Issue # 51- A Shattered Clasp

A Shattered Clasp

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Sometime later, how long he couldn`t begin to gauge, his eyes drift open and the youngest Rayvenwing lets his blurry and mildly twitching eyes drink her in. He would gift her with a sated smile in return if the left side of his face were functioning properly.

“What a tasty treat you are,” she says lowering her mouth to his.

Her skin glowed now, her hunger slaked she lays her form over his and slips her tongue between his lips. The manacle`s jangle with frustration for he longs to feel her hair balled tightly in his fists. He wanted to dine on her mouth more deeply and with more passion then this soft, gentle tasting was giving him. He wanted to lay her down upon this cold slab of rock and love her, feast upon her decadent and forbidden flesh, bury his face into her red womanly curls and make her scream out that she would use him and ONLY him for her sustenance.

His heart nearly stops again when he realizes what he has just imagined. Perhaps she feels the sudden change of his thoughts, Erick can`t be sure but Dominatria ends the kiss, lifting her head slightly so that she could study his face with green eyes that still spark minutely.

“Are you full now?” he inquires inhaling each oddly tinted breath she exhales over his wet lips.

“You dislike me don`t you?”

“No. What I dislike is being played. Also, and this is a small thing that irks somewhat, this whole ‘sacrifice in blood’ thing kind of pisses me off!”

The succubae nods sending a damp tendril of hair over her left eye yet she remains lying atop him, her hands splayed on either side of his uniquely styled head.”I`ve never encountered a male who was still conscious after a feeding. Most pass out before my pleasure is upon me. “

“Well my dear since I pleased you so well what say we undue these damn chains?” he asks hopefully, giving the rusty manacles a fast shake.

“Sorry milord,” she responds placing her lips to his once more. Damn but he should jerk his head to the side or bite down on her tongue as opposed to stroking it with his!

Once his will slackens further she slips from atop his damp skin to the pebbled cave floor. Long fingernails scrape along his outstretched arms as she circles him slowly, tracing down over his sides and then his shackled legs until she completes the circle.

“Killing you will sadden me milord,” Dominatria whispers.

“Well then let`s not and say we did,” he mutters tearing his gaze from those magnificent tits to the dagger she lifts with two open palms to the dripping ceiling.

“Sorry milord,” she replies showing their creator the ceremonial blade, “All who carry Rayvenwing blood must die.”

“I`m adopted?” he offers hopefully before the ritualistic chants of the coven approaching waft into the cave.