The Stir of Echo

by Susan Gabriel

  Flynn was standing in the same spot as when she had left—his arms folded across his chest. The blue of his eyes darkened slightly and his pupils widened with a hungry intensity.

  "Come closer.” He pointed at a spot on the floor a few feet in front of him.

  Echo approached, stopping at the indicated location.

  "I am going to teach you the correct way to present yourself to me. I want you to move from one position to the next with fluidity. Your postures should be graceful."

  Postures? Just like Yoga. Echo thought. I can do this.

  Flynn's talk of postures and presenting herself to him reminded her that this was the real deal ... hard core dom/ sub stuff. She needed to do this right, prove to him that she was capable of following his lead. If he wanted her on her knees, she would drop so fast it would amaze him. If he wanted her on her back, she would lie at his feet, looking up at his cock and savor every minute of it.

  "Turn around, face away from me. Drop to your hands and knees, with your knees shoulder width apart."

  Echo knew this position. It was the same as Yoga's dog-tilt pose. She also knew how to appear stunningly sexy in this pose which was an exhibitionists dream come true. It was difficult to believe that she was actually doing this! But here she was, in this gorgeous hotel suite, living out her fantasy ... and she wanted to make everything go just right.

  Slowly, she glided the toes of her right foot backward along the carpet until her knee found the floor. She straightened her foot until the top of it rested on the smooth fibers of the carpet. She repeated the movements with her left leg, positioning her knees so that they were just below her hips. Coming into the pose, a strange sense of reverence descended on her. Until now she hadn't realized that being a submissive wasn't merely a role to take on and off; it was more a feeling, a state of being. And despite the outward appearance, it was a place of power. Although she couldn't see them, she had the distinct feeling that Flynn's eyes were boring into her, his arousal blossoming as she performed the ritual. This was a new kind of foreplay, both mental and physical, and more deeply intimate than groping hands and hungry mouths.

  One at a time, Echo lowered her hands lightly to the floor, her fingers spread. She made certain that her shoulders didn't sag into the position, but instead were held strongly open, supported by the sinewy muscles of her arms. Deeply dipping her spine, she tilted her pelvis towards the ceiling, providing Flynn a stunning view of her pouting pussy. Echo looked over her shoulder at Flynn for approval, certain that he would be salivating at the sight of her upturned ass.

  "Don't look at me,” he admonished. “Keep your head down. Look only at my shoes."

  Echo cringed at his reprimand and lowered her gaze to the floor. It was her first mistake and it stung. Just when she had been feeling puffed up with pride, certain he was standing with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, he had reminded her that he could, and would resist her if he chose to. She would have to work a little harder, try not to do anything to offend and allow his arousal to build as his dominance over her increased.

  Flynn circled her body, dragging his hand lightly along the curve of her buttocks and back, inspecting her like a prize piece of horse-flesh. Echo's confidence waned. She became nervous about her flaws, the small scar on her thigh, the extra bit of weight on her hips, she wondered if the bottoms of her feet were dirty.

  Standing in front of her, he placed his palm on her head, as if in blessing. “You please me very much."

  Echo exhaled a sigh of relief.

  She followed his feet with her eyes as he walked menacingly once more around her kneeling form. His pacing focused her senses. Her ears tuned acutely to the measured beat of his footsteps.

  Echo's arms began to burn. How long was he going to keep her in this pose?

  Flynn came to rest behind her, stepping between her legs and leaning his knees against her buttocks. “Who is your Master?” he asked in a sotto, measured tone.

  The question took Echo by surprise. He was testing her, seeing if she knew the correct answer. She wasn't certain how she was supposed to answer, but she took a stab at it.

  "You are."

  Flynn rapidly fired another query. “To whom do you belong?"

  Oh good, she must have gotten it right.

  "To you, I belong to you."

  "Very good, you are doing very well.” His voice was little more than a whisper now. Echo had to tune her ears keenly to hear his words. Flynn's hand passed so lightly over her buttocks that is caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. An odd mixture of nervous agitation and forbidden pleasure put her body on a state of alert. The slightest touch was multiplied, every sensation heightened.

  The nervousness had melted away. The pacing, his emotionless, methodical manner of speaking, the carefully orchestrated tactile sensations, all served to still her mind and focus her attention. She sensed, no she could actually feel Flynn's energy emanating through his clothing and melding with hers.

  "To whom do you give your power?"

  "I give my power to you,” Echo whispered automatically.

  "Louder. I can't hear you ... don't mumble. If you give your power to me, then declare it.” Flynn pinched her upturned ass.

  Echo clenched her muscles against the sharp pain. A quickening stirred inside of her. She became acutely aware of gravity tugging at her breasts as they swayed below her. Flynn's knees pressed into her ass, forcing her juices to ooze from her nether lips. She burned for him to own her, to possess her, to release her from this wicked torment.

  "I give my power to you,” she panted.

  "Well done. You may release the pose and kneel in an upright position. Do not sit back on your heels."

  Echo raised her body, but not her eyes, which she mindfully maintained in a downcast position. She wanted to rub the burn from her arm muscles, but instead clasped her hands dutifully behind her back. When her knees came together, creamy nectar dampened her thighs.

  Flynn stood in front of her. Although Echo's eyes were focused downward, her peripheral vision saw his engorged prick, bulging beneath the fabric of his pants. She unconsciously licked her lips.

  Flynn pressed his hand to the back of her head and urged her face into his crotch. His erection pulsed against her flushed cheek.

  She longed to free his cock and know the taste of him. She clasped her hands more tightly behind her back, digging her nails into her flesh to control them. She buried her nose in Flynn's crotch, inhaling the sharp scent of his testicles. The aroma triggered her lust and like Pavlov's dog, her pussy salivated at the smell.

  After a moment, Flynn released her head. Cupping her chin in his hand, he lifted her face to look at him.

  "Exceptional,” he praised. “You've earned a small reward."

  Flynn had worked her into a state of near delirium. Echo was barely cognizant of her surroundings. The only sound she was attuned to was the sound of his voice.

  Pointing to a chair he commanded, “Crawl to that chair, sit in it and present your wet pussy to me.

  Echo crawled across the floor like a cat, her hips swaying sensually with each stretching movement. The carpet stung her knees as she dragged towards the chair.

  Obediently, she stood erect, and positioned herself upon the ivory upholstered chair, languorously draping her legs over the gilded arms. She had never displayed herself so unashamedly to anyone but her gynecologist. She had never considered her twat as her most attractive asset. Viewings this intimate usually involved very low lighting, but the way Flynn looked at her, as if it was the most sublime vision he had ever seen, emboldened her. She wanted him to see the results of his efforts. How his words and touch had drenched her with arousal. She wanted him to see her swollen labia pleading for his caress. She wanted to tease him with the promise of her warm, tight pussy beckoning to be invaded by his cock. So brazenly, she exhibited her most private parts, daring him to resist.

  Flynn unfastened his cufflinks. They made a tinkling sound as he
dropped them into a small porcelain dish. He pulled his shirttails from his pants, casually unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. His chest glistened with perspiration. Echo was impressed with the control he exerted. She was practically crawling out of her skin and she marveled that he could appear so relaxed.

  Echo's gaze drifted toward his magnificent member straining at his zipper. Flynn unbuckled his belt and removed it from the loops in a single swift motion. His growing erection must have caused some discomfort because he also released the top button of his trousers. The bulbous head of his straining cock protruded from his waistband. A single drop of pre-ejaculate shimmered like mercury on its tip.

  Flynn walked round the rear of the chair, snapping his belt so it made a cracking sound. Echo twitched with each earsplitting clap of the leather. He lifted her arms, stretching them behind the chair. A strap tightened around her left wrist, another around her right. Her palms met in a single sharp movement, stretching her breastbone. The belt buckle jangled as Flynn cinched the restraint. His finger slipped between her skin and the leather that bound her, checking that it wasn't too tight.

  She was vulnerable, helpless, and approaching a fever-pitch of desire. She did her best to maintain a cool exterior as she focused on her breasts, watching them rise and fall with her breathing. Her nipples puckered in the cool air.

  The heated skin of Flynn's palms crawled down her neck, and over her shoulders. Her eyes followed his finely sculpted hands as he trailed them over her chest, and cupped her breasts. At his longed-for touch, she arched her back, pressing her heavy tits into his hands. She studied his hands as they kneaded her breasts. They were beautiful; long, sculpted fingers, finely boned, blue veins prominent beneath his tawny skin.

  His thumbs stroked her tingling nipples and they sprouted into full erection. She writhed beneath his touch, savoring his skin against her flesh.

  "Mmmm ... your Master loves your big, round tits. Perhaps one day I'll fuck them. Would you like that?"

  Hell, yes she would like that. Echo imagined slurping the head of his cock in and out of her mouth while he fucked her tits.

  "Yes,” she moaned, “I'd like that very much."

  "Someday, but not tonight—tonight is for you."

  Flynn's right hand crawled teasingly down her abdomen towards her pussy. Echo's stomach quivered and jumped as his hand passed.

  Flynn's breath was in her ear. His whiskers stabbed at the tender skin on her cheek. Warm lips on her neck, kisses soft as eiderdown raining onto her flesh like rose-petals, she felt all of these things.

  "Would you like to know what your reward is?” he whispered.

  Echo watched his index finger circling her clitoris. It didn't matter what her reward was as long as he kept touching her.

  "Oh, yes, please,” she pleaded.

  "Your reward is an Aussie Kiss."

  It was a new term for Echo. “What's an Aussie Kiss, Master?"

  "It's like a French Kiss,” Flynn penetrated her pussy with his finger, “but down under!"

  Echo's head swooned to the back of the chair. With all of her might, she gripped his probing finger with her muscles, squeezing it inside of her and raising her hips from the chair.

  "Thank you, Master,” she exclaimed.

  "You may make as much noise as you wish; in fact, I insist that you tell me how much you like it when I eat your horny little honeypot."

  Flynn came to the front of the chair and positioned himself on his knees between Echo's outstretched legs. He shrugged his eyebrows suggestively, displaying a cock-eyed grin. He greedily licked his lips.

  Echo closed her eyes in ecstatic anticipation. She knew that she wouldn't last long. The moment that she felt the warm wetness of Flynn's tongue against her clit, her abdomen tensed, her legs involuntarily twitched and her climax burst forth, nearly tipping the chair onto its back legs. Even while in the throes of orgasm, she heard her voice begging for more.

  "Don't stop, please, don't stop,” she pleaded.

  "Do you like it when I lick your cunt?” Flynn teased.

  "I love it when you lick my cunt. Please do it again.” Echo moved her legs to wrap them around Flynn's neck and push his face into her dripping bush, but Flynn forced them back on top of the chair arms.

  "Keep your legs in place. I enjoy looking at your slippery snatch.” Flynn's fingers traced the pink folds. “So luscious, so tempting, so ripe."

  Flynn flattened his tongue and lapped her from back to front. Echo recoiled slightly when his tongue reached her still throbbing clit.

  She hadn't imagined it could be this good. At first she thought that having her hands restrained would just be a fun game, but now she realized that not being able to move her body allowed her to focus more intently on Flynn's touch.

  When he sucked her clit into his mouth, she cried out in ecstasy. “Oh, God, that's it. Tell me I'm a good girl, Master ... say it, please."

  "You're a good girl,” Flynn answered. He pushed two fingers inside of her, stroking her G-spot. “With a bad, hungry little pussycat."

  Echo's head thrashed to and fro. The pressure Flynn applied to her G-spot caused her to bear down on his fingers, crushing and entrapping them inside of her.

  Flynn's tongue flicked over her protruding jewel, his fingers strumming the spot just behind her pubic bone. Echo became dizzy. She felt an unusual sensation, almost as if she was going to urinate, and then it came—an incredible feeling of release roaring from her loins, followed by an ejaculation of juices erupting from deep within her that overwhelmed the whole of her being. Echo heard someone wailing in the distance, a tortured cry of unintelligible sounds. Then she realized the sound was coming from her own throat. She slumped into the cushions, euphoric and spent. The words rushed out from her lips, as unstoppable and unbridled as her climax.

  "I love you, Flynn” she panted. “I love you. God help me, I do."

  Echo's Indiscretion

  "Wakey, Wakey, eggs and bakey!” Flynn clapped his hands together loudly.

  Echo stirred beneath the down coverlet, sinking her head more deeply into the pillow.

  "No,” she mumbled, “...too early."

  Damn, this woman is exasperating! Flynn got down on one knee and whispered into her ear. “If you don't get up this very instant, I am going to pick you up by your short hairs and make you sit in the corner while I eat breakfast."

  Flynn pulled the covers from her body. Echo rolled onto her back, blinking at him. The sight of her buxom figure and tousled rusty hair caused his prick to twitch. He was about as pent up with sexual frustration as any man could be. He wanted to pounce on top her, force his way between her legs, bury his cock to the hilt inside of her eager pussy and fuck her until she begged him to stop. Unfortunately he had stupidly forgotten to pack ... what were those torturous things ... oh, yes, condoms. They were a definite drawback of the mortal realm. Not that he had to worry about any of the dreadful diseases that plagued mankind, but one taste, one drop of his semen in her body would cause a reaction that would raise questions he wasn't prepared to answer just yet.

  He turned from her to regain his composure. He wasn't going to be able to hold out for much longer. He was going to have to find a way to tell her about himself, and soon. He couldn't think straight when she was around. She was too great a distraction. He needed to get her safely back home and then he could contemplate his next move. He was in a race against time and he had to stay one step ahead of the ticking clock, and one step ahead of her. If he could keep her on the defensive, keep her guessing, he might be able to hold her questions at bay until he figured out where to go from here.

  "Just stop being difficult and get out of bed. Room service has brought us a delicious breakfast and I want you to sit down and enjoy it with me. I don't think that is too much to ask."

  Echo rolled her eyes, slid out of bed, shuffled her naked body over to the table and seated herself with a plop.

  Flynn dropped his head, trying not to show his irritation. What else c
ould he do? She awakened in this spectacular room, to a perfectly lovely breakfast and she obviously felt as if it were some terrible torture he was subjecting her to. He wondered if she was always this grumpy when she woke up.

  "You are obviously not a morning person,” Flynn observed. He sat opposite her, placing his napkin tidily in his lap. Echo only pursed her lips in response and stared dully at her place setting.

  Maybe she didn't feel well. “Have a headache?” he probed.

  Echo pressed a finger to her eyebrow and curtly replied, “No."

  "Well, I can't read your mind, darlin'. How about some coffee ... a little caffeine kick to get the blood pumping.” Flynn lifted the silver pot and poured the steaming coffee into her cup, praying that a few sips would change her mood.

  With the tip of her finger, Echo pushed the cup and saucer to the middle of the table, plopped her chin into the palm of hand and stared off into space.

  A stinging dart of pain began to nag at Flynn's temple.

  He ran over the details of everything that had happened the night before and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what was bothering her. Her brows were knitted and the corners of her mouth turned down. She looked like a teenager who had just been told they couldn't borrow the car.

  "Stop pouting. I mean it, Echo. Get that pout off of your face. It's very unpleasant.” Echo mocked him, shooting a simpering smile in his direction. He was out of guesses and out of patience.

  "Alright,” he said, slamming his fork on the table, the dishes rattling in the wake. “What beetle is crawling around your tall grass today? What could have possibly happened between last night and this morning that has put you in such a foul mood? Come on, out with it."

  "Nothing,” she deferred.

  Nothing, my ass. What a load of blarney. Her face was sullen, she refused to eat or drink. He had hoped to be greeted with a big kiss and the same gush of girlish excitement he had seen in her last night when he'd brought her to this place. Instead she sat across from him with her lips pressed so tightly together that the blood had drained from them.