1. Just Call Me...Lover.


    Date: 8/15/2024, Categories: BDSM Author: Piquet 

    ... returned with two cups of sweet Turkish coffee,loukoumi for two and a jug of ice-water. I set the tray down and was about to sample the mulberries when Jacqueline spoke,

“Listen to this,

Could you hurt me, sweet lips, though I hurt you?

Men touch them and change in a trice

The lilies and languors of virtue

For the roses and raptures of vice;

Those lie where thy foot on the floor is,

These crown and caress thee and chain,

O splendid and sterile Dolores,

Our Lady of Pain.”

I was silent for a moment. She had read the poem beautifully; expressively and with passion. She smiled.

“Dante Gabriel Rossetti?”

“No, Swinburne.”

“Where did you find that?”

“Oh, it was on the bookshelf, up the top somewhere. Somebody had bookmarked this poem so I thought it might be worth reading.”

I took a sip of coffee and I couldn't help thinking,I bet I'll also find Lautrémont, De Sade and Louÿs up on that bookshelf.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it's wonderfully sensual and perverse, and that heavy rhythm; like a hymn chanted in an ancient pagan temple.”

“Interesting.”

“Listen to some more,

Fruits fail and love dies and time ranges;

Thou art fed with perpetual breath,

And alive after infinite changes,

And fresh from the kisses of death;

Of languors rekindled and rallied,

Of barren delights and unclean,

Things monstrous and fruitless, a pallid

And poisonous queen.”

“It's certainlylanguorousand sensual,” I said quietly.

“Ah ...
    ... beautiful, passionate body

That never has ached with a heart!

On thy mouth though the kisses are bloody,

Though they sting till it shudder and smart...

Have you ever known a woman like this?”

“Ah...I can't say that I have...” I lied.

She lay the book down and stood up. Taking the empty coffee cup from my hand she sat astride my lap and looked deep into my eyes.

“I don't know what it is James; whether it's this island or this house...or it might just beyou...”She stabbed my nose playfully with her index finger. “But I'm constantly wanting more and more of thoseroses and raptures of vice.”

She kissed my neck and I hung my head back to enjoy her sweet attentions.

~~~~~~

Cradled in my arm with her face resting on my side, Jacqueline slumbered tranquilly as I watched her breath gently vibrate the hairs on my chest. Earlier she had slipped one of the drawings from the cellar into the frame of the old mirror that hung by the door. I had said nothing but I had also avoided looking at those cold dark eyes, so vividly rendered in black ink.

Now the moonlight, streaming in from the open window eerily illuminated the drawing and my eyes were drawn inexorably towards it. It must have been well after midnight on a tranquil, warm night. Once again Jacqueline had ridden my cock like the rodeo rider that I knew she was at heart.

“We call itcow-girl back home.”

She had informed me of this after draining me dry of everything within me resembling semen and ...
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