New Slave

The skeletons should have frightened the desire out aticaticoy-after all, he was not entirely sure that he would not end up as her next decoration. So what if he did? In the meantime, his existance would be marked by moments of passion with a beautiful Mistress, and some free time in a room fit for a Master. Even if these skeletons adorning the walls were past dalliances of hers, they must have had happy lives prior to being interior design highlights.

The thought of it only flickered through his mind, his attention focusedhis his mistress walking before him. As she walked, her petite form swayed with an elegance and eagerness that belied her appearance of fifteen years. Her voice seemed to caress his ears as she spoke, the desire dripping like honey, sweet to his soul.

At her words, he dropped to one knee before her. Partially because it seemed the thing to do, but also partially because the look in her eyes had weakened him for a moment. There was a power in her eyes; and Saticoy had a feeling that any mortal man faced with the intense beauty that now faced him would feel as he did right now. Lost in a wave that threatened to drown, but never was any man so happy to lose himself.

He found his voice had become low, and soft.

"Ready, and quite willing to serve."

Again, he found himself overwhelmed by an odd impulse; to lift her up and carry her in. But until he knew her, he would not presume to touch upon her grace without being commanded to do so. Ah! The trickiness of pleasure slavery! Touch, but only when told; desire, but only on command; love, but never too closely.

Daesare gave a tender pet to his cheek, she, as any demon, could sense the fear about him momentarily. “You need not worry my dear, these skeletons are old enemies, and you are my desire. You will never end up like them as long as you are in my care.” her voice was lusty again, her breath coming quickly in anticipation, though the graceful about her was not diminished in the least. She clicked the key in the lock and swung the door open, stepping inside.

“Come in, love.” She commanded, playfully, as her figure vanished through the doorway, with a look of playful desire as she turned the corner.

Daesare’s room was perhaps the most lavish in the house, for it was the room she spent the most time in. Upon first entering, the most prominate object in the room was by far the bed. It was noticeable larger than a king sized bed, perhaps twice as large, and situate in the far left corner of the room. It’s box was oak as the doors and furniture, and it’s mattress that of soft goose down feathers, an incredible luxury (And a right expensive one at that). The sheets were black silk, with a bit of a sheen, a marvelous softness about them, they were like water to the touch and obscenely pleasurable to sleep on (Especially for Daesare, who usually slept naked, with a lover). It had four posts around it, each of an odd sort of black material, perhaps some sort of bone or tusk. The posts were connected by bars at there tops, and from these hung see-through mesh draperies that nearly touched the ground. All together, the ebon allure of this bed was emulated through ought the room in a marvelous way.

The carpets were black, long soft plush beneath Daesare’s bare feet and they had obviously been cleaned recently. Directly across from the door was a wardrobe, a tall oak thing with variouss ofs of liquids on the top, for unknown reasons. There were three doors on the right wall of the room, one ing ing to the spa, one to her closet and one to the dungeon. Why she had instant bedroom to dungeon access was unknown. There were a few other oak wardrobes around the room, and a fireplace on the far wall, which should have been burning in the weather but was not only smoldering coals. On the strange side, there were various posts metal posts on the walls, and a pair of arm shackles high above the room.

These would not but used now, she knew he would be willing to fallor cor command today, and she wished to show him a good time now, first impressions were important....

If Saticoy had thought Daesare's father was a fallen angel, he now decided that her mother must have been a Queen. Who else could have lived in such splendor? But Daesare could have slept no where else; no place but a queen's bedchamber would have suited her.

He did not ask where the doors in her room went-somehow, it might be better not to know.

"Tell me what you wish, my Mistress. Tell me what it is you desire most, and it shall be done."

He wanted to reach out to her, to touch her soft hair, to pull her close, to feel her sweet mouth upon his, to breathe in her scent; instinct called to him, but he resisted it. But he could not resist coming close to her, just to be near.

His prescience was intoxicating. She had little self control ss she closed the door, reaching out to Saticoy now and snaking one arm behind his back, the other quickly coming up in one fluid motion to his head, she craned the soft curve of her neck slightly to reach his lips. Her first kiss was gentle, barely there, the next with a bit more ferocity, until hips ips were parted to kiss him openly. She parted his lips slightly, her hand on the back of his head brining herself deep into the kiss. Her toung began to ravish the inner warmth of his mouth, her own mouth was a bit warmer than her flesh, and her passion unwound freely. She knew just where to touch is mis mouth, just which way to swirril her toung. She acted as though hungry, the arm around his waist pulling him close against he body, she slipped her thumb into the hem of his pants at his waist teasingly, she pulled away from his lips for only a moment, nipping his bottom lip playfully, to speak one last time before her body would allow her no words and succumb to primal desires.

“Tonight is our night my darling, but I will allow you to be candid in this room. Lust knows no social ranking…. Let me see what this mistress of yours has taught you, and I will instruct you in what you might not know of.” Of coarse, by this she meant for once he would get equal gratification, and be taught about his own desire, what felt good to him. In this room they were equals in her eyes. Daesare let out a small moan “Touch me love, I want you…” With this she moved her hand from behind his head to the front of his pants, giving a gentle touch through the soft fabric of what she desired.

Saticoy paused, but only for a moment. To be truly desired, simply for himself; and not the playtoy of some mistress seeking gratification and vengance; it was a powerful aphrodesiac. Her kiss spoke as deeply as her words, and the lion only hoped his meager lessons had been enough. He decided to take what he'd been taught, and to mix it with the desires he felt. Somehow, he knew this was the best way. If it was, in truth, remained to be seen. Her small hand, brushing against the soft trousers was like a match to a flame; if she had wished to torure the lad, there would be no crueler fate than to deny him now.

His head swirled; no one had ever spoken soft words of passion to him before, and he hardly knew where to begin. So he began at the beginning. He pulled the small body to him, feeling the shape of her body pressed against his own, and returned the kiss. But carefully at first, mindful of his own sharp teeth. The coolness of her mouth drove the heat burning within him; lips too soft for any mere slave, any mere mortal to touch. But he kissed, and then let his kisses trail along her jawline, down the nape of her neck, savoring the soft, sweet cool flesh. A brush of the lips here, a small suckle there, and even the pressure of his tongue, tracing patterns against the smoothe flesh. And this would prove to be an unusual weapon in Saticoy's arsenal; for the tongue was slightly rough, textured, due to his feline nature.

Neither were his hands idle. one remained to her back, firmly to keep her close, but not so much that she could not have pulled away if she wished it. The other caressed the satin cheek, fingertips tracing the curve of her throat even as his kisses wandered down the swanlike grace of the other side, along her collerbone, searching the gentle curve of her corset.

He was mindful of the touch she had given his trousers; he longed for that touch again. But he remembered his first lesson. Physical love is a game, not unlike chess. It can be played fierce and quickly, taking the other player for all they are worth-or it can be slow, dramatic, and filled with twists and turns, unsuspected strategies.

For this, their first time together, Saticoy was hoping the game might last for a little while.
Daesare’s sensuous lips let out a small, pleasurable as as Saticoy reached her neck. She adored that kiss, her neck was sensitive, lots of blood flowing there, an odd, usually overlooked trait of demons, and even with her small amount of blood she felt it’s effects. The thought of Saticoy being a slave had now slipped her mind, all he was now was a lover, and she adored every single tender kiss he placed upon her, savoring every sensation.

Her eyes drew to nearly half mast, and with a delicate care she slipped her arm around Saticoy’s back, pulling him even closer. The corset was restricting, and her chest was tightly inside of it, she wished desperately to release it, and with her other hand she reached up to her front and pulled the satin tie that laced the front, letting to loosen. As he kissed her collarbone, she whispered into his ear. “Yes, Saticoy, Ohh..” He would re rewarded for this delight he brought to her now, her fingers splayed across his back as she wrapped her other arm around him, enjoying the heat of his body, and touching with such tenderness his fur. Oh, how she adored it…. So soft, perfection.

She so loved the feeling of his naked chest against her, another reason to long for her corset to be gone, so she could feel that warmth all over her body. The thought made her moan aloud, urging Saticoy on.

And she would tease him, oh yes, that was half the fun. Yet he would see forillment in ways he never had before, and for once he would be allowed to spend the night,.

Gently, slowly, he loosened the laces that confined her slender frame. Hateful cloth, to come between him and that which he wanted-no, needed! Her whisper tickled upon his ear, sending a tingle down his spine. How such sweet, cool breath could feel so warm all at once was beyond him, but he certainly wanted no time to sit and ponder the paradox.

Her gentle touch across his back encouraged him onward, as the corset itself came loose. He leaned further down, his mouth finding the gentle curves of her chest too enticing to resist for a moment more, kisses welcoming her skin to freedom.

His hand had wandered to caress the svelteness of her waist, the round of her hip. He lifted his head to her then, his own breath becoming jagged with desire, his voice low and filled with warmth.

"My beautiful Mistress..."

It seemed to cost him an effort to speak, but the look in his eyes said what his voice could not. A lion on the hunt for the sweetest sort of prey, for one who he adored for her passion. His height came to an advantage, and now he did sweep her into his arms easily, carrying her to her bed.

His kisses resumed, down the tender throat, past her collarbone, to the delicate swell of her breasts. He took her hand, and pressed it to his own chest. The taught muscles did not hide the pounding of his heart, nor did he wish it to. He released her hand, only so that she might do with it as she wished, to move it or not.

The silk of the bed was softer even than it appeared, like clouds against Daesare’s newly exposed skin. She savored ever touch Saticoy gave her, every little movement he made as noted and loved. Daesare was washed in ecstasy, her mouth just slightly open, the muscles in her body relaxing greatly. Usually is would be she who would be the dominate one, yet she quickly found it delightful to surrender her body to the will of Saticoy, and obviously he was quite skilled at stimulating it. And most notable of all was the fact that she trusted him enough to let herself be taken into is arms and carried, there were few she would allow to do such a thing, though with Saticoy his embrace was welcomed and delighted in, her lips tenderly kissing his fur before she was layed onto the bed.

Daesare let out another longing moan as Saticoy touched her supple breasts. In her tender young age, she had but a handful, fitting for her slender frame, round and soft, craving attention. Her chest moved slightly with each breath that came, a certain pale rosy ness coming about her features and flushing them with a bit of color, noticeably different from her usual paleness.

Suddenly, and desperately, she wished to be rid of her skirt, though she fancied she would keep it on a bit longer….. Surely Saticoy wouldn’t dare touch it without approval. As her soft hand was layed on his chests he reveled in the strength of his hand atop hers, so fragile and easy to manipulate now with her lust. She raked his fingers through the fur on his chest, kissing now his head, while he was busy with the rest of her.

His words touched her, beautiful, his breath so hot, so desirable, all over her skin. And those lips, so skilled, kissing her so willingly, with such passion.

Ahh, the look in his eyes, so predatory. She loved it, that look, and the little bit of raggedness to his voice was scrumptious. One hand still pressed onto his chest, she moved the other between his muscular legs once more, ruining it up his thigh teasingly, only to ghost a touch to her true prize and snake its was acrossed his abdomen with such care as it found its way again beside the other, reveling in the warmth of his flesh.