Crossing the Threshold Ch. 02

The force of the impacts grew steadily until they crossed her limits and her legs strained to close. I stopped, telling her, "Spread yourself when you're ready." After a moment, my victim's legs spread wide, hips tilted upward, and again the blows fell, now full-arm, full-strength, pushing until savannah's limits were once again passed. Thus was set the rhythm: lather, rinse, repeat, until my arm was aching and the sweat was dripping from me within the coolness of the room. My dusky bottom was rising once more towards orgasm, and such could not yet be allowed.

I stepped away, and the waiting water bottle replaced the insidious leather instrument in my hand. I stood, surveying the puddle of animal heat into which I had transformed my treasured submissive. The glow of a nigh-mystical state surrounded savannah, a haloed being wrapped in the sublime, as a steady stream of honey dripped from enraged, blazing loins to the towel beneath her.

Finally, my arm had recovered enough to continue. My companion's powerful tan body was writhing slowly, tremulously. Her eyes were closed, her face wrapt in glowing rapture. Moving silently, careful not to reveal my movements by contact with the thighs which trembled, waiting, I crouched before the still-dripping crimson mess enframed by those thighs.

Reaching forward with both hands, I took the flaming, engorged tissue of my delectable victim's outer labia in a crushing grip between my thumbs and forefingers. Thus anchored, I slowly, inexorably stretched those tissues towards myself, watching as they became two handles of flesh several inches in angry, burning length. I gauged my activity, my slow increase of pressure, by the twitching of attached hips, the spasming of taut belly, the faint gasps and whispers that rolled forth in rapturous testimony, the faint pulling as the attached submissive tried to increase my pressure. Holding at what seemed to be her anguished limit, I slowly changed the direction of that pressure, pulling upwards towards the ceiling above. I held her there whimpering, quietly wailing from a face whose eyes seemed focused on a scene for themselves only, until my hand began to fatigue, then released my stretched handles with a snap, relishing the cry that burst forth as blood flooded back into those tortured tissues. For a moment, I watched the slow, sinuous convulsions that rippled through Savannah's body, watched as her hips arched forward, reaching, begging silently for more. Her face shone, her eyes fixed upon a place far, far away. Reaching towards those handles of flesh, I established the rhythm that I would maintain for a seeming eternity in that chamber: stretch, lift upward, hold, release, relish.

The time had come. Subspace had become my lover's world, her body answering upon its own, begging, yearning. The towel beneath the monstrously engorged ruin of her loins was soggy with the rivulet flowing from them. My hands and arms were beginning to tire, and it was becoming difficult to maintain my grip upon the wet, slippery tissues. It was now or never.

Taking the crawling, undulating flesh of fire in my hands for one final, crushing grip, I rose to my feet and began inexorably drawing upward against the inescapably intimate tethers that her outer labia had become. Slowly, mercilessly, I increased the pressure, feeling the strain build in my arms, shoulders, chest, feeling the growing pain in my hands as my grip tightened, held. I rotated my hands a bit towards the tops of her thighs, rolling the flesh of her labia with me, making a crude pulley-system out my thumb and forefinger to increase my grip strength, like taking a rope around a tree. And still I lifted.

Then the unthinkable, never-before attained happened. At an excruciating, glacial pace, savannah's hips began to rise. Taking more of her weight, now, in my back and my thighs, I pulled upwards towards my chest. Bit by bit, my powerful submissive's weight shifted from the cushion beneath her to rest suspended by tethered, tormented tissues of the most intimate degree. I watched as the cushion beneath relaxed, releasing her burden. She was mute, now, barely twitching, utterly transfixed, her face glowing as with glory, as, with one last effort, I raised her buttocks from their support and held her before me, swaying, suspended from knee to shoulders, hanging there, surrounded by air and agony and passion. Long minutes passed as she swung gently in my grasp, surrendering to an act about whose possibility I'd never been certain, a vision that I'd never thought to see in actuality. The only sound was our breathing and the pounding of my heart. Reluctantly, I finally lowered my treasured victim back upon the chair that had, it seemed an eternity before, held her cherished mass.

I'd become nearly unaware of my own body, so enchanted, ensnared, enraptured had I been by what had just occurred. I realized that my erection was fierce, raging, demanding. Kneeling between glistening thighs, I reached forward again and took back those handles that I had so recently released. Wrapping their slipperiness in my grip, I pulled her brutally upon my cock as it descended like a spear into her womb. Holding her by that flesh, I slammed us upon one another in a spasm of animal lust, heedless, sadistic. Her cries began instantly, cries of ecstasy, the song of paradise, the music of life and the sphere filling the room as we crashed together. I released her labia only when that grip was no longer enough, when nothing less than her hips could serve to my needs, our bodies colliding in fury as she rode the full length of my shaft and my passion, my need, rode her.

I was blind, animal, conscious only of the searing, moist cavern within which I plunged, taking her as an animal does, with fury and heat and lust, mindless of either of us or of that point where one ended and the other began. Our bodies convulsed, raged together, burned as one, welded into an unthinking unity as by a white-hot inferno which had taken shape around us.

I still don't know which one of us first burst forth with the howl, the shriek, of the tidal wave that slammed into us. I dimly remember the crushing spasms of her vaginal muscles as burning lava spewed from me, pouring forth for a time that stretched forever, leaving me drained, weak, near collapse. She was convulsing, screaming, wailing as the orgasms slammed into her, one after another without respite.

I was capable only of holding her there, upon that perch, as the orgasms wracked her body. She spasmed as if in a fit, shaking, squirming, in ceaseless motion as the earthquakes within went on and on and on. Half an hour passed, and still she shook. Finally, the tremors abated, though they would return through the hours and days to come as involuntary orgasms settled upon her from the blue.

Now, then, I suspected that there would be time for one last pussy-flogging before this weekend came to an end. With that thought in my mind, I began to release my beloved's bonds.