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Cascade
Slim, with a curving body like a high thundercloud about to deliver its storm, she stood in the center of the white bedroom. From her forehead, a long stream of dark hair swept back over her ears and flowed down, conforming to her back, breasts and hips, until it ended near her ankles. She wore a plain black skirt and mini tube top, and was barefoot.
There was a knock behind her at the door. "Ready?" came his voice.
"Ready," she said as she stood in the window light, her hair swaying in a gentle breeze that stirred the curtains. From behind, she was a sort of negative ghost, a black spindle form of abstract humanoid lines. She heard him enter, but did not turn to greet him. She felt his steps behind her, his appraising pauses, and his soft steps on the floor.
Suddenly he was in front of her, pressing a large pair of metal scissors to her sternum, right between her breasts and under her mini top. She breathed deeply in shock and the cold metal pressed harder against her as her ribs rose. She locked eyes with him, her heart lifting its beats like the notes of a song…
He opened the scissors and slipped the lower blade under her tube top, and cut once, twice. It sprang loose from her chest and fell down to the floor.
He circled her, openly enjoying her exposed breasts, letting the flat of the scissors blade trail under them, then down her sides, across her belly, around her ass, then to her front again, where he looked her in the eyes as his hands trailed down towards her skirt. He reached with one hand and seized her chin, drew her up into a kiss, and she felt his whiskery cheeks and tasted his wine-scented lips. The cold scissors pressed low against her belly.
He broke the kiss, licking his lips, then slid the scissors down to the waist of her skirt. Again, a swift cut, and her skirt fell to the floor, rolling around her thighs and falling about her feet. Another two snips removed her panties.
He moved to her back and she felt the cold smooth blade at the nape of her neck. A single moan escaped her. She felt his lips at her ear.
“You can always get more clothes. But once I do this... there’s no going back…”
The safeword leapt to the back of her mind, and there it remained. She bowed her head against the familiar weight that lay over her shoulders and her ass, and nodded, just the barest of nods.
The scissors slashed, silver blades ruthlessly chopping the sleek black glossy hairs. As they cut, the long tresses fell, collapsing into a plastic bag he’d placed on the floor behind her. Her head jerked forward and then back again as each cut was made.
He took up some of the tresses that had fallen outside of the plastic, and pulled on them, twisting them like ropes. “Come,” he gestured, indicating the bed.
She stepped forward, her bare feet leaving the mountain of hair behind her. Naked, light as a soft caress of love on goosebumped skin, she walked to the edge of the bed and waited.
"Down. Spread."
She lay back on the cotton sheets, then parted her legs and laid her arms out to the sides of the bed. The air was suddenly very cool between her thighs. She was aware of the blue skies out the window and the beating of her heart as it strove to keep pace with her desire.
He bent over her, rope-strands of hair in hand. He brought up straps from below the bed, each ending in a D ring. He tied the hair through the rings and around her wrists and ankles, and soon she was secured, the strands of hair wrapped just tight enough around her to hold her helpless, but not uncomfortable.
He stood over her, naked himself, leaning down to her ear to whisper dirty things, stroking her under her breasts, along her legs and between her thighs, her sides, her ankles, the base of her neck. She squirmed and groaned deep in her throat, as the sweet touches and the filthy filthy talk continued. She pulled at her restraints, her hands balled into fists and her toes clenching as she tensed her legs.
Closer he got, and closer, his hot breath on her skin, and then he was on the bed, climbing on top of her, his thighs brushing between hers with an electrical surge of lust that sent a whirlwind of need up from her crotch through her belly. She felt his broad strong hands stroking her stomach and then taking firm hold of her sides, just above her hips, and holding her steady as he leaned over her and his loins hovered over hers as he laid himself over her and stroked back and forth, teasing her slowly with tiny thrusts of his hips. Her groans became guttural and she arched her back and tried to raise her hips to meet his, but the hair ropes held and she couldn't get her feet under her. The whirlwind inside her became a hurricane of lust that wanted to draw him into her forever.
Grinning down at her, he rose upright and straddled her chest, pressing himself over her face, and she smelled the scent of her desire clinging to him as he took hold of her shortened hair and raised her lips to him. She opened wide and took him in, wrapping her lips around him, feeling him warm and wet on her tongue, the smooth texture of him and his sexual musk filling her breath as she teased him in turn with her tongue and lips.
Suddenly he pulled away and leaned down to kiss her, his breath becoming hers and the taste of his lips on her own. He laid himself down, covering her nakedness with his own, his hairy chest brushing her erect nipples and his thighs pressing warmly between hers as he reared back just enough, slowly, and then pressed forward into her. She bit her lip and rolled her hips from side to side as he sank slowly and sweetly into her, becoming the center of her hurricane.
Deeper he pressed, opening her wide, until his loins firmly met hers and she looked up into his eyes, her whole world occupied by him. He surged inside her and she rose and rippled like waves under him, rocking with him as he drove into her, cradling his lust inside of hers.
Soon he was giving her all of his intensity, slaking his needs upon her, driving home with thrusts that shivered the bedframe and made the floor creak. Taken, bucking and thrusting her own hips to meet his, tossing her head from side to side, she felt her climax rising to meet his until they cried out together in unity and she received the very essence of him deep inside her body.
She twitched with the urge to hug him, wrap her legs around him, bind him to her forever. Pinned to the bed, she could do nothing but hold him tight inside her as his exhausted weight pressed down on her loins and belly and breasts and they panted together, hearts pounding in tandem like footsteps of runners after the race is done.
He rose too soon from that timeless moment, reaching to the nightstand to take up the scissors. He cut one of the hair ropes and placed the handle of the cold instrument into her hand. He withdrew from her, dressed himself without conversation, without even a glance, then picked up the heavy plastic bag of hair and left. She heard the front door being opened and shut, locked, behind him.
She took in the air from the breeze, cool over her inflamed skin, feeling all the places where he wasn't. The bedsheets also pressed against her strangely in the absence of her long hair. Her head moved so easily now as she watched him walking off down the path outside.
She relaxed and lowered her head, her whole body pleasantly warm from the banked fires of lust. Freedom was close at hand, but it didn't have to happen just yet.
There was a knock behind her at the door. "Ready?" came his voice.
"Ready," she said as she stood in the window light, her hair swaying in a gentle breeze that stirred the curtains. From behind, she was a sort of negative ghost, a black spindle form of abstract humanoid lines. She heard him enter, but did not turn to greet him. She felt his steps behind her, his appraising pauses, and his soft steps on the floor.
Suddenly he was in front of her, pressing a large pair of metal scissors to her sternum, right between her breasts and under her mini top. She breathed deeply in shock and the cold metal pressed harder against her as her ribs rose. She locked eyes with him, her heart lifting its beats like the notes of a song…
He opened the scissors and slipped the lower blade under her tube top, and cut once, twice. It sprang loose from her chest and fell down to the floor.
He circled her, openly enjoying her exposed breasts, letting the flat of the scissors blade trail under them, then down her sides, across her belly, around her ass, then to her front again, where he looked her in the eyes as his hands trailed down towards her skirt. He reached with one hand and seized her chin, drew her up into a kiss, and she felt his whiskery cheeks and tasted his wine-scented lips. The cold scissors pressed low against her belly.
He broke the kiss, licking his lips, then slid the scissors down to the waist of her skirt. Again, a swift cut, and her skirt fell to the floor, rolling around her thighs and falling about her feet. Another two snips removed her panties.
He moved to her back and she felt the cold smooth blade at the nape of her neck. A single moan escaped her. She felt his lips at her ear.
“You can always get more clothes. But once I do this... there’s no going back…”
The safeword leapt to the back of her mind, and there it remained. She bowed her head against the familiar weight that lay over her shoulders and her ass, and nodded, just the barest of nods.
The scissors slashed, silver blades ruthlessly chopping the sleek black glossy hairs. As they cut, the long tresses fell, collapsing into a plastic bag he’d placed on the floor behind her. Her head jerked forward and then back again as each cut was made.
He took up some of the tresses that had fallen outside of the plastic, and pulled on them, twisting them like ropes. “Come,” he gestured, indicating the bed.
She stepped forward, her bare feet leaving the mountain of hair behind her. Naked, light as a soft caress of love on goosebumped skin, she walked to the edge of the bed and waited.
"Down. Spread."
She lay back on the cotton sheets, then parted her legs and laid her arms out to the sides of the bed. The air was suddenly very cool between her thighs. She was aware of the blue skies out the window and the beating of her heart as it strove to keep pace with her desire.
He bent over her, rope-strands of hair in hand. He brought up straps from below the bed, each ending in a D ring. He tied the hair through the rings and around her wrists and ankles, and soon she was secured, the strands of hair wrapped just tight enough around her to hold her helpless, but not uncomfortable.
He stood over her, naked himself, leaning down to her ear to whisper dirty things, stroking her under her breasts, along her legs and between her thighs, her sides, her ankles, the base of her neck. She squirmed and groaned deep in her throat, as the sweet touches and the filthy filthy talk continued. She pulled at her restraints, her hands balled into fists and her toes clenching as she tensed her legs.
Closer he got, and closer, his hot breath on her skin, and then he was on the bed, climbing on top of her, his thighs brushing between hers with an electrical surge of lust that sent a whirlwind of need up from her crotch through her belly. She felt his broad strong hands stroking her stomach and then taking firm hold of her sides, just above her hips, and holding her steady as he leaned over her and his loins hovered over hers as he laid himself over her and stroked back and forth, teasing her slowly with tiny thrusts of his hips. Her groans became guttural and she arched her back and tried to raise her hips to meet his, but the hair ropes held and she couldn't get her feet under her. The whirlwind inside her became a hurricane of lust that wanted to draw him into her forever.
Grinning down at her, he rose upright and straddled her chest, pressing himself over her face, and she smelled the scent of her desire clinging to him as he took hold of her shortened hair and raised her lips to him. She opened wide and took him in, wrapping her lips around him, feeling him warm and wet on her tongue, the smooth texture of him and his sexual musk filling her breath as she teased him in turn with her tongue and lips.
Suddenly he pulled away and leaned down to kiss her, his breath becoming hers and the taste of his lips on her own. He laid himself down, covering her nakedness with his own, his hairy chest brushing her erect nipples and his thighs pressing warmly between hers as he reared back just enough, slowly, and then pressed forward into her. She bit her lip and rolled her hips from side to side as he sank slowly and sweetly into her, becoming the center of her hurricane.
Deeper he pressed, opening her wide, until his loins firmly met hers and she looked up into his eyes, her whole world occupied by him. He surged inside her and she rose and rippled like waves under him, rocking with him as he drove into her, cradling his lust inside of hers.
Soon he was giving her all of his intensity, slaking his needs upon her, driving home with thrusts that shivered the bedframe and made the floor creak. Taken, bucking and thrusting her own hips to meet his, tossing her head from side to side, she felt her climax rising to meet his until they cried out together in unity and she received the very essence of him deep inside her body.
She twitched with the urge to hug him, wrap her legs around him, bind him to her forever. Pinned to the bed, she could do nothing but hold him tight inside her as his exhausted weight pressed down on her loins and belly and breasts and they panted together, hearts pounding in tandem like footsteps of runners after the race is done.
He rose too soon from that timeless moment, reaching to the nightstand to take up the scissors. He cut one of the hair ropes and placed the handle of the cold instrument into her hand. He withdrew from her, dressed himself without conversation, without even a glance, then picked up the heavy plastic bag of hair and left. She heard the front door being opened and shut, locked, behind him.
She took in the air from the breeze, cool over her inflamed skin, feeling all the places where he wasn't. The bedsheets also pressed against her strangely in the absence of her long hair. Her head moved so easily now as she watched him walking off down the path outside.
She relaxed and lowered her head, her whole body pleasantly warm from the banked fires of lust. Freedom was close at hand, but it didn't have to happen just yet.
A nice scene:
But I'm not finding any sort of a story here. I would've liked more set-up at the beginning, something that would've given me a sense of who these people are and would've let this scene be a culmination to their story rather than just a scene...
Mike
But I'm not finding any sort of a story here. I would've liked more set-up at the beginning, something that would've given me a sense of who these people are and would've let this scene be a culmination to their story rather than just a scene...
Mike
I'm really liking the prose, here. It conveys the ideas and actions happening very cleanly and effortlessly, while not coming across as clinical or laundry-list-ish. The general pacing of the scene feels good too, bringing us along from moment to moment without rushing or dragging. Overall, this is just a really pleasant reading experience, in terms of how well it gets thoughts and words into my brain.
Now I'm going to kind of agree with Mike that this feels a little lacking, but I personally think this isn't due to a lack of a story, but more because of a lack of a unifying theme/motif/message. The piece as a whole doesn't seem to be commenting at all about the sexy-time happening here or the nature of sexy-times in general, which makes it feel kind of... pornographic? I don't mean in terms of the explicitness of content, but more in the sense of eliciting emotions without eliciting as much thought.
The thing in my opinion that comes closest to being the main point of the story was the little bit about cutting the woman's hair, but this idea of the significance of permanent action isn't really touched on again. In the Discord chat it was brought up that bondange aspect could be a freedom/captivity commentary. I've given this a bit of thought, but I'm personally having trouble going with this, since it's not presented as a conflict. The woman doesn't have any reason to want to be anywhere else but bound on the bed, so it doesn't quite make it feel that the story is making a statement about the state of being bound.
So in the end, while I did appreciate that this is certainly a technically well-crafted piece, I'm left wishing that it felt like it had more of a point to it, I guess. I'm definitely one of the kinds of people who really cares for a message or meaning in the fiction I consume, so feel free to take my thoughts however you'd like, if that wasn't your goal in writing this.
Thanks for submitting!
Now I'm going to kind of agree with Mike that this feels a little lacking, but I personally think this isn't due to a lack of a story, but more because of a lack of a unifying theme/motif/message. The piece as a whole doesn't seem to be commenting at all about the sexy-time happening here or the nature of sexy-times in general, which makes it feel kind of... pornographic? I don't mean in terms of the explicitness of content, but more in the sense of eliciting emotions without eliciting as much thought.
The thing in my opinion that comes closest to being the main point of the story was the little bit about cutting the woman's hair, but this idea of the significance of permanent action isn't really touched on again. In the Discord chat it was brought up that bondange aspect could be a freedom/captivity commentary. I've given this a bit of thought, but I'm personally having trouble going with this, since it's not presented as a conflict. The woman doesn't have any reason to want to be anywhere else but bound on the bed, so it doesn't quite make it feel that the story is making a statement about the state of being bound.
So in the end, while I did appreciate that this is certainly a technically well-crafted piece, I'm left wishing that it felt like it had more of a point to it, I guess. I'm definitely one of the kinds of people who really cares for a message or meaning in the fiction I consume, so feel free to take my thoughts however you'd like, if that wasn't your goal in writing this.
Thanks for submitting!