Here's something a little different - more of a hint of a menage or voyeuristic self pleasure. It's difficult to tell who or what is involved, if anything - is it the forest itself or a stranger? Is it not happening at all? If you manage to get all the way to the end, there is a story to this - it's longer than the WW rules state by 300 words so I apologise if you're short of time.
But if you do have time... I hope you enjoy x x
They traveled on through the woods.
Deborah was now dry apart from her inner thighs, where her pussy was dripping
desire from its swollen lips. She was shaking involuntarily, and every
now and again a yelp of excitement bubbled
into her chest, then throat.
The sound always elicited a
hard look from her leader
which Deborah held on to in her mind. At last,
they came to a clearing not unlike the one where the camp was, but smaller and more sheltered. Sun streamed in through the generous canopy of silver birch and cascaded onto the spongy
floor.
“Pass me your clothes and drop to your knees.”
Deborah did as she was bid and watched
through hooded lids as Hazel felt along the hem of her skirt and pulled
it apart roughly.
The tearing sound carried
and bounced off the tree trunks as the garment was shredded into strips. Hazel
chose two trees with branches
just above head height. She knotted several of the strips
and tied them around the branches. The fabric hung limply as Hazel came to Deborah
and pulled her to her feet, dragging her to the gap between
the mighty trunks. She clasped one wrist and held it high, tying
it to one of the bindings,
pulling tight
but not uncomfortably. Then the other
arm
was secured. Deborah’s
body rushed with adrenalin as she looked
up at her bound wrists then down over her stretched-out body. She arched
her back to see her breasts
lift into the shafts of sunlight that slashed across
them. It was like being in a surreal
and heightened dream.
Hazel stood before
her as if considering what to do next. “I think I’ll leave your feet free this time,” she said and cast a lascivious gaze over her subject.
Goose bumps rose over Deborah’s skin where Hazel’s
gaze trailed. She could feel the tiny hairs on her flesh pucker and strain to meet the gaze of the mighty woman before her.
Deborah
didn’t know if she was glad or not about having her legs and feet free. She wanted to be restrained and spread,
but she was feeling incredibly exposed and decided
she was grateful for this gesture.
“I will be back,”
Hazel whispered, leaning
in to tip Deborah’s face up to hers with one hand.
With the other, she cupped
Deborah’s mound and parted her rudely, slipping
a finger inside. It happened so quickly, Deborah
had to wonder if it had happened
at all. Then she was gone.
The glow of arousal and complete exposure
had left Deborah
in a whirlwind of emotions.
To be left there, abandoned, trussed up, and vulnerable was just about the most exquisitely frightening thing she had experienced. Tugging
at her straps to test their strength,
she couldn’t decide if she was reassured or not by their total security.
She stopped fidgeting and began to take in her surroundings. It was a stunningly beautiful place. The streaming arrows of sunlight
glanced off floating
motes and particles, giving the air around her the
feeling of being a living,
breathing thing. Birdsong
echoed in that odd, ricocheting way around smooth and rough bark, bouncing
back and forth. The river bubbled
in the distance and she had to strain hard to hear it. Relaxing her ears
and bringing herself back to the closest sounds, she began
to hear the swoosh
and boom of her own heart forcing
blood through her body and mind. Suddenly
acutely aware of her
own biochemistry, Deborah
braced herself for the adrenalin that was about to crash
through her as the reality
of her situation sank in.
Anyone could find her here—bandits, guards… She tried to rationalize her fear but
her physiology took over, flooding
her senses with fight-or-flight cortisones. The sensation started in her chest and swelled, radiating
to every cell, making her soar above herself and stare down at the sight of a naked,
disheveled forest nymph, bound and hanging. The imagined
sight made her part her legs and bear down, catching
her arousal in her abdomen and forcing it into her pussy, where she tried to focus
all the energy that was threatening to send her out of control. It took all her concentration to keep everything centered there—all her fear, desire,
lust, euphoria—but she knew it was essential somehow.
A sharp crack snapped her back to the reality of her situation again; someone was close. She tensed every
sinew. Alert and staring, Deborah
scoured her surroundings. Something moved in the shrubbery. It darted
like an animal,
low and erratic, as if cornered,
but it didn’t add up. She strained her senses in its direction and tried to catch the scent on the barely breathing
breeze.
Human.
Shuddering, she could feel her body expand
to a vast canvass of nakedness. The nasal breathing of someone
staring hard at the object of their intent filled her ears. Deborah
gripped the strapping on each wrist tight and tensed her muscles in a way that she hoped would
alert the watcher
to her strength in this situation, not her vulnerability. Her skin flushed
with warmth under the scrutiny
of the shadowy, hidden
figure. They stared
at each other;
she completely exposed and he—she
could smell it was a he—completely obscured.
There was a strange control conundrum going on in Deborah’s
head: as long as he kept himself hidden
and meek, she felt like she was holding the power. She let this thought roll around in her psyche
and was amazed to feel her body relax
and melt into this newfound
confidence. Letting the ropes take her weight, she hung a little, shifting
her feet apart and opening
her legs to share her wet treasure with the voyeur.
A rustle in the leaves signaled
approval and Deborah
ventured a twist of the shoulders that carried down through her chest, hips, and knees, and ended with a flourish on her pointed toes. Her body needed to move and sway now, and she carried on her slow, snake-like dance, throwing her head back as she dangled on her bindings. They took her weight easily
as she lifted her outstretched
legs and brought
them up in a V shape to display her splayed, ripe pussy to the stranger. If Deborah
could have found the will inside her to stop, she would have, but something had crept in while she was experiencing the beauty of the forest—something feral had awakened. Maybe the forest itself
had her under a spell,
mimicking its unashamed joy at being
alive. She wanted to
celebrate the day, the moment, the life, her sex. She wanted
to fuck and be fucked,
not just physically but spiritually. And she felt like she was on the brink of both.
Her exposed pussy welled
and pouted, and the muscles
inside fluttered and beckoned
the watcher close. Lactic
acid built in her arms and legs as
she tried to hold herself
in the tortuous pose.
It was sharp and exhausting, but she kept her limbs in the air, shaking
as she tired, but determined to keep up the view of her wanton sex. She was so open now, and so wet. Desire poured from her, streaming from her juicy cunt down onto the rosebud of her ass, then her thighs. She was so lost in the sensations of her pussy,
she felt she was her
pussy. She left the physical restraint of her own flesh
and traveled to the peaking center
of her body. All her emotion
and feeling focused
at the one point she knew so well.
Her clit swelled
and throbbed and she rode it hard
with her virtual body, thrashing and humping, getting soaked in her own desire. Her pussy gaped with arousal
and she filled it, stretching and fucking
herself until there was only this point. Everything stilled and ceased to
exist. She hung in the void for what could have been an eternity—or a flash—then she crashed out, coming and climaxing and spasming.
Her orgasm was so huge that she snapped back into her body and flapped between
the trees like a fish on a line.
As the adrenalin and fever-like shuddering slowed, Deborah filled
her lungs with the hot, sweet day. She was dazed and her body felt bruised and torn, her pussy stretched beyond anything she’d felt with Marcus. She looked around for the voyeur
but there was nothing there. As she slumped in exhaustion, the restraints slid easily from her wrists and she collapsed
to the forest
floor. Had she been able to get free all along?
She looked around to see Marcus leaning against one of the trees that had held her.
“Marcus?” she asked,
bewildered and exhausted. “What the hell just happened?”
Marcus smiled and crouched down alongside her, embracing her and lifting
her onto his knees. He kissed
her deeply, exploring her mouth with new questions, new connections.
Deborah was confused. Had he given her that orgasm,
or was it as she had experienced? Had she been having a massive sexual
hallucination? She was exhausted, and goose bumps rose on her skin where air thermals danced
about, making her acutely aware of their
existence.
Marcus wrapped a blanket around her and placed her in the sunniest part of the clearing.
“Shh,”
he whispered gently,
smoothing her sweat-damp hair from her face. “Rest now.” And Deborah could do nothing
but take his advice.
So this is from
Taking Flight - the second book in my
Clockwork Butterfly Trilogy - I've had to remove the paperback from sale as I noticed an error in the cover of the book - grrrrr - if I stared at it once, I stared at it a million times. It's published by
Beachwalk in Ebook form but I got some printed myself and designed the cover so it is totally my fault! So, the treat for getting to the end is that if you fancy one and are in the UK I'll send it for five bucks (£5 - usually £6.99) and I'll even cover your postage. There's a limited amount so first to email me... tabitharayne@gmail.com
Happy reading!
Again, my apologies for the long post but I couldn't find a suitable spot to stop!
