This is my first submission to the EMCSA. It is an expanded version of a short story i wrote on the Garden of MC forums. It was originally written for Wrider, who suggested the two keywords that inspired the story: ‘key’ and ‘straps’. It’s a little bit dark and a little bit explicit (much like myself on occasion) but that’s where my Muse led me, so who am i to question Her? Enjoy!
Under Lock and Key
Carefully removing her earrings, the raven-haired woman walked across the hotel room to the dressing table.
Although her face could undoubtedly be described as beautiful, with high cheek bones and large dark eyes, in the flickering half-light provided by the candles placed around the room her age was difficult to gauge. She appeared young, but occasionally a brief play of shadows would cross her face, ageing her, and momentarily lending a suggestion of cruelty to her features.
Placing her earrings on the table, the woman stretched behind her neck and undid the straps holding up her long, sheer purple dress. She allowed the dark fabric of the dress’ halter neck to slip forward off her chest and hang at her waist, exposing her neat breasts with their dark, protrudent nipples.
Reaching both hands behind her the woman undid the zip at her lower back before easing the dress down her body and stepping free. She had not worn underwear that evening so stood naked now except for her high heels, whose gold strapping criss-crossed all the way up her calves.
Choosing not to remove the shoes, the woman instead sat down at the dressing table, gazing steadily at herself in the large mirror.
Moments passed, too many to be comfortable, but the woman remained still. She continued to stare at her reflection, a look of intense concentration on her face. Her only movement was the rise and fall of her chest that matched her steady breathing.
Suddenly, with a quick and purposeful motion, the woman stretched out her hand and picked up a small wooden bowl from the dressing table.
The bowl contained a thick black paste, into which she dipped the first two fingers of her right hand. Then, without pause, she began to paint onto her skin. She began by daubing small intricate symbols on her forehead and cheeks, but soon she was tracing larger patterns over her breasts, across her stomach and hips, and along and inside her thighs.
She did this with methodical care, muttering rhythmically under her breath as she did so, semi-chanting harsh, guttural words more suited to the mouth of something bestial than the lips of a seemingly beautiful woman.
And then, as abruptly as she began, she stopped.
Placing the bowl back onto the dressing table she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As she did so she stretched her hands upwards through the dark curls of her hair until her arms were extended out above her head, her fingers interlocked.
“Well then, my beautiful boy,” she said. “Are you ready?”
The woman stood and turned to face the naked man she had tied to the bed behind her.
He was young, in his twenties, and handsome, with a muscular body and blonde, tousled hair. He lay spread-eagled on his back on the bed, held in this position by taut black straps that separately tied his wrists to the bed-head and attached each of his ankles to a post at the bottom. His fists were clenched and though he did not struggle he was obviously disoriented, trying hard to clearly focus on the woman as she walked towards him.
“What... what have you... have I been...” he tried to ask.
“Drugged?” The woman sat on the bed beside him, stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. “Well yes, I’m afraid you have. You were already willing, but I also needed you... pliable.”
The woman stretched out on the bed next to him, pressing her naked skin – still wet in places with the black paint - to his side. She began kissing him softly on the lips whilst, slowly, reaching her hand down his chest, following the line of hair down his stomach with her long nails until she reached his cock.
“Isn’t this just perfect?” she whispered between kisses as she began to tease him with her fingers. “Doesn’t this feel good?”
“Mmmhmm...”
He was returning her kisses now, and his cock was growing hard. She changed her grip and began to stroke her hand up and down it in a regular motion, whilst continuing to press her mouth against his.
“You want this feeling to continue,” she said. “You want to be inside me - locked inside me. You want to give yourself to me.”
“I do... I want... I want to but... but this... isn’t how I...”
“Oh, come now. You let a strange woman tie you up on a first date? It doesn’t take a mind reader to know that this is very much what you want.”
She leant in close to his ear. Her breath was hot against his skin.
“Besides, it’s certainly very much what I want...”
He was fully hard now, but she continued to grip him tight, pumping her hand up and down his shaft.
“So say it.”
The man closed his eyes. His hips were now moving in time to the slow beat of the woman’s hand at his groin. He moaned.
“Say you want this.”
“I... I want this.”
“I know you do,” she said, kissing his neck with her lips whilst working his cock with her hand. “And what else?”
“I... I want to be locked... locked inside you.”
“You will be.” Her voice was low and urgent. “And what else?”
“I... I... I give myself to you.”
The woman released him and exhaled, almost hissed.
“Oh my beautiful boy,” she said, pressing her face to his cheek and her hand to his chest. “My beautiful, beautiful boy. You are mine. No more questions. It is decided.”
In a single, smooth motion the woman climbed onto the bed and knelt astride him, perched high on her knees over his waist. The dark fuzz of pubic hair between her legs already glistened with a mix of sweat and her own excitement.
“Here is the key.”
She gripped his cock, still rigid and twitching beneath her.
“I am the lock.”
She lowered herself onto his erection, closing her eyes as she eased him inside of her, his flesh disappearing within the black, curled hair at her groin.
“The key... turns... in the lock.”
As she spoke she stretched one leg completely over his body and began to turn on top of him, all the time holding his cock inside of her, rotating slowly around until she had her back to him.
Once in this position she gripped his thighs and pressed her heels into his waist, their sharp points marking his skin. She then began shifting her hips back and forth, feeling the movement of him inside her, knowing how good it must feel for him, knowing how much he must want to cum.
“And the lock... turns... around the key.”
She began to turn again, working her legs round him in a spider’s dance, smudging the symbols painted on her thighs as she pressed her groin against his in order to keep him firmly within her.
“Key... and lock.”
She stretched her knee over his stomach and finally faced him again.
“Lock... and...“
And then she stopped.
Still sat astride him, her body tilted forward, her face hidden by the curls of her black hair, she remained motionless, no longer moving or speaking.
Moments passed, too many to be comfortable, but the woman remained still.
“And key.”
It was the man who had spoken.
The effect of his words was instant. The woman gasped and arched backwards, her body taut, her mouth open, her eyes wide with surprise. She held this pose for a long moment before rocking forward, her face hidden again, her hands resting palm-up on the bed-sheets.
The man uttered a strange word under his breath and the four knots tying him to the bed posts burnt themselves crisply up, leaving just the unloosened straps dangling from his wrists and ankles.
“Oh, you are good,” he said, leaning up on one elbow and stroking the woman’s cheek with his right hand. “But I’m afraid you’ve been careless.”
The man smiled and looked down at his still-closed left hand. He opened it up to reveal what he had been secretly holding whilst lying on the bed. It was a small silver charm. It was in the shape of a padlock.
“You see, I always use protection on a first date.”
He held out his hand in front of the woman and allowed the silver padlock to fall and dangle on the end of its chain.
“You belong to me now, witch.”
Sitting up so that their upper bodies were pressed together, her hard-nippled breasts against his broad chest, the man smoothed the hair away from the woman’s neck.
“You want this,” he whispered into her ear, hanging the silver chain around her neck.
“... i want this.”
The woman spoke from behind her hair without raising her head. Her tone was steady and unnaturally calm.
The man fastened the clasps of the chain.
“You are locked inside.”
“... i am locked inside.”
The man stroked the woman’s hair back behind her ears. Her eyes were unfocused, her pupils hugely dilated, her mouth slack and half open.
“You have given yourself to me.”
“... i give myself... ohhhhhh... to you... mmmmmhmm...”
The woman moaned and moved again, pressing both her thighs against him and rocking urgently back and forth, using his still hard cock to bring herself to a swift climax. The padlock charm now hanging between her breasts swung and bounced as she came, catching the candle-light and glittering like her empty black eyes.
“Mmmm, my Master,” she purred, looking down at him as she wiped her sweat-matted hair away from her face. “How shall i serve you?”
The man stretched back on the bed, folded his arms behind his head and grinned.
“For the rest of your days, my witch-slave. For the rest of your days.”