Welcome to Hell.

[Luna_Wolf72]

I can feel myself tensing up and I realize that even though I should be okay.

I am not.

I am bothered...

fuck it, another drink is definitely in order.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

It's obvious at this juncture that I will not be able to write for my thread with PGoD. Too many emotions are fluttering through my brain and words are not going to happen...

So...I pack up my computer and head for home.

Maybe it's time to hit the bed and catch some z's...if I can.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

His feet are bare, jeans, a belt, a simple t-shirt all he wears as he makes his way into the heat and cacophony of sound making it's way from deeper in. He pauses just inside, eyes sweeping quickly, taking stock of the room, and then he moves to the bar. Pulling out a stool, he slides onto it and leans back against the bar, leg bouncing as his foot rests on one of the crossbars beneath him.

He waits.

 

[Britwitch]

Equally bare feet carry her into the heat. A light blue dress, simple and basic, glides over curves before ending just below her knees. Thin straps run over shoulders with little else beneath it would appear.

She sees him. Waiting.

A pass of tongue tip over lips and she approaches.

"...It's been a long time since I was down here...

She says, more out of a need to say 'something' than anything.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Bare feet meet the floor when she enters, fingers moving to slip leather from buckle, opening his belt.

"Mmhmm."

He is not interested in small talk, she has seen to that much herself, and so his answer is distracted, dismissive. Gripping the buckle end, he pulls the belt through the loops until it swings free, reaching toward his feet. Lifting it, he grasps the other end, and lifts it over her head wordlessly when she reaches him. Leather is fed back through the buckle, which is pushed swiftly up until the strap is wrapped snugly around her neck, and then he pulls on the length that extends away from it, bringing her body to his.

"Remember one thing, little Witch. You brought this on yourself..."

 

[Britwitch]

She watches the belt being removed, worried warnings already flashing through her mind but not enough to make her move back, even when his hands rise towards her head. The leather is almost worryingly warm as it coils around her skin and tightens. She stumbles slightly as he pulls the belt, and so her, forwards.

A nod. Then another. Blue eyes a little wider than they were a few moments earlier.

"I will..."

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

"Excellent."

He pivots then, free hand grabbing the stool and moving it aside to clear a space at the bar. The belt looped around her neck is pulled again as he moves himself out of the way as well, moving her forward against the bar where the stool had previously stood. Quickly he's behind her, against her, pressing close, his fingers releasing the strip of leather and letting it law across the width of the bar.

"I know I said I'd go easy on you..." His voice is in her ear, his hands on her shoulders, pushing the straps of the dress, slowly freeing it to the whims of gravity.

"But easy and gentle are two different things."

He body shifts, head moving to the other side, his voice in her other ear as straps are pushed over round shoulders.

"Wouldn't you agree?"

 

[Britwitch]

All of a sudden they've switched places. He's behind her, more than that, he's pushed up behind her. Her hands rest on the bar, tentatively.

In spite of the near constant heat she shivers as his breath glances over her skin. Words whispered into her ear. Fingertips against her skin as the straps of her dress are moved.

A noisy swallow, an anxious sound from beneath the belt, as he whispers.

Another shiver as thin straps find themselves nudged just past the point of resistance and they start to fall down around her upper arms. Pressure around her chest slackening, making fabric drop slightly, revealing more of what lies beneath. More cleavage, more of her rounded swells. Her hands on the bar mean the straps can only fall so far but they fall far enough. Leaving her chest barely covered by the sagging cloth of her dress.

"They are. Very...very different things..."

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

"Mmhmm. Very different."

Four fingertips against each shoulder, and then moving, descending over collarbone, down, down.

His head switches sides again, his voice changing ears.

"And 'easy' doesn't mean I won't make you beg."

Down, down. Light touches over the slope of cleavage, inching closer and closer to that left concealed by the dress.

"But I know better than to think you don't like that anyway. Don't I?"

And then his fingers dip under the now-loose fabric of the dress, catching each nipple between index and middle finger as palms meet warm flesh, and tugging lightly.

 

[Britwitch]

Her breathing grows markedly heavier and fingers hold tighter to the edge of the bar. She is glad, in a way, she doesn't have to see his face. Not that she needs to in order to visualise the expression upon it.

Breasts rise and fall with more obvious motion as his hands travel south over her chest.

"And 'easy' doesn't mean I won't make you beg. But I know better than to think you don't like that anyway. Don't I?"

Before she can reply fingers capture nipples and pull gently. Her shoulders first roll forwards before moving back, arching her back and pushing the peaks towards his pulling fingers.

A tremor and a sigh, a sound bordering on a moan, as nipples tingle pleasantly between his fingers. Swelling. Stiffening.

Then she nods and manages to reply. A husky whisper all she can manage at that moment.

"...yes, yes you do..."

The words aren't needed. Not really. Just as the question didn't really need to be posed. But that was part of the game, another step in the dance. An affirmation of their respective positions, of the parts they would play.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

"Yes, I do."

He echoes her words, his voice switching sides again. The hardening peak of her nipples slip from between his fingers and his hands move, palms moving to the full swell of heavy breasts. Thumb and forefinger catch the stiffed buds, the grip more forceful this time, the slow rolling of them a little less than gentle. His head moves to the other side again.

"Reach behind you. Pull me out."

 

[Britwitch]

There's a whimper. Even though the sound is soft compared to some of the others drifting up from deeper in Hell, she knows he can hear it. Another as nipples are toyed with a little more firmly. Back arching a fraction more. Hips twitching ever so slightly with each rolling press.

The changing of location of his voice helps make everything seem even more confusing, even more intense.

Hands leave the bar before he's finished speaking. Moving behind her back to find and fumble slightly with the opening to his jeans. Finally parting the denim and allowing fingers to creep within.

Firm flesh is rapidly found and drawn out into the warm air.

Palm cradling as fingers wrap gently around. No other instructions have been given but she can't help but give an almost exploratory squeeze while he rests in her hand.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Teeth press together, his jaw clenching lightly, a slight hitch in his breath as her fingers find him, already and still, quite hard. Her hand is cool against him, his own heat easily competing with that of the air that seems to pulse around them, alive with a kinetic energy waiting to be released.

"You want me inside you, don't you little Witch?"

Another switch to the other side.

"Taking you."

And again, switching back, fingers pulling now.

"Fucking you."

 

[Britwitch]

"You want me inside you, don't you little Witch?"

Her teeth catch on her lower lip as she strokes him slowly behind her back.

"I do, I want to feel you deep inside..."

"Taking you."

Hand tightens around him, stroking the length which fills her palm. More than fills it. A nod.

"...yes..."

"Fucking you."

A whine as sensitive nipples tingle and throb, before she can continue.

"...yes, oh yes please...please..."

Her stroking becomes slightly more pronounced, a little quicker.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Her words are heard easily over the others that swirl in the room, diminished now to so much background noise. He throbs in her hand, each response doing as much, if not more, than the stroking of her hand at further building the fire of his arousal.

"Mm. And she even says please. Such a good girl."

He releases his grip on pink and sensitive nipples, the fullness of his hands instead cupping heavy breasts, pushing them over the top of her dress and full out into the warm air, fully into view over his shoulder.

His voice moves again, the back-and-forth switching continuing even now.

"All you have to do... is ask."

 

[Britwitch]

"Mm. And she even says please. Such a good girl."

Cheeks flush slightly at those two little words, although the rush of warm breath against her ear, the tugging on her nipples and the feeling of him behind her, resting in her hand, all help to paint the rosy glow upon them.

A glow which intensifies slightly as breasts are pushed up and out of her dress. Letting the dancing flame-like light flicker over their fullness.

"All you have to do... is ask."

"Please...please take me...fuck me..."

Her hand tightens around him at the last part of her request.

"I...I want it...need it...so badly...please, oh please use me...however you wish just please, please let me feel you filling me...fucking me..."

Another tightening of fingers and palm against stiffening flesh.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

"That's what I like to hear..."

Hands leave her breasts for the first time since touching them, one hand moving to grip the length of belt extending across the bar, the other down to a hip, and the two are pulled in opposite directions to bend her forward. His own feet shuffle back a step or two as he does, giving her a bit of room to move.

Fingers loop around her wrists then, moving her hands off of him and dropping them to her sides, allowing him to puddle the dress at her feet after a quick, firm pull down her body. One hand finds the small of her back, fingers splayed as they slide up her spine and then curl into the loop of the belt around her neck, no doubt diminishing what breathing room she has in it while keeping her just where he wants her. His other hand is pressed against himself, forefinger and thumb circled around the base of his cock, and then the mushroom head, swollen and sensitive, is against her, moving, stroking, teasing.

 

[Britwitch]

"That's what I like to hear..."

She moves as he wishes, leaning forward, bending down. Hands releasing him when he pulls them away.
Another movement, a sharp tug, and she is naked. Blue fabric pooled uselessly around where she stands.

His hand feels almost hot as it slide up her back, fingers searing her skin en route to the makeshift collar about her neck. Increasing the pressure upon her throat by pushing fingers beneath the leather.

Her breathing hitches. But not from the tightening of the belt. It's from the feel of him, of hot smooth skin against her. Between her legs. Nudging against sensitive flesh.

"...please, yes....oh please..."

Her tone is desperate, hips pushing back slightly, as much as the hold on the belt will allow at any rate. Hands return to the bar, bracing against the edge as she holds her breath. Waiting, eagerly, for that moment. That instant.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

"Please? Please what, little toy?"

A grin is in his voice, a tone of teasing he cannot help but to let slip into it. Her accent, to his ears, so proper, but the words anything but, vulgar and enticing, and he finds the difference between them alluring, arousing. Addictive.

And still, he moves against her, hard and throbbing and quite clearly ready to fill her.

 

[Britwitch]

"Please? Please what, little toy?"

A whine. Then another.

"Fuck me."

The faintest hint of a growl enters her voice.

"Please fuck me, here and now. Fuck me like a dirty little slut...like I'm your dirty little slut..."

Hips pushing back wantonly, trying desperately to guide the hard shaft between her folds.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Eyes narrow as he hears the edge creep into her voice, teeth clenched as he throbs against her. He may be the one in control of this time, in control of her here, but he's certain she's well aware of the effect she has on him as well, the grip she has on his arousal, the way the sound of her increases his need.

And oh, it does.

He shifts, moves, and then presses forward. A slow and deep breath is sucked in through clenched teeth as he enters her, wet and tight and somehow hotter in her core than the hellfire-warmed air that swirls around them. Slowly, controlled and gradual, he fills her further, stopping only when he can do no more and she has taken him to the hilt.

Hips move again. Equally as slowly, he begins to leave her.

 

[Britwitch]

Everything else fades away for those few instances when he begins to move.

All she is aware of is him and her. Of their breathing. Of their bodies.

That moment when he starts to push inside. Feeling tightness, wetness, parting for him. Welcoming him.

"...oh yes...oh thank you..."

A groan that she's not sure she made or he did hovers around them both as on and on he pushes inside.

Then she sighs, almost catlike, as he fills her. Those initial seconds where she feels overfilled. Stretched. Her back arches and her rear nudges back against his body. Ensuring every fraction of every inch of him is inside her.

He moves again, with the same speed, or should that be lack of it. Torturously leaving her, drawing back, withdrawing. Her fingers tighten against the edge of the bar and her hips continue to push back. To try and prevent his leaving, to extend that delicious feeling of having his shaft buried within her.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

He is still, for the most part, dressed. Outside of a bit of wetness now darkening the front of his jeans, he could easily walk out of here as if nothing had happened. Even as he slowly moves away from her, out of her, his length now glistening in the yellow and flickering light, he doesn't move to remove any of his own clothing. Not quite yet.

He also doesn't stop moving, and just as he slowly filled her he slowly pulls out until the air and her wet arousal are the only things surrounding him. He pauses there, just a moment, a grin on his lips as he watches her as that moment plays out, watches her anticipate being filled again. When he moves, though, it is to pull on the back of the belt, to push his hips and consequently her own forward, straightening her up and pressing her against the bar again, his lips close to her ear once mroe.

"What was that you said, little Wtich? Fuck you like a dirty slut? Like my dirty slut? That is what you said, isn't it?"

He'd heard her, of course, and for a moment given her a taste of what she wanted. But as good as she'd felt, there was a perverse and twisted sense of fun in toying with her. Making her a puppet on his string.

 

[Britwitch]

It feels good, so good, with him inside. Her body almost aches when he's gone.

She waits. Breath held. Body slightly tense.

A groan creeps out from her lips as the seconds draw out and the sensation of being filled starts to fade. Knowing this is as much part of things as anything else, she'd expected this. The teasing, the toying. She'd begged for as much. And she'd let him do it, do all of it, if it meant getting even just another tease of him inside her.

She gets to feel him but not quite as she wanted as he pushes her against the bar, pulling her up against him.

"What was that you said, little Witch? Fuck you like a dirty slut? Like my dirty slut? That is what you said, isn't it?"

"Yes..."

The answer is quick, almost too quick, and slightly hoarse from want and from their new position - the belt tighter around her neck, back stretched straight.

"Yes, please...fuck me...however you want to just please...anything, you can do anything just please, fuck me..."

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

"Very good."

The grin was in his voice again, the pleasure at the sound of her as he continue to throb with his own need. Releasing the belt in the back, he reached around her and grasped the end of the makeshift leash that was stretched out in front of her still, his other hand working open the button of his jeans, pushing them down.

"Then come with me, slut."

Backing away, he stepped out of the jeans, leaving them on the floor next to her dress, and he pulled the belt as he turned, leading her along with him. Not far back sat a couch, and it was here he led her. Without breaking stride as he met it, he stepped up onto the cushions and then turned, lowering himself onto the back of it. His feet were still planted on the cushion, far enough apart to give her room to move between them, and he pulled forward on the belt still, reaching out and cupping her chin in his hand as he brought his face close to hers.

"Suck me clean, every last drop... and then you can have what you want. Can you do that, my plaything?"