Teneramente.

She has secrets deep within her. There are shadows, smooth as rich chocolate, sultry as black silk, wicked as a deerskin whip, that slowly swirl within her breast and in the unawakened fissures of her not-so-dormant imagination. These are places she rarely had opportunity to go, rarely had opportunity to delve within unto herself, and almost never had been able to breathe life into with another whom she cares for and is cared by.

This is fragile like a blackbird on the wing. Fragile like the flicker of a freshly lit candle. Fragile like trust caressed with fear and excitment. Discovery. Epiphany. Fecund, feral illumination.

And for the satyr, the psychopomp possessing the privilege to escort a tender faerie such as this into a delicious underworld of unseelie sensation... blissfulness attained. Responsibility. Mentorship. Possession. The making and the shaping of the mythic dimensions to another's sexual self in such a way and manner that can never be forgotten, regardless of whatever else may come. The power possessed is given freely only after the earning of trust and love, and must be wielded with the best interests of the pet in mind for these reasons.


She was kissing me. Her tongue swirled across my lips and into my mouth in the way that is so unique to her, so wanton in its feel. Her tiny waist thrilled my caressing hands as I pulled her closer, tighter against me, my palm at the small of her back. She groaned into my mouth and her lips crushed against mine even firmer than before, snaking an arm around my back. She tasted like wine. She was warm. She nudged a leg between my own, her thigh pressing against my own as I raised my arms to hold her lovely head in both hands.

I tugged her closer still, my fingers gripping gently at the small hairs at the nape of her neck as I returned the kiss. I lifted the shirt over her head, revealing her small breasts for my view and touch. She began undoing my belt as I pulled my own shirt off as well. Pants followed between kisses until we stood in the darkened parlour, aglow with candles and resonant with trance music, during this sensual evening not long after we had just begun to date.

My sense of kink intimidated her. My sexual openness was new for her. The kind of communication I had become accustomed to, and insist on in my relationships, was still something sought for and yet to be found for her. Yet here she was, and yet, things were beginning between us. I liked it, and I saw potential. I think she did too.

And so when our kiss was broken for a moment, I knew I was taxing on the sense of trust I had begun to build when I winked, pecked her on the cheek, and departed briefly to my bedroom as I asked her to "hold that thought."

From my toy chest, I returned to the parlour with my leather ankle restraints and few other naughty items. This evening, I had decided, would be about sensations.

"Do you trust me?" I had pulled a chair from another room and set it in the centre of the parlour. Nude, lithe and beautiful in the golden glow of the room, she took my hand to help her stand upright upon it.

"Yes."

I smiled and kissed her taut abdomen that beckoned before me while slipping the thick, heavy leather restraints around each of her ankles. A metal clamp clikked into place as I secured them together. Looking up and into her slowly widening green eyes, I tugged and yanked on the clamp like a magician demonstrating the effectiveness of his equipment. She kept her balance and I kept my smile.

"Your hands to the ceiling. Do it."

She hesitated, and I punished her with a look. Later, she would tell me that that was when she felt a pang of fear and came close to aborting our little game. But she persevered through it and, much to her surprise, was glad she did.

As am I. I may have never sought to play with her in this way again. For us both, it was a test. We passed.

Fingernails grazed along her ribcage as I walked to stand behind her, taking in the delectable sight of her pert little derriere. A pet should have an excellent derriere, not only capable but prone to enjoying whatever torment I can muster, and her ass is delightful. I caressed a peachy cheek with my palm, squeezing her as she began a faint shudder. I cranked the music up. I sipped some more wine. I smacked her oh-so-available ass that was delightfully presented to my eye-level with a smirk of appreciation. And then I smacked it again. And again, enjoying the slightest movement under my fingers that bespoke of her firmness. I parted her shamelessly, exploring and inspecting her nethermost treasures in a way that surely left her feeling utterly exposed.

I slithered moistened fingers past her thighs and sawed them gently through the swelling folds of her darkening, lovely cunt. She was hot. She was soaked. She gasped aloud.

Holding her hip with one hand, I began a series of spanks with the other until her cheeks just began a shade of pink. I caressed her thighs with rabbit fur. I reached around her to run my nails along her tummy, up to her faerie tits, pinching her nipples. I jilled her lengthening, engorged clit betwen my fingers as she struggled to keep her hands to the cieling above her.

Inspired, and with a sense of indulgent come-uppance, I reached for my most recently-acquired slapper, a token from ribald days and nights in Chicago. I enjoyed an irony. With a self-indulgent smirk I returned the mental gesture that the loss of one becomes the gain of another. It was a subtle, personal return on a theme, fully warranted and enjoyed from the lesser deamons of my nature. And it left lovely, loud red swats on my fabulous, healthy, joyful new lover's exquisite ass.

Both this spirit and the spirit of escorting her through these newer sensations then had me at my kitchen freezer where I reached not for ice, but for clusters of frozen strawberries that had been waiting for attention since last autumn. With fistfulls of the hard, gooey fruits, I laughed aloud as I caressed her legs, abdomen, tits, and face with pink pectin.

By the time I was done, she had been through multiple experiences as she wobbled on happily unsteady feet. It was time to let her cum. Reaching again between her thighs, my fingers returned to exploring her, and at the risk of entirely compromising my Topspace, I indulged in giving her my tongue. She began to quake and suffer, now uncomfortable standing on the chair as orgasm eluded her.

I showed mercy. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I hoisted her up and tossed her into the parlour futon in one rush. She screamed aloud as I roughly parted her thighs and sunk my cock deeply into her drenched, quivering, strawberried pussy, her ankles high and around my neck as I fucked her fast, hard, and deep. I held her legs up by gripping the clamp betwen the restraints, the steel clacking loudly with each demanding thrust of my cock. Her knees framed her face as she gasped aloud. Her nails raked down my back as she came.

I removed the ankle restraints. I carried her to my bed. I threw her down. I raised her lovely, reddened ass into the air to fuck her from behind before we coiled together and drifted into sleep, fruit still on our tongues.

Kara was introduced to kink, and was intimidated no more. She's begun exploring her secrets.

Playing with experienced partners is always a pleasure, but I cannot think of a more rewarding privilege than to succesfully introduce someone to heretofore unexplored nuances of their sexual selves. It transcends the tenure of relationships, and makes priesthood to Aphrodite's temple out of those who have the opportunity to know its joys and responsibilities.

Love you, Kara. Dacquiri?