LatinoSoles
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- Joined
- Jul 8, 2022
- Messages
- 6
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You have her served before you. A warrior goddess. A living statue more timeless than the David. Hewn through excellence and effort that never tires. You will always admire her. You live her storied journey and her myriad battles through her iron biceps and enduring scars. You basque in her glory when you rest your head on her prodigious thighs. You forget about anything but her abdomen when your lips and tongue trace those toned surfaces that make you weak in the knees.
And now you have her served before you. Bound. Helpless.
All that strength, all those gorgeous muscles, all that flawless physical perfection, and yet she is helpless to do anything but lie there and accept what you have to give. All that mouth, that is so used to barking out commands and boasting of great conquests and knightly triumphs, can now do is ceaselessly laugh and crudely howl. Eyes first wide with panic, then shut tight with resignation. Submission in the arching of her eyebrows.
And then you slip the blinds over her gaze.
Throwing your victim into darkness, stripping her of one of her main senses and means of defense, it all makes the torture all the more harrowing for her and all the more succulent for you. Not knowing where the attacks are going to come from next, not being able to brace her nerves and prepare her besieged psyche for the assault against it that will surely begin at any second now, it all accrues a debt. And her unhinged cackling is the only currency admissible in this bedchamber tonight. The royal court desires performance, and there is only one jester you wish to make dance.
How incomparable, the pleasure of taking power away from the powerful is to any other sweet nectar life has to offer.
How splendid, to reduce this unbowed champion into a lamenter who pleads with unwilling joy.
And then you muzzle her.
The gag. The final garnish. That last color added to this canvas and which completes nefarious designs. Your plaything's muffled guffaws are her declaration of surrender to your regnance. The choked begs for clemency and breaks, the banners of your dominion. She is now yours. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. Fully and unconditionally. She knows it, and yet she is too defeated to resist. No longer does she attempt to free herself from her confinement. No longer can her body muster the strength to flee from your devilish touch. You know it, and you are intimately aware with what you will now do. You may satisfy your hunger for her mirthful unraveling until you have had your fill. No protests to distract you. No panicked bargains to set your ship adrift.
You have but one destination, and it is to become her entire world. Her everything.
You and your ten cruel fingers. You and that spell that does not relent, will not waver, and simply refuses to ease in administering torment to your beloved's immobilized corpus. Her flowing tears, her collecting spittle, her glistening sweat. Her leaking, aroused moisture. All yours. The crop you now harvest. Her suffocated laughter, her useless screams, her endearing yelping. You are the conductor, and she is the song.
So go on, sink your teeth into your banquet.
You are Queen. You are Starlight.
Your will is cosmic law.
A/N: Here's a little thing I was inspired to write by the commissions attached to this post. The characters are Queen Mara Sov and her partner Sjur Eido, from the Destiny videogame franchise.
And now you have her served before you. Bound. Helpless.
All that strength, all those gorgeous muscles, all that flawless physical perfection, and yet she is helpless to do anything but lie there and accept what you have to give. All that mouth, that is so used to barking out commands and boasting of great conquests and knightly triumphs, can now do is ceaselessly laugh and crudely howl. Eyes first wide with panic, then shut tight with resignation. Submission in the arching of her eyebrows.
And then you slip the blinds over her gaze.
Throwing your victim into darkness, stripping her of one of her main senses and means of defense, it all makes the torture all the more harrowing for her and all the more succulent for you. Not knowing where the attacks are going to come from next, not being able to brace her nerves and prepare her besieged psyche for the assault against it that will surely begin at any second now, it all accrues a debt. And her unhinged cackling is the only currency admissible in this bedchamber tonight. The royal court desires performance, and there is only one jester you wish to make dance.
How incomparable, the pleasure of taking power away from the powerful is to any other sweet nectar life has to offer.
How splendid, to reduce this unbowed champion into a lamenter who pleads with unwilling joy.
And then you muzzle her.
The gag. The final garnish. That last color added to this canvas and which completes nefarious designs. Your plaything's muffled guffaws are her declaration of surrender to your regnance. The choked begs for clemency and breaks, the banners of your dominion. She is now yours. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. Fully and unconditionally. She knows it, and yet she is too defeated to resist. No longer does she attempt to free herself from her confinement. No longer can her body muster the strength to flee from your devilish touch. You know it, and you are intimately aware with what you will now do. You may satisfy your hunger for her mirthful unraveling until you have had your fill. No protests to distract you. No panicked bargains to set your ship adrift.
You have but one destination, and it is to become her entire world. Her everything.
You and your ten cruel fingers. You and that spell that does not relent, will not waver, and simply refuses to ease in administering torment to your beloved's immobilized corpus. Her flowing tears, her collecting spittle, her glistening sweat. Her leaking, aroused moisture. All yours. The crop you now harvest. Her suffocated laughter, her useless screams, her endearing yelping. You are the conductor, and she is the song.
So go on, sink your teeth into your banquet.
You are Queen. You are Starlight.
Your will is cosmic law.
A/N: Here's a little thing I was inspired to write by the commissions attached to this post. The characters are Queen Mara Sov and her partner Sjur Eido, from the Destiny videogame franchise.
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