| Alyssa Milano and Misha Collins - Firsts
||[Mar. 11th, 2009|09:09 pm]
Takes place directly after this post
Warnings: Cutting, bloodplay, piss (in a non-sexual sense)
The little white Mustang convertible pulls into the parking area of the Est Bar and Alyssa finds a decent parking place near the front, not bothering with valet. She spends a moment checking herself in the mirror, applies a bit of gloss then slips from the car to make her way to the entrance with a soft smile on her face.
She's dressed in the red corset that she told Misha she would be in, and pauses for a moment to adjust the black laces that criss-cross up the front and the short skirt that should be a mini, but on Alyssa's small frame tends to ride just a bit low, even after being altered. The heels of her red slingbacks tap lightly against the floor as she steps inside, blinking at the difference in lighting. Alyssa acquires a table and leaves word with the waitress that she's expecting someone before ordering a white wine and sitting back to relax, one leg draped casually over the other.
Misha gets to the club right on time, handing over his not-so-impressive Toyota Camry for the valet parker to deal with and heading in to the bar, dressed tonight in a red button-up shirt (to match Alyssa's corset) and jeans. He spots her pretty quickly, not surprisingly, and flashes her a smile, walking over. "Okay, you have to stand up for me. Let me see the whole outfit." He offers her a hand to take if she so desires.
She smiles wide, and as Misha approaches, she eyes the man, not remembering him to be quite this handsome. "Well, since I've watched you on your way over here, it only seems fair really." Alyssa takes the offered hand and stands, doing a slow turn as she brings her arms up and over her head then lets them slip back to her side, glancing back over her tattooed shoulder to Misha. "Well, does everything look in order?"
It's just the right mixture of skin and coverage, enough to draw Misha's eyes to all the right places and make his body come to attention. "Yeah," he breathes, greedily feasting on her with his eyes. "I'd say it's definitely in order." He squeezes her hand gently. "Did I mention that I had a crush on you when we were filming?" He's the younger man this time, which is different from his usual date. But he thinks that's a good thing.
"You did? Really? Why didn't you say anything then?" Her eyes shine bright at the compliments and she slowly takes her seat again, eyes on Misha. Duke had helped her train in certain areas - one being able to listen in a way that shows the other person they are your only focus. "I remember you, you were so cute..." she gives him a slow once-over then smiles, "and I see you've done quite well keeping yourself in good shape."
"Yoga," he replies smoothly, sitting down as well. He orders himself a pale amber beer. They aren't that different in age, but then she did hit her success and popularity at a young age, while he . . . he's still working at it. "You're looking great also. I still can't believe you're a member." He laughs at the shock he'd felt. "So let's see . . . do you have a checklist somewhere? I'm really curious now, you have to understand." What she's into beyond the few things she mentioned. What she'd be willing to do.
"Thank you," Alyssa replies with a light smile as she motions to herself, "yoga and tai chi." Watching for a moment as he orders, Alyssa can't help but wonder why she never took notice of Misha before, then again, when she was on Charmed, things were quite different for her. "There're a lot of very familiar faces around sometimes, it's more than a bit overwhelming, even for me." Taking a sip of her wine, she thinks for a moment then nods. "I do, but it's a bit outdated. Duke was very mild in things he liked, things he would do." She levels her eyes at him and smiles. "I want more."
Misha blinks, intrigued. "Mild? What's 'mild' in your definition?" His beer arrives and he takes a sip as well, nodding about her comment about being overwhelmed. In fact, there's a scene going on in the corner that he's trying very hard to ignore.
Alyssa follows Misha's gaze and smiles, "They are a bit hard to ignore, yes?" Laughing lightly, she shifts in the chair to more fully turn toward the man across from her. "Duke's version of mild was what most regular people consider kink. He enjoyed spanking, a bit of public play now and then, toys, but nothing too intense even there." Smiling softly as she recalls her former sir with a bit of sadness for what was lost, she looks up to Misha, "He was very kind hearted, but it was that kind heart that stopped him from being able to pull out a scream from me."
Misha makes a face. "Sounds kind of boring. No offense." Kind-hearted has its place of course, but not in scene, not when the whole point is to cause pain to someone who enjoys it. He considers himself very kind-hearted. And also a very mean, very cruel sadist as well.
Taking a sip of her wine, she nods then shakes her head, dark hair swirling about her shoulders. "He tried so hard. He wanted to make me happy and tried scenes that he knew I would love." Cocking her head a bit, she laughs, "There was a scene that, bless him, he wanted so badly to give me. It lasted until he told me I looked too sad puppy for him."
"Sad puppy? Can I ask what he was doing? Or you?" Sad puppy does not sound like the right term for a sexually intense scene. "And what kinds of scenes would you love?" Because he would love to find that out.
"Well," she says with a near child-like laugh, "that was the whole thing. I had finally coaxed him into a scene where he had me in a costume of sorts. I was, in fact, dressed up as a puppy." Alyssa's eyes darken a bit as she recalls the many scenes that fell so short of what she needed. "He loved me, and couldn't see me in pain, no matter how badly I needed it," her voice grows quiet and she sighs out, "the moment I'd beg for things to stop, he would."
Brown eyes suddenly light up at the thought of actually telling someone her desires. "I want to scream. To be kept naked in cuffs for the one I'm serving and whipped until I can't move. I want to feast on nothing but his come and what he allows me to have. I...want to be a slave."
Misha nods at the description of the puppy play, finally getting it--so she likes to scream 'stop' when she means 'go.' He likes that. And he really likes the rest of her words, a dark light coming into his eyes, particularly at the word 'slave.' He leans forward, holding her with his gaze. "I'm looking for a slave." He lets that word hang in the air for a moment. "Not instantly, you understand--it's something that has to develop over time. But that's one of my dreams. To have a slave that I can do just about anything I want to. And I like to hear screams." He adds that last bit on for good measure, to see how she reacts.
The more Misha talks, the more Alyssa can feel herself grow damp and she curses the very fact that she's not worn panties. Oh great, just great, Lys, she thinks to herself. Shifting, she re-crosses her legs as she feels her heart pound in her chest. Leaning just a bit more forward, her eyes never stray from his. "Can I ask just what you consider to be anything? That can encompass quite a bit actually." The fact that he loves the sound of screams has her biting the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering.
Misha looks away for a second, because traditionally this is where he's fucked up, where he has to be careful. His idea of intense seems to be a lot more intense than most people's ideas. "Well," he begins, trying to think of examples. "You mentioned cages. That sounds like fun. A staged kidnapping. Knifeplay. Bloodplay. Nothing that would permanently mark or harm you, you understand. But other than that, I like to go pretty far." That should give her a good idea.
A petite foot begins to tap madly at the floor beneath her and Alyssa swears she can actually feel the orgasm building inside of her where she sits. It takes her a full minute to compose herself and find what she hopes is a normal voice before finally speaking, eyes still on Misha. "Have you ever kept a slave, or kept someone in that position for an extended period?" The idea of being in a cage, kept there and used, does bring the moan that she bit back earlier. "Would you ever mark someone?"
God, I wish, Misha thinks, noting that Alyssa seems even more interested than before, which for him is a huge thing--not only is she not scared (or slapping him); she's excited. "No, I haven't--no one's let me go that far before," he admits, wishing he had more experience since she seems to be seeking that. "I would mark someone if I had their permission, yes." It's been pretty much drilled into him that everything needs permission.
There's a bit of a shocked look on Misha's face and Alyssa wonders if perhaps she's stunned him by her revelations, but he's still here and still talking - both are a very good sign. "No one's let you? Is it really that hard to find people on the edgier side of things?" Damn, no wonder she's had such trouble, maybe it's not her but the kink community in general. "Let me ask you something, if I can." She takes a breath and decides she might as well go for broke, "If someone were to tell you that you didn't need to ask permission, what would you think?" There, it's said, it's out in the open and all she can do is wait for his answer.
He has to stare at her for a moment to make sure she's not joking with him. Because something like that just sounds too good to be true. "Yes, it is that hard to find someone on the edgier side--at least where I was playing. I haven't yet noticed how it is here, but it seems true here as well." He licks his lips. "I'd say a girl like that would be my dream girl." And he's almost positive that statement will get him into trouble.
"Trust me, it's like that regardless of where you are. I've lived here and in New York for a bit, and I actually think it's harder to find things like what I'm after in the bigger cities." What she's after at least so far doesn't seem to be making Misha run for the door and at his comment she smiles, eyes widening a bit. "Really? Your dream girl?" For the first time since he's sat down across from her, Alyssa's eyes drop slightly. "I don't want to be asked," she whispers, "I want to be owned. Completely."
My God, Misha thinks, feeling something powerful--something difficult to describe, but definitely positive--moving through him. He'd been about ready to say women like this didn't exist outside of fantasy. "Well," he says in a low voice, trailing his hand over hers. "We'll have to see about that, then, won't we? See if that works for us," he amends, so that there is no doubt in her mind that everything she's saying sounds good to him.
He sits back. "Probably should start somewhere simple, though. Maybe I can describe a scene that comes to mind and you can let me know if it sounds good." That way he isn't exactly asking her, but more gauging her reaction to it.
She looks up at the touch to her hand and her heart all but stops as their eyes meet and his words sink into her. They aren't simply heard but actually felt as the very thought of what might be settles in her mind. It's not until Misha sits back that she finally takes a breath and smiles. He's the first person she's spoken to, the first that even remotely seems to get it - what others deem as torture is what her body desires.
"Seeing if you can shock me, huh?" Alyssa grins mischievously then takes a small drink of her wine and pushes the glass to the side. "Describe away, we'll see if I run for the door."
Misha snorts. "Gee thanks. Your words of confidence are noted." He sips his drink for a moment, considering what he wants to do to her tonight. "Okay. First of all I do need to know a few things. Are you filming? How much skin is being shown--in other words, where can I leave bruises and such that might take a couple weeks to heal? Any other medical issues I should know about?"
Her grin widens as she settles back in her chair, listening to his questions. "Well, I'm healthy as a horse. Isn't that the saying? Duke made certain I had full physicals every six months." It's now her turn to lean forward, short but well-groomed nails trail across the back of his hand. "I haven't really done anything in film since charmed." With a lick of her glossed lips, she smiles, "My skin would be your canvass."
That gets a sigh that is almost a moan. "I want you to know you just made me hard," Misha tells her. So that's not an issue. "In that case . . . I see you naked and tied to a chair with your legs open, gag in your mouth, but no blindfold--I want you to be able to see everything I do to you. I'd tease you with a few things first--maybe some ice, maybe my mouth, and then the edge of a knife. I'd cut your skin in a few places and lick the blood. Maybe I'd start to fuck you with the handle of the blade. And then I'd untie you enough so that I could throw you onto the bed and savagely fuck you. Maybe with your hands still tied behind you." He dips his fingers into his beer and licks them off, watching her.
The fact that he's hard, the fact that he's actually enjoying whatever thoughts are playing in his head, brings a full soft smile from Alyssa as she listens to his thoughts become verbalized. It takes everything inside her to sit still, to not let this man across from her see her shift, her hips roll against the hardness of the chair as images begin to flood her thoughts that match the scenario he gives. It's the idea of the blade on her skin that finally pulls the sound from her throat and brings her breathing to ragged pants. Brazen and bold, perhaps, but Alyssa reaches out to take his wrist and bring the fingers wet with beer and Misha's saliva to her mouth. "I can feel my juices coat my thighs," she whispers a brief moment before sucking his index finger into her mouth.
Misha's nostrils flare. "Then I think we'd better get a room here," he says in a low voice, pushing aside his beer. Doesn't need it, at this point. A thought comes to him. "Quick question. Do you consider yourself to be an exhibitionist?" Since he had that whole discussion in his journal on the subject.
Alyssa grins to herself as she watches his reaction, that grin transferring to her lips as she hears his words. There's a quick thought to pinch herself, to prove that this is a dream since it doesn't seem things like this happen for her in the sexual department of life. "If you're asking me if I'd kneel naked at your feet with my hand and feet bound, the answer is yes." With a teasing lick of her lips she leans in, "If you're asking would I suck you in public? You're just going to have to see for yourself."
That gets a raised eyebrow. "Well, I'm asking because I'm curious if you derive pleasure from being watched. But that's good to know." He knows that he's not an exhibitionist. But there's no telling if that would change, if he had someone to show off.
She can't hold back the giggle as she watches him. "Well, until now all I've done in public is kneel at Duke's feet in the nude. Until now, a lot of what I've done has only been in fantasy." Alyssa hopes with everything she has that now things are changing. "And in case you can't tell, the idea of a room sounds very nice."
Misha nods, smirking. Maybe there's merit in the idea of public play after all. "Go book us a room then--and make sure there's a wooden chair in the room. And rope. And some knives." He has a few of his own, but now that he'll actually get to use them, he knows he's going to want to run out and buy more.
With a quick nod, Alyssa rises and , wiggling her ass a bit to smooth out her skirt while giving Misha a little show, she smiles down, "Just in case you want to watch me walk." The sparkle in her dark eyes shows she has no doubt he'll be watching, then she excuses herself to secure the room with the items Misha stated. Outwardly not a person in the place would know that on the inside Alyssa is a swirling, twisting mass of nervous energy. Room secured, she returns to Misha with the keycard and hands it over with a smile. "Shall we?"
"Let's go," Misha says, standing up and taking the card. He takes Alyssa's arm, very much the gentleman, and leads her to the elevators, checking the card to see which floor they're on. While waiting, he can't help but slide his hand down to feel where her skirt meets skin, caressing her there. He wants to be doing a lot more, but this will do for the moment.
Shifting into his touch, she smiles up to him as she feels his hand at her skin. "I have to admit, I'm just a bit nervous. It's good though," the elevator dings and the doors open and she nods, "yes, definitely a good nervous." Admitting to herself that she enjoys the softness of his touch, she has to wonder if Misha will be another that once he has her tied, has no idea what to do with her.
He's a little nervous himself, but he's not going to admit that. It's just the nervousness of finally getting to do what he wants, rather than having to settle for something less. "Fear can have it's fun side," he says with a grin, to reassure her as they ride the elevator up. There are a few last items of business. "You're going to have a safeword, at least for tonight. If things go well, eventually we can discuss a contract where we won't need one. Do you have one you prefer?"
"Oh, I definitely believe it can. Fear can be addictive in it's own right." The elevator seems like it has to be the slowest in the place, then again they say patience is a virtue. Alyssa has never believed it, but that's what they say. "A safeword? Duke had me choose one, I used flute. I think that's the best since it's a word I'm at least familiar with." Oh yes, if the night goes right, Alyssa doesn't see herself ever using the safeword again, not that she's used it previously.
"Flute," Misha says, to confirm it. He tries to think if there is anything else he's missing, as they reach their floor and step out, heading towards the room. "Oh. Face slapping. Yes or no?" It's a visceral thing, and he wants permission before he goes there. Better to check certain things in advance. They reach the door. "When we're inside, I'm starting." That's the only warning Alyssa will receive before he goes fully into role.
Alyssa's face turns to one of concentration as she thinks. "I'm not sure I've ever been hit in the face, well...not other than on set that is. I don't see where it's so wrong, just not hard enough to make me lose teeth. I'd sort of like to keep them since they're all real." A very warped image pops into her mind of trying to give head without teeth - could be interesting, but no. She looks up at Misha then toward the door and nods. "Oh, what do I call you? Misha, sir or something else?"
At first Misha thinks she's going to say 'hard enough to leave a mark' and he's ready to say that sort of thing is hard to control in a facial hit. But he blanches at the mention of losing teeth. "If I hit you hard enough to knock a tooth out, you have permission to stab me with one of my knives. Jesus. I hope I never do anything like that. Call me 'Sir.' 'Master' is something you'll have to earn."
Laughing lightly, Alyssa reaches up to press a soft kiss to Misha's cheek, "I don't think I'll be stabbing you, but thank you just the same." There's something in the words he uses, something in the way he tells her she'll have to earn calling him Master that absolutely makes her purr with excitement. "Sir it is then." She takes a deep breath, knowing that on the other side of the door is, hopefully, what she's been waiting for.
Misha opens the door, scanning the room for two things, just two things that he absolutely must have to start the scene right. He spots the chair set nicely in an area with no other furniture, just perfect for his needs. And he spots the lengths of rope on the bed, along with some knives. Good service, he thinks with satisfaction, reminding himself to tip the hotel staff later on. He closes the door, humming a little to himself. Next thing, he's grabbing Alyssa harshly by the arms and slamming her up against a wall, and not gently at all. "You're mine, now," he breathes into her ear.
He pauses as the door opens and Alyssa wonders for a moment if something is wrong or out of place or if he's simply got a case of cold feet now. It wouldn't be the first time a man has promised her a night then realized they couldn't produce what she'd asked for. "It's nice, isn't..." the breath leaves her body in a violent push as Misha pins her and her entire body begins to react. THIS is exactly what she's needed. "Yes, Sir. Yours." Turning her head as she feels the hot breath against her ear, she nods more to herself than to him. Oh yes, this is what her body needs.
"Shut up," he says in a low voice. If he wants to hear her speak, he'll say so. With another rough tug (and ever so thankful that Alyssa is smaller than himself), Misha drags her over to the bed and the rope, throwing her down on the bed, grabbing the first length of rope as he pulls her arms back behind her. Simple two column tie around the wrists, just so--he's practiced it a thousand times, on himself, on furniture, and on the few women who have actually let him tie them up. He's practiced for speed, also, so in no time her wrists are tied tight, his weight holding her down.
Force. Alyssa swears at this point, she's wanted it so long that she could climax right here and now and be contented for days with just what he's done so far. Bouncing as she hits the bed, he's on her before she can come to a complete stop, hands behind her back and she's bound tight. Struggling, but not hard enough to actually attempt to break free, she sighs out a whimper at the tightness of the ropes against her flesh, the weight of Misha's body on hers only making it better. Alyssa gives a final tug of her hands then smiles to herself as she realizes just how good Misha is at this.
The next order of business is to make sure things come off which won't be able to come off once she's tied to the chair, Misha considers. He reaches under Alyssa's miniskirt, but to his surprise, he finds nothing there. No panties. She'd mentioned that earlier, he recalls--he hadn't fully believed her. The corset won't be a problem. He likes the high heels. Which leaves only the miniskirt, which he decides won't be in the way and can stay on. Since he can't shock her with pulling off her panties, he slides a finger inside of her instead, teasingly. "Little slut."
Wiggling under him, Alyssa struggles against Misha's weight as she feels his hands snake over her body then push up under the short skirt that's rode up on her thighs and he pauses, hesitating as he realizes that there's nothing covering the small swatch of dark fuzz. Slender hips work against the bed as he pushes into her body and her legs instinctively pull closed, body arching at the sensation, mind swirling at the words. "Yes, Sir." Grinding lightly against the pressure, Alyssa lets out a soft whimper of pleasure against the bed under her.
Misha pulls out his finger against the pressure of her legs, chuckling a little. Taking a handful of rope, he picks up Alyssa and carries her over to the chair, plopping her down into it gracelessly, and immediately positioning her arms so that they're behind the back of the chair. The first tie goes around her knee, around the leg of the chair, locking her leg in place. The second tie goes around the other knee and the other leg, so that her legs will be forced spread. Then the rope goes around her waist and the back of the chair, tying her there. He brings that up to bind her shoulders to the top of the back of the chair. And finally her ankles, to the feet of the chair. He smiles at her, all trussed up now, and immobile. "Much better."
With a hard grunt of breath as she hits the chair, Alyssa now realizes why it was important that the chair be wooden, and honestly wishes she'd added a little extra request of her own to have one that had a padding. Lost in her own thoughts, before she can process the agility with which Misha seems to work, her legs and arms are bound, thighs spread wide and arms at a very odd angle to the back of the chair. She can already feel the heat inside her growing, already this is more than she's had and were she able to, she'd drop to her knees and thank Misha properly. But, instead she looks up, dark brown eyes searching the man who has her, and she pulls hard against the ropes. "Sir? They're tight." Alyssa smiles at the knowledge she'll most likely wear bruises for days.
"Yes, they're supposed to be tight," Misha says with a little smile, slowing down now, taking a look around the room to see what all they have to work with. He opens a drawer and finds a handkerchief, which he ties a knot in. Stepping behind Alyssa, he pushes the knot into her mouth. "You can still talk around this if you have to," he tells her, tying the ends around the back of her head, gagging her. He'll still recognize a simple word like 'flute'. But it's one more way that she'll be bound and one more reminder of who is in charge here. He arranges her hair so that it isn't all held down by the tie, and sits back to enjoy the sight of her, mouth stretched wide.
Watching Misha, Alyssa swears she can feel the wetness pool beneath her, her own juices already soaking the chair under her hips as she spies the handkerchief and what Misha does with it. "'eth 'ir," she mumbles behind the gag as Misha pushes it in and secures it tight, her tongue automatically moving to work against it, testing how to swallow and speak as the knot between her lips keeps her mouth open a certain distance while the cloth tugs harshly at the corners of her lips. Alyssa can feel the saliva already coating the cloth and silently says a thanks that the material is absorbent. Misha's eyes are on her, watching with an intent stare, she tries to shift under the gaze but the ropes hold her tight.
So far it seems that all systems are still 'go.' Misha smiles darkly, enjoying the sight of her, leaning forward to arrange things a little, pushing up her skirt higher to expose her, running a hand up her thigh. He goes back to surveying the room, finding a bucket of ice by the bed, along with glasses and water bottles--most likely $5.00 water bottles. Oh well. He puts some ice into a glass and pours himself some water, taking a sip as he wanders over to inspect the knives. He pockets a couple, and returns to Alyssa, smiling again. "This is fun," he murmurs, leaning in, pressing the cool glass against her throat. He did promise teasing, after all. He follows that with the press of his lips, nibbling up along her throat.
She watches him closely, eyes never leaving the man in front of her as he surveys things and her body begins to move against the ropes. They don't cut in, at least not painfully, but the position of her arms is more than a bit odd and she can feel the beginnings of pins and needles in fingertips and knows soon they'll be asleep. Eyes widen and she moans at the sight of him scanning the knives, her thoughts going immediately to the scenario he painted downstairs. As Misha skims the glass across her skin, Alyssa discovers one thing about this man - he can be as sensual as he can scary. Alyssa wonders if that's the wrong word, but as he finds her throat with warm lips, she knows she should be afraid - not of him, but of giving in.
Misha feels a little shiver go through her as he nibbles, and he knows that he's getting to her. He kneels in front of her, setting the glass on the floor for the moment, and dips his fingers in to pull out an ice cube. "So are you a good girl, or a very bad girl?" He asks, trailing the ice cube on the same path that his mouth just made, and then lower, over the curves of her breasts, pushed up by the corset. He sees a droplet escape down into her cleavage and smiles, then leans forward to lick the wetness off her.
Alyssa's head drops back as a deep sigh leaves her, the feeling of his touch seems to wind its way inside her, drawing out emotions that hide deep within her soul and she does her best to keep them there, hidden away till later. Later comes a sheer breath later as ice meets heated skin and she yelps out behind the gag. "ood! I'n ood, ir!" She struggles, the ropes preventing any more than the smallest of movements and she makes a mental note to find out the rest of his Boy Scout skills later. A soft pink tongue peeks out below the knot in the gag and she swallows hard, watching his tongue flick across her chest and she nods, frantically encouraging him in any way she can.
The mounds of her breasts are just too perfect to resist, and so Misha finds a nice spot and bites down, hard, thinking about her comment about being his canvas, ready to make a mark or two to prove it. He licks it better after, then pops the ice cube into his mouth, contemplating her corset. It's time for that to come off, as lovely as it is. Unfortunately it isn't the kind that has the hooks in front. "Next time I want to see hooks in front," he tells her, as his hands find the knot and he begins unlacing her. At least it isn't the kind that only laces in back. Once she's unlaced, he pulls the material carefully away, reaching out to fondle and play with her breasts. He puts his tongue, still cold from the ice in his mouth, on one nipple and sucks hard.
The bite contrasts directly to the softness from before and Alyssa's head drops back as she lets out a muffled scream, body shivering against the pain in her tit, panting harshly as Misha's tongue slides over the damaged skin. Eyes wet with tears, she manages to keep them there as she nods in understanding to his order. "eth 'ir, uh huh." At this point, with the swirling heat coursing through her, Alyssa will agree to just about anything, and that heat only increases as she watches him, the ice slipping past his lips a moment before he finds her now-exposed nipple. Arching into the sensation, slender fingers flex as the pins and needles feeling grows - only a mild distraction from Misha's mouth.
He suckles that breast, pulling out another ice cube, and then begins to give the other breast the same treatment with his mouth, even as he holds the ice between finger and thumb, trailing a line down her stomach right to her exposed pussy, passing over her clit and sliding right inside her, fucking her with the ice cube as he continues to pay homage to her lovely cleavage. The scream has heightened his excitement tenfold. He wants to hear more screams from her.
Stomach muscles pull in tight as her body tries to process the difference in temperatures - both making her shiver, her tanned skin prickling with bumps. Alyssa pushes forward in the chair, arching as much as the ropes will allow, needing more of Misha's mouth on her and she begs with every sound, every whimper that she has in her, urging Misha forward with soft cries of pleasure. The ice hits her clit and she shudders hard, the whimpering turning to cries of shock as her body jerks against the cold as the ice sinks deep inside. "Mmmph! 'old! Nghh!"
"Well fuck yes, it's cold--it's ice, silly," Misha chastises her with a grin, finally pulling out the ice and popping into his mouth to crunch on. "Mmmm," he adds, with a sly look at Alyssa, tasting her juices. He crouches down low, eyes still on hers, a devilish look on his face. "I can smell you. You smell . . . so . . . fucking . . . good." He presses his face right down against her pussy, breathing in deeply, just teasing her with the warmth of his breath. The sight of her inner thigh attracts him as well. Glancing up at the mark left on Alyssa's breast, he picks a spot on her opposite thigh. And bites down there to leave another purpling mark.
Dark eyes glare up at Misha at the sarcasm dripping from his voice and she makes a face behind the gag, not that he can see it really, but it definitely makes her feel better as she wrinkles her nose and repeats his comment to herself in mocking fashion. She watches him dip down, his head lowering to her crotch and her eyes fall to her tits. Before she can think on the bite mark there, the purple bruise of teeth marks already starting to show, another pain hits and her legs stiffen against the ropes as she screams, panting furiously against the knotted gag in her mouth. "I' 'urths! Agh 'urths!" If she wasn't so amazingly turned on, she might very well laugh at her own lisp.
She's cute, Misha decides, with her little statements of the obvious. But he's done with the light teasing. Rising up to his feet he turns serious, watching her, letting the tension build again. With his hands flat, palms facing down, he suddenly slaps both her tits in a swift downward stroke, like a spank. He does it again. And again. There's actually a reason for this, beyond the fact that he likes slapping skin and causing pain. It's bringing blood to the surface. And he plans to see that blood in a moment. "You're going to hurt a lot more here, soon," he promises her.
Tears, full and steady, fall down Alyssa's cheeks as strike after strike falls against her tits, each one bringing more and more heat, catching the bite mark to make the bruised tissue stand out even more as she screams out. To the normal observer, her pain might seem too much, her screams pointless and heart-breaking, but to Alyssa's own ears her screams are music and the heat in her body an addicting drug. She's craved this for so long, craved the pain and the pleasure, and even as the tears fall and she cries out to Misha, the seat under her grows damp with her juices.
The screams are just making him crazy with want, so sweet, and so responsive. The tears, he admits to himself, are also a turn-on. But tears are a tricky thing. They may, or may not be a danger sign. And fuck, but he's only begun, and he doesn't want to stop. Fingering the knife in his pocket, Misha looks carefully at her, trying to read things, trying to interpret what his instincts are telling him. Everything feels like it's okay. "I'm not going to stop because you're crying," he tells Alyssa, just so there's no confusion. "You have a safeword. That's the only way I'm stopping." He's reminded her, and now she can't say she forgot. He pulls out a lockback knife, and flicks it open, right by her ear, so she can hear the sound of the lock clicking into place, know that he's got a dangerous weapon in his hand now, and he intends to use it on her.
Alyssa looks up at him, her mind screaming, body straining against the ropes as he eyes her. She's witnessed that look and the fact he's hesitating fills her with panic. NO! Please! Don't stop! She's further than she's been in ages, closer to any sort of actual release than she can remember and the fact that it could stop right here and now has her wanting to scream at him. But, he speaks and Alyssa's tears become that of relief as she looks up and nods in understanding and silent thanks. Misha pulls out the knife and she freezes, chest pulsing with every breath as dark eyes lock on the weapon, jumping as she hears the blade click into place. "'eethe! 'eeethe!" She knows there's no way he can understand her pleading as she turns to take in the length of the blade.
This one's a good four and a half inch blade, plain edge, high grade carbon steel. Misha touches his thumb to the blade to test the sharpness, and as he suspected, it's pretty fucking sharp. He smiles, letting her see the blade, holding it up for her, and then he brings it in close, lightly grazing the skin of her throat, down her collarbone, across her chest, just so that she can feel the fine edge, the coolness of the metal. He lays it flat against the top of her breast. That's a pretty sight. And then, with a purposeful motion, he cuts a line across the top of her breast and checks it. Only a superficial scratch. He'll have to use more pressure to get blood. He does the motion again, and is pleased when the second cut starts to immediately bead with droplets of red. There's a decent start.
Shivering as the blade finds her skin, touching her throat, chest, then skimming across the swell of her breast, Alyssa locks her eyes on Misha. She's putting an unbelievable trust in this man as he stands before her with a weapon that, were he to choose, could end her right there. Oddly enough, she's not afraid, not in the way that wants to make you run, but in the way that makes you never want to leave. Alyssa's eyes are on him as the first mark comes and she groans out, eyes fluttering as she struggles to watch, wanting to keep her eyes on Misha's. He concentrates, eyes narrowing a bit and she looks down to the scrape just in time to watch the blade draw across her tit once more, the skin easily giving way under the pressure. "Ngh! 'urths! Agh 'od!"
Misha smiles, watching a single drop of blood slides down over Alyssa's tit. He looks her in the eyes again, still smiling, and then contemplates her gag. It had its place but . . . "I think I want to hear what you're saying," he comments, and with a quick flick of the knife, the handkerchief is cut, and the gag falls away. He licks his lips and moves on to the other breast, and with a much more sure movement this time, cuts again, letting the blood well up, more blood than the first two cuts. "Symmetry," he says in a casual tone, by way of explanation.
The smile on Misha's face brings shivers to Alyssa's body in all the right ways. It's clear the man enjoys this and even more clear that they are nowhere near an end to their playtime. Nodding to him, she stills as the knife nears her face. There's a certain surety, a knowledge and trust that he won't harm her face, at least not that way, and soon the gag falls free. Alyssa works her jaw a bit before taking a full breath. "Thank you, Sir. Thank you for releaaaghhh!" The cut seems deeper, fuller, and as she looks down she sees nearly matching crescent marks at the swell of her tits, blood pooling at each. "It hurts, Sir. Thank you...thank you, Sir."
The cuts really aren't that deep--no deeper than they need to be to draw blood. But Misha knows they feel deep, that the bite of the knife is hot and intense, because he's tried it on himself. His cock twitches hard at her scream, senses heightened at the sight of her, at the smell of the blood, everything. He feels high, but also very much in control. Which is a good thing. He raises the knife to his mouth and licks a droplet of blood off it, sensually. Then with his free hand, he pounds her upper arm a few times. Raising blood again. "You're welcome."
</i>So this is what it feels like</i>, she thinks to herself, watching him lick the blood, her blood, from the knife. This is what total, consuming pleasure feels like and it's only now, now as she watches her blood ooze to the surface of the cuts, does she realize how absolutely lacking her life was with Duke. "Can I taste? Please?" Perhaps it's the way he takes the drop to his tongue, maybe it's the simple fact that he's the one that pulled the blood to the surface in the first place, but Alyssa wants to taste what he finds so pleasing.
The request is a little surprising, but then again, this whole evening has been surprising in the very best of ways. Misha nods, holding the knife to Alyssa's arm, making a cut there, and then offering her the blade to lick. "Careful. It's very sharp." And isn't that a hot sight, watching her lick her own blood.
"Nngha!" Flinching against the beautiful sting to her arm, Alyssa watches as the thick red blood seeps to the top and Misha brings the knife to her lips. "Yes, Sir, of course." With a soft sigh, a pink tongue swipes gently across the blade to
capture the drops there. "Mmm, thank you. I can taste the metal of the blade."
"Yes," Misha says softly, working on Alyssa's other arm, first with several slaps, and then another cut. He looks at the sight of the blood running, and belatedly grabs a towel to catch anything before it hits the carpet. "I need to find out what other rooms they offer here," he comments, taking a drop of blood sliding down her arm onto his finger and sucking on it before it can hit the floor. "We could be messier next time." He has visions of taking a little rubber flogger, of flogging her and watching the blood splatter everywhere.
Endorphins flood her system as she watches Misha work the blood to the surface and she let's out a needy moan as the blade slices across the tender flesh of her arm and he hips roll downward against the hard chair. Entranced, Alyssa watches the drops trickle down to leave stained trails in their wake.
"Messier? That could definitely be good," she pants out as her eyes lock on the way Misha sucks at his finger. "We can't here?"
"I don't think the club would appreciate blood in the carpet, on the walls . . . so no, not this room. I'll leave it for something to look forward to another time," Misha says, chuckling. He wipes the knife on the towel and sets it aside to clean later. "Later," he decides, grabbing another towel to spread out on the floor. "Right now, I want to fuck you. And I promise, the pain is not over." There's always the fun of cleanup. He puts his hands on her, smearing the blood, doing a little finger painting on her with it.
Her dark eyes widen with a bit of shock as Misha's words hit her. "Floor...and, uhm...walls?" Looking around she turns back to Misha as he tells her what's to come, her mind still wondering how much blood it would take to actually splatter.
With a smile, she looks to the towel then back to Misha. "The floor, Sir?" There's a definite wicked edge to his words. "I'm trusting there's more to come, Sir." Trusting you.
Smiling at the feel of his fingers on her, she looks down to watch him, to watch her skin become tinted reddish-brown. "Does Sir always play with what he plans to fuck?" Alyssa tries to hide the grin and fails miserably.
Misha laughs. "Usually," he allows, writing 'slut' with more of the blood, right across Alyssa's tits. "I often play with my food too." And with that he licks one of the cuts, sucking on it, drawing more of the coppery taste up.
His finger moves with purpose and she looks down to see the word before turning eyes, dark and full of emotion back to Misha. "Ohh Sir. Yes." She wants to be that for him, purring as she pushes her tit upward toward his warm mouth. "Soo wet," she whispers out.
"I think that's my invitation," Misha murmurs, doing a little more to 'clean up' the blood with his mouth, just so they don't horribly ruin the towels. There's going to be some rubbed off anyways; he knows that. He begins working the ropes off Alyssa's thighs, then the ropes around her waist, then shoulders, leaving the ankle ties for last, licking, sucking every inch of skin as he works.
Misha's mouth moves over her skin, wet heat that brings wave after wave of sheer pleasure as she feels the ropes slowly leave her body. It takes a moment for her to realize that her arms are free but the moment she does, arms snake around Misha's neck. "Sir has an amazing mouth. So do I," she teases and leans forward to lick across his shoulder.
Well that has some nice connotations to it, Misha thinks. But right now, he wants something else. Finally untying Alyssa's ankles, he pulls her off the chair and onto the floor, making sure the knife is out of the way, straddling her as he pulls a condom out of his pocket. Always prepared. He's prepared for anything, from her complete submission to a fight.
Hitting the floor with a thud, Alyssa grunts out as Misha moves to straddle her; he's heavier than he looks. She pulls her legs tight together and smiles to herself, wanting to see just how strong he really is. There's a dark tone to her voice as she shifts under him, pushing against the floor. It's been too long - years, since she's felt this way, wanting someone to take her hard. "Even a slut won't give it away all the time."
"Oh I hoped you'd say that," Misha says darkly, just before he backhands her. Using her moment of disorientation, he quickly pulls off his shirt and unzips his jeans, moving down to force her legs apart and kneel between them. The jeans go down just enough to get his dick out, then he's sliding on the rubber. He grabs both her hands with one of his, pressing them down above her head as he prepares to take her.
Alyssa's head snaps to the side as Misha's hand makes contact. "Ungh! Hell!" She fights now, struggling under him as he pins her arms and she let's out a hard cry as the rug rakes over the cuts on her arms. "Get off! You're heavy!" Were an onlooker to see them, they'd miss the heat in Alyssa's eyes, the flare of her petite nose as she tries to pull free, kicking out with her feet.
"Sir! Please!" Suddenly, his weight is off her and he's forcing her legs open. "Sir, no!" There's no hiding it though, her body needs what Misha is ready to give. "You'll hurt me! Too big! Sir, you're too big!" She can feel the sting from the slap to her face and it pairs beautifully with the throbbing at the top of her tits as she smiles to herself. Perfection.
Oh now she's fighting? But Misha remembers what she'd said earlier, that she said 'no' when she meant 'yes.' And he's already reminded her once about her safeword. So this now is just another serving of dessert as far as he's concerned, and he doesn't hold back as he pins her with his weight again, grinning evilly. "Liar. Though you flatter me," he says huskily, as he lines up and starts pushing his cock into her soaking wet pussy, easily thrusting in. His fingers dig in hard to her wrists, making sure she doesn't have at least her hands to fight him with.
Alyssa's eyes widen in mock fear and she bucks up under him, yanking at her arms at the same time. His weight on her is amazing, tangible and controlling and she loves every brush of his hips against hers. Even as she struggles, her body betrays the fight that she puts up and as he pushes into her, Alyssa's back bows up from the floor, her head drops back and she opens to his cock, juices coating his length and her thighs. "Sirrrr! Agh yes! Please, Sir! Please! Need this, need this soooahhh!" Lifting upward to meet his thrusts, she yanks against his hands that still hold hers. "Lemme go!" The war inside her flares - battle with him until he takes her by complete force or give in to the need that threatens to consume her very soul.
It's difficult to slap a woman when you're fucking them, so instead Misha grabs Alyssa by the hair, pulling hard, using that as another means to control her. He's not gentle with his thrusts, either; she's driving him crazy, and for once he's allowing himself to go full tilt, no holding back. He finds a spot on her neck to bite down hard as he fucks her, enjoying every second of it.
"Sir! Stop!" Alyssa lets out a cry as Misha's fingers wrap in her hair to yank hard, struggling against his hold she actually feels several strands pull free from her scalp and a cried gasp of pain leaves her throat. She's never felt anything like this, never had anyone take her without holding back, afraid to hurt her petite frame, but Misha takes everything he can with each bruising thrust of his hips. "Please Sir! I'll do anything! It hurts!" The motion and rubbing of his body against hers brings fresh blood from the cuts to her tits and she's vaguely aware of the trickle of blood racing down her side.
When he bites down, there's a blinding flash of pain and a shrill cry before the heat consumes her as she feels the soft flesh in his teeth give way.
"Are you going to come for me, little bitch? You've been so wet for me the entire evening. Ask for it, girl. Tell me you want it," Misha growls, licking at the spot where he's bitten her, aware that they're both smeared with her blood as well as his sweat and her juices. It's scary, skirting the edge of decency in his head, what they're doing, but he's finally been given the chance to try it and see if it really works. So he'll plunge over that edge if he needs to. And at the moment, it's more about controlling his orgasm from arriving too soon than really worrying if things are all right here.
Alyssa knows it's true. From the moment Misha began talking in the bar, she's been ready, her pussy soaking wet with the result of that need. "Yes Sir! Oh, please yes!" Grunting with every push, dark eyes open and what Alyssa sees nearly takes her breath. Misha's eyes are wild, pupils wide as he takes her in, his chest is smeared with her blood as is his lips, and she wonders if there's ever been a more arousing and intoxicating sight. "Let me come for you. Your slut needs to come, please Sir!" Muscles tighten and she wraps her legs around him, urging him to take her deeper, harder.
If this were a long term thing, he might not let her come so easily, might keep her on the edge for days like this. But right now he wants to come and this isn't a long term thing yet. "Come on, then, fucking come!" he orders, holding her around the waist so that he can raise her breast up to his mouth, biting down where one of the cuts is, thrusting hard and fast.
Permission to come! She's longed to hear those words, longed to have that control over her body given to someone who would take it, and Misha does. "Thank you! Thank you, Sir, ahhhh yess! Thank aghhh!" The bite is hard, violent and pairs perfectly with the thrusts into her and Alyssa gives over everything she's held back in a rush of tears and release, body shuddering under Misha as she comes hard, juices flowing with the hard pulses of her muscles.
Misha hears her words, her cries, and feels the walls of her clenching hard on him, and easily loses it, coming with a harsh cry, pumping her through the white hot pleasure until he can't any more, until he feels emptied and boneless. He rests after, propped on his elbows and still inside of her, breathing hard until his heart can find a more normal pace and his thoughts can find order again.
She can't breathe, can barely pull a focused thought, but with her hands free, she slips her arms around Misha's body. Her entire body is smeared - a mixture of their sweat and her blood. For the first time since she first served under Duke, Alyssa relaxes against the skittering little jolts of current that still course through her body. With Duke, Alyssa knew how to react after a scene that went even remotely close to intense, but Misha is new, different and she lays there quietly against him, groomed nails trailing lightly over his skin as she waits to see what state his mind will be in.
Once things have settled somewhat, Misha's aware what a mess they are. And he knows there are certain things he needs to take care of, in short order. Kissing her gently, he slips out, tying off the used condom to leave on the dirty towels. "Shower," he says softly, in complete contrast to the harsh aggressive tones he was using only moments before. Carefully he wraps his arms around Alyssa, and picks her up to carry her to the shower.
Whimpering lightly as he slips from her body, Alyssa smiles at the kiss but it's the gentle word, the soft touch and the way he picks her up that has her crumbling under him even more than the hard and forceful touches had. It can't be, she thinks to herself as she wraps slender arms around around Misha's neck. The scene takes a giant leap from wonderful to completely perfect. "Yes, Sir," she purrs out against his throat, pressing a kiss there.
Once in the bathroom, Misha gets the water started in the shower, holding Alyssa up until he can set her down on the tiled seat in the shower--nice feature, and undoubtedly just for occasions like this. The water is warm but not too hot. After rinsing himself off a bit, he takes a soft washcloth and a bit of soap, and helps wash her clean, rewarding her with smiles and a kiss now and again. She deserves it. "How are you doing?" By the look on her face, pretty good, it appears.
Alyssa can't stop watching him. He's lean but toned and she doesn't try to hide the fact that she's more than enjoying watching the show in front of her. She'd given up hope really, didn't think scenes, or men, like Misha could exist - able to give pain and tenderness and both be equally given. Hissing out softly as the water washes over her cuts, she smiles softly up to this man tending to her. "Stings some, but 'm good. Better than, actually." It's odd, watching the water color with the tint of her own blood, but soothing just the same. For the first time since she can recall she's sated and calm inside, mind and body finding exactly what it needs.
"Good," Misha says, smiling. He goes so far as to wash her hair, enjoying the feel of it, enjoying this part, the aftercare, just as much as he did the more violent parts. Once they're both rinsed clean, he turns off the shower and towels them both down. A little evil glint flashes in his eyes. "Now there is one more fun part. It's best to sterilize those cuts and bandage them. Wouldn't want them infected." And of course he's a sadist. He's not going to choose the non-stinging options.
Oh my god, Alyssa thinks to herself, this can't get any better. The feel of his fingers on her as he washes her hair is almost hypnotizing and when he stops, it takes her a moment to actually gather herself from sensation overload. While Alyssa knows what she wants and how she wants to feel, there are definite parts of an scene that have never occurred to her - the aftercare being one. Most marks given her by Duke never needed much more than lotion, so as Misha speaks, Alyssa looks up with a purely innocent face, "The antibiotic ointment stuff?"
Misha laughs, grinning impishly at her. "No. That sissy stuff? That's not for Dom's like me. No . . . I was thinking straight rubbing alcohol should do the trick." He lets her sit in the shower while he finds the first aid stuff, taking out the rubbing alcohol, some cotton balls, gauze bandages and medical tape. Soaking a cotton ball, he lets her see it, slowly reaching out. "Big breath now," he says, holding it an inch above her skin. "This'll hurt like a motherfucker." And with that, he rubs the cotton ball over the cut. Hard, soaking it.
Alyssa watches with wide eyes though she never makes a sound the whole time Misha works. She's only just met this man, but already he seems to have proven two things to her - he knows what he's doing and that she can trust him. "Sir? Won't the soap from the shower be..." Alyssa's words stop and her eyes grow wide in pain as the antiseptic settles into the cut, "Aeee! God!" The sting comes and so does Alyssa's urine as the warmth of the shower and the pain from the alcohol causes her bladder to release.
Well that's not something Misha expected. Piss play isn't really his thing, but it's not like they discussed things like this, and so he tries to mask his discomfort--they're in a shower, after all, and it's not like he really has to come into contact with it. "No, soap will not cut it," he says, preparing another cotton ball. After all, it's unlikely she's got more to release. "My mouth was on those cuts. And human mouths are very dirty. Trust me; this is better." But he waits to see if she has something to say about that.
Alyssa sees the look on Misha's face and color floods her face and chest as she ducks her head, pressing her thighs closed. "I'm so sorry. I...didn't expect that. It won't happen again, Sir." Utterly mortified at the lack of control over her own body, Alyssa keeps her head down as she waits for the scolding she's sure is coming.
Surprised again, Misha reaches out to gently pat Alyssa on the shoulder. "Don't apologize--it's all right." He chuckles a little. "I just wasn't expecting it either." Actually, the more that he thinks about it, the hotter it is--he made a woman lose control of bodily functions. Now that's power. "We can talk about it more later if you like." Humiliation may not be his main kink, but the blush on her face is rather becoming. He waves the cotton ball. "Ready?" Without waiting for her answer, he begins cleaning the second cut.
She looks up at the soft touch, the heat still showing bright in her cheeks and nods to the question he poses. "I'd like that," she says quietly, "thank you." She wonders just how much more there will be to talk over.
Eyeing the cotton, Alyssa's still mid nod as the wet cotton comes in direct contact with the next cut and she let's out a strangled cry, eyes widening as they lock on Misha. "It stiiinnngs!"
"Yes it does," Misha sighs happily. He's sated from the earlier sex, but this is still just so nice. And he's glad to see she's not freaking out over the whole pee thing. "Three more. Then you can rest." He sets to work on the cut on her other breast, knowing this one will even be worse; it's a deeper cut.
Alyssa tries to gather herself, taking a deep breath at the thought of three more cuts. "Aaagh!". Her cry echoes in the shower, bouncing back to her own ears as she stares wide-eyed, panting at the deep sting in her breast. "Sir, please! Please!" Twisting on the seat, she looks down as the alcohol drips down her flesh.
"Two more," Misha whispers. This is getting to him more than he'd thought; he's half hard again. But he knows she's tired; he's tired too. So it's unlikely anything in that department will happen this evening. Perhaps in the morning. He works on the first cut on Alyssa's arm, which shouldn't be quite as bad. The arm isn't as sensitive as the breast.
As Alyssa's eyes catch the drops of alcohol that dribbled down to mix with the droplets of water, they also catch sight of something else - a very beautiful, half-hard cock. Ignoring the sting at her arm, she grins shyly, "Sir? Does my cries please you?"
"Obviously," Misha says with a little smirk. He takes the last ball of cotton soaked in rubbing alcohol. "One more, Alyssa. And then to bed." What they do in bed is entirely up to how they feel. He cleans and bandages the last cut.
Hissing out softly at the final sting, Alyssa smiles up at him, eyes dark with the heat still flowing inside her. "Glad Sir finds my pain exciting," she quips out, only half teasing, as her eyes flit from his cock to his face, "and pleasurable."
With the last bandage on, Misha turns on the shower for just a few seconds to rinse the floor, and then he guides Alyssa back into the bedroom and into bed, crawling in under the covers beside her. He reaches over for the ice and water, pouring some and offering it to her. "Oh I find it very exciting," he assures her. "You're beautiful in pain."
Alyssa takes the offered glass with a grin, sipping the cool water she finally realizes just how parched she is. "Thank you, I didn't realize I was so thirsty." Wiggling down in the bedding as she passes the glass back to Misha, she rolls toward him. "Am I?" she asks, eyes searching his face, "Am I really? I'd honestly begun to think there was some strange reason I couldn't get Duke to do anything with me."
Misha looks back at her, sipping a little water of his own. "I'm sorry, but the more I hear about Duke, the less I'm liking him. Duke obviously wasn't a sadist. I am. There's a big difference." Duke might have been dominant; he'll give him that. But definitely not a sadist, or he would have understood things from Alyssa's side as well.
"He wasn't bad, he loved me in his own way. He was the most gentle man I've ever known, he just couldn't give anything other than that gentleness." Alyssa reaches out, fingers trailing softly of Misha's skin as she props herself up on an elbow. "He never understood that I needed to scream, to cry even." Cocking her head a bit, Alyssa gives a tender smile, "And that's you? A sadist?"
Misha nods. "I have a tender side also. But sexually, yes. A sadist." He reaches over to take her hand and kiss it. "And a tired one at that. Sleep for a bit?" That scene, while amazing, was also completely exhausting.
With a soft giggle at the kiss to her hand, Alyssa nods through a yawn, tucks both hands under her chin then curls into Misha's chest without waiting to be invited there. "Sensual sadist," she purrs out against him as her eyes flutter closed, "kind of like the sound of that."