Thursday, January 31, 2013

Scene: willows

I walked along the shoreline, trying to puzzle out what to do with the feelings burning within me. The rhythmic lull of the waves rolling in tried to tease me out of anxiety and into contemplation, but I was distracted. The feel of the wind tugging at my hair, the warmth of the sun, and the bone deep restlessness refused to let me be. Caught with my mind flitting from thing to thing, I came around an outcropping of rock.

There, ahead of me on the path, I found a man. Like myself, he was walking alone. Where my head was up and I was looking at virtually everything, his gaze was focused on the ground. Hands in his pockets, he seemed to silently tell the world to leave him alone. As we walked, I watched him. I couldn't help but admire the strong lines of his body and the smoothness of his motion, both of which belied that he had some measure of grace and strength to him.

As I came up closer to him and began to outpace him, he spoke, “You took your time catching up.” I halted midstep and looked over at him in surprise. He continued to stride forward, saying, “Well, you coming or not?” Curious, I walked beside him. On the grassy knoll above us, we could hear picnickers laughing and enjoying the fine summer afternoon. My skin crawled slightly at the thought of enduring their presence and my unexpected companion quickened his pace.

Soon, we had left the more populated part of the park behind. As we walked, he took one of his broad hands out of his pocket. He simply let it hang at his side in silent invitation. Wordlessly, I took it and we walked a bit slower. “It's been a month now that we've watched each other walking down here,” he said, looking over at me, “That's a long time just to look.”

Unable to help myself, a blush spread across my cheeks as I looked away from his bold gaze. “Come with me,” he said, starting towards a narrow path that rose up the incline and away from the lake. I walked with him, stumbling on some of the stones. He helped me keep my feet as we progressed towards a grove of willows. As I looked about, I realized that we had left the park.

He reached forward and pushed back a curtain of willow withes, stepping aside to let me pass. He gave me a warm smile as he stepped into that shade. As he walked up to me, my heart suddenly felt as though it was in my throat. Lightly, he brushed my hair away from my shoulder.

Gently, he gathered me into his arms. He carefully pressed a kiss against my neck near my right shoulder. Caught in his embrace, I couldn't help a brief wave of dizziness as one of his hands moved down my back. He gave a soft sigh and nuzzled the hollow of my throat. With great care and deliberateness, he brought me down to the ground beneath the green branches of the willow.

His mouth closed over mine as he knelt over me. As we kissed, I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. I could feel him smile against my mouth as he deepened the kiss and stole my breath. Lightly, he ran his hands down my sides. He slipped them beneath my blouse and reached up to unclasp my bra.

As the catch gave, he smiled again and broke the kiss. He pulled the shirt up and lavished kisses upon my breasts. I shivered and sighed as his warm hands wandered over my torso. He kissed his way down my chest, pausing a moment to press his lips most tenderly over my wildly beating heart.

His hands settled on my hips and he sat back on his heels. With the same relentless gentleness, he unbuttoned my jeans and began to work them off me. He paused to slip the sandals off of my feet, chuckling as I curled my toes. He disrobed me from the waist down, smiling at how I shivered at each touch of his skin against mine.

He ran his hands up my legs, leaning down to take a deep breath close to my sex. I shivered at this and he again gave a soft laugh. He ran his hands over my thighs and then gently pushed my legs apart. Thus bared to him, I felt a sudden rush of maidenly embarressment. I moved to cover myself when he set a hand on my wrist. “Don't,” he said quietly, “Let me look at you.”

He looked down at me and gave a soft noise of satisfaction. “More beautiful then I had imagined,” he said. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my left hip. His lips slowly made their way down the line of my hipbone until they were near the nexus of my thighs. As he did this, he lightly dragged his fingernails down the outsides of my legs.

When he lightly brush is tongue against my labia, I gasped in surprise. He gave another chuckle before he slipped his hands beneath my ass and lifted my hips slightly. My world condensed itself down to the feeling of his mouth exploring my sex. I gasped and shivered, ensarling my fingers in his hair. Pleasure rolled over me like the distant waves.

When my orgasm happened, I helplessly meweled. With still slower efforts, he dragged it out for what felt like eternity. Tears rolled down from my eyes as a throaty groan escaped me. One hand moved from beneath me to slip a finger and then two deep into me. My eyes opened wide as I spasamed hard with pleasure. With a skilled touch, he drew a second and a third orgasm out of me.

I stared up at him, dazed by how quickly he had accomplished this. He stood up and slipped out of his clothes. As I looked up at him, I realized that I could simply stare at him in this gorgeously naked state for hours. He smiled down at me as he knelt between my legs. He lifted my hips to meet his as he thrust his delightfully erect phallus into me.
As he began to move in and out of me, I shuddered. Thought abandoned me as I clung to him. He held me hard against his chest as we changed position. Straddling his hips with him deep inside me, I couldn't help but moan in pleasure. With an increasingly frantic effort, I rode him. Soon, frustration began to arise as I realized that I hadn't the strength to continue long enough to capture the elusive orgasm that hovered at the edge of my awareness.

His strong hands grasped my hips and he held himself still deep inside me. I squirmed, whimpered, and sobbed, at a loss to form the words I needed to beg for release. He smiled up at me, enjoying the way I writhed against him. Still holding me hard against himself, he quickly rolled us over. Once again on top, he began thrusting quickly and with enough force that it was almost painful.

Undaunted by my small noises of pained pleasure, he became rougher with me. He gripped my wrists and pressed them down hard into the moss at either side of my head. I felt my heart hammering as though it was going to burst out of my chest. I tossed my head, frantically mewling and gasping. My fourth orgasm built slowly and with an almost blinding force. As it drew closer, it felt as though every inch of my body had been slowly set aflame.

I threw my head back and arched my back, desperate to feel more of his body against mine. Then the world went white and everything seemed to burst into stars. Pleasure shot through me and I took a deep breath in. As the sense of pressure within built to painful levels, I gave a scream. A wordless, deafening shriek of pleasure as the orgasm rocked me. Time ceased to exist, all there was for me was blinding pleasure and a feeling as though all that I was were bursting. Mindlessly, I continued to scream with the primal sensations until he had finished.

Before unconsciousness overtook me, he smiled down at me and placed a kiss on my forehead. Where I lacked the strength to scream, I gave a low moan as a weaker orgasm rolled through me at that delicate sensation.

Friday, January 18, 2013

Scene: Blessed Dream?

The psychic stood in her kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea. It had been a long day already, and it wasn't even noon yet. She found herself thankful for the true silence that filled the room, tired of the faint whispers of the dead and their constant demands for her to help them connect again with the living room. Sitting on the table was a manuscript she was editing, one that was dictated by said whispers.

“Hi,” said a male voice. She sighed, at first annoyed that there was yet another being jabbering at her. Then she gasped, her eyes widening slightly, as she realized that it was a voice she heard with her ears, a voice from another person. She turned abruptly to find a tall man leaning against her counter. A smile curved his lips and danced in his blue eyes. Hair the color of ripe wheat framed his face and spilled over his muscular shoulders. As she stared at him, the tea cup slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

He darted forward and caught the cup, managing not to spill even a drop of the scalding liquid. He looked up at her, his amused smile turning more suggestive. “You.. You can't be here,” she gasped, taking a step back, a single hand fluttering to her chest, “It's not possible.” He straightened and set the cup on the counter as he leaned back against it again. The blue twill of his shirt seemed but a few shades darker then his eyes and the white mother of pearl buttons gleamed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

He watched her lick her lips nervously. “I'm dreaming,” she concluded, “This must be a dream.” He stepped forward, his booted feet almost soundless against the carpeting. He wrapped his arms about her shoulders, pulling her against himself. “Gods don't just show up in one's kitchen, you know,” she said in a small, anxious voice.

“Tell me, little one,” he said, “do your dreams do this?” His mouth settled over hers, stilling her babbling. As he kissed her, she froze and trembled. The impossiblity of the situation suddenly didn't matter in the warmth of his presence. She closed her eyes and simply surrendered to what was at first an almost chaste pressing of lips.

One of his warm hands moved down to settle at the small of her back as the other came up to cradle the back of her head. Dizzily, she took a breath in as he deepened the kiss. The warm scents of a hayfield in the summer afternoon, of ripe grain, and something undeniably male combined together to subtly push away her panic. He stepped forward, guiding her back until she was against the wall. He broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck. Before lifting his head and whispering in her ear, “Do you know who I am?”

“You're Frey,” she said. He stepped back just enough so that their bodies were not pressed together. “But why?” she asked. Frey gave the psychic an indulgent smile before shaking his head. “I...” she started when he put his fingertips on her lips.

“No words,” he said, “No questions. Don't think, just do.” The tall god's hands gathered the trembling woman close to himself again before finding their way under her sweatshirt. Gently, they traced intricate patterns over her sensitive sides. She sighed with pleasure and he pressed his hands more firmly against her. He smiled at how she turned her head away from him, struggling against the sweet torment that he put her through. “I know you better then any man,” he laughed, “Do you really think you can resist me? Especially when we both know you don't want to.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him in a sudden flash of terror. Frey only smiled at her as he lightly dragged his nails up along her ribs. Her mouth fell open and she gasped as he lightly dug them deeper into her skin. “This is what you need,” he said into her ear as she sagged against him, going weak as he retraced his intricate patterns with his nails raising red welts in their passing.

He slipped his hands out from beneath her shirt and lifted the fabric up. In a smooth motion, he took the sweatshirt off and dropped it to the floor. Frey's mouth closed over her right nipple, his beard tickling her skin as he took it in his teeth. She made a mewling cry and moved away from him, but his grip about her waist only allowed her enough space to squirm.

He reached down and gripped her hips. As he pressed her firmly against himself, he grinned at how her eyes went wide. She started to say something when Frey shook his head. His mouth, warm, soft, and delightful, made its way down her abdomen. He caught the waistband of her sweatpants in his teeth. He looked up at her with smoldering hunger in his eyes.

She gasped and put a maidenly hand over her chest, as she reached with her free hand to push him away from her waist. He gave a low growl, sounding half like a feral animal and she pulled her hand back with a squeak of shock. He reached down and pushed her ankles together. As he ran his hands up the outsides of her legs, Frey chuckled softly and let go her clothes, choosing to flash her a dazzling grin moments before he stripped her of her pants and underwear in a single motion.

She gave a yelp and moved to cover herself. He caught her wrists and pushed them back against the wall, pinning them to either side of her hips. Frey pressed a kiss over her right hipbone. He slowly dragged his tongue along the line of her hip towards her sex. He nuzzled between her thighs, taking in a slow, deep breath. He moved one of his knees to between her feet and gently parted her legs.

Looking up at her hotly, the god breathed softly on her sex. Her maidenly shock was quickly replaced with a full body shiver as her eyes rolled with pleasure. He closed his teeth on the inside of her left thigh, groaning softly as she shivered again with a small noise. Gradually, he bit down harder. She shuddered harder, struggling weakly to pull her wrists free of his grip.

With a muffled laugh, he let go of her wrists and leaned back away from her. She looked at him with lust glazed eyes and he gave a knowing smile. As she watched him hungrily, he took of his clothes. Where he had simply dropped her clothing to the side, he folded his neatly and stacked them on a chair. She couldn't help staring at him. With a wry smile, he briefly posed, flexing an arm.

An entirely unexpected and inappropriate giggle burst from the nervous object of his attentions. Frey's smile turned sweet as he stepped up close to her. He leaned against her, kissing her deeply. Her slim hands settled lightly on his chest. As she ran her fingertips through the thicket of hair over his pectorals, he put a hand on her hip and broke the kiss. He pressed is forehead against hers, looking intensely into her eyes.

She stared up at him. She couldn't help the dizzy feeling that came over her as she looked into his eyes. Overwhelmed by it, she closed her eyes and moved her head so that her forehead rested against his right shoulder. He laughed softly in her ear, a warm, comforting and soothing sound. With little effort, he brought her hips to meet his, pinning her against the wall with his chest. Holding her against himself and up against the wall, the god thrust slowly into the shivering woman. He groaned softly as he found her wet and willing.

Deciding to press his advantage, he thrust faster. The woman in his arms began to shudder and groan as the first of several orgasms rolled over her. Her head lolled against his shoulder, but he paid it no mind, intent on wrenching as many orgasms from her as he could before she fell down into unconsciousness. Soon, her shuddering and groaning gave way to weak shivers and soft little sobs of pleasure. She gasped suddenly, and threw her head back. A deafening scream of pleasure was ripped from her as Frey decided he was about finished with her. He continued, thrusting harder as he sought his own orgasm. As he came, she fell weakly into his arms.

Untroubled by the post-coital weakness of his human partner, Frey simply readjusted his hold on her. He carried her into her bedroom and set her down upon the bed. As he drew the blankets over her, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. He took the cup of tea in his hand. As he breathed something in an old language, the liquid within steamed. Frey looked at the small pile of clothes on the floor and smiled.

An hour later, the nude woman woke in her bed. She sat up, confused. She slipped out of bed and grabbed her fluffy robe off of the hook on the back of the door. She put it on and ran a hand through her hair as she slipped her feet into her slippers. As she was tying the robe shut she walked into the kitchen. Her eyes went wide when she saw her clothes in a pile on the floor.

She looked from the clothes to the table. Sitting on the table was her teacup. She reached to pick it up and gaped in wonder. The tea was still hot. Beneath the cup, she found a single rune scratched into the tabletop, Ing.

Friday, January 11, 2013

Scene: Mouse II

She swam slowly up out of sleep. The first thing she was aware of was warmth and softness. Then she realized she was nude, bound, and blindfolded. She gasped and pulled on the restraints that held her wrists fast. The sound of his amused chuckle made her still. Despite her predicament, she couldn't help the annoyed expression that crossed her face. “This is not funny,” she grumbled, pulling harder against the cord bound about her left wrist.

“Hilarious,” he retorted. She stopped fighting and fell back against the bed. She heard the rustle of his clothes as he walked closer from her right. She turned her head towards him, listening intently. He lightly brushed the trailing end of the scarf about her eyes away from her shoulder. As the fabric whispered over her skin, she shivered.

“Now, what shall I do with you?” he said. Tension shot through her like electricity and he chuckled again. His hand moved away from her, though he seemed to to remain close, a looming presence that just had the brooding potential of a thunderhead. He stepped back and she heard a soft clicking noise. She frowned and tipped her head slightly towards the sound, trying to puzzle out what he was doing.

The sound of the fabric of his clothes adjusting themselves as he moved told her that he was walking around to the other side of the bed. He stood near her right foot and gripped the corner of the blanket hanging off the edge of the bed. In a single, snapping gesture, he pulled the blanket off of her and gathered it into a ball. As he tossed it aside, he could hear her take a surprised breath in.

Compared to the warmth of the blanket, the room was chilly. He watched as a wash of goosebumps marched over her flesh. As he walked around the foot of the bed again, he watched her turn her head slightly. He picked up the candle he had lit and looked at the hot pool of wax forming about the wick. He took the candle up in his right hand as he took a piece of ice from the bowl sitting beside it.

He brought the candle over to her. The scent of the hot wax took her by surprise even as the heat from the flame made her eyes go wide as he brought it close to her bound arm. “Don't move, little mouse,” he said, holding the candle inches from her as he moved it down her arm, along her ribs and to her side. She gave a shiver and he pressed the ice against the spot closest to the candle.

In her shock, she gave a cry. She tried to pull away, fooled for a moment into thinking that she was burned. When she registered that his hand covered that which was pressed against her side, she began to relax. As that first sign of the tension going out of her body passed through her, he tipped the candle over her stomach. The burning of the liquid wax hitting her stomach made her shriek.

He said nothing, continuing to drip wax onto her drop by agonizing drop. She arched and writhed, her control shattered by her surprise. When she realized that she couldn't escape, she gave a whimper. She tossed her head as a renewed burst of effort had her straining hard against her bonds. What little slack was in the rope only proved enough to allow her to tension herself enough to arch against the bed. She gave a soft sob of frustration as he stopped dripping wax onto her.

He put the candle on the nightstand and stood. Shivering and apprehensive of more hot wax, she gave a loud gasp of shock when he put a piece of ice against the arch of her foot. He moved it slowly up the inside of her ankle and along her leg up to her sex. Again, she arched with a cry of protest, this time as he slipped the bit of ice deep inside her.

Holding it in with his fingers, he watched as she mewled in discomfort. He knew that she wasn't ready for such an intimate touch, but he also knew that she craved the pain more. Slowly, he rubbed deep within her, smiling as she wept even as her body yielded to his touch. Soon, she was gasping and shuddering, tossing her head as her first orgasm rolled through her. With a bit more effort, he brought her to the edge of her second.

He stepped away from the bed as she whimpered and squirmed. Soon, he was close by her again. In a voice that was almost icily implacable, he said, “Not one twitch, mouse.” She gave a sob of frustration. When she felt the cold kiss of steel against her skin, she gasped. A tiny shudder shook her from head to toes and he smiled. He dragged the butter knife's blunt edge over her stomach, catching the wax as it passed.

Unaware of the nature of the blade against her skin, she shivered. Despite his admonishment not to move, her head lolled to the side. He picked up the knife and put it against her throat. She went rigid, her eyes opening wide beneath the blindfold. “What did I tell you?” he said in that wintry tone. She made an inarticulate noise that was the cross between a sigh and a moan. He pressed it harder against her skin. “Would you prefer the edge?” he said.

She gave a strangled sound as she shuddered hard. He made a slight sawing motion with the knife. She said in a choked tone, “Oh god.” He smiled at how her entire body seemed to vibrate with her effort to remain still. He repeated himself and she gave a small sob of arousal laced fear. “I.. I don't remember,” she wailed, “oh! I'm sorry. I.. I..” He repeated his teasing threat of cutting with his blunt weapon. Words gave way to a throaty groan.

He said quietly, “You don't remember or were you not listening?” She whimpered as he moved the butter knife so that the flat was against her chin. Lightly, he moved it from her neck up to the tip of her chin and back down. “I don't think you were listening to me, little mouse,” he said, his voice rich with amusement and dire implications.

“I was listening,” she said anxiously, “I was. I just don't remember.. I can't think.” He made a thoughtful sound. “I'm sorry,” she continued, “I...” His mouth covered hers as she went to babble her contrition. Startled by his kiss, she tensed. He broke the kiss and moved his head lower. As he caught her nipple between his teeth, she shuddered and mewled. He dropped the butter knife to the floor before gripping her other breast hard.

He rolled her nipple between his teeth as she wailed softly in pain. His nails bit into her skin and her hands balled up into fists. His tongue moved, warm and soft against her sore nipple. He grinned as she tossed her head and threw it back against the bed. He moved his hand down from her breast to her stomach. With a feather light touch, he caressed her skin.

“Oh...” she moaned, unable to help the shivers that went through her. He began to leave small bites over her breast as he slid his hand lower. As his fingertips brushed through her pubic hair, her eyes rolled and she shuddered. Lightly, he teased her sex. Wracked between the pain of his teeth and the pleasure of his touch, she orgasmed hard.

He stood up and stepped away. His clothes rustled again and then there was the soft sound of fabric hitting the floor. As he made his way between her legs, she made inviting noises. He knelt between her thighs and dipped his head. He brought his face close to her pussy and took in a deep breath. The rich scent of her arousal just made him ache even more with need.

With out any preamble, he thrust his turgid cock into her. Her surprised cry dropped down into a sensual moan as he thrust into her industriously. As her body convulsed around him, he made an almost pained sound. He rocked harder against her, forcing little gasping cries out of her. With each thrust, she shuddered and strained against her bonds.

Rendered all but mindless by what felt to be a continuous orgasm from the moment he thrust into her, she made incoherent animal sounds of pleasure. He stopped for a moment and she gave a long, keening cry of what sounded to be pain. “Please,” she begged, “Oh god, please.” He struggled with the urge to keep thrusting and the white hot pleasure of listening to her frantic plea. Inspiration struck him and he grinned.

“Beg for it,” he growled, unable to keep the husky notes of hunger or pleasure out of his voice. At the sound of his voice, she shuddered from head to toe. “Beg and I'll give it to you,” he said. She wailed and he began to pull out.

“Oh, no,” she gasped, “No, don't stop. Please, don't stop.” He grinned, moving slowly deeper into her again. He gripped her hips hard as she babbled an incoherent plea for more. As she made her pained, desperate pleas for more, he rewarded her with a hard thrust. She threw her head back and arched her back with a wordless shriek. He dug his nails into her ass and she made a throaty groan, hardly able to think of the words he wanted to hear.

When nothing more happened, she said in a pained voice, “Please. Oh please, more.” He pulled out and thrust into her again. Somewhere in her lust fevered mind, she made the connection between her begging and his fucking. Soon, she was writhing beneath him, breathlessly whimpering for more. Enjoying how she made pained noises of pleasure with each slow movement, he fucked her as slowly as he could manage.

With each passing moment, she became more frantic with her babbling. Soon, she was weeping and wailing, struggling against her bonds and nearly shrieking with need as he brought her to the edge of her hardest orgasm yet. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he began to ram into her with all his strength. She screamed wordlessly as her orgasm broke over her like a wave.

Her continuous shriek of pained pleasure left his ears ringing but he didn't care. Riding her with all the fury of his own need, he forced her through her pleasure with his almost savage thrusting. As his orgasm built, he pulled her hips up hard to meet his. The slap of their flesh mingled with her cries to push him over the edge. He thrust deep into her and closed his eyes against the almost painful pleasure of his orgasm.

He smiled at how she collapsed bonelessly against the bed when he pulled out. He bent his head and placed a kiss on her chest, feeling the wild pulse of her heartbeat beneath his lips as she fell into sleep.

Friday, January 4, 2013

scene: mouse

She took his arm and twisted it back behind him. As he moved to break out of the hold, she swept his feet out from underneath him. They slammed into the mat. She straddled him and moved to force the shoulder lock when he suddenly managed to break out of her hold. With a shocking amount of speed, he twisted and knocked her off of himself.

Their positions reversed, she thrashed in an effort to break free. He leaned forward, pressing her wrists down into the mat beneath them and grinning into her face. “Nice try,” he said. She attemped to slip her wrists out of his hold but he simply ground the heel of his hands against them. Anger flashed in her face as she kicked. He sat on her hips and his grin turned lavacious. “I like 'em with some fight to 'em,” he said suggestively.

She rolled her eyes and abruptly stopped trying to break free. “You know this isn't about sex,” she muttered unable to keep the irritation out of her voice, “You're supposed to be helping me learn how to defend myself.” His grin grew wider. He leaned down, putting his face close to hers. As he took a deep breath in, she shivered.

“Come on,” he whispered in her ear, “Fight me.” She pulled at her wrists, making a startled squeak when he abruptly let go and leaned back. As he grinned down at her, she waited for him to get up. When he didn't move, she glared at him. He reached forward and trailed his fingertips along the neckline of her t-shirt. “Well,” he said, “You going to hit me or not?” He grinned at her, a manic gleam in his eye daring her to swing.

“Get up off me and we'll see,” she snapped at him. As he moved off of her, he gave a low, evil laugh. She rolled to her feet and looked at him. He looked up at her, spreading his arms wide as he remained kneeling before her. Taking the opening, she moved to kick him in the chest. He caught her leg in his arms and abruptly twisted it. As she fell to the ground, she scissor kicked and caught him in the side of the head.

He let go and rolled away from her as she somersaulted backwards to her feet. In a crouch, she watched her sparring partner stand. Again, he grinned at her. “Come on,” he said invitingly, “Hit me.” She crossed the distance between them in a few paces and delivered a solid blow to his shoulder. As he moved to swing at her in return, she ducked beneath his blow. She came up inside his guard and shoved him hard.

Much to her dismay, his stance was too solid and her attack was fruitless. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and dropped to the floor. He pinned her again beneath him. She writhed like a wildcat and he laughed. Grabbing hold of her wrists and holding them down against the floor just off the mat, he grinned at her yelp of pain. She managed to slip one wrist free by pure luck and struck him hard across the face.

He closed his eyes, taking a quick breath in as he savored the sharp sensation. He opened his eyes and a sensual heat mingled with his amusement. “Mm, fiesty,” he said suggestively. She feinted towards his face before delivering a direct punch to his solar plexus. With a grunt, he rolled off her. She tumbled away from him and up to her feet. Her hair half wild and a hard light in her eyes, he couldn't help but pause a moment to stare at her.

She took advantage of his distraction to kick him in the chest. She knocked him back a pace and came forward swinging. With a laugh, he traded blows with her. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in speed. As she battered his defenses, he watched the way she moved with a smile. She had a small snarl curving her lips and making her expression somewhat feral as she focused on attempting to win through his defense.

He dropped his arms and took up a solid stance. As she struck his shoulder, he moved. His arm hit her across the chest as he dropped to his knee, dragging her down as he gripped her around the waist. Rolling her over his knee, he slammed her into the mat hard enough that she saw stars. She lay there dazed beneath him. As she attempted to catch her breath, his mouth closed over hers.

Surprised, she didn't have the presence of mind to resist the kiss he gave her. His arms wrapped around her, he lifted her from the floor and pressed her body against his. Where there had been violence between them, there was now incredible tenderness. With almost painful gentleness, he ran a hand up her back. Lightly, he cradled her face between his hands and kissed her again.

She shivered and sighed, uncertain what to do in the face of this new line of attack. He broke the kiss and buried his face in the hollow of her throat. He took a deep breath in and made a soft noise of delight. She felt something within her grow soft and yielding at that sound. In a frantic effort to quiet her reeling mind, she pushed against his shoulders and jerked herself out of his light hold.

He looked at her and smiled. “Is that how we're going to do this?” he said. She scrambled back away from him and up to her feet. His smile widened into an almost obscene mockery of the tender one that was there heartbeats earlier. He crooked his finger at her and made a come hither gesture. Uncertain of what to do, she took up a defensive stance and watched him warily. He stood and started to circle her.

She moved to keep her eyes on him. “This time you're paying attention,” he chuckled, “Maybe this will be interesting after all.” Her eyes narrowed and then he left her no time for any other response. One hand feinted towards her face as he kicked at her feet. She stumbled back. Again, he swung towards her face. Thinking it another feint, she lowered her guard. When his hand connected, she saw stars.

Reeling, she stumbled away from him. Seizing the advantage, he pressed forward and forced her back several paces. As she slammed into the wall, her head bounced against the knotty pine paneling hard enough that she nearly bit her tongue. She forgot what he had taught her and failed to notice the opening he had left her, blindly shoving against his chest rather then ducking under his arm and escaping. He gripped her jaw and pressed her head against the wall at an uncomfortable angle.

She kicked at him and he slid his grip lower. Her eyes widened and she froze as he squeezed her throat. “Not paying attention again,” he sighed, sounding almost disappointed beneath the amusement in his voice, “Hmm... Now what do I do with you?” She started to bring her hand up to strike at his face and he squeezed again. He made a noise of disapproval and shook her slightly. “I've caught you fair and square, little mouse,” he said ominously.

Shivering beneath his hand, she couldn't help the startled squeak as he closed his free hand over her right breast. He grinned. “Mouse,” he said conversationally, “Yes, I think that's an excellent name for you.” She reached up and vainly attempted to pull his hand away from her throat. He simply reapplied the pressure of his earlier grip and she gave another small noise of shock. “Really?” he sighed, looking at her with mild disappointment, “You're surprised by that? I've got you by the throat. You should expect it, mouse.”

As her face began to flush, he looked at her mildly. Her eyes darted around in panic. In a burst of motion, she flailed. Her knee struck him hard in the groin and he let go of her, falling back a few paces. She darted around him and out into the center of the floor. With a snarl, he straightened and took a step towards her. She fell back a pace, again taking up a defensive position. “That,” he said in a husky growl, “was a real hit.”

As he circled her again, she watched him warily. “Come on,” he said in that hungry, feral tone, “Hit me, mouse.” She rushed forward and brought her elbow up towards his face. He swatted her down with a single open handed blow across the face. She lay on the floor, dazed as he stood over her. He didn't move as she pushed herself up and shook her head. “Get up,” he purred, “hit me.”

She kicked at him and he stepped back with a laugh. At his laughter, she glared at him. She made her way to her feet when he stepped forward. His hands closed roughly over her shoulders and he threw her to the ground again. She landed face first, too disoriented to break her fall. He dropped down into a crouch and took hold of her hair.

He pulled her head back as he put his face down near her ear. “You're not trying, little mouse,” he said in that sensual tone. A shudder went through her and he smiled. “Oh, I see,” he continued, pulling her hair harder and forcing her to arch her back, “You like this.” She whimpered and he laughed. In a sudden, forceful gesture, he whipped her head forward.

She turned her face just in time so that the side of her head struck the mat. She moved to push herself up onto her hands and knees when he pushed down between her shoulders and pinned her to the floor. He maneuvered himself so that he was sitting on her hips. She lay still beneath him, though he could feel her shivering.

He reached down and pulled the back of her shirt up. A broad hand moved smoothly beneath the light cotton. As he ran his hand up her spine, she shivered harder and rolled her eyes in pleasure at his light touch. “So, what do I do with you, mouse?” he sighed, dancing his fingertips over her back. He lifted his hand away from her skin and she arched her back up to feel his hand on her again.

He pushed her shirt up higher and looked down at her back. She looked back at him and trembled at his thoughtful expression. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim object. Confusion crossed her face and then horror as he whipped open the butterfly knife. He leaned forward and pulled the neck of the shirt up and away from her skin. He put the edge to the fabric. As he cut down the center of the shirt, the tip of the knife scored a fine line down her spine.

She gave an inarticulate groan. He opened the shirt like a book and looked down at her back. Bruises from their scuffling earlier had begun to form. A thin red line ran from the nape of her neck down to the waistband of her pants. He turned the knife over in his hands, considering his options. As he put the edge against her shoulder, she gasped. “What do you want?” he said, feeling the tension running through her body as she struggled with the urge to squirm.

“I... I don't know,” she said. He moved the knife so that the tip was pressing down on her, careful not to break the skin. He felt the tension in her hips and he smiled. He pressed down slightly harder and pricked her. She gave a yelp before shivering from head to toe. He twisted the knife,turning it where the tip had marked her. With a strangled groan, she dug her fingertips into the mat beneath them.

He lifted the knife away from her back and she whimpered in protest, despite her efforts not to. “Just admit it,” he said, “Admit what you want, and you'll get it.” She gave a soft sob of frustration, torn between what she wanted and what she thought she was supposed to want. He leaned forward, pressing himself against her.

His hand with the knife settled before her face as the other gripped her shoulder. She stared at the knife with an almost unholy yearning. His voice was low, rich, and enticing. “Just say it,” he said, knowing that she'd give in with just a bit more pressure. His lips brushed against her ear as he continued, “We both know what you want, what you need. Why are you resisting? You could have it right now. Right this moment, right here. I'm a generous man. I'd be happy to give it to you. Come on, little mouse, give in.”

She shivered beneath him, her eyes rolling as lustful visions flashed through her mind. He smiled at the softness that came into her expression. He could tell that she was close to just confessing her desire. He moved the knife so that the blade caught the light. As it flashed and winked at her, her breathing quickened. She stared at it, her lips slightly parted and a slow flush rising over her cheeks. He moved the knife slightly closer to her face.

He could feel her breath catch and the shiver of anticipation that passed through her. “What do you want, mouse?” he said. He moved his head slightly. As he took in a breath, he passed his face lightly up the column of her throat. He felt her squirm sensually beneath him and he smiled. He gave a sigh into her ear. “Well,” he said, “Are you going to say it or is this it?” Her eyes widened and he restrained the urge to chuckle in triumph.

All self-consciousness washed out of her face in the odd mix of panic and arousal that replaced it. “I will get up and nothing else will happen,” he explained. She looked at the knife and then back to him. Then he smiled, because in that moment he had taken away all the nebulous options and forced her to make her choice.

She swallowed and blushed. “I... I want to feel it,” she whispered. He turned the knife again, smiling at how her gaze was drawn inextricably back to it. She swallowed hard as he leaned down and put his face close to her ear.

“This?” he asked, holding up the knife. She nodded. “You want to feel this?” he said, cruel amusement creeping into his voice. “How do you want to feel it?” he asked. Her eyes closed as a small look of anguish touched her face when she realized that just admitting her desire was not going to get her what she wanted.

He put the blunt edge of the knife against her forearm. She gasped. Lightly, he ran it back and forth over her skin. “Like this?” he asked. She bit her lips as he pressed it down and scraped the back of her arm. “Or is it like that?” he said. She opened her mouth to reply when he turned the knife over.

The moment that the edge touched her skin, her eyes flew open and she looked surprised. With the precision of a surgeon's deftness, he caressed her with the sharpened edge of the knife. Her eyes rolled and she gave a groan of pleasure. He smiled and teased her arm, enjoying how she squirmed helplessly beneath him even as she struggled to remain still. He took the knife away from her arm and sat back.

She made a noise of protest that turned into an alarmed squeak as he gripped her hair and pulled her head back. With the same slow, patient gestures, he dragged the edge of the knife lightly against her throat. Small, animalistic whimpers escaped her as she shuddered. He flipped the knife over so that the blunt edge was against her throat. As he pressed it hard against her skin, she gave a throaty groan and shuddered.

Slowly, he dragged it over her shoulder before letting go of her hair. He turned the edge over again and dragged it down her shoulder blade. She gasped and stiffened. As he pressed down and cut into her back, she gave a small, almost keening cry. Beneath him, he could feel her body shudder with a second orgasm before he had finished his cut. Lightly, he cut another line into her shoulder, watching how her body seemed to vibrate between the tension of holding still and the force of successive orgasms.

She moaned, whimpered, sobbed, and wailed as he slowly scored marks into her back. Her hands opened and closed convulsively against the mat. Tears rolled down her face as she shook with her body's response to his harsh treatment. He smiled down at her as she wordlessly voiced her pleasure. He lifted the knife away from her back, watching as the thin lines beaded up with drops of blood. Shuddering at the sensation of the drops of blood oozing down her skin, she moaned helplessly.

He took a corner of her ruined shirt and cleaned his knife as she simply lay before him. He looked down at her face and noted her eyes were closed. He ran a light touch over her back. She didn't twitch but gave a low moan. Deciding that he'd wake her later, he closed the knife and put it in his pocket.