You drift back to consciousness and find yourself standing in front of a large window looking over a rugged seascape. Coastal dunes strewn with sand and wind-whipped grass give way to a cliff and a tormented sea. Looming gray clouds twist above the ocean as the fingers of an approaching storm reach out to stir the coastline.
It’s warm, cozy even, inside this place. In your hand is a steaming cup of dark coffee. Its aroma fills your senses with the sweet bitter hints of luxury. On your feet, you feel the soft caress of slippers, and around your body hangs a silk robe.
Your mind is a calm pool of unremembering. For several moments, you stand, fully present, watching nature’s ballet dance in front of you. Slowly, your thoughts begin to search for an explanation, a memory to help you make sense of this place and you in it.
Droplets of sea mist hit the glass, blurring the outside world. Then, images flash in your mind, relentless rain, water sliding down your neck, a woman in a sheer red dress, Lila. At the memory of her wet body pressed against yours, you awaken fully.
A black door comes to your mind. You remember the sleekness of its finely painted surface and the carved hand cuffs. The memories stop at the moment your hand grasps the cool of the metal handle.
As you turn, your eyes take in this place. It’s spacious with high ceilings. The style is cozy yet elegant, as if an oceanside cottage had been transformed into a royal Château. In this room, the walls are sea blue trimmed with gold wainscoting and crown molding. Oil paintings and bookshelves line the walls, and several clawfoot sofas and a coffee table are arranged atop a large woven rug.
You look to your right as soft footsteps reach your ear and see me walking toward you with a silver breakfast tray in my hand. Your eyes drink me in. My hair is full with the wave of recently undone braids. I’m wearing what looks to you like a Game of Thrones harlot dress; something akin to the brothel scenes that stand out in your memory of the show. Yards of deep pink fabric drape my body, pulled in at the waste by a thick, embroidered band. Above the thin straps of the dress, a studded collar wraps my neck. You notice that there is a slit in the front of my gown that runs up past my navel, allowing for the dress to open as I walk. The sight of my long thighs and bare pussy are available to your eyes.
“Lila,” you say; it’s a statement and a question wrapped together in one lusty breath. I glance up at you and smile — a submissive smile.
“Your breakfast is served, Lord Sebastian,” I say as I drop my eyes in submission and move toward the sofa to set the tray on the coffee table. I then sit on the adjacent sofa.
You walk over, taking in the scene, taking in the way that my dress billows around me and how my seated thighs leave only a hint of my pussy free to your eyes. You sit, still drinking me in. As you look at me, you notice faint purple stripes on my thighs — old bruises. My wrists are ringed as well. Then you notice what can only be a brand on my shoulder. Enclosed within what looks like a fist are the letters LS.
“Who did that to you?” you say pointing as you stare at these markings on my body, the permanent and impermanent ones. I lift my eyes for the first time since seating myself, and bringing my gaze to search your own with a soft kind of probing stare, I say,
“You did, Lord Sebastian.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you!” You defend.
“Is this not what you have imagined a thousand times over, Lord Sebastian? Having unquestioned control over me?” You let your eyes trace a path from my mouth down every detail of my body as your mind registers the truth in my words. You have thought of this, have imagined tying me down and ravaging my body. Each time I post another tease, another suggestive pose, your mind goes wild, a beast awakens within you.
I interrupt your musings, “This cottage is the place where I am your willing victim, where my body, my mind, my pleasure, and my pain are yours to wield, Lord Sebastian.”
“That’s not even my name.”
“And Lila is not mine, but in this place, you are Lord Sebastian of the Iron Fist, and I am yours.”
“Where is this place?”
“Does it matter, Lord Sebastian? We are here, and whether we’re planted in reality or living in some twilight zone, it makes no difference.”
I note a subtle shift in your countenance, a change from questions to possibilities.
“Open your legs,” you direct as you lean forward, watching intently.
I say nothing as I slide my fingers up the inside seam of my thighs and slowly part them open, letting the delicate folds of my nether lips accessible to your gaze. I can see as you harden beneath the smooth fabric of your robe, and I observe the faintest hint of a smile.
“Part your lips with the fingers of one hand,” you instruct.
I do as you say, bringing my left hand down to part my flesh. My beautiful lips give way to the juicy pink flesh of my center.
“Good girl,” you say as your eyes stay locked on my glistening opening.
“Now rub your clit with your other hand.” With my middle finger, I draw circles around my clit as you direct. The touch and the excitement of this place bring the soft tingles of arousal to my loins. My clit engorges and my smooth moisture covers my fingers.
“Don’t stop until I give you permission,” you say, your voice now ringing with authority. “Am I clear?”
“You are as clear as the nectar that flows from me for you, Lord Sebastian.” I glance at you and am met with the intensity of a beast poised to strike his prey.
You watch me as my fingers slide in just the way my body craves. You note the way color rises to my cheeks and the small subtle shifts in my breaths. My touch feels good. Watching you watch me feels good. Each exposed inch of skin, each sound I make, the slight sheen of sweat on my face, the power I give you — they are your drug; I can see it in your eyes, and that arouses me immensely.
You move from where you’ve been seated and perch on the edge of the table in front of me. You’re close enough to touch me, yet you don’t. Not yet.
“Enter yourself,” you demand. I can feel your breath washing across my body as I comply. The sound of my inner flesh parting licks our ears as my middle finger enters me. You notice the effect this has on me. You watch me, watch the way my eyes implore you to touch me, for you to enter me.
“Stop!”
A small moan of sexual frustration escapes my lips as I drag my fingers up my belly, away from my swollen pussy.
“Taste yourself,” you command. My fingers land salt upon my tongue as I slide them into me. They’re wet, soaked in my body’s lust. I let them slide to my lap and wait for your desires to direct me.
In one quick movement, you thrust your hand up to encircle my throat and press me back onto the sofa. You hold me there, your hand still on my neck though I make no protest. Your other hand runs along a strand of my messy hair. You press a finger into my mouth, exploring my tongue. Then you slide fingers down the length of me, dipping into my navel before greedily slipping into my pussy. You’re not doing this for me. You’re exploring — satisfying every bit of your curiosity and pent up lust.
But your purpose makes no difference. Your skin feels like sparks. Your want of me singes me with fire. Submitting to you burns me from within, and I let out a moan of pleasure at your touch, at finally feeling you here in the real world, feeling the pressure that you place in me.
“That’s right,” you growl into my ear as you press deeper. “Who owns you?”
“You do, Lord Sebastian,” I moan through short breaths.
“Don’t forget it,” you say as you increase the pressure. You curve your finger and pull embers over my G-spot.
“Baby. It feels so good,” I moan to you as I reach out to slide my hand up your thigh to feel your cock. But you step back.
“Excuse me!” You exclaim. “Don’t forget how to address me properly, Lila.”
“I’m sorry. It feels so good, Lord Sebastian.”
“That’s better,” you say. “Don’t touch me again until I give you permission.”
“Whatever you request, Lord Sebastian,” I say, remembering the rules of this place, the only place where I am free to be owned without rebuke of those who don’t understand.
“Where are the handcuffs?” You ask. A smile graces my lips at thoughts of the room and of the treats I have for you there.
I stand and lead you down the long corridor that runs parallel to the coast. Large windows give us a view of the storm that is starting to release its fury on the coastline. Wind flogs the glass with droplets of ocean mist and scattered rain. The waves swell and break upon the rocks in an endless dance of birth and death.
I look out the window and see an eagle soaring in the wind high above the water. Its strong wings stretch wide as it moves with the wind rather than being pummeled by it.
You see it, too, and you see me looking at it. Your hands press into my hips as you push me to the window and stand behind me. I can feel your breath on my neck. The way you wrap your arm tight around me to press weight on my lower belly stirs the flames that smolder in me.
“That bird is free,” you whisper in my ear. I lean into you, and you bring your mouth to my neck to lay a bite there.
“You are not,” you say before you undo the band on my waist, letting it fall to the floor with a small woosh.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Lord Sebastian.”
“Yes, what?”
Yes, I understand, Lord Sebastian.”
You whisper “good girl,” into my ear, and then you slide your hands across my peaked breasts and up to the ties of my dress that meet at the crest of my shoulders. One by one, you release them, and my dress floats to the floor into a billowing pile of fabric.
“I plan to pay you back for all the teasing you have tormented me with, Lila,” you whisper into my ear.
“Have you not enjoyed them, Lord Sebastian?”
“Immensely so, but I’m still going to punish you for it,” you say.
“As it is your right to do, Lord Sebastian,” I say, and I move to lead you once again toward the most erotic part of this Château, but you stop me.
“Lean over that chair,” you demand. You point to a royal purple fainting couch set against the wall in between two of the large windows.
I walk over and bend over its velvety edge.
“Like this, Lord Sebastian?” I ask, letting my voice purr for you as I arch.
“Spread your cheeks,” you say. I reach both hands back and open myself wide, parting my ass and my flesh to give you a fully unobstructed view to my openings.
Your eyes on me again infuse me with cravings for you. I want to feel the power of your body and the dominance of your cock.
You come up behind and grab my hips to pull my ass into you, and I can feel you through your robe, feel how hard you are. I arch into you as you grab a handful of my hair and pull my head back. I can feel my pussy juicing in anticipation of surrounding you with my flesh. I want you.
I note the difference in sensation as your robe parts and the smooth skin of your cock rubs my thighs, barely grazing the swollen lips of my pussy. They paint your shaft with my need for you.
“Good girl,” you say as you tease me. “Now tell me, where is that room?” you ask as you pull away, leaving me throbbing, wanting.
“Down the corridor to the left through the archway and down the stairs,” I respond as I straighten.
Unexpectedly, you reach your hand up to take hold of a handful of my hair at my scalp. You guide me the rest of the way using your hold on my hair, reminding me of your dominance over me.
Who you thought you were before coming to this place has now wholly faded. Your loyalties, your good name — they are nothing to you here. You have let the long caged beast rise to the surface, and I am at his mercy, and that is exactly where I want to be.
The dungeon in this place isn’t damp or unwelcoming. Au contraire, it is 2500 square feet of erotic bliss, perfectly decorated as if Melony Rose herself had designed it.
A dark purple wall with black accents sits opposite more enormous windows that face the sea. The ample stairs have brought us near sea level to this room cut into the cliff. The largest swells crash halfway up the glass.
The end walls are coated with silver and gray embossed damask wallpaper. A large St. Andrew’s cross is leaned against one wall. Throughout the room, a variety of furniture, artwork, and erotic tools are spread.
“It’s about damn time that someone came down to entertain us,” a sultry voice echoes out from the right side of the room. You look to see a large cell. It’s the size of a room, and behind its iron bars is a king size canopy bed, a bath, amenities, and two women.
“You didn’t tell me I have guests, Lila,” you say with an incredulous look.
“Bad girl, Lila, keeping secrets from dear, Lord Sebastian,” the blond in the cell says.
“They were a surprise for you,” I say. “But they were being utterly bratty, so I locked them up.”
“Bad Girl, Lila,” the long-haired brunette says. “How dare you surprise his lordship without being given permission.
You focus on her face for the first time and realize that she is me. You look between us.
“Oh, don’t look so shocked, Dear Lord Sebastian of the Iron Fist,” the caged me says. “You know you have totally fantasized that there were two of us. That time I posted a photo of me sitting with my back to the mirror had you craving cumming.” Her tone is crass and provocative. She’s being disrespectful. My teeth grind in my mouth as I bite my tongue.
You walk over her — to the other me — and really stare at her.
“Is that so, Lila?”
“You can call me Ember to avoid the confusion,” she says seductively as she slides a bare leg through the bars. “I’m far more fun than sweet little Lila over there.”
“Lord Sebastian,” I interject. “I am sorry she’s being so disrespectful. I would not have brought her if I knew she would act in this way,” I tell you, stepping forward to stand next to you.
She had promised to behave, this wild and free seductress side of myself. “Take me, I’ll play your silly submissive game,” she had said, but she had lied.
“Oh, don’t be a bore, Lila, ” the blonde says.
“Who is she?” You ask, nodding to the other woman.
“She’s Nichole, Ember’s good friend and one of my husband’s lovers. Ember insisted on bringing her,” I say as I send Ember and Nichole a glare.
You look back and forth between me, Nichole, and Ember, and you smile.
“What a dilemma,” you state with sarcasm.
A large chair sits a few feet away facing the cell, and you walk over and sit down, bringing your feet up onto the small stool in front.
“Lila, be a good little sub and blow me while I think about what to do with the three of you,” you say as you lean back and put your hands above your head. The fabric of your robe slides open revealing the parts of you that I crave.
I kneel in front of you and kiss you from your knees to the base of your cock. Being allowed to please you sends lighting through my veins.
“I have craved knowing what my lord tastes like,” I say before I lick up your shaft and take you into my mouth.
“Pretentious bullshit — that’s what a lord tastes like,” Nichole says, and both girls laugh.
I would spit venom at them if you were not inside of my mouth. I do my best to ignore them and use my hands to encircle you as I let my saliva slide down to cover your cock.
You taste like salted caramel, yet another tease to my growing need to have you press into me. I want you to fully surrender to your desires and take me and use me until you explode. I lick and slide you deep into me. Being so close and tasting your arousal burns me to my core.
“We could do better,” Ember’s voice breaks into my moment with you. I feel as you shift your gaze up to look at her, and whatever you see makes your cock twitch in my mouth.
You grasp my hair and pull me back from you.
“Good girl, Lila. Now go let Ember and Nichole free.” I turn to see Ember staring at you. Her hair, long and wavy from undone braids, hangs wildly around her. She is calling you with her seductive eyes as she holds Nichole’s hair. The blond is on her knees licking her pussy. Nichole’s ass and thick pussy are perfectly angled to your view. A small part of me feels a jealous rage at their seduction of you, at their taking of your attention from me.
I regret having brought Ember to this place, but I don’t let my feelings show as I walk to the cage and type the code in.
“Lord Sebastian has requested you,” I say as the door swings open.
“Oh, we already know,” Ember purrs to me as she slinks out of the door past me, uncaged. Her eyes glimmer with seduction; she feeds off of it just as I do submission.
Nichole flirtatiously sits on one of your thighs, but Ember holds off. She drops to all fours and teases you with some playful stripper floor work before she slides over to land one long lick from your ankle to your knee. Nichole is rubbing you and whispering in your ear.
Ember nips at your thighs as she teases you with her eyes.
“What does Lord Sebastian of the Iron fist want done to him?” She asks.
You don’t answer with words; instead you reach out your hands and press Ember’s mouth over your cock until she gags. For a moment, I stand and watch this scene that doesn’t include me. I come beside you and see that Ember’s eyes are watering down her face as you direct her movement with a handful of her hair. She doesn’t resist. Deep within, I know she got what she wanted.
“Good girl, Ember,” I say in a patronizing tone. She reaches a finger up and flips me off. You look up to me. Your fingers are knuckles deep in Nichole, and she’s arching and moaning.
“Taste yourself, Lila” you say nodding toward Ember.
The command is clear. I look down at her. She’s on her knees arched forward with her arms resting on your open thighs. There is no other option in my mind but to obey, so I bring myself down onto the plush rug that rests under the chair. I have to kneel on all fours at a 90% angle to her and tilt my head down and over to reach her familiar form, those long thighs and the delicate shape of her pussy. Never before have I experienced my body in this way. She – I – taste like a fresh summer lemonade, sweet and citrus.
Nichole moans above me as you play pleasure dom to her. You’re taking a stricter stance with Ember. I can hear as she chokes and gags from the firmness of your grasp on the roots of her hair.
From the moans I hear escaping your lips, you are losing yourself in this moment. Ember and Nichole are pleasuring you, and although I feel a pang at only playing a secondary role in this scene, I focus on completing your request.
I slide a finger into Ember and stroke her just where I like it. With my mouth, I give her the consistency and pressure on the left side of her clit that I know will bring pleasure to her core.
The sound of Ember moaning while also gaging has you growling and arching. I can feel as your legs brace against the pleasure building in your body. I ache to turn my head and kiss your legs, to be the one to give you that pleasure, but I don’t.
“Fuck,” your voice rings out as Ember’s cunt tightens around my fingers.
“See,” Nichole says breathlessly, “Brats are far more stimulating than mindless subs.
I feel as Nichole shifts from pleasure.
“Oh, my God. I’m going to cum,” she moans out.
I have Ember on the edge, and she moans through your cock as they cum together in near screams. I feel as Nichole squirts; her liquid drips down onto me.
Ember’s pants of pleasure drop silent as you press her deep onto your cock until even her breaths are cut off. You growl, and as you release her off of you, you lose yourself in her mouth.
I swallow my jealousy as I listen to your carnal sounds of lust.
When you’re finished, you release Ember; she pulls back sucking in more breaths through her nose.
“Swallow it,” you tell her, but instead, she stares you in the eyes and spits it onto my head.
Her Saliva, mingled with your seed, wets my scalp and slides down my face. I taste you, taste myself mingled with you, and it makes me crave you, crave having you inside of me. I look up from where I still am on all fours.
You say nothing as Ember smirks. She reaches a hand onto your chest and purrs through a smile.
“I know you like it, Lord Sebastian,” she says with exaggerated emphasis on your title.
“Dress Lila, and then strap her to that cross and punish her,” you say to Ember. But why? I think to myself. I’ve done nothing but be good.
Nichole goes to an armoire and selects a black and red lingerie set and they dress me. I let them, but my regret of their presence only grows. I want to feel your desire, feel you devour me, but you don’t give it to me.
You simply watch as they dress me roughly and strap my limbs to the cross. Ember flogs me first, and then Nichole strikes me hard with a riding crop across my thighs. I wince from the pain laid across my already bruised skin. These new lashes are of spite, and I hate them.
“Oh, are we hurting poor little Lila?” Ember taunts.
“Lord Sebastian of the Iron Fist, should we be more gentle to your poor little fawn?” Nichole asks exaggeratedly.
“Do what you want,” you say with apathy. Your words break me. You don’t want me, and yet, if this is what you desire, I must comply. In this place, I have fully surrendered myself to you, and although the pain you inflict is not physical, it is still yours to inflict.
Ember and Nichole flog and torment me. They leave welts from my calves to my shoulders. They whisper of my uselessness, and of Lord Sebastian’s lack of desire for me until my knees shake and tears roll down my cheeks.
“Enough,” you say. “Lock Lila in that small cage and let’s continue the party upstairs.”
They push me into a cage meant for an animal. Without a look in my direction, you lead Ember and Nichole flirting and touching on you up the stairs, leaving me alone in the dungeon. The storm has fully set upon us. Rain pours from the sky, and the angry waves crash and break on the window.
I can’t get comfortable. The cage is not big enough to stretch out, but I try to curl up despite the sting of my welts. I attempt to doze off. Sleep seems like a good escape, but just as sleep starts to claim me into a fitful dream, I hear the sound of slippers on stone steps. I look up.
You come in and squat in front of my cage. I sit up, hopeful but not hoping, and I grab the bars to look at you with my dutiful, soulful eyes.
“You’ve been a very good girl, Lila.” Adrenaline surges through my veins at the affirmation, at hope rising in me.
“And good girls get their rewards,” you continue. “I’ve wanted nothing more all night than to sink my cock deep into your pussy until you shake.”
I lean my head onto the bars and smile up at you. Tears rim my eye, and a few spill over. You reach a finger through and wipe them off.
“But something had to be done with those brats you brought here,” you say as a smile crosses your lips. You unlock the door and help me out.
“I won’t lie, they had their appeal, but they were also insufferable.” I smile at your characterization of them, at knowing that you had not wholly lost yourself to their charms.
“But you, Lila — you are intoxicating,” you say as you stand and pull me to my feet.
You lead me through the doors of the large cage. Once inside, you press me onto the bed, like a primal beast ready to devour its prey. You rip my lingerie and leave it in shreds around me before you push me back onto the bed with your weight.
Leaning over, you kiss me deep and strong as you feel me with your fingers. You bring them to your mouth and let out a growl. Then you place a hand over my throat firmly, but not to the point of fully choking me.
“Who owns you?” You demand.
“You do,” Lord Sebastian,” I whisper, looking up at you through deep brown eyes of utter surrender.
“Good girl — good fucking girl,” you say before you drive your dripping hard cock between my wet lips, sinking all the way into me. I let out a moan.
“That’s a good girl. Feel that cock. That cock that owns you,” you say as you stroke me with a strong steady rhythm. You push deep and pause before withdrawing each time. It hits me just right, making my pussy blossom and open like a springtime flower. My water flows and spreads and my voice becomes a melody of desires being fulfilled. I moan and press into you.
You pull out and flip me over to enter me from behind. You reach to get a handful of my hair and pull my head back tight. You lean over me and bring your other hand between my breasts to reach up and thrust two fingers deep into my mouth. You press pressure onto my tongue, holding me firm.
I lose myself in the double penetration of my body, in your breath on my neck, and the knowledge that the lustful waters of your precum are being pressed into me. Knowing that you’re taking me — using me as your own — has me moaning, has my core tightening from imminent pleasure. You can feel it, feel my body about to burst.
“Good girl,” you say again as you press deeper. You lean down and bite my neck growling, and I fucking lose it. My body shakes and my pussy burns up with lust from my clit to my heart.
My cum throws you toward your own release. You pull my hair tighter and dig your teeth deeper into my flesh as you fuck me as you explode into me in a snarl of deep animal sounds.
We both collapse onto the bed. You pull me to you, and we lay there for long moments breathing.
I turn to you as we lay there in the silken sheets, my body tucked next to yours, “What did you do with Ember and Nichole?” I ask.
You travel a hand over my breast and down to my navel.
“I let them think they were in control, all until I hobbled them and locked them outside, naked in the storm. I think a few days of sleeping in the hay barn will tempter their attitudes,” you say with disinterest.
I imagine them stumbling across the great length of the yard to reach the barn. I imagine the way the lashing wind and stinging rain would have felt on their tender skin as they clung to each other to make their way to the bare shelter. I imagine the way the hay would have stuck to their skin and itched as they curl up like two kittens in the hay as they try to sleep. I smile to myself.
“Perhaps in a few days we can put them in irons and bring them inside to see if they’re ready to play by the rules,” you say. “In the meantime,” you continue, “I plan to explore every inch of this house with you, Lila — using you and fucking you until you bleed my cum.
“As you desire, Lord Sebastian” I say, tingles of excitement edging my body as I feel your cock growing hard again, preparing to make good on your promise starting right now.