1. Persephone in Winter - Chapter 4/11


    Date: 6/9/2017, Categories: Wife Lovers, Author: Night_Writer, Source: LushStories

    Chapter 4 "If only others could see you as I do." He paced slowly as he spoke, eyes feasting on white flesh against the crimson sheets under her. The bed, a heavy four-poster with a canopy frame, was positioned at the very center of the room. At first sight it was an imposing structure, a fusion of dark carved woods and burnished metal in an old-world Mediterranean style. As he circled it, he studied her from every angle. Her thin wrists were stretched above her head, bound by two feet of cord secured to a grille of metal bars at the headboard. A tangle of brown hair framed her face, one eye hidden behind sweat-soaked strands that clung to her forehead and cheek. Her open lips waited, red and full, poised, ready at the next instant to beg him to finish her. 'Such wanton elegance,' he mused. 'Delicate shoulders carved from the purest alabaster...white breasts firm enough to mimic stone, yet soft enough to allow cherry-red nipples to quiver with each breath...the flat belly, showing a hint of muscle beneath it, as though carved by a master sculptor to compliment the sleek lines of her long waist...legs, white as glistening ivory, chiseled and slim, a thin layer of satin drawn tightly over stone cut and polished by hands of passion and grace.' He could almost understand how a husband might prefer sharing such a treasure to losing her. Small lamps mounted on the inside of each corner of the canopy bathed her body in blue-white light. The rest of the room was dark, and the bright ...
    ... light blinded her to his progress and exact position. Only during the few moments when he passed the foot of the bed could she be sure he remained in the room with her, his crisp, white shirt and golden cock emerging from the shadows just long enough to rewet her appetite for him. Minutes later, he appeared beside her at the edge of the bed. He was naked, and the sudden sight of him sent a shudder of expectation through her. He held a small silver vial, just slightly taller than a thimble. Within it rested a thin needle topped with a single black pearl that seemed to hover above the lip of the container in the brilliant light. As he withdrew it, a drop of clear liquid fell from the sharp tip back into the waiting pool at the bottom of the miniature reservoir. She shifted away from him as he brought the needle closer. "Are you afraid?" Her eyes told him before she could speak. "Yes," she whispered. "I could untie you, set you free. Your husband is waiting." She shook her head without hesitation, as if to chase away any chance of retreat. "No!" - another whisper, but one more forceful. The tip of the needle arrived at her breast, stopping at the edge of the bright pink areola. With a quick stabbing motion, he tapped the point repeatedly over the sensitive skin. She gasped, then began to moan quietly as the needle danced over the engorged button of flesh. The pressure was never enough to draw blood, but sufficient to deliver minute quantities of the drug just below the surface ...
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