Then he’s slipping a finger inside her, taking her quite by surprise--she was expecting more emotional turmoil--and making her moan. His thumb is on her clit and though she can’t see him she can picture his studious expression as he touches her, seeing what she can take and what makes her squirm for more. It’s only when he pushes a second finger into her that she realizes just how turned on this combination of rollercoaster feelings and physical play has made her; she can hear his fingers move slick in her, and he lets out a satisfied, “Ahhhh, good,” that’s on the verge of just being a groan of lust.
His fingers go away and Erika makes a disgruntled noise. She hears the soft slurp of him licking his fingers clean and starts hoping like hell that he comes back for a proper taste, but he shifts away. Her face must show her frustration despite the blindfold and gag because he lets out another low laugh.
There’s some more motion, below her this time, and now she can hear more urgent wet sounds, skin on skin, and sighing. There’s no way he’s not already rock hard after playing with her so much, so he’s up to something else.
Then the ropes holding her up shake, and she’s moving--vertically, this time, instead of around in circles. One side drops a little faster than the other and she feels the slippery press of his cock against her left thigh first; he’s definitely stroked lube over himself. More than he needs to, considering her state of arousal. Why?
The ropes steady once more with Erika hovering just above Ivan, and when he begins working the head of his cock against her, impossibly slick and teasing and not quite where she wants it, needs it, she starts keening softly.
When he relents and slips inside her, she feels like she’s too wet, like she’s not going to get far without more touching, and he lets her attempt to rub against him, to take him deeper, to anything, for a good minute, until she’s writhing in frustration and just about ready to try spitting at him again to see if he’ll at least slap her ass or something.
She can tell when he unhooks the ropes again because there’s another lopsided jerk and suddenly he’s driven deeper into her. No--she’s dropped further onto him. She hears him groan and tries to rock atop him while he’s still getting the ropes figured out, but he’s too quick for that. Erika finds herself rising again until he’s barely in her, just the head pressed within her entrance.
“Look at you.” His voice is thick with lust and she doesn’t think it’s even remotely an act anymore. “Precious petal. Are you still scared I’ll leave you wanting?” She shakes her head, hears him laugh. “Maybe you should be.”
A moment later she understands his meaning, as he begins to manipulate the ropes. Unable to exert any real movement in her own right, she’s left with only the strange but not unpleasant sensation of being moved on him. It must be hell on his arms, though she’s seen the strength that they hold, but he seems to be holding out all right. Her wetness and the lube mean that she moves on him easily, too easily for her liking, and how he can stand the slick, almost frictionless tease she doesn’t know.
“My pretty puppet, all tied up in my web.” His voice is dark, caressing, but she can hear the undercurrent of tension that speaks of quickening need. She can feel it in his cock, too, sliding within her; he’s hot and hard and for the first time she realizes that in his own way he’s been getting every bit as turned on as her through this whole scene, and if she’s delirious with wanting then he’s probably in the same place. “Dance for me, darling doll of mine.” He pulls her up, almost right off him again, and Erika tries in vain to move down, to take him back in. Though she knows she’s only just above the bed now, she feels as though she’s flying miles up, only the solidity of his cock inside her anchoring her to the ground. A little lower, and he holds her there until she’s bucking her hips frantically, needing, craving more than half of his length.
“Please!” The word bursts from her lips; she hadn’t even realized that she’d spit out the gag until it does. “Please, oh, please...”
“You want the teasing to stop, puppet?” Rough quick words. No finesse.
“Yes!”
“Sure?”
“Please!”
For a few moments longer her torments her with long slippery strokes, but she can tell from the quality of his breathing that he’s close. He lowers her right down, and fuck he fills her up so nicely, and Erika feels his hips lift, feels the slow hard pulse of him inside her as his persona shatters in that moment and he cries out her name--
--and then he lifts her back up off him. Just. Right off him, leaving her empty and aching and, after a dazed moment of figuring out that technically he did stop teasing her, swearing.
“Oh fuck, Ivan, fuck you, damn it! I need--I want--”
Her protests end there because he ties the ropes off again, scoots down the bed in a rustle of blankets, and oh fuck okay starts licking her clean. Really clean, really thoroughly, the flat of his tongue working in broad sweeps over her labia to clean off his own essence, and then as she begins to gasp and whimper, pushing inside her to curl and move there.
For some reason, this is what triggers the thought Ivan, you kinky bastard for her, and Erika starts giggling helplessly. He’s restrained and suspended and otherwise messed with her, but licking his own come out of her? Yeah, apparently according to her mind, that’s the tipping point.
She’s still giggling when he seals his lips around her clit, tongue sliding against her with certainty, and the sound turns to gasping as heat thrills through her. The gasps turn to low urgent cries as he brings her close, and for one moment he takes his mouth off her and she thinks he’s going to start in again with denying her what she so desperately wants--
--and then his mouth closes over her again, lips and tongue working hard, and Erika no longer feels any connection with the ground at all; she’s hanging suspended in a place of pure pleasure that rocks her body, tearing cries of delight from her as loud as her screams of fear earlier.
She’s still trembling with aftershocks and he keeps going, pushing her over that edge again, and her cries turn back to gasps as breathing eludes her, too overwhelmed by the full-body reaction he’s wringing out of her to let such silly things as basic autonomic functions cross her mind.
And then he does it again, and it’s good, so good, but it’s also enough, she’s getting uncomfortably close to the point where she’ll be way overstimulated, and she manages to get out the words, “Stop, Ivan, stop, the end.”
He pulls the ropes, lifts her up, and rolls out from underneath her before lowering her gently to the mattress. There’s a very brief pause as he evidently puts his clothing back together, probably so his pants don’t fall down while he’s untying her. That’s okay; Erika lets herself flop onto her back, feeling embraced by the warm darkness.
“Okay, petal.” She has no idea how he regained his composure so fast but he certainly seems to have done so, his fingers skimming over her thighs as he unties each ankle. “Careful now... stretch out slowly. Any pins and needles?”
“No.” Erika flexes her legs, points her toes, taking her time. She’s surprised by how comfortable the frog tie was, though she has the feeling she’ll have the rope imprinted on her skin for some time. That’s fine; it isn’t anywhere anyone’s going to see.
“Do you want to sit up, or do you want to roll over?”
“Am I going to fall if I roll?”
“Not if I help you.”
It’s less of a roll than a shuffle, and a lot of it depends on Ivan more or less shoveling her over onto her stomach, but Erika’s growing quite accustomed to him lifting her around, and in fact is also growing to enjoy it.
The buckles at her back come undone, and she feels the sleeves come loose, and right then her right shoulder seizes up. She lets out a cry of pain.
“Where?” Ivan asks immediately.
“Right shoulder.”
He gathers her up into his arms. “Can you stand? Just for a moment?”
“Yes. Wait.” Erika plants one foot on the floor, her shoulder singing in agony, and braces her other knee on the bed. “Okay.”
Ivan’s fingers are quick on the buckles and he doesn’t need to tell her to unfold her arms carefully. She’s maybe a little too quick to straighten her left arm and it twinges a little, but she wants her left hand functioning as fast as possible to rub her right shoulder when Ivan eases the jacket all the way off.
“No, petal, let me.” Ivan slips the tie off from over her eyes and Erika keeps them closed, prepared for the room to be as bright as it was before the blindfold went on, but to her surprise she eases them open to see that there’s just low lamplight, cast from a lamp on a low table at the foot of the bed that she doesn’t recall seeing when she came in. The round-ended safety scissors are on it, along with a spare hank of rope, and a big bottle of water that makes her salivate just looking at it.
She becomes aware that she’s shivering a little. Ivan bundles her up in a blanket and presses the bottle into her left hand, then sits down against the head of the bed and pulls her close against him, those clever fingers working at the knot in her right shoulder. It loosens almost immediately and Erika sighs with relief, grabbing for the screw cap of the water bottle and opening it to take a big drink. The water is blessedly cool on her scream-raw throat.
Ivan keeps massaging her shoulders, reaches around to carefully unhook the rose collar, and sets it down beside them, not that there’s much room on the narrow single bed. Erika feels the soft press of his lips kissing each little scratch that it left and sighs with pleasure.
“Do you love me now?” His voice still holds more than a hint of the Storyteller.
“Of course I do.” Her shoulder still aches, her neck itches, and her clit’s going to be too sensitive to touch for hours, but she loves him very much.
She feels the curve of his smile against the nape of his neck. “And they all lived happily ever after.”
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Fill: "Puppetmaster" (Ivan/Erika, Explicit, D/s)
Date: 2018-04-17 06:31 am (UTC)His fingers go away and Erika makes a disgruntled noise. She hears the soft slurp of him licking his fingers clean and starts hoping like hell that he comes back for a proper taste, but he shifts away. Her face must show her frustration despite the blindfold and gag because he lets out another low laugh.
There’s some more motion, below her this time, and now she can hear more urgent wet sounds, skin on skin, and sighing. There’s no way he’s not already rock hard after playing with her so much, so he’s up to something else.
Then the ropes holding her up shake, and she’s moving--vertically, this time, instead of around in circles. One side drops a little faster than the other and she feels the slippery press of his cock against her left thigh first; he’s definitely stroked lube over himself. More than he needs to, considering her state of arousal. Why?
The ropes steady once more with Erika hovering just above Ivan, and when he begins working the head of his cock against her, impossibly slick and teasing and not quite where she wants it, needs it, she starts keening softly.
When he relents and slips inside her, she feels like she’s too wet, like she’s not going to get far without more touching, and he lets her attempt to rub against him, to take him deeper, to anything, for a good minute, until she’s writhing in frustration and just about ready to try spitting at him again to see if he’ll at least slap her ass or something.
She can tell when he unhooks the ropes again because there’s another lopsided jerk and suddenly he’s driven deeper into her. No--she’s dropped further onto him. She hears him groan and tries to rock atop him while he’s still getting the ropes figured out, but he’s too quick for that. Erika finds herself rising again until he’s barely in her, just the head pressed within her entrance.
“Look at you.” His voice is thick with lust and she doesn’t think it’s even remotely an act anymore. “Precious petal. Are you still scared I’ll leave you wanting?” She shakes her head, hears him laugh. “Maybe you should be.”
A moment later she understands his meaning, as he begins to manipulate the ropes. Unable to exert any real movement in her own right, she’s left with only the strange but not unpleasant sensation of being moved on him. It must be hell on his arms, though she’s seen the strength that they hold, but he seems to be holding out all right. Her wetness and the lube mean that she moves on him easily, too easily for her liking, and how he can stand the slick, almost frictionless tease she doesn’t know.
“My pretty puppet, all tied up in my web.” His voice is dark, caressing, but she can hear the undercurrent of tension that speaks of quickening need. She can feel it in his cock, too, sliding within her; he’s hot and hard and for the first time she realizes that in his own way he’s been getting every bit as turned on as her through this whole scene, and if she’s delirious with wanting then he’s probably in the same place. “Dance for me, darling doll of mine.” He pulls her up, almost right off him again, and Erika tries in vain to move down, to take him back in. Though she knows she’s only just above the bed now, she feels as though she’s flying miles up, only the solidity of his cock inside her anchoring her to the ground. A little lower, and he holds her there until she’s bucking her hips frantically, needing, craving more than half of his length.
“Please!” The word bursts from her lips; she hadn’t even realized that she’d spit out the gag until it does. “Please, oh, please...”
“You want the teasing to stop, puppet?” Rough quick words. No finesse.
“Yes!”
“Sure?”
“Please!”
For a few moments longer her torments her with long slippery strokes, but she can tell from the quality of his breathing that he’s close. He lowers her right down, and fuck he fills her up so nicely, and Erika feels his hips lift, feels the slow hard pulse of him inside her as his persona shatters in that moment and he cries out her name--
--and then he lifts her back up off him. Just. Right off him, leaving her empty and aching and, after a dazed moment of figuring out that technically he did stop teasing her, swearing.
“Oh fuck, Ivan, fuck you, damn it! I need--I want--”
Her protests end there because he ties the ropes off again, scoots down the bed in a rustle of blankets, and oh fuck okay starts licking her clean. Really clean, really thoroughly, the flat of his tongue working in broad sweeps over her labia to clean off his own essence, and then as she begins to gasp and whimper, pushing inside her to curl and move there.
For some reason, this is what triggers the thought Ivan, you kinky bastard for her, and Erika starts giggling helplessly. He’s restrained and suspended and otherwise messed with her, but licking his own come out of her? Yeah, apparently according to her mind, that’s the tipping point.
She’s still giggling when he seals his lips around her clit, tongue sliding against her with certainty, and the sound turns to gasping as heat thrills through her. The gasps turn to low urgent cries as he brings her close, and for one moment he takes his mouth off her and she thinks he’s going to start in again with denying her what she so desperately wants--
--and then his mouth closes over her again, lips and tongue working hard, and Erika no longer feels any connection with the ground at all; she’s hanging suspended in a place of pure pleasure that rocks her body, tearing cries of delight from her as loud as her screams of fear earlier.
She’s still trembling with aftershocks and he keeps going, pushing her over that edge again, and her cries turn back to gasps as breathing eludes her, too overwhelmed by the full-body reaction he’s wringing out of her to let such silly things as basic autonomic functions cross her mind.
And then he does it again, and it’s good, so good, but it’s also enough, she’s getting uncomfortably close to the point where she’ll be way overstimulated, and she manages to get out the words, “Stop, Ivan, stop, the end.”
He pulls the ropes, lifts her up, and rolls out from underneath her before lowering her gently to the mattress. There’s a very brief pause as he evidently puts his clothing back together, probably so his pants don’t fall down while he’s untying her. That’s okay; Erika lets herself flop onto her back, feeling embraced by the warm darkness.
“Okay, petal.” She has no idea how he regained his composure so fast but he certainly seems to have done so, his fingers skimming over her thighs as he unties each ankle. “Careful now... stretch out slowly. Any pins and needles?”
“No.” Erika flexes her legs, points her toes, taking her time. She’s surprised by how comfortable the frog tie was, though she has the feeling she’ll have the rope imprinted on her skin for some time. That’s fine; it isn’t anywhere anyone’s going to see.
“Do you want to sit up, or do you want to roll over?”
“Am I going to fall if I roll?”
“Not if I help you.”
It’s less of a roll than a shuffle, and a lot of it depends on Ivan more or less shoveling her over onto her stomach, but Erika’s growing quite accustomed to him lifting her around, and in fact is also growing to enjoy it.
The buckles at her back come undone, and she feels the sleeves come loose, and right then her right shoulder seizes up. She lets out a cry of pain.
“Where?” Ivan asks immediately.
“Right shoulder.”
He gathers her up into his arms. “Can you stand? Just for a moment?”
“Yes. Wait.” Erika plants one foot on the floor, her shoulder singing in agony, and braces her other knee on the bed. “Okay.”
Ivan’s fingers are quick on the buckles and he doesn’t need to tell her to unfold her arms carefully. She’s maybe a little too quick to straighten her left arm and it twinges a little, but she wants her left hand functioning as fast as possible to rub her right shoulder when Ivan eases the jacket all the way off.
“No, petal, let me.” Ivan slips the tie off from over her eyes and Erika keeps them closed, prepared for the room to be as bright as it was before the blindfold went on, but to her surprise she eases them open to see that there’s just low lamplight, cast from a lamp on a low table at the foot of the bed that she doesn’t recall seeing when she came in. The round-ended safety scissors are on it, along with a spare hank of rope, and a big bottle of water that makes her salivate just looking at it.
She becomes aware that she’s shivering a little. Ivan bundles her up in a blanket and presses the bottle into her left hand, then sits down against the head of the bed and pulls her close against him, those clever fingers working at the knot in her right shoulder. It loosens almost immediately and Erika sighs with relief, grabbing for the screw cap of the water bottle and opening it to take a big drink. The water is blessedly cool on her scream-raw throat.
Ivan keeps massaging her shoulders, reaches around to carefully unhook the rose collar, and sets it down beside them, not that there’s much room on the narrow single bed. Erika feels the soft press of his lips kissing each little scratch that it left and sighs with pleasure.
“Do you love me now?” His voice still holds more than a hint of the Storyteller.
“Of course I do.” Her shoulder still aches, her neck itches, and her clit’s going to be too sensitive to touch for hours, but she loves him very much.
She feels the curve of his smile against the nape of his neck. “And they all lived happily ever after.”