Midnight in Venice...

Off a near-silent alleyway in Venice, where only the muffled strokes of gondolas and rowboats is heard, deep into the dark nights, there is a shadowed archway with stairs leading downward. Not too far, for Venice is a kind of floating city and prone to floods.

Within the archway, there is always a lit lantern throwing fitful darknesses and dim glimmers across the edges of the stairs. Standing on the fifth step, the bolder visitors may catch the faint sighs -- or is it wind?; may hear even fainter moans and cries -- or is it the imagination?

At the bottom of the stairs a stone corridor -- the air is damp and thick with indeterminate scents that spark thought and puzzlement. Is that perfume or spices? Wait! The scent is salty; the sensitive and experienced nose may know at once the smell of human sweat and musk. Down the corridor a maze of more walls, twisted turnings, sharp corners and swelling curves until the visitor is confused and yet drawn ever forward by curiosity...and something more.

One almost expects some warning "Beware!" or "Those Who Enter Here..." to be etched over the thick wooden doorway at the end of all the turnings. But the archway is bare, except for age-old pits and the soft steady drip of water down its sides.

In the darkness within, lit only by candles, a man stands, dressed impeccably in formal attire, though from a few centuries ago. Real or imagined? He beckons without moving, his eyes invitations to a seduction and untold pleasures. With a soft smile, he turns his head, and the visitor follows his gaze to what seems an altar or perhaps merely an exhibit of silken coils, old shackles linked by heavy chains. There are also a few items that appear newer and glistening. A polished leather crop, a whip of human hair, a small, obviously sharp, dagger; and other objects too shadowed to be seen clearly. When the man turns his head back to ward the visitor, his smile is broader. In a whisper barely heard, he says: "Come, let us see what pleasures are in store for you..."

"But," he says softly to you, holding up his index finger, upon which you notice the glint of an elongated fingernail, "you are not yet prepared for any of these." His gaze hardens upon you as he slowly approaches to stand beside you.

"Stand. Do not speak. Close you eyes and simply...listen." You feel the warmth of his presence, so near and yet untouching. His lips -- his breath -- at your left ear.

"This is a place where goddesses become women once again. If you looked, you saw the pale marble of these walls. But they are not walls. They are...fogs, mists, over vast, endless vistas. Clouds that linger in the sky. Above you, a marble ceiling, but is it? Notice how its pale blue veins run together, becoming more pale, until the blue of sky shows through. And, then, fades into nothing but light, cool, emptying light..."

"Here is the place where the proud, the haughty, the powerful goddess sheds her reserve, her duties, her reverences, and becomes again: woman. But woman without encumberances. Not mother, not daughter, not wife, not warrior. Only woman. Woman with all her senses opened. Where every breath she feels upon her is a wind, warm, moist, strong. A wind to sway, to make her hair move, her knees weak. Where every touch is electrifying in its strength and urging. Where every scent fills, overwhelms, makes the mind reel with intoxicating and exotic swirls of color and sound. And every sound is both melody and chaos, a crash, a sigh, the ocean's throbbing pound and whispering ebb. Where every taste conjures other tastes, raw, salty, acid, sweet, merging, overpowering, and fleshy."

"When you are that woman, all women, all woman overtaken and surrendering to the rich tapestry of intertwining threads of your senses...then you are prepared, eager, needful. Desiring."

"Then, we may begin to see what pleasures these simple objects, these touches and sensations may bring you..."

I know.....lol.........But I have to jump in here ......Sorry

Holy crap........this is good, GrayJack!!!

Can i give up my goddess status now??.............LOL

*ahem*


o.o Lovely thus far, I must admit!

She looked at the table behind the speaker and shivered a bit with a mix of excitement and fear of what going forward would mean.

She had started this journey to find this place after reading veiled hints and stories in some of the old books found in the back of the convent library. The books were in a storage room for disused and unwanted items buried under age’s worth of dust. One clue had lead to another in the old musty books and she felt compelled to seek out the truth if it existed to be found. Now here she was and the only choice left to make was to go forward and discover what it meant or leave and never know what the mystery was.

She closed her eyes and shivered as the words the man spoke slowly trickled into her ear on the hot breath of his voice. She never had been able to let go and just allow herself to be completely feminine, soft, and vulnerable. That demand to her was the one thing she had not expected to face and it frightened her more that seeking the unknown had. There was a deep buried part of her that longed to be safe enough to do just that but it had been denied for so long she did not know how to begin.

She opened her eyes again and looked at the ceiling that seemed to morph into an alien sky, another world under the streets of Venice. Off in the far distance she could what almost appeared to be a dark shore line of purple sand and uncharted sea.

She took a deep breath, tasting the scents in the air and feeling the slight breeze on her face and chose without allowing any further thought. She had never backed down from a challenge yet so without looking at the hooded man before her she dropped her cloak on the ground and stepped forward to find out what lay before her.

As the cloak falls from her shoulders, the man kicks it aside with his booted foot, leaning even closer to the woman’s ear. His nose nuzzles the fine hair above her ear, his breath and whispered words searing into her inner being.

“Not yet, not yet.” He trails a fingernail down the side of her tilted neck until it rests at the soft base. Suddenly, as she gasps, his hand settles beneath her jaw and with seemingly impossible strength he lifts her. She feels her feet dangling a few inches above the stone floor.

“There is still within you a core of goddesshood. You believe this is a game, a challenge to see who will win and who shall lose. You seek to play a false role with me.” He tilts her head to the side, looking deeply into her eyes.

“I will have no falseness here. And no games.” He lets her body drop roughly to the floor again and she staggers to stand upright. The man walks behind her. His softened voice sounds more harsh now, the harder edge apparent.

“You have only one more decision to make here. And you will make it now. Obey utterly…” He snatches up her left hand and pulling it behind her molds it around the shaft of his thick hardened cock for a long moment of silence. Then he thrusts her hand away again. “…or leave.”

He walks back around in front of her. His pacing leaves a distance between them now. His eyes gaze down at her feet, then very slowly -- so that she feels the inch by inch sweep of her body -- moves his gaze upward until again he looks deeply into her eyes.
“Choose,” he says.

A deep ragged breath caught in her throat as she felt the lingering burn that his hand had left on her throat conflicting with the heated feeling in the palm of her hand from his cock.

What did he want from her? She licked her suddenly dry lips and drew in another shuddering breath. Awareness of the material of her dress as the silk felt too rough where it rubbed against her instantly hardened and now hypersensitive nipples, distracted her from trying to understand what she needed to do next. She could not be turned away now; she felt a sense of panic building in the pit of her stomach. What if the next move she made caused him to cast her out and shut the door to what might have been Eden.

Desperately she tried to look into his eyes, to read the answer he expected. She only saw a piercing unyielding gaze that made her thoughts even more disordered. If she had to come undone to go forward she would.

She slowly took the pins out of her hair that had kept it up and undid the only other garment she had to wear. As the dress slid down her skin leaving her naked and shivering with nerves, she slid down to her knees and said in a voice that she could only manage to muster a whisper with.

” Please”...

She could not look up at him, if she saw rejection she would be shattered, so her eyes stayed fixed on the stone floor as she waited.

The man steps closer, leans down and gathers up the silky puddle of her dress. He tosses it away idly and stands silently for another long moment, sensing her surrender and her desire to stay.

“Stand up,” he tells her. Her previous training is apparent when she slowly rises, her hands going naturally behind her back to thrust her breasts forward. She steals a quick glance at him, just in time to see his nod.

“Good,” he repeats. “For now, I want you upright, but…this way.” He nudges his knee between her legs and forces them apart. She sways and staggers slightly as he positions her feet in a wider stance. Again, he looks her up and down. “That will do…for now.”

She feels his hand brush over her forehead and down across her eyes. “Close them. Keep them closed until I tell you to open them. Or must I blindfold you, hmmm?”

Obediently, she closes her eyes with a flutter. Her breathing grows more ragged as she listens intently, trying to determine what will happen next. She senses his movement away and the faint indistinct sounds he makes. She thinks he must be selecting items at the altar or exhibit she had glimpsed before. She tries hard to remember what was displayed there, but her thoughts are a jumble.

Then she feels his breath upon her cheek, his voice close at her ear. “Keep your eyes closed…open your other senses. Awaken yourself to the scent…the feel…” Instantly, she smells the fresh, animal aroma of leather as it moves past her nostrils. She shivers as she feels the slick, smooth rasp of it caress her right cheek, and glide down her neck. Then it’s at her other cheek, again, the slow, slow caress of it -- the ripe and pungent scent of it. As he plays the leather down her neck, she arches slightly and hears the breathy chuckle deep in his throat. So slowly, she almost wants to scream, she feels the leather slide down between her breasts, then under the left breast and circling inward to her nipple, then she gasps as she feels the light snap directly on her nipple. Before she can catch her breath, she feels the leather circling her right breast -- knowing at the end of the movement will come another sharp snap on her right nipple. Her shoulders tremble and jerk when it comes, even expected the sting is exhilarating. Before the pain eases away, she feels the leather pressed hard against her mouth. “Kiss it,” she hears him say. “Kiss it with desire and…want.”

She wets her lips with her tongue and just as she is about to make contact, she feels the leather move away. A flash of anger almost makes her open her eyes. She tightens her mouth.

“No games here,” he tells her again. “No easy and facile play. Only obedience…and the passion of obedience. You must want to kiss this…” She feels the leather brush her mouth once more. “You must hunger for it. Tell me. Do you need to kiss it?”

She murmurs the only word she is coming to depend on in his presence. “Please…”

She feels his nose brush across hers as he shakes his head from side to side. “Do. You. Need?”

“I…” her voice almost fails her, but she steels herself, digs deep into her very being, touching the root of her natural self. “I want to kiss it,” she whispers between her clenched teeth.

As the leather touches her pursed lips, a ragged sigh escapes her and her shoulders tremble again as she feels engulfed…by the scent, the taste, the feel of the leather…almost as if it responds…like a hungry lover to her kiss.

“Good,” she hears the man say.

I love this. Keep going, you two! Pretty pleeeeeease?

NO Kidding...........

I cant wait.........

The very act of kissing the tool he was using to force her to begin to understand what she desired, what she could never voice before caused her to suddenly become overwhelmed with a need to cry. She hated to cry, it made her feel weak and all of her life she never let anyone see her tears. Again anger flashed through her at the feelings that were surfacing. A tear escaped her tight shut eyes as she shuddered in an attempt to control herself.

She felt a slight stir in the air as the man moved closer to her to whisper in her ear. “You are not allowed to deny what you feel. Part of obedience is honesty. Do you deny that you came here to find yourself?”

She nodded her head in a short jerky movement not trusting herself to speak and let the breath out she had not been aware of holding in.

Straightening her shoulders again she kept her eyes closed and waited for the man to continue. She heard him step away and the sounds of something being dragged off the table. Time seemed to slow, waiting in the dark and feeling dreadful anticipation combined with a growing sexual excitement stirring deep inside her.

This time the sensation of something being drawn across the sensitive skin of her upper thighs made her flinch. A finger trailed across her cheek and then cupped the side of her face softly. “Shhhh, you are not to move unless instructed to do so no matter what you feel. Can you do that? Or are you not able control yourself to please me?” the man whispered as what felt like many soft strands again trailed across her belly up to her breasts.

“Yes” the word forced out of her as she forced herself to focus only on remaining in place. She expected to again feel the item the man held on her skin only to hear the man step back and move behind her. Her hair was brushed over one shoulder and the man said, “ Now we begin again..”

"Open your eyes," the man says harshly. He holds for her to see a whip the strands of which are human hair. "This is what you now sacrifice. The sensual human touch, the caress of softness, and the sharp slap of something which has passion. And for what?" His palm drags down her tear-streaked face and he shows her the wetness of it. "For these? Real tears are precious, they come from the soul. This is nothing but saltwater sloshing over the barrel top when the sea rocks." His eyes bore into her with fiery intensity. "I want to sip and lick at the fresh, sweet, cool water running from your deepest river. But you hide it. Like a miser, like the hoarder of a treasure that should be freely offered." The man throws up his hand -- and she flinches back -- but he merely gestures in the air in front of her face. Like tossing away an empty paper wrapper.

He walks away and lays the hair whip on the table, then spins on his heel and points his finger at her. "You! You say "Please" and 'Yes," trained words that even a parrot can say. You think these move me? They do not. They come from your mind, not your heart, not your body. You dredge them up from memory, they have no fire, they are not created anew from your wants and needs. They are merely..." again he throws away the imaginary wastepaper. "...merely scraps."

"Why should I bother? What do I gain from this endless chore of instruction? You?" He nods thoughtfully. "The true you? Perhaps...let us see if you are worthy of the time and patience." His fist grabs up a long heavy length of chain, the links each an inch long or more. He coils the chain like a rope and stalks quickly toward her. Her eyes watch the chain and her face pales wondering at his intent.

Halfway to her, he slowly and softly says, "Close your eyes."

And at once, he is beside her. Again she can feel his warmth which seems to have increased. Her head jerks back slightly as she feels the cold links pressed beneath her nose.

"You know what this is. Flexible, hard, unyielding metal. Forged in flame, molded blow by blow under the blacksmith's hammer. Smell it. It is old and well used. Feel it, pitted, clean, lightly oiled on your skin. Learn from it."

He drapes the chain at her neck, letting it fall, link by link against her left breast. She feels it sliding and pressing, like a weighty snake. She gasps as she feels his wet tongue teasing her left nipple as it pokes through a link of the chain. His lips and teeth tug lightly tug at the hardening fleshy nub. She gasps again as she feels the chain pulled away sharply, first pinching and then releasing her nipple from its grasp.

Then, like the leather before it, the chain is dropped over her right breast. Again, she concentrates on the weight, the heaviness and coldness of the metal links. Again, after a longer pause, she feels his tongue at her right nipple through the surrounding link. She arches up, hoping he will continue longer, but...the chain is pulled away again.

"You want more?" His voice is almost hissing beside her ear. She opens her mouth to speak.

"No words! I told you. I am only listening to your body for now. It speaks truth."

Her mind races in conflicting circles. Again, she arches her back and hears -- surprising her -- a low growl in his throat. "Trained reflexes," he says. "nothing more."

She hears the metallic clink as he uncoils more of the heavy chain. She feels him press his hand high between her breasts and -- oh, so slowly -- the uncurling links snake down her body, moving out and swinging back with each increasing length. His hand moves away and then back -- and she feels the heavy chain swing out and back, like a pendulum between her legs, one link -- how expertly controlled -- slam against and encircle the hood of her clit with every swing. The pace of the swing is steady at first then fades to stillness, and his hand moves away again and again, making the chain pendulum continue, each time coaxing her clitoris further out as it grows more swollen from the cool heavy contact. She begins to smell and to feel her own sweat dripping down her skin, begins to long for the not-quite predictable spank of the chains links, especially the one that keeps encircling and tapping her clitoris.

His voice comes from close beside her ear again. "Now, show it you want it. That you need it. Desire it," he says, pressing one hand on the top of her head. Confused at first, she resists his pressure and then finally, begins to half squat where she stands. Her knees bent, she tentatively makes a jerk with her hips and feels the chain's weight swing away and then swing back harder. She inhales deeper, begins rocking her hips forward and back, measuring the rhythms of herself and the swing of the pendulum chain.

"Good," he says.

again........i cant wait for more.....

More! Please!

I was away for Thanks Giving, will continue right away....

Right away was two days ago....

*nag nag nag nag nag*

LOL

Sorry heheh my bad and I will try hard to make up for it.

There is nothing else for her at this moment but the sensual world, unfolding within her in a way she had known it could be, in a way that never had until now. She was unaware how her hips were grinding in a manner as old as time, that woman’s ritual to draw a males eyes to the center of her fertility, her feminine core. She could not have stopped herself from doing it even if she was aware of how she had started to slowly spread her knees apart. She could smell her scent rising with the sweat and heat of her body. She also could smell the man before her, the musky male smell that nature created to call to her sex.

She took in deep breaths with her mouth partly open, tasting the air, getting the full breath of the heady hormonal and chemical code swirling around them both. She could not see as she was not allowed to but she could hear the man’s breathing quicken with hers. She no longer chose to think in her rational way that her life so far was controlled by, but to feel by instinct what was the next step in this dance they had begun. She would give him all of what she had held back from everyone else this far. She would do it because he would not allow her to hold back, not allow her to hide, and in turn he was going to give her all she had been empty of, unfulfilled of.

She began to breathe in heavy, slow, deep manner and the man before her grabbed her rhythm of it and followed breath and then began to drag her breathing so she now breathed in time with his. She felt him lean into her, felt the heat of his face on hers. She only shivered slightly with anticipation of the next sensation, not fear or cold any longer. She felt his sweat drip onto the upturn of her breast where the dark brown of her aureole started, cold sudden drops that caused her to gasp with a sudden desire to lick his face dry. He leaned forward and slowly licked the sweat off her face as if he had read her craving to do so to him.

“I think you begin to see” He whispered, in one ear and then bit her on the lobe with a sharp hard nip.

She twitched but made no sound and found instead she was more excited by the sudden bite than hurt. She made a low growl in the back of her throat without being aware of letting the sound go.

He leaned to her other side “I wonder if you will be worth the time and effort that it will take for you to come all the way with me. No one else has come much further before they became afraid and so left this place for good.” He bit her neck at the base of her shoulder and then stepped back.

“We will see, I am willing to take you a step further as long as you remain this honest and open to me. Can you do that? Can you open you eyes and not hide behind your wall, Show me how vulnerable you can be for me and still be brave enough to continue?”

"I will not ask you to open your eyes yet, you are still too unaware. But when I do and if you are still hiding, then you will leave here. I will demand you see what you really are and that you are able to want to see me in return as I am. But that takes much more courage than hiding or just allowing you to be lead. I think we will find out soon if you are more that what you seem, if you are what I had waited here for.”

She heard his step back and then gasped at the sudden break in the intimacy that had built between them. She dared not move as she began to examine the feelings he had caused in her, and then she heard him walk away without a word.

Suddenly she felt lost as she realized she was alone and still blind by her own will to obey, so lost that for one minute it was as deep as any desolation she had ever known.

Yay! Thank you :-)

His voice was faint when he finally spoke again, with a deeper, more piercing timbre and the slight reverberation of muffled echo. “Come to me,” he said. “Follow my voice with your eyes still closed. You will do this.”

So strong was the urge to open her eyes that she trembled from her shoulders and felt it course all along her body until -- at last -- it reached her feet. As if by their own volition, her feet moved, stumblingly forward, her hands reaching out to grasp…only air. As she carefully put one foot in front of the other, her fingers groping, her mind was split into two racing companies of thought. What am I doing? Can I do this? Why am I doing it? These questions spun and whirled against a maelstrom of other thoughts, more elevated and comprehending. Blind, groping forward, unsure, yes, she thought, this is like every new relationship -- the inner feelings transcribed and transliterated into the physical movement, the physical sensations -- one small, shuffling step forward at a time with the threat, the fear, the potential of looming pain on the unseen horizon. Despite her misgivings, she smiled to herself, listening intently for the sound of his voice leading her forward into…whatever he chose to do or say.

Suddenly she felt her outstretched left hand grasped tightly at the wrist and her body was jerked forward, almost falling. He was pulling her quickly along, his voice a bit muffled as he spoke over his shoulder.

“Follow,” was the only word he said.

Her other hand flailing, she felt it scrape along the close wall. It was cold and wet and rough like the deep unpolished stone of a mine. Her feet shuffled, the soles becoming clammy and more sensitive to the uneven pits and sharp bumps of the flooring. But he pulled her ever more quickly -- now turning this way and that in a twisting, veering dance. Her mind, too, continued its whirl and she focused on his one word command: “Follow.”

Strangely, as they raced further, she was gradually aware of herself becoming more calm and surefooted. The warmth began to return to her body as her mind toyed with imagining what would come next -- the inevitable mix of pains and pleasures, the yielding to his overpowering fuck, the taste of his body, the surrender to whatever desire he displayed…whatever the cost or sacrifice of herself. I will do all that pleases him, she told herself, in a curiously musical mental voice.

At that instant, she felt his hand, the palm flat against her chest, stopping her. She swayed where she stood.

“On your knees,” he said softly, his whisper at her right ear.

Slowly, she lowered herself to a kneel. Her hands and arms automatically behind her back, her eyes still closed. With a sharp intake of breath, she felt the warm skin of him pressed against her lips. She knew from the strong scent, from the taut smooth flesh with its slight crease and bulbousness that it was the tip of the head of his cock.

“Kiss it,” he murmured. “Only once.”

She licked and pursed her lips and leaned closer, but barely had she touched it with a kiss than it moved away again. She whimpered in protest and -- again felt his strong fingers clasp her neck pulling up upward. He released her and she heard his footsteps moving ahead.

“Follow,” he repeated. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Without his hand pulling her along, she swayed and faltered. Then she stretched her leg forward, hands out to grope along the close walls.

“Please,” she whispered in her own darkness. And she followed, moving forward, step by cautious step…listening as his voice faded in the distance. “Follow.”

Licking her lips she could taste the sweet trace of the precum left there, the effect of an unexpected reminder of kissing his cock caused a sudden tightening feeling in the pit of her stomach and an involuntary heavy gasp.

As the distraction and endorphin high from all that had happened already slowly ebbed, she became more aware of the outside sensations. She had always been deeply afraid of the dark, not just frightened but overwhelmingly terrified of it to the degree that if she had to choose between the dark and safety or light and danger, she would still choose the light.

Her skin could feel the slight currents of the air around her, the sensation of descending ever downward. She could still feel the wall under her finger tips as it was her only guide forward. She no longer could sense the mans presence and he had not spoken again. She had no way to know if he was watching her, or if he was even near her. The combination of the darkness, the unfamiliar, and the heavy atmosphere full of cold and damp drafts had triggered the start of the panic which always rose in her from darkness.

She had to fight not to open her eyes and disobey, She had the oddest random thought pop into her head that kept repeating over and over, “From the east to the west sped the angels of the Dawn, from sea to sea, from mountain-top to mountain-top, scattering light with both their hands.” Somehow fixating on the image it created calmed her.

She had no idea how long she walked forward, only that the wall under her hand had no break in it and it always was a slight downward descent. She was almost at the breaking point of controlling her fear when the man again put his hand to her chest and said “stop”

Panting slightly she felt her self swaying forward to him before she could stop in an attempt to find comfort, some way of dispelling the anxiety that had built up in her. Pulling back she stood straight and waited.

A hand cupped her cheek softly “I saw how you were struggling with fear, it was on your face. You still went forward despite it. I want you to tell me what you felt and why you forced it under control.” It was said so softly to her that she would have never heard it outside of the absolute silence around them. To be asked to speak about her deepest feelings and fears was not what she had expected; she took in a deep breath and now had to face the fear of showing her true inner thoughts and step further into her voluntary deconstruction of her former self.

She opens her mouth to speak, not even sure herself what words might tumble out from between her quivering lips. Before even a sound escapes, however, she feels his fingers tracing lightly over her mouth.

“No,” he tells her. “You forget, as I said before. Not in useless words. Only with this…” She feels his hand slide down from her lips. Silently, slowly, lingering to graze her skin, his fingertips trail down over her chin, dancing lightly down her neck -- one finger touching along her breast bone, then both hands hovering, not really making contact with her breasts. Concentrating, straining, eyes still closed, she can feel the air enveloping her nipples heat up and seem to spin. He does not even touch them, just vibrates the atmosphere around them. First the tips, then the whole nipple, and at last even her aureoles feel like they are being ignited -- like a lit circle of gasoline -- and her breasts ache, wanting to be grasped hard, squeezed, pinched, slapped -- touched. His hands move downward -- without seeing them, she knows, can feel the static electricity zapping between his fingertips and her flesh. She sucks in her belly as his hands lower to it, then again that heating of the air as he gestures just at her hip bones and the girdle of her pelvis bone. She dares a slight jutting, her ass cheeks clenching tightly -- touch me there, she wants to scream…right there. You KNOW the spot.

Instead, she feels his hands move lower still and her body sags at the knees in disappointment and frustration. Then she feels more of the strange sensations of not-quite touching. Upward from her knees to her thighs, slowly rising until her thighs quiver with the felt heat, she splays her legs outward, just a bit, enough she hopes to make the invitation impossible to ignore. But his caressing of the air between them continues until it thrums along her thighs. She feels as if his body heat is making waves and vibrations between his hands and her skin. As she feels her labia begin to ooze wetness, she shudders and gasps loudly as he cups and grabs her ass and grinds himself against her, clockwise, once, twice, three times. Her hips echo his movements and she thrusts herself against him harder to find…empty space once more. Again, the silent scream reverberates through her mind.

But there is not even an instant to be angry, to feel the desolation of absence of his body against hers. Her wrist is pulled forward and the mad rush through the darkness starts anew…or continues as he pulls her roughly along the corridors of his strange domain. After what seems like an hour or an eternity of running blindly, she stumbles and he pulls her up again. Then her wrist is pressed hard against a flat surface. She hears something click sharply around it. The same is done with her other wrist. Then her ankles are tugged this way and that and again the same sharp clicks…and the unmistakable sound of the clink of metal links as they ring against each other.

She feels him step away -- almost stricken with grief as the sudden absence of his heat and intensity so near her. There comes two other sounds to her ears. The scraping of something heavy being dragged and dropped…and the soft susurration of lapping water as it splashes upward.

“Open your eyes,” he tells her.

At first, blurry then clearing, she sees him standing three or four feet away and inhales deeply. His arms are outstretched and his palms seem to glow in the dizzying bright light after so much darkness before. As her vision clears she sees that it is not his palms after all. He holds in each hand a gleaming wrist cuff, sparkling from the room’s countless candles. She follows the links attached to the cuffs and sees them leading down to the floor and across the floor to a three foot wide gap in the flooring’s stone panels. Dark, indigo water slowly surges in the gap. She steals a look back into his eyes, which are intensely watching her. Then she looks back at the chain and sees it continues across the narrow watery chasm and to matching links attached to her ankles. The links then lead back to a thick wooden St. Andrews Cross to which she is chained, ankles and wrists.

She cannot help the gasp, but tries to bite it back inside herself. Her eyes sweep up over the metal cuffs holding her wrists above her head and then downward again, staring into the inky darkness of the water separating her from him.

“Now,” she hears him say softly. “Now you may use words to tell me what you feared and how you stopped that fear…back there.” he gestures behind him. She watches fascinated as he places one cuff around his own wrist and repeats the action with his other wrist -- linking her to him. He smiles at her and nods. “And with your body as it is now…embrace me without moving.”

A sudden flash of anger rises in her and just as quickly she forced it away. She feared that he would see any trace of walls in her but she also had to dispel the feeling he was mocking her somehow.

Her breathing was coming fast and shallow as she struggled to find the first word to answer the question and at the same time how to comply with his order to embrace him.

Three times she tried to say one word to start the others but failed to make more than a sigh come out of her mouth. To say what she feared and what made her weak felt like a betrayal of all her life had taught her. To give away true thoughts to someone gave them weapons to use. She shook her head to dispel the voice inside that was yelling at her to stay silent.

She had to focus her eyes at a point over his shoulder so she could start her words. If she tried to forget that he was looking at her and if she did not meet his gaze maybe he would not see so much further in her if her answer dropped her guard more than she could bear.

“I…I”she licked her lips and tried again to say it stronger and not stuttering. “I have a stupid childish fear of the dark. I always have. I can not bear to feel that there are things around the corners and in the shadows that will find me in the dark. I can not stand the way my mind runs once it starts and I am totally unable to completely control it. I found that the walk in the silence and with my eyes shut made me feel the same way as if the way was black and I had my eyes open. Once that starts in me it becomes all I can do not to run to anywhere so I can see what is coming. I know it’s irrational and it is so stupid but in a way that makes it worse because no one thinks an adult has a right to have that kind of fear. It’s a child’s thing that you outgrow. “

Shifting her gaze to his chest and stopping her focus just in front of him so he was not sharply defined in her sight she took another big breath and went on. “Sometimes I can get it held off if I focus on anything, a rhyme, song, image anything. Whatever random thing that comes to me, this time it was a quote from a book I read a long time ago.” She made eye contact with him, looked away again so momentarily afraid to be open or to see any mockery in his and then forced herself regain eye contact with him. She straightened herself as much as she could and raised her head slightly in almost a dare to him to mock. She kept the nerve to continue by telling her self that if he was in turn what she thought he was then he would show it by what he did with her pitiful vulnerabilities. That if he was worth what she hoped then to start to say anything and allow her self to feel anything was the only way to start.

“I am going to tell you a story that I never told anyone I was so ashamed to be ruled by fear that way. I am going to tell you because I want you to understand how phobic the fear is in me. Once when I was about 12 I had to choose between staying in a place that meant I was in physical danger from another or I could run and go to the next house over. It was dark, and a mile from the next home. I got about thirty steps into the night before I had to run back to the devil I knew. That’s how bad and embarrassingly stupid it is with me. “

“So I chose to go on until you said stop no matter how overwhelming that feeling became because it is not going to make it go away and conquer that fear, but I never want to allow myself to be so afraid that I can not go on… sounds silly I guess.”

She looked down and ignored the feeling that she had said too much. She closed her eyes again and just stilled her mind until she could feel the man’s presence in the room no matter where he might move. He had not said one word to her so far and in a way it made it easier to go on but at the same time she had no idea if he heard her answer either.

The last demand he made to her was impossible to complete in any logical manner. She began to focus only on feeling him, what the brief contact had aroused in her, and trying to feel herself embracing him, the touch of skin against her and the heat from him sinking into her. When she could feel it as if it was real she opened her eyes again and looked into his without letting her gaze drop.

The man locks his eyes into her and slowly nods his head. “I see,” he murmurs. “There are problems arising.”

He holds up his left hand and raises a finger, pointing it at her. “You think you are unique because you fear the darkness. You think I must empathize with your fear and feel sympathy for your condition.” He turns his back on her and paces away then turns and walks back. Again, his eyes bore into hers intently and he smiles.

“You do not listen and obey, but ‘interpret’ what I say. Did you think I was unaware that if I had not pulled you through the darkness, you would not have followed on your own? And…” Again, he makes a characteristic gesture of throwing away an invisible scrap.

“…and you believe a small confession of fear will move me. I have laid your heart and your mind bare to myself and you offer me…this? Are you a child or a woman? Everyone fears the dark, by whatever name they may call it. You remained here in hope…in hope of what? That I would beat the fear out of you and beat trusting back in? That my…sensual training would instruct you in romance and sentiment?”

Now, he begins to slowly pace back and forth. She can feel the intensity of him growing with every firm step, every thud of his boot heels on the stone of the floor. His voice is soft but hard-edged, not with anger or chaotic emotion, but simply strength of purpose making his words cut across the air between them.

Her eyes are wide as she follows his movements and she seems to shrink back into herself, forgetting those feelings of heat and desire from before. As if sensing the growing shell she assembles around herself, he spins sharply and stands looking at her, sweeping his eyes from her feet to her face.

“Stop that. Unless you wish to immediately go back…there.” His arm thrusts backward.
He sighs deeply and lowers his hand, pinning her gaze with his own.

“This is not a game. It is not to determine me a winner or you a loser. It is about two people finding and sharing ecstasy. Prolonged, ever creative, ever changing ecstasy…”

For the first time, she notices his eyes have grown softer as he has spoken. “But these,” he continues, “are merely words, not experiences. You stand there bound and chained. A pit of surging black water between us.” He lifts his arms and twists his wrists to make the links attached to the cuffs jingle musically.

“I have bound myself to you across that pit. Symbolically and in the flesh. Based upon what, do you feel?”

She thinks she should respond, but cannot comprehend what answer to make.

He snorts and squats down, slowly making the chains between them more taut until she feels the unmistakable tug on her ankles. “On trust,” he says quietly. “Is mine less valuable, more shallow, less afraid of that…” He points to the opening where the dark water gurgles and splashes. “…than yours?” She watches as he stands again and her jaw drops as he suddenly leaps across the pit and stands on the narrow ledge at the base of the St. Andrews Cross to which she is bound. She looks down to see his heels hanging over the open space, turgid fingers of water lapping at them. His hand reaches up to touch her cheek and he leans close to her ear.

“Now, will you obey utterly?”

*reads with wide open eyes and makes a mental note never to allow GreyJack to play with her mind if there is only the slightest chance she pissed him off before*

Ayesha, thanks for pointing out sub fears so clearly (I do not mean the one of the dark...). Your words are awesomely well put, and I thought I was the only one having them sometimes/having had them massively in the beginning of my BDSM life.

You two keep going, please :-) It would be so greatly appreciated.

please keep writing!!

Raising her face to his again she allows the emotions she feels to be felt and brought to her with no repression, honestly without fear of the consequence and forces her mind to be completely stripped of guile for her motives and her feelings. She was lost as to what he wanted her to show him

The only truth she could cling to that would not lie the way words have a way of doing even if the intent is not there, was the sensual and the body. As close as he stood to her he was not touching her body. The maddening sensation of feeling him but not physically contacting the skin was so strong for her she knew he must feel it in return. For the first time it occurred to her that if she was compelled and unable to turn away from the unfolding events then so must he be bound in return.

Slowly she pulled the slack in her chains, flowing her hands to follow his skin but not touch him, allowing herself to feel the presence without contact and believe that he felt it as well. The chains were loose enough to allow her to follow with her body where her hands went as well. Without letting herself to feel any reservation about whether she had the ability to entice and become a woman that was displaying unreserved worship of the male before her. She slowly slid down still not quite touching him until she knelt before him and then looked up to his face.

She quietly speaks through suddenly dry lips, “You ask everything of me with no sign of what is the way. I am willing to learn anything that is needed to. I only ask that you please understand how hard this is for me, that I am trying to become something more than I was and give all that I can do to another. I am not trying to intentionally be false or evasive with you, I am tired of hiding myself and yet I have no idea what I could find to give another because I never have.” She begins to slowly brush her lips across one of his thighs and then the other, feeling the material of his pants and smelling him through the cloth.

She whispers again. “I am so far from what I know but I am willing, I need to, I can not turn away from one chance to find truth with another.” Some of what she is saying is whispered into his skin where her lips trace the words against his thighs. She does not care if he hears all or anything of what she says only that she says it and that she feels his body on her mouth as she does. As she brushes her face on him she can feel his cock, hard and heated that tells her he is not immune to her touch. She loosens his pants and continues to speak into his skin not stopping until she has his cock out and waiting in front of her.

Breathing the next softly spoken words so closely to the head of his cock that it twitched with every puff of air from her mouth she continued “I can only show you that I feel this is more than just what I am seeking but what you are waiting for as well with how I touch you, “she licks the tip of his cock and presses her tongue into the slit before pulling back, his gasp tells her he is now hers to have even though she is still in chains.”

She opens her mouth and without touching her lips to his shaft slides her head forward so all he feels is the heat of her breath and mouth on his cock but no touch to follow. She pulls back again and starts to slowly drag her nails up and down his thighs and then lightly grabs his cock with her hands to pull it up. Laying her head on his groin with her nose beside his balls she takes a deliberate deep breath that she knows he will hear her do. Looking up at him again she sees him looking down at her with a waiting look on his face but he makes no move to grab her but instead waits to see what she is going to do next.

She again breaths against his balls watching them twitch and contract with her actions. “I want to do this so I can show you that I do understand.” She blows and licks up and down the underside of his balls as she speaks,” she starts to whisper other little things between taking the head of his cock in her mouth then running her tongue up and down his shaft trying to find every little spot that will make his cock twitch or him gasp, trying to wait until she can feel him starting to pump his hips because he has no more control before she will go all the way down his cock with her mouth and then suck all the way back up to the top. She knows that at this moment he is in her power and that she has the way to give him all she can without taking pleasure back but just knowing he feels her abandonment in the act with no holding back.

Stopping one more time she kneels back and once more raises her eyes to him without speaking and looks to see what he shows on his face.

YAY she is back! *looks happy*

Impassively, his eyes watch each separate and distinct movement of her lips, waiting patiently until she allows his cock to slide out between them then -- digging his fingers into her hair -- he pulls her sharply upward.

His mouth curls into a smile and he tilts his head slightly to look down into her eyes.

“I suspect you think that was…eloquent. Womanly. Wanton. Oh, yes. ‘Lost in the reverie of her sucking and licking, he was transfigured into her…dream date.’ Really now. This isn’t prom night, you little fool. This is reality beyond your shallow fantasies and petty desires. I. Will. Make. You. Need.”

With another small smile, he reaches to a geared lock on the St. Andrews cross, flicks a lever and chains abruptly yank her wrists and ankles back against its thick timbers. Suddenly, the cross spins slowly until she is held horizontally. He lifts up the length of chain that has bound them together.

“This…” He rattles the links, tossing the chain from hand to hand. “…connects us. This….” He leans close and brutally crushes his mouth against hers. She can feel the edges of his teeth press hard against her soft lips as he grinds his mouth on her. The tip of his tongue probes at the corners of her mouth, prying her lips apart, sliding deeper and lashing like a writhing beast against her own tongue. With a gasp, he pulls his head back and looks into her eyes. “…this binds us.” He shrugs his broad shoulders. “Now…”

She is shocked when the fingers of his left hand clamp over her nose, pinching the nostrils closed tightly in his grasp. She opens her mouth wide to suck in air and feels his mouth again close over hers. She struggles, twisting her head this way and that, but his mouth remains -- open and pressed hard as a vacuum seal -- on hers. She swallows deeply and feels herself begin to gag and choke, and then -- at last -- she feels his warmed breath pumping up from his lungs into her mouth and down her throat. Her throat feels like it is burning. With the greed for life, she sucks his breath down into herself and feels her lungs push it back out again. She waits for his returning breath and…it is not there.

So still he could be made of stone, he stands, holding his lungs closed, full of her last breath, tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. Her eyes grow wider. She sucks harder and harder, trying to urge air back into herself from his mouth. Nothing, not the faintest life-giving breath of air comes from him. She starts to panic, struggling in her restraints, but his mouth only presses harder and empty over her mouth. Silent screams rise up in her and her mind is filled with dizzying turmoil. From her own fears come the horrible thought -- this is how I die. My breath sucked out and withheld, my brain robbed of oxygen…I am dying!

Her tongue feels it first. Like the tiniest of breezes -- a thin, superheated stream of breath from him, coursing from his lungs into her mouth. Desperately, still half-panicked, she sucks the breath in…and feels it stop again. Maddening.

As suddenly, he pulls his mouth of hers and releases his grip on her nose. Sputtering, she takes in huge gulps of air and breathes in the damp, cool air of the room. Her throat and lungs feel raw, assailed, raped…and yet…grateful that she is still alive.

His eyes are an inch away from her, nose grazing her face as he tilts his head from side to side. At first, she can barely hear his whispered words.

“That…is need.”

She closes her eyes and feels his wet tongue traverse across her naked body…circling her nipples, stroking along her belly…giving a sharp, darted stab at her swollen clitoris. Then his face is in front of hers again and again the slight smile. “I will make all this…” he says, his fingertips seemingly caressing her entire body at once, “…need”

.... Daaamn.... -watches avidly for the next part-

Continue please! Pretty please? Extraordinarily pretty pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?

*seriously considers to kidnap Ayesha and tie her to a chair, only letting her go when at least 3 more chapters are finished....*

*smiles*

-pokes her head in a flops down to wait- you guys write well... i enjoy reading them

@ GreyJack: Do you happen to have any info about Ayesha´s whereabouts?

It would be such a pity to have this one end already. *sighs*

I am back now and I will do the next post shortly.... thank you for letting me know that people were enjoying the story line.

YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! *does the happy dance*

It´s great to see you back, Ayesha, I hope all is well with you.

Kind regards
Arria

Celebrates the return of Ayesha. So good to have you return to Venice. And the fans were getting VERY restless LOL

-raises hand and points to myself and Arria- restless fans in need of stories. -pulls up to comfy chairs to wait.. resisting the urge to chant.-