Diabolical

She pauses, fork part way into her mouth. For the first time in many days Vanta meets his eyes, her jade irises clashing with his platinum ones. His heart is in his throat as her gaze pierces him deeply. "You do realize it's within reachable range," it's not a question and she looks at him skeptically.

He doesn't care, she's spoken to him, that's all that matters and he's beaming proudly at himself for his achievement. "Yes, Mistress Vanta," and then he reaches for it.

Vanta realizes he's cunning, very much so when he wants to be, and she scowls at him. She momentarily remembers how many unpleasant memories that entitlement brings, flashes of his withering body and pleases twisting her stomach in disgust. Her appetite spoils within seconds and she pushes her plate away. "Don't," this she grounds out through her clenching teeth, "call me that," the woman doesn't know whether to be embarrassed or furious and figures anger is safer of the two.

Clyde is absolutely grinning on the inside as he bites the inside of his lips to keep from smiling. "Yes, Mistress Vanta."

Vanta can't help the threat that automatically slips out. "I will cut your tongue out if you keep calling me that."

"Yes, Mistress—"

She moves in a blur, reaching across the table to grab him by the collar and yank him until their noses kiss. Her glare is so cruel it drips shudders down his spine. "If I had a choice, you would have been dead a long time ago," of course, this isn't true, but the thought sounds rather pleasant at the moment as she wraps her free hand around his throat.

The man swallows against her fingers, excited yet hurt at the same time. He knows she hates him, abhors him, but her hatred fuels her anger, which in turn arouses him to no end. He's a sad masochist, only hoping for the impossible to hurt himself. He smiles sadly, whispering into her breath, "Use me, beat me, abuse me, kill me as many times as you want until you're satisfied. Everything I do, everything I am is for you, I exist just for you."

They both know the hard truth of those words and it scares Vanta more than it should. She releases her hold on him, but he goes against his beliefs and snatches her fingers in his tight, iron grasp. When he looks deeply into her eyes he's still smiling sadly, and for the first time she fears him, not of what he will do, but what he's willing to do for her. Trying hard not to strike out at him, Vanta remains scowling. "It's unfortunate that I can't or I'd be punished severely for homicide of a comrade," her hiss is more from the tightness of his hold rather than her crumbling anger, so she yanks her hand free.

When she walks to the kitchen, plate in hand, Clyde stops her. "Jade," she stiffens, breath frozen in her lungs as her name, her identity, rolls off his tongue with ease, as if he's been saying it for years, "no matter how much you hate me or torture me I'll always return, because you broke me. You have me on a leash, and I'm yours until the end."

There's the sound of her plate clattering on the floor with her silverware, then suddenly she's in front of him, hand slicing the air, like a blade, as she strikes him across the face as hard as she can. The impact nearly sends him tumbling if he wasn't anticipating the reaction, his body tense and rooted to stand. The sharp slap echoes in their ears, both of their faces burning, one from pain and the other from an unexplainable anger. She's close, too close, to murdering him where he stands. All she has to do is just reach forward to wrap her hands around his bobbing throat and he wouldn't fight back.

"Don't you dare call me by my name," her name is her dignity, it's the one thing that labels her as herself, as an individual. Her name has power, not meant to be given to others carelessly. Only certain others are privileged with saying her name and Clyde certainly is not one of them. "You don't deserve to say my name; call me Mistress Vanta for all I fucking care. You are lower than the dirt on my boots," ire is blinding her, and she doesn't even care that he's slowly lowering to his knees, hot, bothered, trembling, and panting like the dog he is. "I will torture you in the most unimaginable ways until you're begging to be killed out of your misery," they both know she can do so, but she won't; the threat is empty, it's just her anger speaking, because she can't form a coherent word to explain how mortified she is.

Clyde knows her, and once more he is aching terribly inside from her hurtful words, but he also aches in arousal, euphoria coursing through his nerves and striking his body faster than fire. He moans loudly when her hand drives to harshly yank his head back, neck revealed and vulnerable. He's completely flushed, his cock is hot, burning steel, and it's difficult to restrict himself from touching her.

He loses his resolve, his power no longer held by a fiber, when she shifts her feet and unintentionally brushes his engorged cock. He moans so loud it wrenches her from her haze, aware of his hands greedily roaming and gripping her thighs, which brings her closer until he can deeply bury his face into her crotch. She feels his every moan and hot breath as he eagerly inhales her scent, seeking more.

Jade rips herself away, more exasperated with herself that she allowed herself to get carried away than with Clyde. She can't even come up with a quick threat, she's used them all, and now all she can do is glare deadly at his sickening face of pleasure before storming out. "Clean that mess up," she growls quickly as she's half way out the doorway. The man does so dutifully without a complaint, not minding an ounce. He takes his time finishing his meal and with cleaning up their dishes and spoiled food, and then stealthily walks up the stairs until her door is before him. Clyde's inky brown hair mingles with the rustic wood of the door as he listens for her movements.

He's not insane enough to try his luck, but it's been so long since she's willingly touched him, and his craving is growing by the days. If he doesn't try something he won't get anything, even if it is a threat or scolding. Knocking gently on the door, he patiently waits. There are only two of them, so she doesn't need to ask, but she stays silent on the other end. The man doesn't try again, although he calls for her in a tender manner, as if he is consoling someone.

"Mistress Vanta," although it's quiet, he knows she can hear it as if he has whispered in into her ear. "Mistress Vanta, may I come in?" there is no answer, but he hears the shuffle of her bed sheets. He might get himself dismembered, but he knows the only way to get her to answer is to say her name, to which he doesn't hesitate to do. "Jade."

The door yanks open, nearly wrenched off its hinges. Her hair is slightly damp, indicating she's taken a shower, and she's in a robe. She glares up at him, because he's still half a head taller than her. Although right now is a horrible time to take in his features, for the first time, Jade notices that Clyde is rather handsome. He's a mix between roguish and classic with a crown of inky brown locks and the most gorgeous gray eyes. With a lean body, light on his feet, yet alarmingly strong, he's deadly, in both contexts. Shoving those thoughts aside in a forgotten recess of her mind, Jade crosses her arms when he just stares at her. "Well?"

He needs her, this very moment, and they're both aware of it. The man still has his raging hard-on that is painfully straining in his jeans. He's hurting, aching, needing her so much he can barely stand in her presence. "Mistress Vanta," his whisper is hoarse, "please."

Pink tinted lips thin. "Please what?"

He falls to his knees, out of breath. "Please," he swallows once, twice, and desperately crawls the short distance between them, "please let me touch you, taste you, pleasure you. I beg that you touch this pathetic cock of mine, please, please, please," it's becoming a mantra, a spell that's keeping him sane. A whimper escapes his lips when Jade retreats a few steps out of his range of reach.

When his hand extends out to grab her, intending to pull her back, she raises a bare foot, perfectly balanced on her standing, lone one, and places that bare foot on his shoulder. Pressure is placed gently and she's pushing him back on his knees with a straight back. A shudder rips through him as her foot slides down his chest, purposely grazing a nipple, down his rippled abs, and just above the hidden dark hair leading to his throbbing cock. He curses the shirt standing as a barrier between the sensation of her skin.

"Why should I? How do I know if you deserve such pleasure?" Jade can't keep this up anymore, this resistance and constant myriad of negative emotions. In a way she's giving up, but she's going down with a fight, a fight she always seems to win at. She admits she relishes the rush, the thrill, of being able to overpower him with mere words, but his erotic pull to masochism and sadism makes her uneasy, so she wants to get this over with, satisfy him until he isn't begging.

She never intended to turn him into such a man; it was all in a means to get the needed information, because nothing else was working. Besides, she received permission from Maxwell that she could do as she pleased with him, even if it meant torturing him sexually. It worked, but she's always regretted the days after. To hell with it, she mine as well play along. "You've been a bad boy," and she knows perfectly well that she has him right where she wants him.

If it's possible, he hardens even more at those triggering words. His body caves slightly, trying his hardest to not instinctively grab her foot and indulge in the reward. Clyde's holding himself back for her, he needs to wait for her permission first. It's the sensation of impatience, or waiting that makes the end all the more worth it, so he locks himself in his iron restrains. He doesn't understand her sudden change, but he doesn't question it. "I'm sorry, Mistress Vanta. I promise I'll be a good boy from now on," his gray eyes gleam as he looks up at her, like a child pleading in that comical, cartoon way with 'puppy eyes.'

"How sorry are you?" finally, her sweet voice returns, and he nearly rolls his eyes into his skull from the sweetness of it. It's honey in the air and he can taste it, drowning in it.

"Truly sorry, truly, Mistress Vanta, truly," he keeps jerking forward as if going to snatch her foot, but her stare literally pins him down.

"Show me, show me you can be a good boy, then I might just reward you," she simply glances at her foot and it's all the encouragement he needs. Clyde pounces on the appendage, worshipping it like gold. He laps at every inch of skin, suckling her toes, lightly nipping at her instep, slowly circling the ball of her heel until her foot is glistening with moisture. He glances at the bed in the background, slowly beginning to push her towards it. She instantly recognizes his indication and backs to the wide mattress. When he starts towards her, she holds a hand up, and he obediently listens. If he was a dog, she could easily imagine his erect ears and wagging tail.

She regally sits at the edge of the bed and crooks a finger for him. He crawls seductively, licking his lips as he eyes her bare thighs that are revealed from the split in her robe. The very sides of his tongue tingles, mouth watering, as he takes the other foot into his warn cavern and treats it the same. With a fiery path of wet kisses up her calf, he slowly lifts her left leg and places it on his broad shoulder. He tenderly kisses the inside of her knee and he hears the sharp intake of breath. Gradually her legs open to him, both legs propped on his shoulders, and he's kissing, licking, and nipping his way towards his long awaited treasure. Her thighs are painted with smattering love-bites, which he prides in.

He hesitates, awaiting the words to grant him passage. A look of uncertainty crosses his face, licking his lips nervously, as he looks up at her. His hands are clenching and unclenching around her toned, yet soft thighs. Suddenly he feels like a child. However, for one, he's incredibly experienced, and his past one-nighters were extremely pleased with his services, often seeking him out for more. He's a womanizer, was a womanizer, and gifted in the art of pleasure since he was fifteen. It's essential, especially when it comes to his missions and his target it a woman; it comes in handy.

It's been so long since he's actually fucked a woman, plundering a pussy with his cock. A five month dry-spell is a long time, a very long time, and Jade's tease-and-denial hand jobs won't satisfy him much longer. All those denials of climaxing are building the tension higher and thicker. He highly doubts she will allow him even the entrance of his head, he knows it for sure, but that doesn't stop him from hoping. Swallowing audibly, Clyde shifts forward until they're both comfortable with the position, and then he looks her in the eyes, seeking an answer. He feels like he's having sex for the first time.

"Mistress, um, may I?" he's so scared of her answer, but they've come this far already, unless Jade decides to just kick him out and leave him to his bothersome erection for another unfulfilled night.

She merely raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "May you what? You have to be clear," the brunette highly considers using the endearment 'pet' since it fits him perfectly.

Clyde shifts out of nervousness this time. "May I...may I have a lick of your pussy, Mistress Vanta?" he's gentle and careful about his words, sounding like a child.

"You forgot to say a word."

He looks up at her in confusion, then it dawns on him. "Oh, may I please have a lick of your pussy, Mistress Vanta?" his eyes sparkle when she nods her consent.

"You may have one lick, pet," she instantly knows he loves the use of 'pet' as he perks up excitedly when it rolls off her tongue.

With barely contained joy, Clyde dives in, but pauses to a jerk immediately before his nose can touch her panties. He wants to thoroughly enjoy this, but most importantly, he wants to make this enjoyable for Jade. Gingerly, he takes hold of her robe and parts it fully, and then with torturous slowness, he nears his face to her clothed pussy. Instantly, a wall of heat and musk hits him, filling his senses and he groans at the arousing scent. It drives him insane, and he's seeking for more. He gently presses his nose to the protruding bud between her lips, breathing hotly into it. That's all he does for the next minute or so, breathing her in with his eyes fluttering as they roll up.

Clyde looks up at her, pleading her to touch him as she pleases, so her hands comb through his hair and grips them from the roots. It drives him further, and he kisses her core deeply. His watering tongue finally stretches out and he gives an agonizingly deliberate lick, from the bottom to her clit. Jade sighs at the tingling pleasure, her grip tightens in his hair. The man pulls away slightly, looking up at her in askance. "May I please have another lick?"

She hesitates for a quick passing moment, but then nods her approval. "You may."

He licks in the same manner once more, savoring her. "Another?" his whisper is quiet.

"Yes."

He has another, this time placing more pressure. After the third lick, Clyde feels famished; he needs more, and this damn panty isn't helping his situation. Although it's lace and thin, it's still a barrier. He craves to feel the softness of her flesh, to taste it directly on his tongue. Looping his arm around her left thigh, he reaches underneath the robe, and grazes the band of her panty subtly. That gesture speaks more words than he can ask, and Jade's leans until her back hits the mattress gently as she spreads her legs further.

She places a pillow beneath her nape so she can watch, and then caresses his face for admission. Clyde slowly hooks his fingers into her panty and pulls them down until they hang at her ankle. He loses his breath at the sight before him; perfectly trimmed strands just sitting above her pink bundle of sensitive nerves, with not a single strand anywhere else, her pussy lips are smooth, not stretched, and looks as if she's never had a man. Her honey is glistening and wafting, the scent even stronger now without the lingerie. Clyde doesn't want simple licks, he wants to plunge into her warmth, drink her sweet honey, intake her intoxicating scent, he wants to feast on her. He does just that.

The tip of his tongue glides up one side of her lips, circles her throbbing clit, then glides down the other lip. She's warm, delectable, and he's immediately addicted. His tongue travels and tastes everywhere, swirling, lapping, suckling, and nipping. He relishes her more than any meal he's had, and he knows she's in pure bliss from her quiet moans, sighs, and the way she sinks her nails into his scalp. Jade is quieter than him, but she's responsive. Clyde is frantic and passionate, eager to bring her to a mind-numbing, blinding white climax, and then he doesn't just want to stop there, he wants to keep going, riding her orgasm until she hits the edge over and over again, until she can't scream, until she has to force him away.

His fantasy shoots magma straight to his member. He's reminded that he's still clothed, so breaks away for a moment to indicate his problem. Jade gives her consent and the man hurriedly stripping, ripping his shirt off, throwing that to the side, and pulling his jeans off along with his boxer-briefs, also tossing those in the same direction. His cock stands to attentions, dripping at the tip, throbbing, and hard. She's forgotten how surprisingly endowed he is, but her thoughts are quick to dissolve when Clyde returns to his ministrations, furiously eating her.

His actions are overwhelming, brining her closer to her peak, but she wants to drag this session out. Jade slightly pushes his head away, a string of her honey connecting from her pussy to his lips stretching the distance. He looks confused, panting, and licking his lips clean. He's fascinated with the rise and fall of her bosom and the way her robe's sleeve and slipping down her white shoulder. A whimper of being forced away spills from his lips, making to move forward, but she keeps her grip in his hair tight. "If you want to be a good boy then take your sweet time," she almost laughs at his pout.

"Nothing is sweeter than you, Mistress Vanta," he says into the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, but he listens to her demand, and kisses his way back to his treat. "Does your pussy belong to me?" their eyes clash as he asks innocently, deliberately. Suddenly she sits up and his scalp is pleasantly burning from her clutch, his mouth separating from her pussy with a soft squelch. His excitement spills over the meter at the hard look in her eyes, the cruelty in them as he looks up into them..

"No, it doesn't, and it never will," with her free hand she runs a thumb across his bottom lip, which he immediately takes into his mouth and suckles it with a slight moan. "You have to earn that privilege, understand, pet?" she pulls his mouth open until she can see inside. Clyde nods, swirling his tongue out to catch more skin of her hand. He answers her, but his words are incoherent. "If you're a really good boy, then I might not share my pussy with anyone else but you," the mention of other men feasting her, pleasuring her, grows a disgusting jealousy within him, and he knows it's showing on his face in a grimace.

"No," his growl is feral and rumbling deeply, "I want to be the only one, I want your pussy to be mine," his grip on her thighs tightens from the unsuppressed displeasure.

"You're so selfish."