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Welcome to Hell.

Scuttle Buttin' said:
Mm. Good girl.

*His teeth catch her earlobe, a quick nip as his fingers remain deep inside her, their peace even increasing a bit. He knows he's teased her far longer than any previous time he'd come here with her, imagines the need for release has to be building inside her... but of course, that's exactly what he wants.

He is hard still, quite hard in fact, and though she has his arousal burning hot and bright, he's not quite ready to give in to what she wants. It's not often he expects to have her helpless like this, and as much fun as playing with her might be, toying with her may be more so.

Straightening up, he remains just to the side of her for a moment longer, fingers still working between the warm and wet folds of her pussy. They are withdrawn suddenly, from fully inside her to fully gone in an instant. He moves around her, his fingers slick and glistening as he brings them to his lips to taste her again. His other hand grips her hair, lifts her head, and standing in front of her he does, indeed, fuck her. Just not where she'd hoped.*
Click to expand...

His praise makes her smile. His fingers make her moan. The continous teasing is enough to increase the aching, she wants more, craves more and is now hoping that she asked nice enough. Then again, he has her in the perfect position to tease for as long as he pleases. There is nothing she can do to remotely take control. This train of thought brings a more desperate wanting.

His hand falls away, but his presence remains close even if he's not leaning over her body. By now she can feel the pulsing ache of her pussy, wet and a little sore from the continue massage of his fingers. Breathing in deeply the edge of the barstool presses tighter right beneath her breasts, which have been danling freely, nipples hard and wanting their own bit of attention. She groans and then he is gone. His fingers leaving the aching wetness. A sharp of expectant excitement shutters through her.

She soon finds that he does not have what she is hoping for in mind, at least not yet. Seeing his feet come around to the front of her his hands against tangle in her hair lifting her head. She is brought in eye line of his hard cock and knows what is next. The second the head of his cock presses to her lips she opens her mouth and allows him entrance.
 
*His grip is not so tight in her hair until the moment her lips close around his cock. His fingers tighten in her locks, a quiet gasp with an intake of breath. Hips press forward still, taking her mouth with more of his length, his swirling tongue stealing her taste from his fingers. Once he's taken any trace of her arousal, his fingers slip from her mouth and reach under her, wet digits along a full breast, capturing a hard nipple.

His hips find a slow and steady rhythm, fingers in her hair keeping her head up, though he doesn't push the entirety of his length past her lips and over her tongue. His head is tipped forward, eyes on her as he fucks her mouth, each breath riding on a shudder, punctuated by a moan.*
 
She doesn't mind so much that she's left aching, if it means pleasing him, fully confident that he will finish what he's started. As his fingers tighten in her hair lips open wider and her jaw relaxes so he may easily use her mouth. When he gains a steady rhythm her lips tigthen and her tongue presses upwards to further tease and coax his cock. A part of her wishes her hands were free to touch him.

His teasing of her nipple draws a moan which vibrates through her mouth. Again the desire to squirm, but she is firmly held in place. Her back starting to ache as well as the skin around her wrists. Small prices to pay for the pleasure and fun of their games. Digging her heels into the floor she moans, a little louder, generating a stronger vibration in her mouth.
 
*Her moans draw a quiet gasp from him as he feels her lips and tongue vibrate around the length of his cock, his eyes half-closing with the charge of electric pleasure she sends rushing through him. The tightening of her lips, the movement of her tongue work together to wear down his resolve and build up his need. He has entirely lost track of time, with no idea how long he's been in this room, how long he's had her over this bar stool, how long he's been hard and ready to take her. But he knows what he wants now, in this moment.

The steady rhythm of his hips is interrupted as he pulls back fully, feet shuffling and his cock glistening and hard leaving her lips. He pauses for a brief second, simply looking at her there with his fingers still in her hair. Bending at the waist, he releases his grip in her hair and slides his hand under her chin, keeping her head up slightly. His cheek brushes against hers, trimmed beard against soft skin, lips moving near her ear to whisper.*

Have I mentioned that you are sexy as fuck?

*He grins against her, the spread of his lips pressing his cheek more firmly against hers, a quiet chuckle following on it's heels. His teasing fingers release her nipple at last, cheek moving away from hers and hand falling away from under her chin, and then he's gone, once more moving around her body.

There is no teasing this time, no hesitation, no questioning her wants or making her say please. Once behind her, he wastes no time in moving close, hands finding the curve of her hips and dimpling smooth skin as he grips. In one smooth thrust he is filling her, giving her his length down to his balls which press against her, a long and low moan accompanying it.*
 
The sound of his moans has her smiling inwardly his pleasure as important as her own. She wants him to reach his release to hear his groans as the sexual build up leaves his body. It is part of her pleasure to know she can give this to him. The next moan is more like a humming coupled with a firm pressure against his length as he pushes into her mouth. The tension, she can feel it move through him and in the pulse of his cock. He grows closer. So, when he pulls back sliding his length from her mouth she tries to look up at him, but she can’t quite see his face.

She’s starting to get use to these confusing moments and knows that all she must do is wait for his next movement or pleasing torture. What hadn’t expectant is the gentle gesture. Though their eyes don’t meet she smiles, closing her eyes as their cheeks brush together his beard scratching lightly against her smooth skin she can’t help but lean into this action. Breathing in slowly his whisper makes her smile and she can feel his own smile against her cheek. She wanted to kiss him after those words, but there is only the quiet moment, which was also nice.

When he leaves her again she lets out a small sigh not what to expect next. She doesn’t wait long. Feeling his hands grips her hips tightly and the next second he’s inside her, pushing in deep and hard. The sensation is sharp forcing lips apart with a loud cry, eyes widening and then follows with a groan. Her entire body shutters, a quiver of pleasure overtaking the ache as her desire to be fucked is fulfilled.
 
*He holds himself inside her for a time, allowing them each a moment to enjoy the feeling of being filled and of filling. Palms slide, fingers splayed and reaching, up from her hips and along her sides, circling in over her back. As they moved down towards the small of her back his hips move, almost as if his hands along her are pushing him back, sliding his length from her.

This continued until his hands reached the small of her back and then parted to grip her hips, and he drove himself home once more. His brow furrowed, a moan tumbling from parted lips at the smooth friction created by her gripping walls. Again, he held himself fully inside her, and again his hands moved along smooth sides, up onto her back, stroking across her skin. Again, he left her slowly as his hands descended, and again took her fully when his hands found her hips, his voice sounding once more. He knew it was close, inching ever closer, but still not quite what she wanted. Even once inside her, it was hard to resist the urge to tease. To build it up. But oh, when he finally pulled that release from her body, and she from his...*
 
Bliss. Pure and bliss. A morsel of her craving filled and yet there is so much more to be felt, to be savored. The first thrust sent a wave of pleasure through her body and now they are still. She feel her insides pulsing, inner walls aching and constricting around his cock begging to feel the rhythmic massage that will only bring pleasure. The feel of his hands, strong and sensual, on her back adds to the ever sweet torture of wanting more from him.

The slow blissful strokes of his are rewarded with her moans growing slowly louder. The prolonged time spent bent and tied over the bar stool has created other aches but they matter little. Sucking in a deep breath she want to thrust her hips back but she is at her mercy and choice of pace. Such sweet utter bliss.
 
*Any sense of time was still gone. How long had they been here? How long since he'd bent her over this stool? How long since he'd first stretched her around his length? It could've been minutes, could've been hours. His mind was a swirling mess of pleasure and need, the not-so-calm eye of a hurricane of lips and tongues and fingers and desperate nerve endings aching for more. The feeling of her tight around him, the wanting throb that pulsed through his length, the sight of her bent in front of him, all conspired to rob him of any thoughts but the most carnal, instinct beginning to take over.

His hands moved up her body again, along her sides, up onto her back... but this time they split. One reached forward, fingers curling around dark locks, pulling her head back, her hips tighter against his. The other moved down the slope of her spine, stopping just at the curve of her ass, pressing down. His hands worked together, turning her body into his instrument, her need into his music, the rhythm created by the pull and drive of his hips. They moved towards a crescendo, the stool rocking just a bit under her as he took her, hard, deep, quick. The teasing was over. He wanted her. Could resist taking her no longer. She filled his senses, and he strove with each stroke to overwhelm hers.

The teasing was indeed over. Forgotten. The patience gone. The restraint cast away.

Now, he simply fucked her.*
 
~ she curls up quietly back in that little corner to watch. No popcorn this time, just herself, a comfy blanket and the show going on before her ~
 
Scuttle Buttin' said:
*Any sense of time was still gone. How long had they been here? How long since he'd bent her over this stool? How long since he'd first stretched her around his length? It could've been minutes, could've been hours. His mind was a swirling mess of pleasure and need, the not-so-calm eye of a hurricane of lips and tongues and fingers and desperate nerve endings aching for more. The feeling of her tight around him, the wanting throb that pulsed through his length, the sight of her bent in front of him, all conspired to rob him of any thoughts but the most carnal, instinct beginning to take over.

His hands moved up her body again, along her sides, up onto her back... but this time they split. One reached forward, fingers curling around dark locks, pulling her head back, her hips tighter against his. The other moved down the slope of her spine, stopping just at the curve of her ass, pressing down. His hands worked together, turning her body into his instrument, her need into his music, the rhythm created by the pull and drive of his hips. They moved towards a crescendo, the stool rocking just a bit under her as he took her, hard, deep, quick. The teasing was over. He wanted her. Could resist taking her no longer. She filled his senses, and he strove with each stroke to overwhelm hers.

The teasing was indeed over. Forgotten. The patience gone. The restraint cast away.

Now, he simply fucked her.*
Click to expand...

Want and desire overtakes all senses. The slow tingle of each nerve, muscles tensing like a pulse each time clentching tigther, holding longer and offering the promise of mind numbing, breath stealing pleasure. His touch strong and knowing coaxing the moans from her lips. His rhythm quickens though still melodic and smooth, filling the aching need to be touch, deeply. When his hand tangle into her locks she shutters, crying out a moan.

Her body stretches, arches as he pulls back her head and presses his hand at the base of her back. The ropes tug against her wrists. Her hips are pressed firmly into the bar stool with his first hard thrust. The only thing keeping her balanced is his him. Another thrust, hard and despersate. The control is gone. Primal need takes its place. Each time he drives foward she lets out a cry, ecouraging him with each moan.

Yes, Fuck, YES!

The only only audible words between louder moans. Muscles tense through her body, tightening and releasing with each pulse of sweet pleasure. There is a wanting voilence to be fucked harder as she grows closer to release. Her body quivers, twitches as its rocked on the barstool, breasts swaying with each continous thrust forward. She longs to grip onto something, to dig her nails into flesh as the heat burns through her center. A primal scream stunted by lack of oxygen passes from her lips as she can hold back no longer and gives herself over to the pleasure.

Her body throbs, aches and shutters as wave after wave crash through her and buzzes over hot sweaty flesh. The europhic sensation strives to reach another level of bliss, She can only scream and groan as she tries to breathe.
 
*There are no thoughts, no hopes, no plans, no sense of time or space. There is simply her and her body, and his need to possess it. Animal and deep and hungry, a black hole pulling in every last drop of sensation from each movement, each breath, each heartbeat. His chest is heaving, muscles crying out for oxygen as his body cries out for release. He knows dimly, distantly, that he will go until he reaches that point, until chaos and need collide, erupt, white hot.

His voice, no words, only sounds, rises in intensity and volume with hers. The definition of earshot grows, an expanding circle of volume as bodies meet, cock pulses and drives, hot and slick and hard. His hand lifts off her back, a quick slap across her ass as he takes her. He doesn't know why, he doesn't remember thinking he should do it, only that he needed to hear the sound of it, feel the sting in his hand, discover her reaction. His hand returns where it was, on her back, pulling her body back to meet his, allowing him to take her, to fuck her, harder, faster, the rapid-fire of skin-on-skin.

He is become need, lust, want, desire, an animal out of it's cage, rampaging and ravaging, consuming great volumes of oxygen, consuming her. Teeth clench, muscles flex, hips drive and retreat, drive and retreat. Body and body, skin and skin, cock and pussy meet and meet and meet. He knows he is in control, and he knows it now means he has cast them both into the midst of chaos and no control. A thought flashes through his mind, not even words, simply a concept, a realization, a lit fuse in a dark room. The edge approaches. The tipping point is near. He is going to cum.*
 
Want and need, the desire to please, his groans are her fuel the thing she hears is them. Feeling him pulse inside her with each thrust the dig of fingers into the flesh of her hips, the red marks they leave behind. She wants to thrust, flail, claw, but she is only at his mercy. Experiencing the sensation of release like a rag doll, bound to his will. She can hear him. He's close. The change in his voice, the tension of his thrusts, the wild banging of his hips against her ass.

A stinging pain breaks through the haze, white hot, eyes open staring forward through damp bangs. The unexpected slap breaks the spell, but only for a moment, it was a welcome interruption the opportunity to feel a different sensation. The need to feel him control and enjoy himself is nearly as powerful as her need. Fists are balled tight as she screeches a higher octave her nails bite into the flesh of her palms.

Barely about to breathe, she gasps as her body tightens and twists, toes curling against the wooden soles of the platform sandals. The final build up, the final crashing wave. Her body clenches around his length begging for his release as her body quivers, trembles and she moans.
 
*He is consumed, swallowed up, taken over. His need wipes away anything coherent, anything but instinct. He takes her, hard and deep and fast, fingers gripped tight in her hair, pulling her back to meet him. Their bodies hold a rhythm, dance to a music unheard by anyone but them.

He is at the edge, on the precipice, balancing precariously. He can feel it inside him, raging, boiling, threatening to flood him, to drown him. A thrust. Another. Another. He is pushed over.

With a loud cry he erupts inside her, his cock spasming, each time drawing another outburst from parted lips, open mouth. He holds himself tight against her, his length deep inside her, shudders racing through him on electric currents. He is aware of nothing, not his volume, not his position, not his hands on her or the ropes the hold her in place. There is only her body around his, every drop she is milking from him, and the feeling of absolute and complete satisfaction.*
 
She's lifted near completely from the bar stool her back pressed to him, neck arched with his fingers tangled tight in her hair. A dull pulsing pain in her scalp and against her hip bones which are continuously slammed against the edge of the stool with each hard thrust. Shoulder joints strain as her arms are pulled taunt the rope around her wrists holding her in place. She welcomes these pains and the ache they'll leave behind.

There is a smile on open lips, panting and struggling for a full breath, her body is reduced to a quivering mass nerves buzzing with the aftermath of intense pleasure. She's near spent, moans now filled with satisfaction and enjoying the twitches of pleasure. The room is not yet in focus when she feels him tighten, breaths hitched and his hips thrusting stilted. Another shutter moves through as he cries out. Yes... yes... are her thoughts.
 
*He is still inside her, their bodies still together as he begins to slow, to settle, his heart rate finally starting to fall. He only then realizes that his eyes have been squeezed shut, so tightly he sees bright spots floating in front of the darkened field in front of him. Opening them slowly, he blinks once, twice, readjusting to the light that surrounds them, that bores into his head.

His muscles begin to relax, tension draining like someone pulled a plug in him, fingers loosening in her hair, his hand on her back pressing down more lightly, knees bending a little. He is still inside her, unmoving, simply enjoying the feel of her warmth and wetness surrounding him as he falls back to earth. His breathing is hard and rapid, but even that has begun to slow as the need for oxygen begins to diminish.

The hand on her back rests lightly against her now, thumb stroking over smooth skin. His fingers uncurl, releasing her hair entirely, his palm light against the back of her neck, between her shoulders, over her spine. He can feel the sweat on her body, feel the sweat on his own, and he knows they are both a mess, perhaps mentally and physically. He also knows he could not come up with a better way to make a mess if given a thousand years to think about it.

He would stay here, like this, just still inside her as he began to grow soft, but he knows she must ache, knows the blood must be rushing to her hands. With a groan, he pulls out of her one last time, pausing a moment to shudder. Knees a bit wobbly, he makes his way around to her and drops to one knee, a small and weary grin curving his lips when he glances to her face. His fingers reach down, working the knot that holds her to the stool. Once it is loose his fingers go to the top of the rope, working quickly, and soon he has her free, the rope falling forgotten by the feet of the stool.


Still kneeling, his hand reaches out, palm against her cheek, his lips light against hers, soft on soft. The kiss is brief, fleeting, and then he rises, waiting until she straightens up to pull away the bar stool. His eyes flicker to the couch they've curled up on before, then back to her, a grin toying on his lips. It is usually she that stumbled off to sleep, but tonight it must be him. The tension is all but gone from his muscles and his body feels heavy, exhausted, drained. He indicates the couch with a nod.*

Lay with me while I fall asleep?
 
The tension and rabid needs bleed away with the release leaving her a sweaty, achy, trembling mess. Eyes remain closed as they are still, his grip still firm, but softened. Enjoying the quiet moment after the storm a smile rests on her lips. She doesn't want to move despite the numbness in her hands, it can wait just a little longer. He seems to be of the same mind. A handful of seconds to revel in the afterglow.

As she regains control of her breath he slowly releases his hold on her hair and slips from her body. She shivers and exhales, near slumping against the bar stool feeling weak in the knees. Flipping her head she tosses long bangs from her eyes and watches him as he crouches in front of her to untie her hands. The smile she wears is a goofy, satisfied one. As the rope loosens she flexes her fingers, blood rushing back into her fingers. There are red crescent shaped marks on her palms from her nails and she wonders how red the marks on her hips are.

Free to roam she straightens and stretches feeling a dull ache is various parts of her body, which will sure ache much more in a few hours. Following his gaze to the couch she smiles and nods.

Of course.

She says softly and walks with him, the sandals removed before she curls up on the couch, her body half draped across his she reaches up to kiss his brow and then his lips.

Sleep well.

A soft whisper before she slinks down to lay her head on his chest, eyes closing to relax and listen to the steady beat of his heart.
 
~ She herself had fallen asleep while curled up in the corner watching. When she awoke, they were both asleep... so she slipped out quietly, but not without a soft brush of lips to Him... and a playful, yet soft glide of fingers thru Sia's hair ~

:rose:
 
Hell.

Fitting.

Hot. blistering. Blood boiling...

the perfect place to relax.

To curl up on my lounge and let the heat chase away the cold till delirium takes me away.
 
current politcal trends

Here in the US of A, it has been a good while since we have had a Presidential Candidate worthy of running for office... It s we are too busy trying to vote the "Lesser of 2 Evils" longer than I have been able to vote

To keep in theme with this thread, I wanna vote Lucifer Morningstar into the Oval Office!
A) You don't have to worry about if things can get worse
B) He has one Hell of a Resume'... He worked for God Him/Her/It self
C) The people who are in charge seem to be doing his bidding anyways, so let's cut out the middle management
D) Further studying shows that Lucifer wasn't and isn't all that Evil... Just misguided

Some food for thought
 
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