Happy Ever After

by Selena Kitt

  Smoothing up along my arms was the sweetest lotion that twinkled—like when the moon hit the water running in a stream outside my window. Vaseline coated my naked flesh like a bed of dancing reptilian scales that formed rainbow spots in the moonlight. My pussy shined with it and my excited juices. He liked me to be basted in shimmering liquid like a candy covered coating—good enough to eat.

  The red silk teddy I picked skimmed my stomach, making me catch my breath from the cherry red reflection in the mirror. It's cloth licked around the tips of my thighs as it fell, creating a tickle that thrummed up my body. Heat along my sex.

  He had picked out everything in the antique chest hidden under the mattress. This is where I had chosen my current selection.

  Apple. Cinnamon. Cherry. I looked like food for the tasting. A hood traced the brown froth of hair secured in place by a tortoise shell clip which ripped into my scalp. It created a lovely frame for my small features and excited, upturned mouth. It was time to go. Not time to be late.

  * * * *

  As I run through the mass of trees lit by darkness and my hunger, brambles thwack at my tender calves encased in slick red thigh-highs. The pungent sweetness of my labia without panties crushes the rest of my senses as I run. Stones puddle under the red leather boots that stop just above my ankles. They twist them to awkward angles.

  At night is when the whiskers create black shadow crevices in his jaw line. Where beautiful muscles twitch when he comes inside me. The dark hairs along his body probe my hips and belly, building the pressure that forces my pussy to bursting with liquid need.

  I am shifted out of my thoughts because the clearing is ahead, fire burning, life-altering. My safe haven.

  A tug along my scalp lifts me onto my toes, turning like a mechanical ballerina in a wind-up box. He is not subtle in letting me know he is here.

  “You are a sight to behold. You ache with desire and freshness. I will beat that out of you tonight. Claim you raw and redder than the hood that you use to hide. I know what you really want little Red, and I will spare nothing in giving it to you.”

  My tongue swells, mouth clogging with dryness while his brown flecked pupils rake the silk along my breasts and lower still. His eyes are mental claws tearing me apart. A vulnerable part of me breaks into fragments when he gives me that look. It is special, just for me. His lips tremble with pleasure, teeth aching in a torpid smile, a baritone chuckle hitting me in the face.

  His lean, muscled body is well lit against the fire he has made previously within the clearing. He likes to watch me writhe against a backdrop of chaos and heat. As his nails grip into my scalp I know these little jaunts into the woods are getting more dangerous.

  A fine tremor along my bones makes my teeth chatter despite the warmth, licking up my sides from the rising flames. The tautness in my scalp makes a stinging moan escape my lips and I bite them quickly to suppress it. Any little noise of my submission will break his resolve for my flesh completely. Inside he is a powerful wolf on the prowl. Outside he is my calm, collected everything.

  I am the prey.

  The heat from the flames pricks at my legs as he moves me ever closer to its sparks. Each silken tie from my hood drops away as he plucks the fabric with his course fingers. I feel it give across my shoulders and swallow a gasp. That particular gift has been with me for a long time. It is a trademark—an everyday collar from a man who doesn't believe in them.

  It slides down my back into the awaiting fire. I hear the hiss as it is eaten by the molten twists of red and I know this is going to be different from any other night. My nerves begin screaming to bolt. His eyes are locked away from mine on the crisp burning of our favorite garment. I can see the perverse glee dancing in the reflections of his pupils. My toes pinch from a lack of circulation. It is hard to breathe.

  At best, my breaths are ragged. Taken from me by the realization that we had no established vocabulary for safe words. Yet it excites me. A fresh start. A chance to be free. We can explore everything now. I grow wet and palpable at the thought.

  This could be my big finish, I think, as his jaws nibble at my neck. The tenderest piece of meat. A pinch from his canines make my nipples stand at attention within my now exposed, silken red night shift.

  “Little Red, you might have come to me for the last time. What will grandma do when you're gone? Surely you should scurry back home?”

  His hot breath in my face reeks of alcohol as his grip loosens on my hair. He is swift to catch my wrists at my lower back as I stumble across the ground which is slippery with fallen leaves. I watch as my heels pin the leaves to the ground.

  My arms are locked into the back panel of my dress. A discomfort presses from my shoulders wrenched at awkward angles. A furious blush lights up my cheekbones. Tears of joy pulse down my face. His voice has the sweetest commandments. My grandmother worries about him finding me.

  I worry one day I won't be able to find him.

  “You trust me, don't you?”

  I look into his eyes, which hold compassion, love, and a harshness I know from years under his hands.

  A simple nod in his direction. A declaration to my affection, which is seeping down my thighs. My eager pussy betrays me as his fingers skim my pulsing clitoris underneath the dress. He dips into my slick slit. He is abrupt and skillful in his torment. I try not to smile. I know I give him all the power as his body presses against mine.

  I squirm against his insistent stare as he pumps into me with his thick digits. I widen for him. Everything inside me expands to bursting. The pressure feels so good. Smooth chaos of my pulse in my wrists against the back of the dress. The fabric may burst against my trembling hands. I am trembling with joy. My legs may buckle.

  “I know, you like it when I take it from you, careless of whether you want it or not. I know everything you love, I know everything you are. No one can come close to me.” He whispers in my ear close to my hair. I know his secrets are true.

  I try to be good against his insistent drumming across my g-spot. Everything inside me is building to tear me apart with pleasure. Heat from the fire beats up my back. His thick hand slips from me before a flutter of orgasm can break me into pieces.

  The tiny straps of my little red dress fall to the forest floor. His jaws snap in my face as the fabric falls to my feet. I am wearing nothing now. I watch as he sucks the juices, my own, from his fingers. The ones he has used to bring me bliss. He offers a gentlemanly hand around my waist and another around my wrists so I can step over the offending material.

  “We will be careful. Or will we?” He mocks in sing-song, a hand pressing against my throat.

  Then we are reeling in a dance I know very well. The rope hisses out of his course pant loops and across my exposed belly from one hand to the next. Then I'm leaning back into his arms. He holds me with one arm in a graceful dip as my demise slicks around my midsection to a chorus of sparking flames at his back.

  As I reel to my feet from the push up from his arms, the rope lashes against my back. Rough marks of a makeshift whip. Rope burn seeps up my sore back muscles to sit heavy in my pussy. Soft laughter plays in the back of my hair. Kisses at my neck, floating down my abused spine, a lick along the crease of my ass that makes me gasp from the cooling line embedded in so much fever. Then a clench of knots at my ankles that squeeze until I can't breathe. As if a matching pair was strapped over my lungs constricting my heart.

  He binds my ankles from running.

  There is no physical or mental escape.

  He picks me up effortlessly against his broad chest. I have one second to nestle there in peace within the familiar outcroppings of his chest hair. The smell of him keeps me still within the cage of his corded biceps. His scent speaks to me, within the recesses of my brain that tell me to twitch and bolt.

  I am trussed for the flames. A buzzing in my head builds over everything else as he shifts me more firmly against him. He throws me lightly against him, hair obscuring the vision of my surroundings. I
am over his back where I can see nothing but a firm, tight ass. My nipples brush electric against his shoulders as his nails dig into the flesh at my thighs. The sharp indents bring back my breath, smoke filling my lungs as he tosses me across the plastic folding table facing the fire.

  This is new.

  “Open your mouth.”

  An order where there is no room for question regardless of what he is holding.

  I accept the rubber ball gag on my tongue, holding me still like a lamb whose throat is about to be torn out. The sound of clanging surgical steel over to my left keeps my mind off my pounding pussy. My body is thrumming with life, knowing I could be devoured at any moment by the whims of the man I trust.

  I see the spreader bars glow in the fire. He walks around me, drawing them over my body. I sigh as the rope releases from my ankles, leaving a trail of sting along my veins which makes me moan against the gag. The slip of cold, relaxing handcuffs in place of the rope, only serves to amp up my beating heart. He does the same to my arms, spreading me in an open, vulnerable arch of body parts.

  Warm, rough hands caress down my needled back, tracing the outlines of his handiwork. It makes me blush more than the rough, splayed angles of my legs. He tickles, smoothes and massages down my back, working my meat until I am tender and practically purring against the cold night air, which has nothing to do with my heavy, erect nipples. Sweat pools across my chest as the first slap lands across the globe of my ass cheek.

  He's just warming up. A few swats in my direction laid across me to show what he's capable of doing. They don't make me scream, but I cannot jerk away from their branding bruises. I wouldn't want to as the delicious, musky sweat smell of his palm coats my skin. I can smell his exertion and my pleasure as my excitable pussy fills with blood.

  I am trussed to the spit of his burning fingertips as they catch me on my thighs, ass, lower back. My lover, my wolf, runs the gauntlet of possible places to hit me as the sting bites up my back—warm needling that will hurt for days whenever I walk, sit, stand still.

  This knowledgeable tidbit removes all the desperate thoughts inside my head. Though we will not always be here, we will not always meet like this when the moon has grown pregnant with our secret, I will always bear his marks. This time will not be erased from my body.

  I bear cane imprints from months ago, biting bitterly into my back. The way each stroke hit my flesh was decadent dessert on top of the intricate rope art he'd done all over my body. He knows how to bring me out, make me beg. He knows how to do things for me I cannot do for myself.

  When he is gone, my skin will read like a map to our pleasure spots—living artwork to our relationship—the ups and downs in purple, black, red, and white traceable scar tissue.

  I will be beautiful without my hood.

  He notices my mind has gone somewhere else. The eager blows have stopped and I am deeply, immediately repentant for my selfishness. I would apologize, bow, but for the angle I am spread and the silencer hindering my mouth. There is no way to make up my indiscretion. The wickedness of my actions makes my pussy walls tight, clenching in a shaky rhythm.

  I turn to try and read his face, eyes, the stance of his legs, But he's moved so I cannot see him. My head will not reach a comfortable angle so I bend it down low in shame.

  A growl trickles from his lips.

  He rips up my head, his fingers tearing into my scalp. The insistence rips a moan from my throat which comes out as whimper against the ball gag. I swallow down the urge to beg for more knowing that he would ignore me. I have earned nothing but strictness from him. I deserve penance. My spine is bowed in discomfort which makes my arms and legs tingle. He's forced my nipples to graze against the molded plastic of the table as he shakes my head to answer his questions.

  “Do you like it when I punish you? Is that why you're so naughty?”

  “Can you not obey for one second without being selfish, you little pain slut?”

  They are not really questions he needs to speak or answers he doesn't know yet. But he asks them anyway, furthering the heat that's building between my legs.

  Nothing is touching me now and the lower half of my body is singing with cozy warmth and tingle. I want the endorphin's sailing through my limbs to wait their turn as he flogs me with his fingers again. I'm not ready for release as he tears away the ball gag barring my mouth. I know I'm in for something good.

  A small smile quirks my lips only for a second. He must know how much the lack of contact is killing me, the tension in my neck from his rough grip in my hair making me lose patience. He always said I was quick to lose my submissive state. It's why he trained me with extra love and care.

  I can see that emotion behind his amber eyes along with the crackling heat that always makes me want to scurry away. An unpredictability that makes me shrink back in horror. He is stern with his hand threaded through my hair arching my neck, his palm forcing my jaw open. I am stiff and hard to work with but I lose all apprehension as he dips into his pants and pulls out his dick. My mouth opens wide from the joy of just seeing it glisten at the tip against the flaring backdrop of the night.

  He gives me a moment to choke on my luck before I am choking him down my throat. The warmth of the fire has made him burn in the back of my throat. I am opening for him, blinking back the need to close my mouth and move my tongue around his length. I will not control this, he says, with a thrust of his hips which makes me gag helplessly, holding him with my mouth, eyes smiling with relief.

  “Are you ready?” A ferocious smile lights up his face barely touching his eyes. He knows I know he isn't expecting an answer. There is only one answer to give: submission.

  He pushes slowly into me, like he’s testing a virgin. Each inch he gives me is wet silk against my tongue. I can hear his grunts as he takes me gently, going against his beastly nature. I am both grateful and apprehensive, the sweet pungent smell of him engulfing my nose as he moves as far as he can go in my mouth. I run my tongue along the underside of his shaft. He moans above me, which sings electric through my raw nerve endings. I can still feel my fluttering pulse against the red of my marked ass.

  His fingers tighten and give in my hair with an unpredictability that sends shivers and spikes down my flesh. Goosebumps prickle my tied limbs while my breasts bounce with the sudden force of his thrusts. I can feel him down to my toes as the head of his cock plays along my sensitive bruised lips. The softness speaks to my hungry sex as I rattle against my bondage. The ache in my thighs feeds my desire to feel him in other places than my mouth. I close my eyes against the need, concentrating on the slip of his skin against the back of my throat, swallowing him in a tight rhythm.

  “There you go, just like that, you love it like that. Such a gorgeous girl as you taking me in your mouth, so sweet and gentle for my pleasure.” He sings my praises and it makes my heart warm with pride.

  My clanging demonstration has made him rougher as he drops my head and keeps pounding into my mouth. I accept him as best I can without the aid of an angle for my head while my thoughts spin into my happy submissive space.

  He is a primordial beast opening me up for sacrifice. The moans and groans of pleasure above me make my thighs and belly tight with need. The need for release pulses across my clitoris as I whimper against his cock. He slips out quickly, holding himself to his stomach as he offers me his balls to lick and suck. The slick, tender feeling of him on my tongue brings me close to the edge—I know he can tell, as he softly pets my head. He is gentle and loving, taking my mouth in his hands as he massages away the kinks from face-fucking me. I can't help but grin under his ministrations even as his cock juts out in my line of sight, taunting my needy vagina.

  He moves the ball gag back into place. For a second I am buzzing with unused energy. I have no more sight of him. Sounds of crunching sticks and leaves let me know he is moving behind me as my pulse pounds for punishment.

  I am as open as I've ever been, knowing our time together is coming to a close.
I cannot keep hiding. Burning wood smoke puffs into my face as the wind changes direction. It chokes me even as I breathe it in with pleasure, one of my favorite smells. He always has a fire waiting to warm my body after my long trek through the woods to meet him.

  My wrists work against my bonds, the smooth metal pricking my flesh with its pinch. I feel him hovering at my back. A fingertip traces the crack of my ass, swirling deliciously against my pert opening. A crack of his fingers against my slippery slit sends an electric current through my body and, with several more quick taps to my severally neglected pussy, I am writhing with lust against my bonds. Only several more short swats and I am seconds away from an orgasm. My head silently pleads for more as my body shifts awkwardly into positions I cannot reach or maintain for very long restrained.

  He is unwavering in his determination to lead me by the hand to an orgasm which he'll snatch quickly away before it can be felt. As he pats my overly aroused pussy he sticks a finger just inside my sex tracing the inner lining of my opening. It tickles, spreading an agitating warmth up my chest which makes my ass clench. My muscles are still worn out from the spanking so each stroke of his finger brings a new firm spot of tension to my ass cheeks.

  As quickly as he has entered me, he is gone, leaving a abrupt ache.

  “You're being very good, little Red, the color of your ass almost mimics your hood burning in the flames. I won't make this any easier for you though—you haven't earned it.” His voice was rasping, low.

  He resumes his handiwork along my ass this time with a flare that brings lengthy screams strangled against the ball gag. A raw, smarting spread of lines up my torso makes me flinch. The throbbing marks renew themselves along every available source of skin, making me arch my back in desperation. The sensation relaxes the tension in my legs as he thwacks into them. My calves unwind like a screwed up massage. One need is fed as my other sexual yearnings draw up into the back of my mind with his steady hand.