The knickers cut across my thighs as I sit alone on the wooden chair, naked except for them and a black leather collar that rides high on my neck, where the dampness of my sweat is prickling. Pink silk with blue lace details, they pack my cock so tight and small it feels like a chastity device. It is both because of the cold and my nerves that I shiver and wait.

You enter wearing a kimono, some sort of harness in your hand and point at the floor. I kneel, legs spread, looking up to you. You let your kimono fall open, your flesh spills out, delicious, soft and ripe. You bend to kiss me once on the head, I catch the scent of you as your breasts sway in my face, and then the jerk of your hand, as you slip over the head harness and the ball gag into my mouth.

You hold both my cheeks between your hands, staring deep into my eyes. Without breaking the contact of touch or vision, you sweep up my face until the tip of the ball is resting at the apex of your labia. I can smell you now, fresh and wet, your softness resting on my face. And with a single thrust you scrape my ball gag down and between your lips, pressing the clit like a grocer’s thumb carelessly bruising fruit. At the bottom of the sweep, you hold my head down firmly, as the blood gathers and my face fills out the frame of the gag, blowing hard and struggling but powerless in your hands. I hear the last of your breath leave your body – it is the groan of an emptying valve.

A handful of hair and I am back up, pulled in and scraped even closer. You pause to rub my nose into your clit as the ball hovers at your cunt entrance. The blood rush of returning upright mixes with your heady aroma and I feel a sideways lurch, my balance now slipping. You tighten your grip, and then I feel your feet turn out and your hips and legs opening. And now we are done with long sweeping strokes. Short angry stabs at your hooded, swelling bud, thick with mucus and the strings of my saliva, the ball now rattling urgently in my mouth as I vainly try to swallow. I gradually tip back further and further as you drag me under you, my head now a statute in a crane’s cradle that you sweep and drag, up and down, back and forth, faster and faster across the scratchy outer lips and smooth wetness within, shaking with the force of your heaving lungs and impending climax.

And when it comes you clench me tight between your legs and it seems my whole face is sucked into you. My ears are sheltered from your cries as you come, but I can feel them through my head and whole frame. I close my eyes and give in to the moment as you flood my face with your need to take me and use me. To make me feel filthy because you know that’s what I need. And to ratchet up my desire with no prospect of release. Because that is what you need.

You flinch and now I’m falling, my back hits the floor, shattering the glass of my feelings that are blown and shaped around your desire. You bestride me like Helios, and I can see the sun and the moon and stars stretch out before me as I slip into your darkness.



27 thoughts on “Helios

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