, but the walls of inhibition and cultural identity kept her
spirit from breaking free with the power they needed… the power
that she needed to Focus.
They had passed the point of no return. So much
power roiled around them now that it had suffused the entire club,
and Brian became vaguely aware that the scenes around them were
more violent and intense than usual, affected by the building
tempo, and he sensed that unless the energy was used they would end
blasting out destructively, tilting masters and slaves alike
towards the kind of dark play that left scars on the psyche as well
as the body.
And the wards were not complete.
He could not feel them, could sense his daughters, but he knew they
were out there, unprotected.
Repressors
are after my daughters,
he thought, and
grew angry—at them, at himself for drawing his daughters into it…
and suddenly at the resistance that was keeping Sally and him from
completing their ceremony and doing something about it.
He reached down and grasped the
back of the
shinju
, lifting Sally up and tossing her onto her stomach on the
mat. Reaching into his bag, he growled. “Get that ass in the air,
slut. You will submit to me, and you will do it willingly.” She
went to her knees and lowered her torso slowly and elegantly,
resting her head on the floor in front of her, body still
quivering, and the dark purple shine of her spread vulva glistened
in the yellow light.
“Yes, sir. I am trying, sir.” The
truth was, Sally was tired. At the same time, she was determined to
take everything she could, to become the icon of complete
surrender. The walls that refused to bend inside of her, the
driving need of that spirit looking for release into the bonds of
his ropes and his sex, felt as though they were tearing her weary
body apart. She presented her buttocks in an arched beauty, letting
herself fall into the throbbing need of her sex as it spread open
before him. She would endure anything.
She
would
.
moan as he worked her over thoroughly, striking first with his
hands, warming the skin again, bringing back the bright red flush
to the skin, setting a burning undertone to what followed.
A few floggers were laid out as she knelt there,
and one after another, small to large, they were woven in figure
eights over her ass, striking with more and more intensity, lightly
stinging at first and then growing harder, the impact of the final
thick buffalo skin falls actually forcing her body forward with
every blow. Her mind was beyond conscious thought, the world
shrinking to her body, the man behind her, and the implement that
formed the physical connection between them.
She held that position as he threw the flogger into
her flesh, over and over, and she did not break.
Finally, he pulled out the single-tail. A snake
whip made of black kangaroo leather, it coiled out like a living
extension of his hand. She heard the sharp crack of the tip next to
her ear, and it penetrated the haze of lust with a shivering dart
of fear. The whip was one of her greatest fears, and with a cry she
fell facedown on the mat.
He did not hesitate, and started laying coiled
strikes all over the crimsoned skin of her thighs and ass. It was
stinging sharp and heavy, leaving a mark with every flick of his
wrist. Out of instinct she tried to curl and squirm out of the way,
but he didn't reproach her or try to reposition her. Instead, he
just kept throwing and she quickly learned that trying to turn away
only exposed the more sensitive areas of her inner thighs and
stomach. Her cries turned quickly to tears, as every movement
seemed to be met with an electric snap.
There was no way to escape, no task as before she
could perform to gain a respite. Her arms, bound behind her, were
unable to cover her at all, and his whip went over and around her,
now biting into her thigh, now her stomach, her breast… soon she
had returned to facing down and presenting herself properly, simply
crying out softly with every strike of the whip, not moving to
escape it at all.
Submitting.
Brian set down the whip and strode to her,
entangling his fingers in the hair at the base of her neck and
dragging her to the edge of the alcove, where a bench was sitting.
He knelt her up in front of it, about a foot away, and then she
heard a sound that sent shivers through her.
She heard the distinct sounds of his belt
loosening, his zipper coming down… the soft rustle of clothes, and
then he was in front of her, she could see the cock she had only
felt before, lifting strong out of a thatch of pubic hair. She
could see the shiny tip glisten with seminal fluid, and licked her
lips in sympathetic desire. He made himself comfortable on the
bench, leaning back against the wall, and looked at her kneeling,
gasping. Quite deliberately he unwrapped a condom, sliding its
bright latex over his cock in a sensuous downward sweep of his
palm. She watched it unroll across the length, lending a smooth
elegance to the rough veins, reminding her of a fine marble
sculpture. He finished, and sat back.
That’s all. He simply
watched her, and as her body came out of the waves of pain and
despair, she found that she wanted only one thing: to please him,
to bring him some kind of joy with her body.
This is what submission is,
she
thought, and leaned in to service him with her mouth.
first conversation how much she enjoyed oral sex, and he growled
“No, slut. You do not get the satisfaction of initiative or pride
in your skills.” He drew her across his lap and lay down ten quick,
hard strokes, no pause as she cried in helpless pain, the burning
spanks deepening the hunger in her body. Suddenly he stopped and
pushed her back to her knees, standing and forcing his engorged
cock all the way into her mouth, her lips straining around it as it
pushed deep bringing tears to her eyes. He held it there, hearing
her breathing around it, his hand holding her head precisely at the
point short of choking on him. When he finally withdrew it, he
pulled her up and threw her facedown on the bench. Leaning in
behind her, he whispered a question: "Are you ready, now, for me to
fuck you?"
She was torn. She
was exhausted, broken, and tearful, but somehow her vulva didn’t
seem as ready as it had been before. Suddenly his cock, which she
seemed to still feel stretching her mouth, seemed more than she
could handle. She chose to answer honestly: "I... I'm not quite
sure that I'm... that she... is ready, Sir."
He paused, stood
up and took a step back. She breathed a small sigh of
relief... too soon. He grabbed her hair again, pulling her up to
her knees, and then shoved her torso down roughly so that her
ass was again presenting, her labia a dark wet purple. With a
menacing voice, he challenged, "You know how to answer that
question." He stood over her, waiting.