Page 119 of Gideon
“Linger for me, vixen. Right there on the edge,” I purred as she trembled before me. I moved the head of the wand so that it bumped against her clit rhythmically, pulling away and reconnecting over and over, oh so slowly. The blissful torment invaded her body in waves and I watched on, mesmerized by every movement, every whimper.
“Almost. Stay just there for me, my sweet siren. Feel the flames lick against your body,” I coaxed her higher yet. My cock ached, dripping my pre-cum onto the floor as I yearned to be buried inside of her.
“Please,” she barely breathed out, so quietly I could barely hear her over the toy’s buzzing.
“No. Not yet,” I commanded her gently. She whimpered, her body writhing as her eyes threatened to close in concentration. Yet, just as quickly as they fluttered closed, they popped back open, fixating on my own gaze in a beautiful display of submission.
“Good girl,” I praised her. My eyes narrowed at her, tightening my fist in her hair until she gasped. “Now fucking burn for me.” I flicked the button on the wand with my thumb three times, pushing it to the highest level. Her entire body bowed against her rope bindings as her orgasm crested, exploding through her body like fireworks.
She was a vision, screaming and sobbing as she broke for me.
I was unrelenting, unyielding, demanding that she give and give and give even more still. Her body pulled taut against the onslaught of pleasure. She had gone completely silent, her eyes wide open and her jaw hanging open in a silent scream as she crested and crashed with her climax.
Another orgasm racked her body as she convulsed, wave after wave hitting her. I brought her down slowly, lowering the buzzing of the wand level by level until it was finally turned off. She hung there, lax against the ropes as she sobbed. My hand loosened in her hair, my other hand dropping the wand and my fingers pulling out of her tight heat.
I stroked her hair gently as I shushed her cries, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
“I’ve got you, vixen. I’m right here,” I gently soothed her. I pressed kisses over her face, finally reaching her lips. She arched her head up, not wanting to break contact as her sobs continued.
“I’m just going to take you down, love. I’m right here,” I reassured her. I made quick work of the ropes, working in reverse as I lowered her gently to the floor. I gathered her into my arms, turning so that her back was pressed to my chest, my arms wrapped around her as I unwound each rope, untied each knot.
I gathered her into my arms as the last of the ropes fell from her body. She turned around, wrapping her long legs around my waist, her arms holding tightly around my neck as she held onto me like a lifeline. Her tears wet my neck, her cries echoing around the room. Carefully, I stood, keeping her there in my arms as she clung to me. I laid her gently on the bed, but still she would not let go. I lay beside her, gathered in my arms.
“You are magnificent. So fucking precious to me,” I murmured between our shared kisses. Her sobs quieted slowly. My hands moved over her body, soothing her as I checked each line of rope kisses, making sure she was safe and there had been no damage.
My touches did more than check her safety as she gently began to rock her hips against me. My cock, still aching and unfulfilled, made its desires known, pressing against her core.
“I need you, Sir,” she whispered against my lips passionately.
“You have me. For as long as you want me, you have me,” I vowed to her, turning her until her back pressed against the bed. I hovered over her, our lips never parting as our hips rocked together, my cock sliding against and then finally into her slick folds.
We moved together, finding our rhythm, our bodies dancing. It was a continuation of the symphony we had begun with ropes, finished with the coming together of two bodies, two hearts, two souls until we were bound, not by ropes, but by love.
As we crested that final climax together, her nails dug into my back, and my own hands gripped her tightly to me, afraid to lose contact for even a moment as our bodies shuddered together, gasping and trembling.
Long moments passed as we lay there, sated both in body and spirit. I felt her smile against my lips as we shared slow, tender kisses. No words were spoken. Finally, I pulled away only long enough to take her into my arms, carrying her down the hall towards the bathroom.
The tub filled slowly as she clung to me. It was awkward, running a bath with her wrapped around me, almost like a child. As soon as the water had filled, I set her on the floor, her legs wobbly and unsteady as I helped her into the steaming water. I stepped in behind her, sitting in the hot water and letting it soothe my aching muscles. I pulled her back into me, her back pressed to my chest, her head laying against my shoulder.
I bathed her with all the gentleness I possessed, holding her close as occasional tears still fell down her beautiful face. It was a precious and fragile thing to watch a submissive break in the way she had tonight. She was breaking down barriers born out of decades of trauma, letting them fall from her in great heaping sobs of torment and release, the relief flooding her body in a way that was both beautiful and painful. I ached for her in a way that had nothing to do with sex. It was love. Pure, unwavering love that filled every part of me. I felt full, heavy, and yet light as a feather with the knowledge that I held the most precious thing in this world here in my arms.
Her body relaxed against mine as the hot water of the bath lapped gently at our skin. It was utter perfection. Her body was covered in rope kisses where the jute had pulled against her body, holding her suspended in the air. Christ, I knew from the moment I had first laid eyes on her she would look incredible in rope, but nothing could have prepared me for the way she looked tied in my rope and hung from the ceiling. I wanted more than anything to take her to Abditory and show her off to a crowd of people. She was pure perfection and deserved to be shown off to the kinky masses gathered in such a place. I ran the water-soaked washrag over her body in lazy strokes. I washed her gently, rinsing away every sud and now we simply lay there, relaxed into one another as words came back to us slowly.
“Is this what it always feels like? You know, for submissives who have been doing it for a while?” she asked quietly.
“Every time? No. Some submissives never break like you did,” I explained, my voice low and soft against the top of her head.
“Is it a good thing or a bad thing?” she questioned.
“Well, how do you feel?” I coaxed her, hoping she would discover the answer for herself, inside herself.
“I feel… raw, more than anything. But lighter in some ways. Tired, too,” she answered honestly. I smiled into her hair, nodding my head at her observations.
“That’s to be expected. But as far as your emotions go, how do you feel? Was it good or bad?” I offered, guiding her to continue her train of thought.
“Overwhelmingly good, I would have to say,” she admitted with a heavy sigh of contentment.
“So to answer your question, no, it’s not always that way, but I’m glad it was a pleasant experience for you,” I answered.
