Velvet Thorns Beckoning Mi/L ADULT ~ COMPLETE
Posted: Fri Nov 21, 2003 11:32 pm
AN: I started this a while ago, and am just posting the final version. I don't mean to repost or anything like that.
Title: Velvet Thorns Beckoning
Author: Jane Doe
Disclaimer: I own nada. In my dreams I own Roswell, and Zan wouldn't have gone down like that. In real life, however, they belong to JK, Melinda Metz, the UPN, and probably a bunch more people/corporations.
Category: L/ Mi
Rating: MATURE maybe ADULT if it gets graphic
Summary: Michael finds himself in a D/s club. Liz wants to dominate him. He doesn't remember who she is. Sorry if that's insufficient but that basically the whole plot.
Author's Note: I'm not even a Polarist. I'm a PPP (purely platonic polarist) so I have no frickin clue why I had to write this. I really hope all you Polarists out there like it. Please let me know what I can do to improve upon it. This is only one part. Also pm if you have any background info questions or spot a lot of grammatical errors-thanks
She walked into the room and a hush spread out like ripples in a puddle. They all stared at her. She was the epitome of composure. Always in control. Cool as ice. A refreshing breeze during balmy twilight.
She wore a black leather outfit perfectly molded to her petite body; it was conservative by the standards everyone else was used to. And all the more exciting for what it only hinted at and didn't showcase. The one piece dress was tantalizing. The skirt ended just below her ass, her creamy pale cheeks shadowed against her thighs. Emphasizing legs that looked like they extended forever. An image enhanced by the 4 inch black velvet stiletto books she wore, encasing her legs up to right above her knees. The top of her dress was sealed tight against her body. A zipper that started at the base of her skirt was pulled up to right beneath her breasts, pushing them together and holding them high. Two more zippers started at the bottom of the dress and ended right above her hips. Long sleeves covered her arms, gently belling out before her wrists. Her long, glossy, dark brown hair was pulled back into a loose pony tail at the nape of her neck, the tip resting against her waist. Wisps of hair outlined her face. The back of her dress, from her shoulders to the dip at the base of her spine, was cut out, leaving a window of soft skin exposed.
She wore no jewelry. No studded dog collars, or chain belts. Except for one diamond ring on the ring finger of her right hand. Her dark enigmatic eyes were outlined in smoky gray. Clear eyes, that stripped you down farther than your clothes, with bow lips shiny and beckoning were the finishing touches.
She sized the man, arms held above his head and wrists handcuffed to a metal bar hanging from chains on the ceiling, clothed in only a pair of jeans, up and down. And at the end of her perusal, such a grin graced her lips, that men and women alike, shuddered in deliciously fearful anticipation. Breaths came out a little more raggedly and hands tingled.
He was tall. He had light brown hair that skimmed his square shoulders, and his hazel eyes told her he had no idea who she was. Unconsciously she licked her bottom lip. She walked a circle around him. Admiring his tight ass, the thigh muscles that strained from being forced to stretch, but most of all she admired the tattoos he had. Four all together. One shoulder cap, one half sleeve, one on his back by his ribs. And one that peeked out over the edge of his jeans. Those were just the ones she could see. She felt something low within her clench hard and fast. She smiled, a haunting baring of her teeth. And one person gasped. She gently dragged her nails across his middle as she completed her circuit and came to stand in front of him. His skin tingled beneath her fingertips, and she saw his nipples harden.
She leaned up a little and just stared at his lips while she asked, "Do you want to be here?"
He didn't answer her. Just kept his gaze fixed on the wall behind her.
"What's your name?" But she already knew his name. Knew who he was.
"Michael," he finally ground out.
"Michael …. Michael," she drew his name out so it rested on tip of her tongue. Her fingers trailed down to the waistband of his black jeans, "What's the first letter of your last name?" she asked. She held out her left hand, and a studded leather belt was placed in it.
Still not looking at her, he replied, "G." She wondered what it took for him to answer. This was nothing.
"Gee. Gee." She sounded out the letter. She pulled back from him a little, she wanted to see his eyes for this. "I think, we'll call you … Mikey G," she smiled a predator's smile inside as she saw his eyes widen. He quickly looked up at her. She kept her face neutral.
His breathing picked up. She called you that didn't she? She praised you. She worshipped you. "Mikey G, do you want to be here?" she demanded to know.
He stared right into her eyes. "Might as well," he drawled out.
"Shadows." she commanded, and everyone withdrew into the shadows along the walls. They disappeared. No one wanted to upset Liz and miss the show.
To bad this wasn't just about sex, she thought as she folded the belt in half and snapped it. It made a loud report in the quiet atmosphere and she felt her blood quicken. She let him see her smile at his barely there jerk. She wouldn't even have been able to notice it, if she wasn't used to reading the human body. She felt a flash of the old hunger that had turned to disappointment and that, finally, collapsed into anger and resentment.
"Mikey G," she said again just to taunt him. She let the belt unfurl and swing from her hand, slowly trailing along the floor.
"Blindfold." A heavy red silk scarf was placed in her hand, and she gave the belt to the girl to hold. She noticed his body tense and his jaw clench. He didn't like being blind did he? Not knowing what was happening. Not being able to stop it. Not being in control. She stepped behind him and carefully tied it, making sure not to get any of his soft hair stuck in the knot.
She placed her hands on his shoulders and said into his neck, "Relax." Her breath warmed his skin, moistened it. Maybe she would incorporate a little sex into this. Maybe that would be the real punishment. Fear and excitement bleeding into each other. Building each other into a frenzied height.
And no release. That just might be it. Pain he could handle. But pleasure. Pleasure was his pain.
She languorously licked her way up his neck and when she reached his ear she bit it saying, "I'm going to fuck you so hard." She relished his quick in drawn breath. The gasp of shock and pleasure. The way his neck flushed. She chuckled low in her throat, a husky sound. Full of dark promises.
"Are your arms tired yet? Do they feel heavy with gravity?" She ran her hands up his arms, her fingers sliding into the space left by the handcuffs, and stroked his skin. "You'll be tired and red and panting by the time I'm done with you," she said. "You only talk when I say you can. You don't make any noise. Don't moan or groan or beg, or I'll discipline you." She said sliding down his body.
"Oh yeah?"
She reached up and clawed his back with her nails. He hissed.
"On second thought, be bad. Be a rebel Mikey G," his thighs tensed at hearing this name. "I really really want to hurt you. I want you to be bad. Isn't that who you are? The rebel without a cause? Give me a reason punish you Mikey G," she said baiting him, as she, unnoticed by him unbuttoned his fly.
"Shut up," he growled.
She yanked down his pants, past his thighs. "Just like that Mikey G," she crooned. He wasn't wearing any underwear. She bit the top of ass, right where it began to slope down, hard enough to leave an imprint behind. He was already half hard. "You're going to hate me so much you love me."
1B
She wanted to humble him. Hungered to see his body and heart supplicating before her. “What do you like?” she crooned. “Do you want me to be rough? Grip you hard? Spank you good?" her hands kneaded his taut muscles, "Or do you want me to go a little slow? Be a little gentle? Do you want me to breathe hot against you? Pant and moan? My nails digging into you little bit by little bit, as I get hotter and wetter? All thinking about you, Mikey G?” Her throat tightened as she spoke, decadent thoughts making her breathless.
She ran her hands down the front of his thighs, down his calves, pulling his jeans to his ankles, then massaging her way back up. The prickle of his skin made the journey back up bumpy. She relished the touch of his sensitive skin under her fingertips.
"Whatever you want doll," he said flippantly. As if hearing her speak such intimate acts, didn't make his cock twitch.
He didn't quite know what he wanted. He was completely at the mercy of some slip of a girl, who knew things about him he thought he'd left long ago, trapped in the past. Struggling like he normally would have, would only serve to amuse her. His striving against the physical bonds and limits set by her, just want she wanted. He could sense that almost immediately. But it wasn't in him to not be sardonic or antagonistic. However when she carefully squeezed his sack, it reinforced the quick conclusion he'd drawn upon: keeping his mouth shut was in his own best interest.
Still his knees went weak at her words. Already he was more than half hard. More than half hard, in an unknown place, from different methods of arousal then he was used to. He was aware that there were people standing in the shadows. People he didn't know and who didn't know him; whom he couldn't see, but they cold see everything. And it made him breathe harder. Since when would this have ever been a turn on for him: having people watch as his erection grew. As she disciplined him. He swallowed hard.
She kept her body held a slight distance from his. He could feel the heat of her body bathing his, mixing with the heat emanating from his body. His thighs itched to have her rub her breasts against him. For her to entwine her body around his own. With his eyes blind, her scent was stronger. She smelled of raspberries and cream and woman. He wanted to rub that intoxicating scent all over his body. He longed to push her away from his body.
"Bring out the rack," she said still kneeling at his side. Still running her hands up and down his body, her nails gently skimming his flesh, seeming to increase his sensitivity. Always coming near his cock, such feathery light caresses, he was sure he imagined them.
He heard the noise of the "rack" being wheeled into the room. His felt his closed eyes widen. Delighted terror made its simmering debut in his veins. His body broke out in a hot sweat. Traitorous body. He growled low in his throat, she let out a husky chuckle.
His arms were released from hanging above his head, and the blood circulating made his arms tingle with pricks. Before he could think to struggle, to not be any where near the "rack", he was bodily pushed on a small dais, forced to his knees, and strapped into it.
Thick, incredibly soft velvet lined manacles were wrapped around his wrists, waist, and upper thighs. His pants kept his ankles restrained. He was exposed. Displayed, his cock proudly protruding. Jangling chains held the restraints taut, and him spread eagle. The waist-belt hugged him from waist to just above his buttocks, the thigh manacles were slightly less wide, and his wrists were held in cuffs the size of a man's hand... It was as much an intimate embrace, as it was tight binding. He lightly moaned when she slapped his ass with her open palm. He was amazed at the small hint of pleasure; his butt was squeezed between the cuffs wrapped around his waist and those on his thighs and tingled because of the pressure.
"No noise," she said quietly. Chills raced down his spine.
The first slap was unexpected and harsh. But then…
She had him strapped in, leather straps pulled tight. Everytime the leather belt struck his skin he jerked. It was painful. Having it come down hard against his back, his shoulders, thighs, butt, even the soles of his feet. His skin was smarting, set aflame.
And for that—for the tingle of his skin, the simplicity of it as a carnal pleasure, how good the cool air felt after each strike, something he would never have thought to be so erotic— alone, this was almost bearable. But the true excitement came from expectation and fear, feeding and fueling one another. From knowing he would wince or involuntary tug at his bonds, from expecting the biting, stinging caress at every moment. Muscles constantly wary, tensed, and being able to relax once it passed. He submitted his body to this twisted pleasure. Moaning when he was lashed in a particularly sensitive place. Moaning because it excited him, moaning for more. Moaning because he was denied the right too.
She paused for a substantial amount of time and he couldn't help clenching his ass, pulling it higher, pleading without words for more. "Want more?" he heard her throaty voice graze his ear. He whimpered hardly able to believe he would do so. His cock strained up, was almost near vertical and probably redder than his tender back. He felt the air swirl around him and knew she had moved to stand in front of him. She pinched his small pink nipples just hard enough and he groaned. His balls jumped. She lowered herself and licked first one bud , then the other. Long, indolent strokes of her tongue that pushed the hard nubs of his nipples up with each rub. He choked back a murmured yes. She sucked him suddenly into her moist mouth, a quick nip with her teeth, and then built the suction up again. He grunted, and while trying to get close enough to her warm body to rub himself against her and perhaps gain some relief, knew that tomorrow he would have purple marks and sensitive nipples. Her fingertips roughly caressed his tender back.
The low moans, gasps, and heavy breathing of those watching was lost on them. Clothes rustled as accommodations and adjustments were made.
His breathing was harsh and ragged. His chest heaving, his body gleaming with sweat. He held himself still as a snake, as she reached behind him and untied the blindfold. The blindfold slithered down his chest, unnoticed as it fell to the floor, and there she was.
She stood directly in front of him and even dazed by euphoria as he was, he could tell she too had been affected. Lifting his eyes he could beneath the skirt of her dress. She was wearing nothing. Her dark curls glistened, and he could see her clit peaking out. She noticed his staring. "Want to touch?" she asked deceptively polite. She slid her own palms up her thighs. A tear of precum weeped from the small mouth on the head of his cock
1C
I don’t know what I was I thinking, except that I wasn’t. Here he was after all these years. And there I was. He never cared to notice me. He didn’t recognize me. And now he was subjected to my will. Now he was noticing me. Now he moaned for me. He would dream of me now.
But I knew him. I remembered him. I dreamt of him. And a shy boy named Max. I remember subtly watching Max and the boy who was his shadow.
Who glared at me any and every chance he got. I saw him live his life; I saw him make out with girls in the PE shed. I saw him strut and swagger, and hide in plain sight. He didn’t let Max near me. Max who looked into my eyes, and my soul shivered. Max whom I never spoke more than ten words to without him being dragged away.
Michael whose anger made me burn.
I saw Michael keep shy, studious, incongruous Liz Parker away from Max. I don’t know why he disliked me so. All I know is that I grew to resent him.
And then hate him.
I hated the way other girls looked at him. Hated the way he smirked. Hated the way he looked through me.
I hated that I was too plain for him. I hated that I thought of him. And dreamt dreams that made me ache.
I hated how futile I felt, how impotent. I hated that I couldn’t escape him. That I couldn’t release any of the rage I felt. That my soul cried for Max while my body called for Michael.
And seeing the look in his eyes, hearing his ragged breaths I hated him even more.
My hands skimmed up the inside of my thighs, but before touching where I was wet and gaping, I had them glide out and over the tops of my thighs. He chest expanded and seemed to stay frozen. I let my hands roam, they lightly slipped up. Over my hips, waist…ribs.. up the sides of breasts, then just with my finger tips, over the top, the only part showing. He licked his lips and I leaned over to swipe at them once with my tongue too. He closed his eyes.
I pulled up the two zippers at the side of the skirt, and the sound seemed drawn out. Louder, longer. I could feel the air cooling off my warm skin. Now my thighs, up past my hips were bared. The dress, I knew, now looked more like a tunic. A supple, buttery soft, leather tunic. I knew my body was exposed to other eyes, to other desires.
But looking at him stare at me I want to strike him. I wanted that look off his face. I wanted him more. The inside of my cunt clenched, while my arms tensed at my sides.
“You never answered my question Mikey G,” I say softly, brutally. He flinched, and I just let my hands travel back over and up my thighs.
“My hands are-,” he started, pulling at the wrist manacles.
“That’s no good. If you really wanted to you’d find a way wouldn’t you?” I let one finger barely slide through my lips, lightly coating it in cream. Bending towards him, I applied it on his lips like gloss, while his eyes darkened, and said, “Like unlocking the chains, or hell just, wishing them away,” in a low whisper. He jerked back as if I’d burned him. I could see the conflicting thoughts and passions warring in his eyes. I knew I grabbed his attention with those words, just as I possessed it by wiping my cream on his lips. Before he could react any more, I licked his lips, one quick swipe. I bite his bottom lip pulling on it, as I raked my nails through his back. He gasped and I kissed him, gently. While the nails of one hand dug into him and with the other I rubbed my fingertips against his scalp. His arms struggled against the bonds, and the whole rack shook.
I spoke softly. “Do you want to fuck me. Do you want your cock deep within me, ramming home, as I milk you dry. Do you want my lips tightly wrapped around your dick, sucking you, licking you, biting you? My warm, wet mouth stroking you, taking just your head, letting you rock into me till you hit my throat? My fingers tracing your balls, pressing that point right behind them that makes you remember what it was like to fly through the stars?”
He groaned and moaned and whimpered. He pressed kisses into my neck, and his fingers clenched and unclenched. And I flew high. I absorbed every denied sound into me, and yearned for more. His cock was riding high. My voice was throaty and breathy, not on purpose though I wanted it to be. “Are you about to explode right now? Your cum bursting out hot and salty, in a white stream? God I want to put one hand on your cock and squeeze. I want to feel you slide in and out, easily cause your sweaty. I want your dick to spill out of my hands.
"One or two? Fast or with a twist to it?” Impulsively I licked the shell of his ear , and he shuddered. His skin glistened.
My chest pounding I pulled away and walked behind him. The waist restraint unlocked and I knelt on the dais behind him. His tattoo extended across his lower back. It was a series of symbols weaved into a tribal pattern. I knew it for what it was. I licked the tattoo on his ribs. My heart pounding against my chest.
“Fuck you, Mikey G,” I said into his skin. He could feel my harsh breathing beating against his skin. “God, I’m so wet and hot, just for you. All for you; thinking about you. The thought of your fingers in me…,” I moaned involuntarily. “Taking me from behind… pounding into me, hitting my cunt in all the right spots. My legs spread wide, just for you… Just for your eyes and your pleasure. What to do you want Michael? Tell me,” I panted. “Tell me, please,” I begged. I bit my cheek to shut myself up.
He groaned, the sound coming from the very depths of him. It was deep and ragged.
My breathing harsh I said, “I want to feel your tongue licking me…pushing into me. Wet and warm, traveling the length of me… God Michael, I want you to suck my clit… take it in your mouth… hard,” my hand wrapped around his cock and started pumping. His hips moved in time, and soon he was thrusting. And though I meant to tease him, to frustrate him, I couldn’t stop. The feel of his smooth skin sliding in and out of my fist, hard yet malleable, kept me going. My breathe puffed against him. Against his neck, his hair, his shoulders, as both our excitement grew.
Roughly he said, “Stop. Stop please, oh god please.” His hips twitched though he tried to keep them still. “I have to know how wet you are. If you’re as fucking horny as I am.”
My hand stilled, “Fuck you, you don’t call the shots. If I want you to come hot all over my chest you will. If I want you in my mouth, you will.
“Your not the boss here, Mikey G. You’re not the boss, or the leader, or the fucking king. You’re my soldier and you’ll do anything to keep me happy…” my voice died for a moment, before I said, “Or I’ll tear you apart inside.
“I’m your Queen right now, and all you have to do… is obey me.” I finished by biting his shoulder. I bit him so hard, the teeth imprints would bruise him. And all he did was fall limp in the chains.
Then I couldn’t restrain myself. I didn’t mean to say it. I whispered hotly, full of promise, passionately, “I hate you. Just give me a reason, just one, and I’ll leave you suspended, forever denied.
“You’ll claw at your skin, but’ll never get me out. Do it.” I taunted him. “Do it, be the fucking coward you know you are.
“I hate you,” I growled in his ear.
Then he did it; the wrong it. I wanted him to leave. I wanted him so much, I knew I should never have him, 'cause I didn’t know what I would do or confess, once he was touching me. When I was in held in passion's cruel grip. I wanted to hurt him with my words so he would go and leave me safe with my anger and hate.
I hated Michael 'cause I loved him. Because somehow I’d always known he could read me, know me, in manner no one else would ever guess to.
The low lights suddenly shattered, people gasped as the room was plunged into darkness, and in the confused and heightening excitement he hissed, “You do it. Take charge and quite hiding.”
And I just snapped, with a moan filled with years of torment and pain I lunged at him and kissed him. It was a hungry kiss, and I pressed my body into his, rubbed my body against his almost in a frenzy. One hand massaged his scalp, the other gripped his body trying to pull him into me. He kissed me back and I could taste his excitement, his wonderment, his desire. We both kissed as if we would die if we couldn't. And I was amazed and enchanted.
I pulled away needing to taste all of him, all of his skin. I kissed his neck his chest, licked my way down his stomach, and I don’t know why but I could have cried. I am tender and cruel. Kissing him softly handling him roughly. With the whole of my heart.
“I won’t unlock you,” I say between kisses. I slid up his body, molding us together. “Don’t,” he said on a grunt.
“I want you.” I couldn’t believe these words were coming out of my mouth.
“Turn around,” he pleaded. So I did, flipping the skirt of my dress up over to leave my ass bared. I rubbed it against his cock. And both our breaths catch. “You’re going to have to do it,” he says. And I said yes absentmindedly. I spread my legs and his cock slipped between. I just rub myself against his hard length, letting the pleasure mount, coating him in my cream. He rocked his hips in time with mine, and amazingly I breathed still harder.
My hands hovered around my sides, clutching the air, needing something. “What does it feel like?” I asked panting.
“Hot,” his breath stirred my hair. “So wet…can you hear the squelching noises?” he asked and I moaned. He rocked a little harder, “It feels slippery, and right and fuckin crazy.” And with that I reach between my legs and grabbed him, he was soaked, and I’m spiraling out of control. I guide him to my opening with harsh breaths, and thought I might just pass out. He slowly pushed himself in, just a little, then pulled out. Teasing, torturing me, and I love him just a little more for it. A small cry escaped my throat and I realize I’m whimpering. But so is he.
We fuck each other, and it’s making love, 'cause I’m pouring all myself into it, and I think just maybe he’s fallen. I clenched my cunt tight around him, and he cried out. He thrusts so hard, his hip leave half moon bruises, and I wrapped my arms around his neck totally arched into him.
I saw things then, and the fear of them, and that he might also have seen things about me triggers my orgasm. It was incredible and breath stealing—like flying through the stars.
When I came to we were both breathing hard, and candles have been lit. In awe and with slight trepidation I looked over my shoulder back at him.
I saw me how he’d seen me. I felt his conflict and guilt over liking me; his resentment of me for dominating so much of Max’s mind; his fear about what I might find out, what I could mean to his life; how he just knew I would upset so much of his life.
And I have.
On his face I saw shock and disbelief, and hunger.
He’s always hungered as I had, and always hated me as I had him.
“Liz.”
The End