Dominik and Ysabeau: No Regrets
When the time came, it came not as a surprise, but as a flower planted from seed and carefully nurtured. It grew out of friendship, and shared experiences. It grew out of acceptance and respect. They had simply been walking, and talking, as they often did. But this time, when their eyes met over something they both agreed on, something completely unrelated to tearing off each other’s clothes, they connected. Those eyes, the one set hazel and the other, blue, stated implacably "I want you. I want you now, and nothing will stop me this time."
With few options in the way of privacy (Murienne at Ysabeau’s, and, well... everyone at Dominik’s) they had tumbled rather breathlessly into an inn near the Castalia, and now the moment of truth was at hand.
Dominik was so much taller than Ysabeau that, in spite of her wordly ways, she was trembling. Something about him, about his height, about the size of his hands fumbling with the laces of her corset frightened her. From their training sessions, she knew his strength, and knew he could easily hurt her if he wanted to, and that excited her. Just thinking about it, she was already getting wet, and she had to restrain herself from going right for the front of his breeches, where she could see his cock already straining to be free from its linen confines. That is one of the best things about young men, she smiled.
"Ouch! Those are expensive, you know!" Dom had lost patience with the laces and grommets and decided simply to tear through them, not realizing or forgetting that corsets were made strong in order to rearrange their wearers’ shape into whatever configuration was currently deemed most fashionable. That is one of the worst things about young men.
"Sorry," he muttered, not especially convincingly - he had been rewarded for his troubles by freeing one of her ample breasts, and whatever other arguments she may have brought forth were curtailed when he rolled her nipple between his fingers and experimentally squeezed his handful. Sighing happily, she pushed him gently towards the bed until he tripped over the frame and fell backwards onto it; connected as they were by hand to tit, she had little choice but to fall with him, straddling him. She could feel the bulge of his crotch even through her skirts and petticoats, and it felt delicious. With practiced hands, she removed the remains of her corset and leaned forward to kiss Dominik, running her hands through his hair, letting him admire the contrast between her large, soft breasts and the small, hard rings of his chainmail hauberk against which they were pressed.
"Lovely..." he breathed against her cheek, then struggled to sit up and help her get his chainmail and undertunic off. It fell with a clatter to the floor, followed quickly by the clunk of his sword belt and the swish of her skirts and petticoats.
She reclined as she pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall in a tumble of curls, soft and glossy as a raven’s wing. Her hand strayed down between her legs, eyes never leaving his, as he stretched out full length beside her. He was well-built, which she knew from having seen him move and fight. His torso was lined with a few scars. She was only a little disappointed to note that aside from a small patch at the center of his chest, and of course the dark trail disappearing into the waistline of his pants, he didn’t have a lot of chest hair. She did love the feel of a man’s chest pressed closely to hers, particularly when he was moderately hairy. But the smooth play of muscle sliding over muscle as he configured his body to compliment hers more than made up for the lack of body hair. He was lean and predatory, all man, no doubt of that. His long black hair trailing across her breasts brought goosebumps as he pressed himself against her. His huge left arm arched over her torso so he could gently stroke her face. His lips pressed against hers, and then, predictably, his tongue. In some ways, she reflected, young men were all the same. She parted her lips slightly to admit the moist probe, enjoying his closeness. Even without the chainmail, he still smelled of oiled metal, but now she could smell him more clearly - the musky scent of a powerful man, a warrior; a touch of sweat, whatever perfumes were in the soap he used. The scent brought back memories, a sharp pang. She had missed the company of men even more than she thought, since leaving Altheo’s. Tongues entwined playfully, she yielded to him, felt his left hand leave her cheek and gasped suddenly when she felt his fingers slip over her mound to explore the moist slit between her thighs, nudge her own hand gently aside, and find their mark.
"Feels like I don’t have to do much down here, after all." He broke away from her long enough to smile. "You’re already slick." He sounded pleased with himself as she tried to gasp out a reply, but perhaps none was needed - he wasn’t about to stop, as she had momentarily feared. With little flicks and massages, he soon had her bucking against him, crying like a cat in heat.
"Oh gods, harder, please - harder. Oh, don’t stop." She parted her thighs wider, asking for more, but he was better at this than she had expected, and wasn’t about to give her what she wanted right away, even if it was what he wanted, too. His only concession was to slip a finger, already dripping with her own juices, inside her. She moaned as a second one joined the first, pleasantly stretching her, teasing her with her own readiness. Helpless, she pressed herself against him as she felt the spasms wrack her body. He held her tightly, smug and smiling, and breathed in the scent of her hair.
"That was really nice, Dom."
"You think so?"
"Yes. But I really wanted you to fuck me."
"All things in good time."
"At least have the decency to take your pants off. I want to see you. All of you. I need to know how... proportional you are."
Dominik rolled onto his back and gazed at her insolently. "Have at ’er."
"Shouldn’t that be 'have at him?'"
As she fumbled with his belt and the fastenings of his trousers, he took a moment to just look at her. She’d held off a long while, leaving him plenty of time to imagine what she looked like under her clothes. He decided he hadn’t been too far off in his erotic musings. She was pleasantly plump, with shapely calves, generous thighs and wide hips. ‘Childbearing hips,’ some people called them, not always kindly. She had a roundness to her belly that was very endearing. He could understand why some rustics sang songs about girls like her; there were worse things to come home to after a long day in the fields than the promise of those thighs opening wide and welcoming to greet you. She was fair skinned; her pert nipples and the slit between her legs were a rosy pink. He had never seen her with her hair down before, and hadn’t realized how long it truly was. He had already enjoyed the soft roundness of her breasts, which filled up his cupped hands quite nicely; no small feat since his hands were large. Overcome by their nearness, he reached out to cup one again, and noticed a faint scar. He traced it lightly with his thumb, and enjoyed seeing her shudder again, moved. He noted a few more faded reminders of her past here and there, and frowned suddenly. They were battle scars, all, in every sense of the word. He would love to wrap his hands around the throats of the men who had given them to her...
He looked up; he’d been idly tracing each scar as he found it.
"It’s okay. All that happened long ago. Could you help me with this?"
By now, she had gently worked his nearly rigid rod free and was not shy about admiring it. She glanced up at him through long eyelashes and smiled eagerly. He helped her slip his pants off completely, and lay back once more, gazing at her through narrowed eyes and wondering what she’d do now.
She shifted her body, straddling him once more. He realized that his naked cock was pressing close to her cunt and her ass, could feel her juices leaving a damp spot on his skin, and the idea of being so close, yet so far, overwhelmed him. He reached around her, cupping her ass with his hands, and pulled her towards him; their lips met for a second time. He felt her weight shift off of his pelvis to the mattress on either side of him. She slipped a hand between her legs and took hold of his stiff cock, sending jolts up his spine. Then, in another swift movement, she pulled her lips away from his and was down on him, kissing then flicking the tip of his cock with her tongue. He watched as she took the head fully into her mouth, then with a wicked glance at him, he saw and felt her skillfully swallow him nearly to the base of his shaft. Feeling himself surrounded by this very different sort of moist warmth, and seeing those pretty lips wrapped around such an ungainly mouthful, it was all he could do not to spend his wad right then and there as she slowly moved up and down his length for a few strokes, never losing eye contact with him, like the cheapest trollop, or like a priestess worshipping her god. Those eyes! Those warm hazel eyes, full of secrets and of promises. His cock felt sad, cold and naked as she withdrew herself from it again. But not for long. She smiled, hungrily licking her lips.
"I’m going to be a poor lover, Dominik. I’m sorry... I just can’t wait any longer. I’ll make it up to you later." And with that she impaled herself upon him. Her gasp was as loud as his as he felt his shaft slowly engulfed by her; closing his eyes, he lay back to enjoy her. Ever so slowly, she began rocking her hips around him. Oh she was a terrible tease! He opened his eyes and saw her watching him, joyful, cajoling, pleased with herself. "Is this good?" Her tits wobbled and bounced enticingly with every motion.
"It’s good for now..."
"Is this better?"
"Is this good enough?"
"Well, it’s not good enough for me." With a swift wrestling manoeuver; one he was surprised to recognize as having been taught to her by himself, she had flipped them both over so he was on top. By some miracle, he had not slipped out. Idly, he wondered if Zivia was as skilled at the Jewel Box, but quickly banished that thought as being unworthy of his present situation. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard, Dominik. Fuck me like your life depended on it."
Well, what could you do when a beautiful woman asked you to do that. He thrust into her with somewhat more force, not wanting to hurt her. She moaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and raising her hips to meet him halfway with every stroke.
"Oh, gods, oh harder, Dom. Please! Fuck me senseless."
Egged on, he let go of any thoughts of hurting her and rammed himself into her. "Yes, Dominik!" She clung to him as if she were drowning. He remembered how many months he had been waiting for this, and the pent up frustration lent him strength. "Oh gods, yes." He remembered other girls, who had snubbed him, and pushed in deeper. She moaned and pulled him even closer. Dark thoughts welled up from within. His mother’s trangressions. His father’s indifference. His sister’s cold manipulations. His brother’s hatred. All their petty games and machinations - everything tore loose like a maelstrom at sea, surging through him and into her. He saw that with each pounding motion, her entire body was inching upwards, and he yanked a pillow over between that mass of tangled hair and the headboard. Yes. This is what he lived for - primal things. The raw power of himself, blood singing in his veins - fighting, the hunt, killing when needed, pursuit and fucking beautiful women senseless if that’s what they wanted. He rammed into her, again and again and again. Partly terrified by his own force, mostly lost in the moment and the myriad sensations he felt as she twined her limbs around him and writhed beneath him, moaning and practically screaming his name with every thrust of his hips, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, and he couldn’t pull out, either. He felt all his anger and frustrations shoot out in a hot wad. She seemed to know; but she forced him to continue thrusting a few more times anyway, with her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs around his hips, before she, too, crested and released him to fall, sweaty and exhausted, in a heap on top of her. He could feel her muscles convulsing around his cock, like waves pounding the shore. They lay there briefly, panting and catching their breath before he tried to roll off of her so she could breathe more easily, but she caught him and held him tightly to her and murmured, weak as a kitten.
"No, please... This is the best part - the closeness after it’s done." She shifted slightly, so that his weight was supported mostly by the mattress but he was still inside her. With her legs entwined around his, he couldn’t really escape. Not that he especially wanted to. She gazed into his blue eyes, smiling, occasionally running a hand along his cheek or his side in a gentle caress, and eventually dropped off into sleep.
Some time later, he felt her stir next to him. He grumbled as she pushed against him.
"Dom, I can’t feel my arm or the leg you’re lying on."
With regret , he cracked his eyes open to regard her for a moment, then rolled onto his back, releasing her pinned limbs. His utterly softened cock flopped against his thigh, and he was surprised by how wet it still was - had he really fallen asleep inside her? The thought brought renewed stirrings to his groin. He glanced over at her to see whether she might still be feeling playful. She was sitting up to rub the circulation back into her limbs. Seeing her wince, he suddenly remembered what he’d done.
He’d lost control.
The one thing he had told himself he would never do with her. He’d lost control and let his anger get the better of him. He had vented it on her in such a vicious and brutal way. He had been no better than the men who had given her those scars. He felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him. He felt sick to his stomach.
"Ysabeau... Ysabeau. I’m so sorry."
She glanced up at him questioningly, good arm poised to rub the other one. "For what?"
"For treating you like that... for hurting you."
She stopped what she was doing and moved closer to him, cupping his face in her hands so that he was forced to meet her gaze. She moved in to kiss him, tenderly, giving his lower lip a gentle suck before breaking away. "Dominik Rademacher, you have nothing to apologize for. Do you hear me? You did exactly what I asked you to do, and you did it very well indeed. Sometimes, I like it rough. And even in the midst of all that, you were still trying to protect me, with the pillow. You are a good man, Dom. A gentle man." Her voice trailed off into a whisper as she leaned in to kiss him again, gently and with infinite care, as if to reinforce her words. As she pulled away once more, her eyes were full of warmth, and then she grinned. "Besides, you didn’t exactly escape unscathed yourself. I think I bit you - more than once - and if you haven’t started feeling your back yet, I suspect you soon will."
Come to think of it, his back was tingling rather unpleasantly. He twisted around so it was facing the mirror and looked over his shoulder to see what she had done to him. There were long, raised welts across his shoulders and wherever else she had been able to reach while they were bumping uglies. She had shredded him like a wildcat!
He turned back to face her. An amused and unrepentant smile played about her lips and, although he was still quite troubled over his loss of control, it was difficult not to smile back at her; lovely, naked, forgiving creature that she was.
"I do ache, but it is a delicious, satisfied ache... the kind of ache you get when you’ve just finished a tremendous feast after starving for many months. The kind of ache the tides must feel after chasing down the moon... So please don’t feel bad, Dom. You gave me what I wanted. Now help me rub some feeling back into my leg. It’s all pins and needles."
He took her leg and stretched it over his lap so he could massage it; the way she was sitting gave him a perfect view of the rose-red slit between her thighs. She was utterly shameless and completely unaware of it and the combination was deadly. He turned his head to smile at her and caught an unexpected expression on her face: she was worried she’d pushed him too far! She blushed and looked away. It was too much; he gathered her into his lap and held her tightly, just breathing in the scent of her. For the third time that afternoon, he felt his blood quicken and his cock begin to stiffen. Lowering his head, he caught one of her nipples with his mouth and gave it an experimental suck. She laughed softly and happily, squirming against him.
"Ready for a second round, are you?" she asked, slipping her hand down to his groin to help speed up the process. "This time, in spite of my brave words, I must insist that we go more slowly."
And when eventually he entered her for the second time, he slid into her like a battleworn blade sliding home to its sheath, or a storm-tossed ship gliding gently to safe harbour.