Serious Moonlight - Sex Stories

Serious Moonlight

... lips met. She bit his lower lip and pulled; he let out a low growl. He sucked her tongue deep into his mouth and felt a shiver course through her body.

He stepped back, pulling her arm so that she fell toward him, then pivoted on his heel and threw her to the floor.

He took off his belt as she lay splayed on the carpet, skirt hiked. He took his time, working the belt through the loops slowly, drawing it out. He watched as she pulled her sweater off, revealing a thin-ribbed tee shirt. Her nipples were visible through the fabric. She wiggled out of her skirt and panties.

When he had the belt entirely off, he dropped his arm so that the belt lay against his leg. He snapped it. She shivered in response, a spasm running up her body like a wave.

“Kneel,” he said.

She lifted herself from the floor and knelt in front of him, head bowed.

He circled her, snapping the leather against his leg. He stopped behind her and didn’t move for a very long time, letting the tension build.

He slapped her ass with the belt, lightly but hard enough to make a smallthwacking sound. She gasped in surprise.

He slapped a little harder. “Do you like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He slapped her with the belt again, incrementally harder.

“You like it when I mark you with my belt?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

“Slut.”

The room was still. She knelt on the floor with her head bowed; he stood behind her with the belt in his hand. They had formed this tableau many times before. It ...

... was one of their oldest and most favorite games. A ritual in which they both knew their parts, with their lines memorized: a classic play straight out of the BDSM playbook. He would bind her hands tightly with the belt, then walk back in front of her, his cock thickening inches away from her face. He would tease her with it, then rub it all over her face as she closed her eyes and purred.

Except that’s not what happened. That’s not what happened this time. That’s not what happened when he looped the belt in his fist, not what happened as he walked toward her, not what happened as he stood over her, entranced and aflame.

He paused. He inhaled the moment. His arm developed a will of its own.

He lowered the loop of leather around her neck. He did not pull on the belt but left the loop loose as he walked around to stand in front of her again. He felt on the verge of some new world.

She raised her head to look up at him. Her face was aglow, as if lit from within. Her mouth was slightly agape, her eyes round with wonder.

When he remembered the moment years later, and he would, he would recall her expression as not even specifically sexual. He would remember the openness of her gaze, the complete lack of boundaries, the trust in knowing anything might happen next. It was the awestruck look of a child; it was the worshipful look of a parishioner deep in prayer. The look of an athlete milliseconds before the firing of the starting gun. The look of a girl about to receive ...