I Make You Mine – Part 2
We pull up outside my narrow, elegant, white Georgian townhouse with its black iron railings. It is shrouded by trees. My neighbours know me as a glamorous, quite private woman, who nevertheless entertains quite a lot of guests. In my perfectly soundproofed dwelling, I hold parties which are known for their riotous decadence. Some of my guests never leave.
You are startled when I unlock the door with the power of my mind. I have no need of keys except for purposes of symbolic ritual. You watch wide-eyed as the lamps light up the same way; illuminating the dark hallway with pools of light. They reveal a staircase which goes up and a staircase which goes down. I push you gently towards the one which spirals downwards.
The slave girls have prepared my chamber.
I can hear the victim they have brought me shrieking pointlessly in the distance. They have removed the gag for a few moments as they know that I like to hear the screams. He is of no more account to me than a late night burger. Suddenly it stops and I know that my girls have put him to sleep until I’m ready. Of course, you hear the screams too and you are trembling with fear.
“No, no, don’t worry – not you,” I say as I reach up to stroke your lovely face.
“Although it could be.”
I smile at you wickedly and reveal my fanged teeth for the first time, their fine points pricked between my full red lips.
My chamber is the antechamber to my dungeon.
It is a bedchamber with a large, ebony fourposter bed, but I rarely sleep there. It is for purposes of initiation and sexual play.
The rich incense in the small cauldrons hisses gently as it burns, whilst the oil lamps and candles provide a glowing golden light. It appears to be very welcoming, but we both know that this could easily change.
Ignoring the bed for the moment, I seat myself in front of you, in a tall, high-backed chair of ebony and crimson velvet. With its strong, curving, carved wooden arms, it resembles a throne and, of course, that effect is deliberate.
“Strip,” I say to you.
Your uncertainty is needless. I sense that, at some level, you are insecure about your appearance, but I have very little interest in your superficial qualities, that is not why I chose you – it is your heart, your soul, your mind. Your willingness, your fortitude and capacity to serve and entertain me; your ability to worship, your ability to fuck.
Before you can touch your clothing, I use my mind to strip you naked; a light wind whips around your body as your clothes unbutton, peel from you, fall away.
“Beautiful”, I say.
So vulnerable, so masculine. It makes me want to protect you, love you, fuck you and use you most deliciously for my enjoyment.
You are absolutely hard for me.
I laugh inwardly with some relief. This was the first test. You are excited, unafraid. And it could have gone either way. I want you as my playmate, my ecstatic slave – not as my victim in any way. You have to withstand and be exhilarated by my games and occasional cruelty.
“On your knees, my darling. Come towards me.”
You crawl towards me; stopping respectfully a short distance away from my knees, which I have uncrossed. You do not attempt to look up my black silk skirt, even though you could, and the hot, excited scent of me is making your head spin.
“Look at me.”
As you steadily meet my gaze, I attach a fine black leather collar, buckled with gold, around your throat. It has a gold ring, to which I will attach your chain.
“Understand now that you will never leave me. the only way out of this is death. I am your Goddess and your Priestess, immortal and ancient, entitled to your mind, heart, body and soul. You must appease me or else I will kill you. The rules are very simple. Would you like to be my eternal Lover or would you like to be . . . lunch?”
I laugh at the shock in your eyes when I say that last bit and I am very entertained by that spark of human male pride.
I already adore you.
***