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”