Mind Caviar Fiction

Caroline Moon Carolina Moon is the nom de plume of a professional freelance writer who lives in Hawai`i. Carolina's erotica has also appeared in Cleansheets, Amoret Online, and in the virtual home of the Erotica Readers and Writers Association.

Email Caroline Moon.

The Promise

Some cultures believe that if you save someone from death, you've bestowed the precious gift of life, and the person you save becomes forevermore your burden. How ironic, then, that there is no similar tradition for those who bestow the gift of hope. For hope is rarer than life, and infinitely more fragile.

* * *


"I'm nervous as hell," she said. She held out her hand, small and pink, to show him how it trembled.

He sat back and gazed at her with tender amusement. Cool blue-grey eyes, lips that were full and soft. On a woman, those lips would incite riot. She wondered if any woman had ever stared at his mouth before. She could not tear her eyes from it. He still hadn't kissed her. She longed for a kiss desperately, and knew he was aware of it. Months of communication between them had brought them to this place, exposed her darkest fantasies to his gentle, insistent scrutiny. He was probably the only man in the world she'd trust enough to give her innocence.

"Why are you nervous?" he asked.

"Because I've never done this before."

He laughed softly. "We don't have to, you know. It will be okay if we don't."

"But I want it," she whispered, and the words opened floodgates between her thighs. "I've never wanted anything more."

As a moment passed, she knew it was her last chance to change her mind, to tell him that the fantasy was as much as she could handle, that the reality was more than she could bear. She wondered if he could smell her fear, beneath the fragrance of her skin, or the overflowing cup of her desire as it spilled musky pools into the curls of her pussy. She sat in her chair, shivering with exquisite and unfamiliar emotions, and waited for his instructions.

"There is a small bag in the closet. Bring it to me." She fetched the bag without question, watched him intently as he pulled the items from its dark interior: rope, scarves, clothespins, candles, a crop. He began to work with the rope, making intricate knots, testing their durability with his strong hands. She saw the outline of his cock, hard against his thigh.

Without looking at her, he said, "Take off your clothes."

She turned, and would have gone into the bathroom, to hide, to smoke, to tremble, to disrobe; to wrap a towel around her nudity-- eventually to emerge, but in her own good time. His low, firm voice halted her thoughts.

 "Undress here, where I can watch you."

 Slowly, she pulled the clothes from her pale flesh. The shadows of the room flicked soft tongues over her full breasts, down the softness of her belly, over the copper curls between her legs.  

"Come to me," he commanded, and somehow she found herself before him. He pushed her gently to her knees. He cupped his hands around her face and looked down at her. "Your pleasure is a gift that I will give you, but in my own good time." She gazed up at him, at his mouth, and she found herself leaning forward, in a vain attempt to touch his lips with her own.

 He pulled her to her feet, turned her and roughly pushed her on the bed, face down, her arms at her sides. Before she knew what was happening, before she could even think to struggle or object, she felt the ropes around her hands, around her ankles, and then she was bound, tied to herself, immobile.

His hand was in the long curls of her hair. He pulled her head back and placed a thick piece of tape over her mouth. "Can you breathe?" he asked. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. He clamped his fingers over her nose, waited until she struggled. Released her, and watched as she struggles to breathe. She felt him observe the panic in her eyes, take in the vision of her nipples, taut against the cord.

 Her face was turned away from him. She felt his weight on the mattress beside her, his fingers on the planes of her back, along the generous curves of her buttocks. His caresses were so soft that at first she barely felt them. She felt spiraling trails across her skin in exactly the places she would have touched herself, if only she could.

 Suddenly the agony that exploded in her body forced sweet melodies from her throat. The room filled with echoes of the noises his open hand made, again and again, as it struck the delicate flesh where buttock met thigh, and from the tiny noises of her mouth, covered though it was.

 Finally he stopped, and the duet became a solo; the louder music of those sharp echoes disappeared, and all that remained were her quiet whimpers. She imagined her ass must be streaked with the evidence of her pain.


 His mouth fell on her buttocks, so soft on her trembling tenderness. She felt his hands push her thighs apart. She flushed hot when his fingers touched the lips of her cunt, entered, and then withdrew again.

 He shifted, and she felt his lips against her ear, she inhaled the fragrance of his breath. He slid his wet fingers across her back and held them close to her eyes.

 He spoke in quiet, measured tones. "Look at my hand. See how it glistens with your juices."

 He caressed her cheek above the tape which kept her silent. The tip of his tongue circled the shell of her ear, and he whispered, "Remember what I promised you, what I have been telling you, for weeks now? I will not kiss you until my mouth is filled with your juices."


* * *


Bright moonlight shone into the room, now littered heavily with the detritus of love: hardening fragments of wax from the candle he'd held over her shuddering body, clothespins he'd attached to her nipples and labia; crimson rose petals he had let fall onto her skin, into her mouth and into her hair. She felt small bruises he'd left on her soft flesh. He'd still not let her come yet.

 Every pore in her body screamed with unfulfilled desire. She was astonished by his control. Though her cunt was aching and swollen after he'd fucked her what seemed like endlessly, he'd watched her with great care, and had always pulled out before she could orgasm. It could not have been easy for him. His cock had been hard for hours, but he'd finally found release when he took her ass with sweet brutality, and his come still seeped from her fragile opening.

 He took a long sip from a bottle of cold water, cupped her chin, lifted her head, and poured a few drop onto her tongue; she swallowed them gratefully. He stood over her. In a slow, graceful motion, he held the bottle high, and poured a steady trickle of icy water down the length of her body, stopping to empty the bottle between her legs. She gasped with the sensation, but did not protest, though her mouth was no longer covered with tape. She had already learned a hard lesson that night. Her silence was required, unless hed invited her to speak.

 He knelt at the side of the bed, and put his face close to hers. His eyes were clear and it felt as though he looked into her soul.

 "You've been very, very good. Better than I dreamed, even."

 A bead of sweat fell from his forehead onto her breast, and he rubbed it into her skin. Then he pulled her shivering form, still bound, to the edge of the bed, and he parted her damp thighs, spread them to expose her completely. "I am going to make you come with my mouth, now. I want to hear your orgasm; don't hold it back. Nobody will hear you except me. Nod your head if you understand."

She nodded, and then his lips, those soft, cruel lips, were on her pussy, tracing delicate patterns on her labia, around her pulsating clit, over the tender flesh of her cunt. Tiny nips inflicted by sharp teeth made her twist to escape, but he reached up and pinched her nipple, hard, until she was still. She felt his fingers enter her, move in and out of her, and she knew that she had never been as wet as she was at that moment. He extracted a finger from her, and thrust it into her ass, still so sore that a little shriek of pain escaped from her throat. He lapped at her clit slowly, rhythmically, as he fucked her steadily with his hand.  

Her back arched; she did not feel the ropes cut into her wrists and ankles as she pushed her cunt into his mouth. Wild screams poured from her, and she came, shuddering, gasping. The scent of her orgasm suddenly filled the room.

He tore the ropes from her body and moved upon her. He entered her, and when he did she pulled his mouth down to meet hers, drowning in their kiss.

Copyright  ©  2003 Caroline Moon. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or post.

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