sitting him backwards on a chair, his legs straddling the edge of the seat and secured to the chair’s legs with rope. his chest is pressed against the chair back, his ass exposed, his strong back arched deliciously to accommodate the chair’s shape. i gaze down at him, admiring the contours of his muscles in the soft light, and savoring the way his whole body is accessible to me. he shifts in the chair, feeling my eyes on him.
i approach him, placing gentle hands on his shoulders. his breathing quickens; though he can not turn around, he turns his head slightly, watching me. slowly, i run both hands downward over the muscles of his broad back. he shudders. leaning in, i bring my lips close to his ear. “such a perfect canvas for me,” i murmur, kissing his neck. he releases a shaky breath, anticipating. looking down, i can see that he is hard. i smile to myself.
when my hands reach his lower back, i take my time, and with lingering touches, feel my way around his hips to the front of his body, allowing my soft chest to press against his back. my palms explore the muscles of his lower stomach-careful to avoid straying too low-then wander up his abdomen and reach his broad chest. i pause there, hugging him from behind, feeling his body expand and contract with each breath, feeling his heart beat.
“you want to be mine, don’t you?” i murmur. “yes goddess,” he replies. with my arms wrapped around him, i can feel the vibration of his voice when he speaks. “then, sweet one, i will make you mine,” i purr. “how do you want to give yourself to me?” several moments pass.
“…pain,” he breathes. my devoted masochist. “good boy,” i whisper. i separate from him and direct my attention to a nearby table. slowly, methodically, i pluck ten sharp titanium claw rings from the table, placing them, one by one, on each finger.
turning my attention back to him, i walk around his chair so we are face to face, only the sharp sound of my heels on the hardwood breaking the silence. his eyes widen at the sight of the claws. carefully, tenderly, i grip his chin, my fingers-and the claws-buried in his beard, digging ever so slightly into his skin. gazing into his eyes, i tilt his chin up, lean down, and kiss him gently. after our lips part, we linger for a moment, eyes closed, the tips of our noses brushing.
i resume my walk around him, drinking in every angle of his body. when i am behind him once more, i allow a few quiet moments to pass. he shifts in his seat, waiting. i lean forward, allowing my breath to tickle the back of his neck. then-slowly, cruelly-i drag the claws on my left hand down his beautiful back, from his shoulder to his ass, fixated on the points where the cold, sharp metal meets his skin. his body flexes and bends as the claws rake over him, leaving angry red lines in their wake. i pause for a few moments, then similarly mark his right side.
“again?” i murmur. turning his head slightly so i can see his face, he nods. with both hands this time, i etch a second set of delicious, sinful scratches into his back, causing him to moan and clench the back of the chair.
“again, sweet one?” i ask. he nods once more. after a moment of consideration, i place the next set of marks slightly to the outside of the first. he draws in a pained breath as i inch the claws over the sensitive skin on his ribs. in our own world, for what seems like hours, we continue in this connection, this rhythm, until his entire back is red. a lattice of raised lines, punctuated by crimson beads of blood, adorn his muscles. i slow my pace, then allow several moments to pass in silence, sensing we are nearing his limits.
approaching the side of the chair, i place a gentle hand on the back of his neck. he looks up at me, his eyes shining. i search his face, a tender expression in my eyes. leaning toward me, he buries his face in my midsection. his voice muffled, he mumbles, “one more, goddess. please.” i can see that his tip is wet.
“it is my pleasure, sweet one,” i whisper, planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head. when i pull away, our eyes meet. i begin teasingly pulling the claws off my right hand, allowing each one to hit the hardwood with a clink. his brows furrow slightly in confusion.
taking my position once more behind him, i grip his left shoulder, hard. the claws of my left hand dig into his skin, making him flinch. i lean in close. “last one,” i purr into his ear. my right hand descends between his legs and grips him firmly, causing him to gasp. i begin giving him long, slow strokes, and a moan escapes his lips. “you asked so nicely,” i growl, and, while increasing my pace between his legs, i begin to drag my claws viciously across his shoulder, coaxing droplets of blood from beneath his skin. “i couldn’t say no…”
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