Seraphic Deviltry

God, let me be dreaming, he thought as his ass skittered away from the cane like a subdued little puppy in the suspension harness. Please, oh God, let this be my worst nightmare.

Frilly tufts of flounced ballerina-like "froufrou" rang in subdued silvery tones with each wriggle of red-streaked creamy thighs. The bell-trimmed damask cloud rode those frantic twists higher, exposing a crack-creeping silvery mesh thong that did nothing to contain straining flesh. Speaking of straining flesh, the drooling wag of his purplish-blue cock-head caught his eye in the whisking shadows of the swaying support harness. With a few more quick taps on his nude upper thighs, the silky saffron stockings snagged then split to the noxious yellow ribbon bows trimming either side.

Natural rope creaked, stirring the humid tang of sweaty skin secretions. Beneath a contrasting silvery pink leather corset, his chest heaved and burned as the jelly under-bust clamped to his nipples bucked with him. A choked moan of humiliation escaped lips rouged in some bitter concoction and ended in a quick gasp as more little taps fell, rhythmically, echoing the tune of rain that pattered lightly against glass outside.

Rain. It flooded the heavy stench of rich dusky roses into the stone slab room, matching the vines that wrapped struggling wrists and bled beads of hot crimson. She wrenched them back and forth over his thin flesh, dragging her nails through the welling essence.

"Mmmmrphhh, ut ooo uuuu unt!" he gagged around a thick plastic cock jammed so deep in his throat that the scream around it was like dry-throating an ogre. The tiny thorns tore jagged streaks even deeper, and she traced her pursed lips with what they forfeited, as nonchalantly as lipstick applied from a cosmetics case.

"I want to give you everything you ever wanted," whispered a whirlwind, as melodic as the bells that rang frantically at his hips, as nebulous as his attempts to remember exactly HOW he arrived in such a precarious position.

She rose, sculpted in black leather from head to foot, like a second skin. Scarlet hair scattered with withered white rose petals flowed to slender hips. A harness bracketed her inner-thighs, the blazing orange dildo clutched within never bothering to hide. Over a smirk, she toyed with the zipper on the catsuit, lowering it to her petite bust before she fished a little pout from the hot lake of her mouth.

"Are you frightened?" again with that aloof tone; it eluded speech as a popular medium. It hummed dark and musically, exuding sexual energy, presence.

His balls throbbed. He could only nod weakly as she wrenched and stretched them further then tied them down.

Her breath over his skin was the hot lick of fire, and beneath bindings that squeezed like torture's embrace, a shiver shook each vertebra. "Do not be frightened," she murmured, a teasing tilt twitching through the words, "I have no plans to bare you publicly, nor strip the skin from your suctioned tits as you suck and fuck as many men and women as possible. …Simply a date with myself and my roses."

He'd kill whoever told her.

"Mmmm, but you never told anyone, did you?" hissed even softer, and a cold tongue lapped at his ear.

No, he never had. Another violent shiver snaked, and tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. Bitter. Humiliated. Tears. How could she hold all the cards? His fingers twitched beneath the vines, groping for her silvery eyes or throat then recoiling in pain as the vines dug deep. A poison-like sting rushed his veins, but his traitorous cock responded by throbbing even harder and leaking precum all over the wretched corset. His breath panted. He would see her blood on his hands.

She pivoted on one spiked heel like an immense black dragon with a fire mane and sent him an amused grin. "I like a look of determination on a pretty man."

At his blink, she gave and exasperated sigh and wheeled a full length mirror before the harness.

He swallowed hard and gave an involuntary shudder of pleasure. Black mascara and eyeliner ringed his enigmatic grey, green, and blue eyes, accentuated by glaring brushes of bright red and silver eye shadows. His lips parted purple, accentuating the blood-engorged tip of his tongue, and golden clips scattered throughout black extensions woven into his dark hair.

He clenched his fist around the thorny liana that bound him and groaned loudly as her molted tongue lapped the stretched skin of his balls. She took each in her mouth below their silvery bondage and sucked independently, her tongue maintaining a hot, firm distance between them.

When she lifted from his convulsing form, the whisper flowed against his skin again, hot, bloody almost in its smoothness. "I see only your beauty," she purred

Desire cramped his stomach like a knot, and she tugged it slowly, as surely as she manipulated the zipper down.

Down… Down… Slowly… like a cocoon being shed.

He watched enraptured as one alabaster arm popped from the catsuit, then the other, then… ashlar-hued wings.

His breath caught in a gasp that twitched her bloody lip above smooth perfectly-white teeth. "Now, that we are properly acquainted," she murmured smoothly, her fingers streaking through the bloody mess of his arms and pressing hard against his twitching hole. The pressure of her hot bloody finger, as it wiggled back and forth, coaxed him open in just a few strokes and was quickly followed by a second.

Curved apart, like the tongue of a serpent, they flicked back and forth across his prostate, the straining of his balls accentuated by the burning pleasure and pain. Ropes squealed and groaned in chorus as his weight bucked back and forth. -Anything for stimulation! A sleeve of blood stretched from wrist to shoulder, bracketed by thorns that pulsed red within green.

Choked words met the gag and emerged as garble.

She laughed and threw her hair over one shoulder. Talon-like nails scraped up and down the back of his abused thigh, and molten silver dragged him to the edge then sent him catapulting back with callous disregard.

"Eeeeeeeeeakke," he begged, mouth foaming around the leather straps.

"I promise. Anything you like," she whispered, leaving bloody trails across either lifted knee.

She pushed them back further until his cock pointed directly at the gag.

He didn't bother to protest. She knew all the dirty fantasies, the hot helplessness that caused screams, the locks, the stocks, the chains. She knew everything.

Her tongue bathed the insides of his thighs, tickled the tiny strip of skin that led from his balls to his twitching hole. His legs shook above the straps, and his cock gushed with his impatient cries. Her teeth clenched around his inner thigh, and the cries escalated to yowls, the yowls to screams, and the screams to frantic whimpers.

His balls escaped the band with a quick snap of her wrist, and he bucked wildly on the two fingers she pumped in and out with his blood.

When they pulled away, a frustrated groan split his lips, replaced by a growl of pleasure as she nudged the harnessed cock between his spread cheeks.

The orange plastic penetrated like a fiery sun, and he gasped. Her long nails clutched his back, lifting his weight on their sharp points. The swoop of her wings circulated their hot breath as she drove forward, a streamlined torpedo of fiery leather. The sound of the rain grew driving, competing with the blood thrumming in his ears: an ocean of slick hot copper.

Her hair flew in a sweaty curtain of red. His blood inked primal designs across her bared flesh as she crashed against him. He met her with gusto, eyes rolling back in his head as his hips lifted for their final thrust against the pleasure she offered. Thorny talons gripping his arm firmly, force pulled in two directions. Gravity shoved him toward the harness below, while something else lifted him toward the domed stone ceiling.

His mouth tore open in one last agonized cry of pain and pleasure, and his cum flooded his gag, salty streams splattering in his hair before brushing over his makeup like a lover's fingers. Auxiliary sound ceased in his realm, as her cries chased his own.

His eyes shot open, gazing into her blood smeared face in its ultimate pleasure. She glowed from within, haloed rings of light framing a powerful body around those stony wings. Her mouth opened in a wordless cry as nearly-tangible pleasure rode her rapidly flickering forked tongue. Bare air touched his back as they flew, and he shuddered in her arms, embracing the passionate kiss that smeared his blood across his lips.

"Jason, are you listening to me?" Miranda Corsairs prodded over her cup of green tea.

He gazed down at his full plate of pink sushi then at his arm. "I, of course," he argued sheepishly. His hand strayed inevitably to the hot tiny white ceramic cup, and he gave a small sigh.

"Do you have any suggestions then on the Ferguson account?" she queried in exasperation.

"No, not really," he conceded.

God, let me be dreaming, he thought as he brushed his pale lips with the white linen napkin. Please, oh God, let this be my worst nightmare.

When he pulled it away, he tasted copper.