Extract from Flights of Fantasy by Ina Morata:
The very notion of grinding his cock into his palm while her eyes lay upon it leaks more pre-cum from his tip. She takes her finger and dabs it on the glistening juice. He watches, transfixed, as her fingertip swirls around her lips, and delicately she licks at them.
“Mmm, that is beautiful. You must taste it.”
He has no time to speak before her wet lips are over his, and she wipes them across him, ensuring that his arousal finds its way to his tongue and the back of his mouth, so that he swallows his own sweet nectar.
“But—what am I to do about Madeleine?”
He says her name, but his beautiful nymph stands before him already. She smiles, letting her bare covering of chiffon fall away from her body, to reveal her naked form.
“I wish to show you something. Please—do not stop rubbing it. I want to see how beautiful you are.”
What is it that drives him to lay on the bed? She hovers over him and smiles, leaving his eyelids heavy, then closed, yet he can see clearly. The darkness behind them; the darkness in the room enclosing him; the nakedness of her luscious body and the spread of her black wings. Is he asleep? His cock stands hard under his hand and his chest heaves; she has come to him, here, in the strange dark, not a creature with talons, but a woman, fully formed with a stunning form and pale, alluring face.
His fingers trail over her face, and he looks into her green eyes, lit with a deep fire that transfers to him and burns within him, so that he clutches at her body, pulling her onto him. Her wings lift up and over her head, creating a black canopy above the bed. He cannot resist her and, despite his injuries, he finds strength enough to lift her by the ribs, suspending her over his cock.
“I want to fuck you. I want to feel my hard, fat cock pressing deep inside you. I want to lift you up and down on it, just as shallow as the tip, then ram you onto my entire length, so hard that you scream. I want my hands to roam your body until they find your tender nub, and I will fuck you until it hurts, with my fingers inside you, too, and with my thumbs driving themselves against your hard little ball until you scream again.”
“Why do you want to make me scream?” The winged beauty looks down on him, her body quivering in his hands, extending out to her stunning wings, so he feels like a Roman Caesar, fanned by his slaves while he lays upon a bed of the Ancients. For a moment, guilt wracks him, and he looks in her face for a clue that he has not frightened her and made her ill. What it is that has come over him? But her eyes are glowing, wild and waiting for an answer.
“Because—you are not my nymph. You are not the one who brought me here. I could never harm her. She has been so very kind to me. You are not my Madeleine, who would never allow such a thing. And—I need—to do it to you. You invade my dreams, you drive me to these feelings. You—you are my darkness.”
He watches a blood red smile break across her lips.
“I am Lila. You recognise me at last. But, if you wish to see your nymph, your beautiful Madeleine, I will show her to you.”
Her eyes flash at him, and her wings beat, harder, faster, until a breeze becomes a storm inside the room. The force of it almost prevents his breathing altogether and there, in a state somewhere between life and death, she forces herself down onto the end of his cock, and he groans, guttural and long as an image appears, floating in the wind: the naked Madeleine. His chest aches as Lila forces herself further down onto his cock, his arms giving way to her superior power. He watches, the way the dressmaker de-robes Madeleine, touches her skin; how Madeleine’s fingers explore Lila’s body, and how her nipples harden under Lila’s fingertips; how she willingly lays so that Lila’s cunt can entice and excite her juices from her.
A tear stings each eye, yet the hurt pride of a virile young man penetrates his insides and stings much harder.
“This isn’t real. You are trying to turn me against her. My Madeleine will wait for me, and only me. You would not be able to tempt her. No woman would. No-one. She is my Madeleine. My beautiful, innocent maiden—a nymph, like—”
He pauses, seeing the room as a concrete image once more: the flagstones, the window and the night now, but no flickering candles anymore. The woman who has brought him to this room is gone. And all he has is the darkness—and the black wings of his stunning creature. A desperation for release from his torment runs through him, and he strokes his cock hard, fast, squeezing it so he feels it pulsing against his hand, overpowered by the feeling.
“That’s it. Embrace it. You have no need of the good, the perfect, locking up your passion and your desire. You need more. Let it wash over you, fill you, take you. A part of you needs the darkness, and I can give it to you. I can give you everything you ever wanted. What is it that you want?”
He pulls her the rest of the way onto his hardness, until not even a whisper can separate their bodies. Grinding deep inside her, he slides his hands up to grasp at her rounded breasts and pinches hard at her nipples until she squeals. He grins, turning his attention to the juicy flesh of her backside and digging in until his fingernails are tainted with blood. Her wings retract, and her eyes appear in confusion.
“I submit to your will, Porphyro. What do you desire?”
“I want—.” The words fail him, but he watches her chest heave harder at the pain he inflicts into the two rounded pieces of flesh at her rear.
Her voice becomes heavy, breathy. Her words blow over his body and he devours every one: “Maybe I can help. I am very wicked; naughty; bad. I indulged my desires with Madeleine, and made you watch. You have yet to touch her, but my hands have explored every part of her, outside—and in. She denied you the touch of her pretty mound, but I fucked it until her orgasm filled the room—.”
He grapples with her body, flinging her over so she is on her hands and knees, bouncing on the cloud of dreams. There, the mattress billowing at their sides, her bottom presented to him, she looks to be the stuff of the darkest fantasies. His hands roam her luscious skin, following the curve of her back, finding the indent of her waist, and resting on the marks he has made with his fingernails. She winces. Makes a high-pitched mew. A beautiful, unfamiliar sound, and to his ears comes the faintest whisper: “Press harder.” An urgency builds in his groin and he pushes his cock, sticky and hot, up against her tight, forbidden little rosebud hole.
“You need—I think, I mean—you need punishing.”
He takes note of the erratic heaving of her back, as her breath races in and out of her and puffs a stream of mist into the darkness. Her wings are just a stub in her shoulder blades. Her voice, low and rasping, circles his head like a spell, until her voice is his only focus.
“Will you punish me, Sir? Do you desire to do this? Really; deep within your soul?”
His cock leaves a wet slither against her forbidden place. He presses a little harder, and feels her begin to open under the pressure he exerts. A fire consumes his belly and his loins. He would never entertain such a notion when it comes to Madeleine. But he needs it now. With her.
“Yes. I want to punish you. I want to fuck this wicked hole of yours until I am satisfied, and then I want to—”
Her breath comes soft, and only for him:
“What do you want, Sir? What else do you desire?”
His heart bangs in his ribs, and the rush of blood fills his ears, swirling, as his head grapples with everything he is, and how he is expected to be, and pits it against all that he wants, here, in this place.
“I desire this.” His hand lifts, and he brings it down violently upon her soft, rounded cheek, over the blood he has already drawn from the skin. The pure shock he has at finding himself bringing his hand down on her jerks his body. His cock thrusts itself just beyond its crown into her tight hole, and she yelps. Her wings begin to grow once more; they flap violently, as if she will take flight and escape him any second.
“Did that hurt?” Bile rises to his throat, and he concentrates hard to stop his body displaying any sign of weakness, of uncertainty. He is torn—guilt plagues him, yet his cock remains hard and tight inside her, the thrill of it firing an arrow of exquisite tortuous pleasure from his neck to his balls.
“Do you want me to do it again?” He holds his breath. She holds her wings still.
“Yes. I want you to do whatever it is you desire, to punish me.”
His hands brush the top of her wings, and she squirms. Something innate rises to the surface, and he grabs her wings at the point they exit her skin. He yanks back on them, and she screams.
“I thought you had submitted to me. I desire to hold you. You will not fly from me while I punish you. I’m going to fuck your hole, and I’m going to spank you. Over and over. Until you scream and I pour myself into you. Have you ever been punished like that?”
She turns her head and peers at him, her eyes wet but glowing a vivid green, and the most pained small smile that he has ever seen across any face.
“No man has ever punished me before.”
At her words, his insides surge.
“Then I shall ensure you remember it, and that you submit to my every desire.” He looks at her wet eyes as she cranes her neck, and some other little part of himself melts, too. “And I desire that you enjoy it. Indeed, I insist.” He cannot resist, as he feels her shudder deliciously beneath his hand that grips the wings hard; dipping his free hand below, he explores her entrance. “Mmm, you do desire it, don’t you? Then I am going to enjoy punishing you.”
Holding tight enough to her wings that she is immobilised, leaving her whining intermittently in agony, he pushes hard against her hole, thrusting into her, all the way. The feeling overwhelms him; she is so tight around him, and slick. He had expected it to tug, maybe even to hurt him. Punishing her is going to be a heady delight, and he relaxes a little with the thought that losing his virginity in domination may be easy, with her help. He bangs hard against her, pummelling her, his fingers thrusting into her soaking cunt with every motion. She screams, and his cock almost explodes within her.
“Is my punishment hurting you?”
The answer comes in thick gasps. “You fuck hard, Sir. It’s wonderful. Thank you.”
Excitement grips him, and in turn he yanks ferociously on her wings. “Then I shall punish you harder.”