WEAKNESS
© 2002-Destiny West

 

I looked down at him lying there; he squirmed like a mouse caught in a trap, and not quite dead yet.
I raised myself on him and then brought myself down hard, impaling myself onto him. He moaned with pleasure; a pleasure that would be short lived.
I looked again: the lust in his eyes was as intense as the loathing I felt for him.
Completely opposite emotions; he was here for the sex. He was my victim. To me; the sex was part of the game. A link in the chain of events that would get me what I ultimately desired.
Pleasure for me was standard, as a fuck he was not that great. Oh, he was keen, but then again what man isn’t when an attractive stranger offers them a night of pleasure with no strings attached? At least- not strings of the emotional kind.
Essentially there were conditions to this night of pleasure. I had just omitted them from the equation, and after all, some things are better left unsaid.
He would find out in good time.
He struggled against the handcuffs that bound his wrists to the bed. I continued to fuck him, bringing myself up and down on him, over and over...teasing the hell out of him. Men don’t handle the act of being submissive with ease.
From the beginning of time ‘the act of submission’ has not been a common characteristic found within them; generally 'submission' has been expected from us women.
Submit or die!
That said, here are a small percentage of the male species who do ‘get off’ on being submissive. Though usually this is due to them being emotionally screwed up. The larger percentage of men prefer to see the woman in chains.
I don’t despise all men. In the scheme of things they do have a purpose. But then again so do cockroaches.

His desire to touch me was ferocious. He was straining against the cuffs with all his force.
I built my rhythm riding him harder and faster.
‘Let me go, you bitch.’ He groaned.
I felt the anger rise inside and my hand lashed out, connecting the palm of my hand with his cheek, my fingernails dragging across his skin causing rivulets of blood to emerge from his flesh.
‘Jesus fuckin' Christ!’ He cursed in horror and surprise as his blood trickled down his face.
My eyes focused on the crimson delight and I had to force myself not to attack him. He was getting too vocal, and I could not afford for his mewlings to attract attention to us, and silently I reprimanded myself for not having gagged him at the beginning.Give any man a good fucking and they are bound to get a touch noisy.Now though, merely fucking him had developed into the region of really physically hurting him.
However, I had to calm him for a moment. I raised myself off him and moved down the bed I lay between his legs. My hand closed around the shaft of his penis and I began to stroke him.
Then, his breathing pattern changed, now moving to heaviness and soft moaning, I moved my mouth to him and flicked my tongue across his glans. He gasped in pleasure.
‘Yes, that’s it baby.’ He groaned, hotly.
I smiled to myself and then swirled my tongue around his entire shaft :long, firm wet strokes as my hand moved up and down on him.
‘Suck it.’ He moaned, pushing his hips up with an urgency that required me to take him fully into my mouth.
My lips enclosed around him and I began to move him in and out of my mouth, lips and hand working in a steady rhythm together.
The bloody etching on his face had become a faded memory.
My other hand softly caressed his testicles. It was enough to take him close to the edge.
I moved my body around and straddled his chest with my legs, giving him a view of my pussy.
I could feel him straining to raise his head and shoulders off the bed to get his mouth onto me.
I lowered myself down.
His tongue darted inside of me and Icaught my breath...this was good. Nonetheless, I continued to suck upon him, whilst his eager tongue delved and explored me fully.
Weird - keeping control over my senses was causing to be more difficult that I had expected...and for a very brief moment I was surprised.
I moved my mouth on him faster, building my rhythm to the point where he could no longer contain himself. and with predictable inevitablity, I felt every muscle in his body tense. He was approaching the brink. He groaned loudly as the first eruption of cum spurted into my mouth and I swallowed greedily, taking all he offered to me.
I moved off and knelt next to him on the bed looking down at him: his face a mask of smug satisfaction, his mouth and chin glistened from my juices. The blood from the scratches on his face by now had started to congeal. His body had stopped fighting its bonds and was now completely relaxed. I could feel his every heartbeat through my being as his blood coursed through his veins.
I straddled his stomach, facing him; and leant down. My tongue darted across his lips tasting myself upon them. He parted his mouth for me and I slipped my tongue between his lips and it touched his: They entwined and then I sucked upon his tongue drawing it into my mouth. Then, as it slithered in between my lips; I bit down.

Everything changed.
I looked directly into his eyes as they filled with terror. I moved my mouth away: my teeth still gripping half of his bloodied tongue.
Blood now flowed freely from his mouth and back down his throat, threatening to choke his attempted screams. His blood ran down over my lower lip and traced down my chin.
With a perverse glee , I spat the tattered piece of tongue out onto the bed and watched his agonised terror:

His legs flayed about, kicking as his throat filled with blood causing him to choke and retch. I placed a hand behind his head and lifted it, and the blood spilled from his mouth in what seemed an endless torrent of hot, dark, crimson fluid.
His face was ashen.
Pathetically he tried to mumble words. I ignored him.
My hands roamed freely in the red delight and I rubbed it all over my breasts, staining them with scarlet, raising my hands to my mouth and feasting upon the hellish ambrosia.
His fading eyes now pleaded with me for mercy.

I stared back coldly at him, for I have no pity. Pity is a sign of weakness.
I curled my lips in a smile, revealing for the first time my gleaming fangs. His eyes widened in disbelief. I traced my tongue across their razor sharp points, drawing away the dripping blood.
As I lowered my head towards his throat, his gargled screams soon became a distant annoyance that would fade into nothingness.
I opened my mouth and bit down into the side of his throat:
fangs ripping into his tender flesh, that melted away beneath my tongue. His warm blood pumped into my mouth, filling me with its' richness.
I sucked upon the wound, gripping him tightly to me as his body jerked about in its' final spasms; for now he danced with death, falling deeper into its embrace. I moved my mouth away, his faded eyes looked at me one last time bfore plunging over the the edge of oblivion into unconciousness. seeming to question me. But I refused to give him answers.

I crept back along the bed, my body rubbing against the wash of blood that now covered most of his upper body. Then, if nothing more than just for the pure sensation of the life-fluid upon my flesh, I slithered down his body; relishing in his gore until I lay between his legs once again.
My tongue traced over his limp cock and I drew it into my mouth once more. I could feel the weakness of his pulse as I sucked upon his cock.
I urged it to life, drawing down into it any blood that was remaining in his corpse-like body, keeping him on the verge of life itself.
It stirred beneath my tongue and I toyed with it.
Sucking it deeper and faster, relishing in its responses to my teasings, and I willed my victim to stay with me; keeping him hanging on the very edge of death and life.
Then, as his cock lay fully in my mouth; I once again bit down, his body jerking one final time, and then sank into the gore -soaked sheets.
My fangs gnawed away his flesh and I devoured every morsel of this symbol of maleness. Blood and semen filled my mouth sending shivers of delight through every fibre of my being.
Pleasure was finally mine.
Death his release.