| Alyssa Milano and Misha Collins - Of Blood and Steel
||[Nov. 22nd, 2009|02:41 pm]
[Current - Comments welcomed, screened and loved!]
WARNING FOR BLOODPLAY! (If blood and knives squick you, this is NOT the fic for you. Also touches of vampirisim and unprotected sex. They're playing RACK, not SSC here. This scene goes beyond what has been seen much here in the Establishment. You have been officially warned.)
Filming for the fifth season of Supernatural has begun now, so it's constant flying between L.A. and Vancouver for Misha. His time is more limited again--summer was far too short and he and Alyssa have only been able to spend a handful of weekends together. But they've been productive. He's taken her toy shopping to accent his own collection of toys, fitted her for a few new corsets with the idea that some day he'll be able to train her waist to them, and done a few scenes with her, including taking her with him to his flogging class to be his bottom to practice on. He's still not sure he loves flogging. He's more of a knife and rope kinda guy. But it's a way to broaden his skills, and he's pretty sure she's enjoying it.
Today he's combining a few other things that both she and he have wanted to do. He remembers their first scene together, the cuts on her pale skin with the knife, the taste of her blood. He wants to do more with that, in the privacy of her home where he won't have to worry about hotel towels and such. And he wants her to experience more semi-long term bondage.
Thus he's had her tied to the bed for the last four hours, lying on her stomach spreadeagle, wrists bound with rope tied to the headboard, ankles tied to the legs of the bed, helpless and trapped for his amusement. In addition, just to make it extra fun, he's also put on her clit a delightful new toy, the Venus butterfly, strapped down so she can't wriggle away from it's little vibrator. It's radio controlled, and he's wearing the controller, so whenever he likes, he can just turn in on for a moment or two, and watch her writhe. As usual on his weekend there have been those mundane, business-type things to attend to like paying the bills and answering fan mail, so he's been doing that while he watches her, waiting until all his 'chores' are done before he gets to reward both of them by playing with her.
Their times together seem too few and far between, so when Misha mentions play of any kind, there's no way Alyssa is going to complain. Misha's growing in his skills and imaginative ways of play and torment and there's not a chance in hell she's going to balk at finding out what he's thought up or learned.
Alyssa knew the moment Misha tied her on her stomach that she was in for a long day, what she wasn't prepared for is the evil little device that's nestled up against her clit or the fact that, for the most part, Misha's stayed just out of her sight, choosing to torment her from elsewhere in the room or house. The first and second orgasms were amazing - long, drawn-out bouts of pleasure; the fourth and fifth ones had her moaning out, begging for Misha to please stop with the device; the seventh and eighth ones brought pure pain as her engorged clit throbbed against the torture implement. None of those, however, brought the tears that coat her cheeks. The tears come from the times Misha has let her get close only to turn the vibrations off, leaving her sobbing in frustration.
"Sir, my clit hurts so bad. Please? Please take that thing off me!" Her clit aches and she knows that she'll walk funny for the next day at least. The problem is that half of her still wants to come again, the other half just wants the wicked little thing away from her clit.
Misha grins as he approaches the bed, setting his controller down on the edge of it, then leisurely taking off his shirt. The bed has been covered with a plastic cover to protect it, and the floor has tarp laid over it as well to protect the carpet. He gets to be messy today. "Poor baby," he teases her, as he removes his sweat pants and tosses them to the side. Once he's as naked as her, he leans forward to run a hand up her leg, over her ass, and up her back. "Maybe I'll make the rest of you hurt. Then you won't notice it as much." He chuckles darkly.
Every inch of her body seems hypersensitive and the moment Misha rocks the bed, Alyssa groans softly, her body trying to at once move away and toward, all the while the ropes hold her tight. Misha's only given her the barest of details for what he plans, but the way everything is covered has her more than a little anxious. "It's swollen up, Sir. Please...your girl won't be able to walk tomorrow." She tries to move against the touch to her already heated flesh as dark eyes close. "Sir's gonna make his girl hurt." The words are a statement, she knows she'll scream as many times as he wishes.
"What, you need to walk somewhere tomorrow?" Misha quips, smirking as he heads over to his toy bag for a few things. A few blades, including his newest knife, a sleek Coldsteel tanto blade of folded steel, a cane made of light steel rather than rattan--more manly than the typical cane, in his mind. A condom, of course. And last, but certainly not least, is the cupping set he bought last weekend. He brings things over, keeping them out of Alyssa's sight, then he crawls onto the bed to rub against her, whispering in her ear. "I hope you're not squeamish."
With those words, Alyssa has no doubt that she most likely will be spending the day tomorrow on her knees or with legs spread for Misha's pleasure and a new batch of silent tears fall at the idea of her clit being toyed with more. "No Sir, no place other than here." Alyssa hears him and tries to turn to look, finally gives up then lays her head against the bed. When the bed moves once more, Alyssa moans as the movement jostles the toy against her. Her sounds quiet at the touch and Misha's words and Alyssa knows her blood will spill. "No Sir," she whispers, her mind calming, "not squeamish."
"Good girl," Misha tells her, in a low gentle tone. Gentle, but firm. "You're going to bleed for me. Ever hear about blood-cupping before?" As he's talking, he runs the cool metal cane up and down her back, just letting her feel it against her skin for the moment. Her ass looks so perfect, so terribly pristine. It needs some marks for her to remember him by when he's in Vancouver working. He taps it lightly, hinting at what is to come.
"Yes Sir, you girl wants to," she returns, voice soft as her mind wraps around the thought that soon the coppery scent of her own blood will fill the room. "Cupping. I think so, Sir. That's...with the glass things?" She's seen pictures of it done - the skin pulled up tight into glass circles - never thinking it would be done to her. "Uhh..." Her body jerks at the light pop of the cane, pulling against the ropes, the whimper giving voice to the fact that her puss and thighs are coated in her own juices. "Not a cane? What...what is that?"
"This?" Misha holds the thin metal rod in front of Alyssa's face so she can see it. "I don't know what it's actual intended use is. I got it at Home Depot. I'm using it as a cane." And he swats her ass hard with it to demonstrate, bringing up a lovely red welt. "You'll feel this for a bit. Something to remember me every time you sit down."
Alyssa's eyes widen as she takes in the metal rod. "But it's metal, Sir," she says, as if Misha doesn't already know that. She felt several types of canes but none compare to the hard stinging thud from the metal baton. "Sir, pleaaaaaahhh! Nooo !" The scream echoes in the room around them as the hit lands and Alyssa yanks at the ropes, trying to get away from the sudden sting. "Sir, please! It...hurts!" Her words might carry more weight if her pussy wasn't dripping from the ache in her ass.
Yes it is metal, and Misha knows he'll have to take care with how much force he uses in wielding it. But he knows that applied even lightly, it'll sting like the devil. That's the whole point. "That's what I like to hear, girl," he says with satisfaction, and delivers another hard stinging blow, producing another welt. And one more. Three pretty red welts rising up on the pale skin.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Alyssa sees the movement of his arm and tries to brace against the pain - it doesn't help. "Uhhaaeeaahh!" Body jerking at the ropes that keep her pegged out for Misha's play, Alyssa's sobs grow muffled as she presses her face to the bed, immediately feeling the welts rise up on her flesh. Knowing she'll not be setting tomorrow, Alyssa writhes against the burn in her ass. "Sir. Please...please no." She knows him well enough, however, to know that 'stop' means nothing.
As it happens, three red stripes are all Misha has planned. On her ass. For now. He sets down the cane, not acknowledging her pleas, and instead opens up the cupping equipment, making sure he has it ready for when he starts cutting. "Don't move," he tells Alyssa in a stern voice. In that he's not kidding--movement now could be very harmful to her once he has the knife out. He unsheathes his blade, laying it on its side against the warm skin of her back so she knows what is coming next.
Her cries become little more than soft whimpers as Alyssa relaxes against the bed once more, wishing she could see what's going on behind her; the tone of her Sir's voice says that she'll find out soon enough. "No Sir, I won't." Rustling sounds fill her ears and images come to mind, but it's not until the cold of the blade touches her flesh does the soft inhale of breath join a light shiver of her body. "You're goin' to cut me," she murmurs, voice soft. "Sir's going to mark me?" Glancing around for a moment, Alyssa suddenly realizes why the plastic on the bed, it's how much there is that's throwing her. "Sir, why so much plastic?"
Misha chuckles darkly--even wickedly, he'd say. "Yes, I'm going to mark you. I want you to be aware, these cuts might leave small scars." The suction from the cupping set will be partly to thank for that, holding the cuts open and allowing them to bleed more. He kisses the nape of her neck. "And the reason for so much plastic is I'm going to draw more blood this time. And I'm going to make a mess." The actual bloodloss won't be severe--not even the amount drawn to give blood. But the room's probably going to look like a horror movie by the time they're done today.
Misha's laugh both makes Alyssa's fear rise doubly, her pussy even wetter than it was, and she lifts her head, eyes taking in her Sir's face as much as possible. "Scars? How many, Sir?" Her words are filled with curiosity more than anything; she knows that carrying the marks of the man that owns her is something meant to happen. Still not understanding the cupping idea, Alyssa knows that once Misha has his mind on something that he's gone to such lengths to prepare for,nothing's changing it. It's Misha's next words that puts a streak of fear up Alyssa's spine but she knows better than to try to move. "Sir's gonna play in my blood? Please Sir, please don't do this," she begins to plead, pulling at the ropes.
"I don't know how many scars," Misha answers truthfully, taking the cane and whapping her on the shoulder hard to stop her from squirming and pulling. "I'm not saying you will scar. Just that whenever I cut you, there's a chance that it may leave a scar." He sets down the cane again, laying a hand on her back, pressing down firmly. "What I'm going to do is make small cuts on your back, and then place the cups on them and pump them a few times to create a slight vacuum. That's going to suck at the cuts, and they're going to bleed. I want to taste you, I want to draw on you, and I'm going to cane you and there's going to be blood splattering everywhere. But you won't be harmed, girl. I would never harm you." Just telling her what he's going to do to her makes him hard as steel. Blood. It just . . . yeah. Gets all his animal desires fired up.
"Aaaghh!" Alyssa screams as metal strikes flesh but she immediately stills as bolts of pain spark against nerve endings. "Sorry Sir, I'll be still! I'll be good." Listening quietly then, her mind begins to play images that match Misha's words and the more he talks, the more wet she becomes. Misha knows her, knows how his girl needs the pain, and Alyssa knows that even through whatever pain he hands her, she's always safe. "Your girl knows she's safe, Sir. Knows you'll take care of her." Her mind processes the words then and she tenses, trembles, as another small climax claims her. "Caning? After the cuts and the..." Pausing for a moment, working that over in her head, she nods. "Will Sir let his girl taste? Please?"
He'd had confidence that Alyssa would enjoy this, deep down. Otherwise he wouldn't have set it up. Still, it's nice to hear that, because he's going to let both of them go deeper and more primal than he ever has before. He's been to demos on this, done cupping, done cutting, but never actually the two together. So, this will be his first time too. "Oh yes. You can taste too." He leans down, speaking low in her ear. "You realize, after this, we'll well and truly be fluid bonded." And they've been together a few months now. They know each other's health status.
She has no doubts in Misha's abilities to take her to, and bring her back from, her darkest fears and desires, the two often twining together in some strange fashion, but this is new and uncharted territory for her. Alyssa trusts him, that's all that matters in her mind. Still hyper aware of the knife against her flesh, Alyssa shivers as her Sir's breath brushes over her neck and the words sink in. "This girl will be part of her Sir," she says softly, lashes fluttering as she realizes the true meaning of those words, "and him a part of her." Lifting her head enough to nuzzle her cheek against him, Alyssa sighs. "Want this Sir."
"Good, because so do I," Misha says with a pleased little growl, leaning down to lick at the back of Alyssa's neck before he bites her there, hard. Okay, explanation time over. It's time to play. "Remember, don't move," he tells her just in case she forgot. And then he picks a place on her upper back and makes a little cut, no more than half an inch long, and just deep enough to break skin. Blood immediately wells to the surface, and then he takes one of the glass cups and wetting the rim, set it over the cut. A few pumps to seal the vacuum, and it sticks. The cut begins oozing blood, faster than before.
The shiver from the lick barely has time to prickle her flesh before the bite draws out a long, keening scream, hands clenching tight into fists and she sinks against the bed once more as he pulls away. "No Sir, won't move," she pants out, breath catching, "I won't. Sir, I..ahhh..." The hands that were clenched into fists splay open and toes spread as the burn from the blade hits and Alyssa swears she can already smell the scent of her own blood. Feelings something touch her skin, there's a sudden sensation of being given a huge hickey and the burn increases. "Sir, what...what's thaaaahh god! What is that? It stings!"
Alyssa's very responsive, which is just one of the many things about her that appeals to Misha. After all, what's better to a sadist than clear indication of pain? "That would be the cup," he tells her, feeling his cock throbbing, dangling; he reaches his free hand down to give himself a squeeze, to ease himself a little. He leans over her again, choosing another spot on the other side of her spine. "And this would be the knife." Another cut, and he fights the urge to begin licking it immediately as it blossoms red. Soon. He places another cup and pumps it a few times as well, as the first cup begins to slowly fill.
"It hurts," she groans out, doing her level best to resist the urge to writhe against the strange pain, "please. Wait. Uhnn!" Feeling the next cut, she does her best to remain still even as slender hips rock gently against the bed. Alyssa knows damn well that there's no way Misha will wait; he knows she doesn't truly want him to, but the reaction and need to beg is too strong in her, so she pleads for more, begs for the pain to stop, all the while her pussy drips. "The cup...it's hurting inside it! Stings so bad..."
"Oh, you little whiner," Misha snaps, but there's no real heat behind it. It's part of the game. "You keep whining like that and you aren't going to be able to taste yourself--or me. Because I'll gag you." Which he might or might not do, depending on things. Four, he decides - he'll do four cups. That should be plenty to play with. Another cut, another cup. He wipes the blade on her shoulder, leaving a smear of blood.
"Not whining, Sir," she groans out as the pull of the cups send strange signals of pain sparking against her nerve endings, "it hurts. It's strange though." Alyssa's hips work a solid but slight action against the bed as she humps against nothing, her clit so sore she's not sure it'll ever be the same. "Nnaahh," the sound, almost a purr, comes as she lifts her head, doing her best to look back. "Please, no gag. Your girl wants to taste, please. I'm being good."
"All right then, Misha says softly, satisfied with her apology. One more cut, one more cup. Well, one more cut for the cup, he decides suddenly, and then makes another cut, this one on Alyssa's shoulder where he couldn't possibly balance a cup. That one's purely for him, he decides, as he bends his head to lick at it, sucking.
Moaning at the next cut, Alyssa tries to wrap her head around the strange pain, the constant pull and tug, as if the things are trying to exsanguinate her little by little. "Thank you Sir, thank youuahhh." Her body tenses at the cut to her shoulder, but before she can say anything more, Misha's mouth is on her, the wet warmth wrapping around the mark. "Ohhh, Sir, yess please." Body arching up under him, Alyssa presses as much as she can to the feel of his mouth on her, even as the cups draw out more of her blood.
Oh, this is lovely. The coppery metallic taste of her, the sounds of her moans, all of it. Misha rubs his face against the bleeding cut, knowing it will leave a red smear across his cheek, wanting it. He turns Alyssa's head enough so that he can kiss her, sharing the taste of her, sharing his passion and his need, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her down. At this level of primalness there isn't much drive to talk. He just wants to feed, and hunt, and rut.
She's sinking down and there's not one thing she can do to stop it, not that she wants to, as her body and mind slips into an area of nothing more than the need to feel pain and be taken hard. The kiss takes her by surprise, but the immediate taste of her own blood brings a hard groan and she leans in, pulling against the bindings, trying to gain more of the taste. "Mmmph!" The cry escapes into her Sir's mouth as she feels fingers dig into her flesh but there's not even a thought of relinquishing the kiss - not until her Sir makes her. The feel of the cups, her achingly sore clit and the taste of the blood - her blood - bring another flood of wetness to her pussy.
The cups are about ready to take off, Misha decides, breaking off the kiss after a moment. He sets down the knife after wiping it clean on himself, gently prodding the vacuum-sealed cup--now he can either do this nicely, or cruelly. He slides the cup around a little, loosening the seal a bit--he'll be nice on the first one at least. "Get ready," he tells her, and then carefully pulls the cup loose, tilting it to hold it's contents as several drops escape and drip down Alyssa's back.
Watching Misha as he pulls back, Alyssa lifts her head then tenses as she catches just a glimpse of the knife in his hand but, it's not until she feels the added pressure on the device that's suctioned to her skin does she get nervous. "Sir, what's it feel like when the cups...nnhha!" Wriggling against the oddest sensations she's ever felt, Alyssa shivers as the trickles of blood finds her skin. "Unha, God, Sir...it aches. Strange though. Rub it, please?"
Hmm. That's an interesting request--one that Misha is happy to do, gently laying his fingers over the still open cut and then smearing the blood around there, rubbing it. Each of the little cups hold probably about a quarter cup, so altogether he'll be drawing about a cup of blood. Plenty to make a mess with. He turns over the cup onto Alyssa's ass, watching the blood make a splat--it's already starting to coagulate. He flattens it with his hand, leaving a big red handprint there, then tilts the cup to his mouth, drinking the last drops from it. Talk about an aphrodisiac.
There are times when when even the best ideas go horribly wrong - such was the idea that by Misha pressing on the mark it would ease the pain in the cut and the flesh around it. "Sir. It hurts," she groans as Misha's hand finds the tender skin, "can feel them still pulling." Alyssa's words no longer hold the sting of intense pain, endorphins flooding her system, and as she feels Misha's hand on her ass, knows what that wetness is, she comes hard - toes curled, legs trembling. "Sir, please...how much are you taking?" The soft slur of words, the constant grind of hips against the bed mingle with the scent of her own blood and a low growl escapes her throat. "Taste. Please. Want to taste, Sir."
That's enough there to make Misha wish he were already inside Alyssa, fucking her. God, but they're a perfect pair. He moves the Venus Butterfly off her clit, intending to do just that--he can certainly play with her blood and fuck her at the same time. "A little less than a cup," he tells her--after all, the cups won't fully fill. "This is going to hurt," he tells her next, and pulls the next cup off with a pop, dipping his fingers in and offering them to her to taste as he straddles her hips, his cock brushing over her ass.
Dark eyes fly open wide, mouth going wide, as the tortuous implement at her clit leaves it's position and the pressure, even as it leaves, takes the very breath from her lungs. "Oh god, hurts," comes the squeaked words as Alyssa does her damn best to close her legs against the horrible pain between her legs. Tears are already brimming when Misha's words hit her ears and she doesn't know what could hurt worse - then she finds out. The scream that was choked off before echoes in the room as Alyssa swears the cut under the cup is turned inside out. "AHGOD! MASTER!" Slender hips buck as much as the restraints and Misha's weight will allow and the tears begin to flow freely.
Yeah, that probably sucked for her--ha, literally! But Misha has ways to make up for it. Brushing his blood-moistened fingers over her lips, he sprinkles blood over her back, then draws on her with it, making little swirls and hearts--and the word 'SLUT'. "Taste yourself," he tells her, as he sets down the cup to position himself at her entrance, slowly sliding his cock into her.
Shivering as a trickle of blood inks its way down her side toward her stomach, Alyssa's cries turn to moans as Misha's finger begins to trace over the overly sensitive flesh of her back, playing in the tiny pools of blood that litter her flesh. When she realizes the position of his fingers as they touch her lips, Alyssa takes them in, sucking on the length of them with the force and power of the need that fills her, only relenting in her actions long enough to groan out as she feels Misha push into her already dripping pussy.
It's going to be a little challenging, fucking her with the remaining cups attached. Fortunately for Misha, those are coming off soon. He shifts a little, pulling out and then thrusting in even deeper, dipping his head to suck at some of the blood on her shoulder, pressing a little against her now--and this is where things get messy, as the blood sticks to his skin as well, coating his stomach. He allows her to lick his fingers for the moment, enjoying this. "Ready for the next one? Shall I be nice? Or cruel?" Not that she'll really have a say in it of course. He just wants to hear her reaction.
Thrusting her ass upward as much as humanly possible without breaking something, Alyssa wants him in deep - that is until he thrusts and and her swollen and tender clit gains a hard push against it. "Unh! Sir, my clit! Ahhgod, it hurts!" The words are muffled around his fingers but the more Misha moves, the more ache comes and the more Alyssa tries to struggle until the light press of his weight against the cups reminds her there is more to come. At his words, Alyssa slips her mouth from his fingers; Alyssa knows what most would say, then most aren't an owned slave. "It's not for this slave to decide, Sir," she groans out, "but this slave would love more pain."
Misha raises an eyebrow at her, impressed and pleased by her attitude. "Slut," he says affectionately, tapping one of the two remaining cups, slowly fucking her. He leans down and bites down hard on her shoulder. "My slut," he adds. Then he pulls off the cup with a harsh pop.
"Mmmyes, your slut, Master. All yours." Alyssa tries to push up or back, anything to help Misha bury his cock deeper into her pussy, but the bindings hold her tight and just as her mouth opens to plead for her release, the bite comes and she feels teeth sink in to tender flesh. "Unnnaaah!" Head up, eyes clenched tight in pain, her scream fills the room then cuts off hard as the cup pops free from her cut skin. The scream gives way to a choked hiccup of pain as her petite frame trembles under Misha's weight. "Master," she cries, "please! You're hurting me!" And Alyssa couldn't be more wet over that very idea.
"Fuck yes I am," Misha growls, growing more and more excited, the more blood he sees. He tears off the last cup, heedless of how much that's gotta hurt, and splashes the hot blood over them both, tossing the cup on the plastic sheets, letting it spill out. He then thrusts in, hard and deep, licking the blood from Alyssa's back, smearing it everywhere as his thumbs purposefully seek out the cuts and dig into them. It's his best fantasy come to life--sex and blood and pain. "Come, bitch," he tells her, fucking her hard. He slaps her back, feels the blood spattering his face.
Time seems to come to a screeching halt as the last cup leaves her skin and her entire body freezes before the scream is torn from her throat. "Ahhhhgodplease! NO!" Alyssa thrashes as much as possible, feeling her own blood coat her skin, the scent of it filling her, as Misha plays in the sticky mess he's drawn from her. All her life she's waited for this; Misha won't stop and she knows it, he's not afraid of hurting her, in fact he strives for it, and Alyssa knows this is what she needs. Her own juices coat his cock and her thighs as he pumps into her and for a split moment, she'd love to see what they look like - animalistic and savage, coated in blood - then the hit comes. "Aghgodyesss!" Muscles clamp down around his cock and her tender clit pulses as her scream fills the room.
He can't hold out any longer. Pounding into her, his fingernails still digging into the cuts, Misha starts to come, hard, riding wave after wave of pleasure, shooting his seed deep inside her. He pumps her slowly through the aftershocks, loathe to stop even when he starts to feel the post-climatic super-sensitivity. He licks a spot clean on her shoulder and nibbles at the bruise he finds there, tenderly. "That was . . . awesome." Every fucking last thing he'd dreamed of. He kisses the side of her neck, her jaw, making his way to her lips to kiss her deeply.
The tears come in waves as her petite frame trembles under him, his cock filling her with come, and screams give way to pain-filled sobs as she feels the cuts from early opened by the press of nails into her flesh. But, even through it all - through the pain and ache and fear - her pussy drips come and her clit throbs and it's only as Misha's movements slow does her head drop to the bed in exhaustion. Even with her hair up, she can feel the tacky feel of her blood in it, the splatters that have reached her face are drying and feel strange, but her Master's mouth on her still pulls out a raspy moan of need. "Master," comes the barely whispered reply as Alyssa cranes her head enough to find his mouth with her own.
He kisses her eagerly, letting her taste her own blood on his lips, on his tongue. He pulls out of her, and works to release her binds, so that she can turn over and stretch out her limbs. Yep, the bed's a mess, but nothing that can't be cleaned up. He reaches over to the night table for some orange juice and a multi-vitamin for Alyssa. "Drink--and take." He kisses her on her breasts as she complies. "I'm going to have you on vitamins and iron supplements if we continue to play this way--I know you'll need time to heal up." He traces a line from one of her bite marks on her throat to her lips.
As the cuffs come free, Alyssa licks at her lips, tasting her own blood mixed with Misha's flavor and she works her fingers, knowing she'll be aching later from pulling at the restraints. Rolling over onto her back brings a new wave of pain as the bruised, cut flesh suddenly rakes across the covering protecting the bed. "It hurts still," she says, voice course as she wipes a blood-splattered hand across a cheek. The water feels like an oasis on her parched throat but the pill goes down easily enough. "Trying to exsanguinate me, aren't you?" she asks with a teasing smile as she feels Misha's come wet her pussy. Looking around, Alyssa's eyes widen - they look like the results of a slasher film. "This all came from me?"
Misha smiles a little, looking at the mess they've made. "It's not as much as you might think--less than a cup. When you donate blood, they take a pint." He kisses Alyssa's hair, petting her tenderly. "Not that I won't baby you for a few days while you recover, of course." He massages her arms a little, spooning up behind her. They'll eventually need to shower and clean up this place. But for the moment, he just wants to revel in their nakedness and come and blood and everything else.
She shifts enough so that Misha seems to fit in against her like their bodies were made to be as such, her mind working a million miles an hour, her body half between the elation of the scene and the slow slide of coming down. "Would you ever take more than what you did?" she asks, voice still raspy from her earlier screams. The feel of his hands on her calms her in a way that she doesn't understand, and doesn't really care to, she only knows it does. "I don't mind being babied by you," she whispers, nuzzling against him, her thoughts coming to a screeching halt. "Sir, you're happy with me as your slave, right?"
"I'm very happy with you as my slave," Misha says immediately, kissing Alyssa deeply and passionately, because she's everything he's been hoping for in a slave. "And no, I probably wouldn't take more. I don't really need more--this gives me what I want. And I don't want you too weakened."
The kiss has Alyssa purring, twining her legs between Misha's in an attempt to get as close as humanly possible, twisting in his hold to deepen it. "I just never thought I'd actually end up here, being this to someone I trust enough to do, well...all this with." A slow grin comes to face at the comment. "Want me strong enough to fight back, huh?" she asks, her hand coming up to cup Misha's face. "You're the first man I've felt come inside me without a condom," she says softly. "My owner in every way."
Misha's surprised to hear that, but pleased. "Yes, your owner," he reaffirms, running a hand over Alyssa's breasts, the only things really not given proper attention this evening. "About that no condom thing. I remember you telling me it isn't a problem. Care to elaborate on that?" He assumed when she said that, that it meant she was using an IUD or somesuch thing.
Arching up into the touch to her breasts, Alyssa nods, her dark eyes still slightly glazed from the adrenaline still coursing through her, her body and mind still riding the waves of pain from the throbbing marks on her back. A slow grin comes to her face as she nods once more. "Maybe some day, when I'm older, but my life, and how I want to live it, doesn't have room for kids." Alyssa grins, "I could go into the details but just know that I can't get pregnant short of a miracle."
So maybe it's a surgical implant, or some kind of a reversible . . . whatever the female version of vasectomy is. But it answers two questions for Misha--one, that she won't get pregnant now. And two, that she still can, someday. "Okay. That's good. I don't want any right now either. But . . ." He shrugs. "I like kids. Someday, I do hope to have some." And that's just the full simple truth. And yes, his mind can go there with her, picturing her being the mother. Which might be a little scary, particularly given their current settings. But somehow it isn't.
Alyssa's voice is soft as she speaks, the throb of her back pulling her down into a half-dazed state. "I'd like kids someday, but there's too much I want now. Just found you and kind of want to be selfish for awhile." It seems like it's taken her forever to find someone that she trusts that wants to do the same things she wants to do and she's not letting that go yet. With them looking like the outcome from a murder scene, Alyssa grins at the topic between them but that grin fades as she realizes something. "Ma...uhm, Sir, my back, it's gonna have to be cleaned, isn't it?" Eyes study Misha for a moment, wondering if he caught the near slip.
That's more than twice now that he's caught her catching herself over calling him 'Master.' "Alyssa," he says in a low voice--he'll get to the cleaning in a moment. And he agrees with her about the kids thing. But this he wants to address right now. "What am I to you?"
Damn! Alyssa's eyes lower. "You're my owner," she replies, voice soft, before finally lifting doe-shaped eyes to Misha. "I'm sorry, I've tried to catch myself. I know you told me I'd have to earn calling you that, Sir. Please forgive me, it...it won't happen again." Alyssa knows that's a lie as sure as she knows her own name. "I'll do my best."
Misha smiles, soft and warm. He'd forgotten he'd said that, but obviously she has not. "You've earned it. As of tonight, you've officially earned it." He can't imagine greater trust and service, which is exactly what the Master and slave relationship is all about.
Eyes lift and Alyssa's chin drops as she hears Misha's words. "You mean that, Si...Master?" Alyssa pauses, her mind working over the sound of the word as it finally leaves her lips and she smiles. It seems right; the first man to have her without a condom, the first to truly own her. "It's good to finally say it." Leaning in, Alyssa kisses him, slow and sensual. "My Master," she purrs out.
"Your Master," Misha confirms, and it does sound right, and feels right. "Mine," he whispers into her hair, kissing it, then kissing her.
He goes finally to clean them both up.