Message-ID: <19743eli$9902070428@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Adhara Law" Subject: {Adhara} Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19990206191026.22998.qmail@hotmail.com> This story contains soft elements of D/S, namely being tied up. I hope you enjoy it; however, if you are looking for a stroke story, this probably isn't your cup of tea. I always encourage comments, both positive and negative! -- Adhara Law SUPERPOSITION by Adhara Law Copyright 1999 Adhara Law (adhara_law@hotmail.com). All rights reserved. May not be reproduced or distributed, with the exception of USENET archiving, without express written permission by the author. _Click-click. Creak._ _Click-click. Creak._ The sounds slither around the metal of the bed, following the delicate, sweeping curves of the tarnished brass before climbing the walls and skittering around the room like freed insects. With a tug, I pull the black leather taut, letting it bite momentarily into the thin skin of my pale wrists. _There is no was. There is no will be. There is only now._ I hear the leather creak once more as he moves over my spread-eagle body, the sound dripping fire onto my skin. My chilled, quivering skin. I feel his tongue first -- only his tongue, a single entity without a body, its wet heat tracing the stark outline of a white calf muscle, straining. Toward him or against him, I don't know. I don't care. He leaves a tingling path of moist skin behind him as he moves higher and higher, slower and excruciatingly slower. Behind closed eyes on the blackboard of my mind appear the principles of quantum mechanics. There is an uncertainty, I think. There is exclusion. There is superposition. He is at my stomach now, leaving kisses, sweetly stinging nips and bites, to melt into the skin below my navel. The sharp essence of worn, creaking leather fills my nostrils as I arch my back, legs trembling, my voice whispering barely heard confessions. Confessions of control, confessions of walking in a world where I was the leader, confessions of giving it all away, only for this one moment. My mouth opens and I swallow the sweetness of submission. "Do you know what I want to do to you at this moment?" I breathe. In. Out. I pull against the straps, the shadows of straining muscles covering my arms. I can feel the humid pulse of his even breath as it slips along the curve of my cheekbone and comes to rest in the crook of my ear. _Do you know what I CAN do to you at this moment?_ I smile in agony. I think of exclusion as his lips and teeth tease the hardened cap of my nipple, making me gasp and twist my reddened wrists in the tight black leather. The creaks sound like high-pitched laughs. I think of how nature requires the taking on of roles in the lives of particles, the bins that she forces them to exist in. I think of spins -- the spin up of his control matched with the spin down of my submission. More creaks echo off the walls as I pull sharply against the leather, his teeth sinking into my neck with brutal force. I watch him as he watches me below him. A look passes from his eyes to mine that wildly shifts the perspective of the moment -- a pleading, an uncontrollable need. With a smile I raise my hips off the bed slightly, urging him closer. At the same time that I hear him moan I feel his teeth grip my shoulder with a delicious pain. The tease of his cock against my clit makes me twist my hips, undulate them under him in a desperate attempt to placate the need. He knows; he slides his cock into me with a single movement, and I twist upwards to plunge the ivory knives of my teeth into the waiting flesh of his neck. We are surrounded by the creak of leather, ticking like a clock as we fuck beneath the glare of old brass. His blue eyes are open, staring, pleading as he moves faster and faster and I begin to realize that we are no longer in respective roles, that the wrists encased in leather are both his wrists and my wrists, that I am above him and below him. We are a superposition, a combination of existences that is neither one nor the other but a sort of limbo in both. I smile as I grind my hips harder against his, upwards, watching the thin membrane of control stretch far too thin, feeling the infinitesimal holes in it grow larger and larger. He fucks me harder, and I watch it finally break as he comes, his lips parted and his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes squeezed shut. My hips thrash under him in my own violent orgasm. He slips my wrists from the leather straps, straps that control the one who latches them. ------------------------------------- Adhara Law adhara_law@hotmail.com All comments are encouraged -- please let me know what you thought of this story! -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----