Lucy Martin<br/>Location: Dylan Murphy's apartment<br/>Tags: Dylan Murphy<br/><br/>“Yes,” she nodded along with her soft reply. That was it. He had explained so perfectly. She knew what would happen now, and she didn’t fear it. In fact, there was sweetness in knowing. There was eagerness to her expectation of it to come, this painful bliss he was giving her. It hurt, and any other day it would hurt far worse, but in this situation, here with him, there was also a pleasure there, bubbling along with the pain, not equaling it, but adding to it, this feeling of extraordinary decadence.<br/><br/>She had given herself over to him. It wasn’t just her body. As he kissed her, pulling her up on the bed, his words echoed in her mind. He knew she could take it. Lucy believed that. Her body was his to mold, to bend, to his will, and as he put her hands behind her back, there was no attempt to stop him or protest. She had an idea of what he had in mind. This wasn’t the sort of thing everyone favored. It wasn’t something you would see often in the movies when a man and a woman fell in love. Then again, was this love? This was the darkness. That was certain. As his warm breath touched her ear, as the rope seized her wrists, Lucy shivered. Her breathing had once more picked up. It was happening again. The darkness, the lack of control, him with his animalistic urges, they were all there, taking control once more.<br/><br/>Her eyes darted around, briefly taking in the room, before the blindfold rested on her body. She looked at it, wanting to question him, wanting to let him know it was okay, but neither sentiment needed words. Her lips moved, but Lucy never spoke even as the blindfold stopped her from seeing. She could feel her beating faster as she breathed through parted lips. Lucy became far more aware of her own body. Her nipples were hard, and even the slightest hint of cooler air in the room seemed to make them harder still. She could feel the tiny bumps forming on her arms, and her muscles seemed ready at a moment’s notice to twitch at his touch. Her face warmed as her cheeks flushed. She could feel her toes curling. Between her legs was wet, far more than before. Of course some of that could be attributed to his seed still oozing from her sore sex. Her clit tingled, almost begging to be touched. Lucy was alive, far more so than she ever thought possible. She had known her first time would be unforgettable. He had not disappointed.<br/><br/>The material of the blindfold gave a soft sound as it was tied tightly around her head. Lucy closed her lips, swallowing deeply. Opening her lips once more, her nostril flared as she took in a deep breath, trying to steady herself for the uncertainty that was coming. She felt his comfort, his strength, as he helped her find her feet. Lucy remembered what his room looked like, but in her mind’s eye all she could think about was what she must look like. It was as if he had read her mind when he spoke. She smiled, happy that he was pleased with how she looked. That smile soon left her lips as she cried out. His teeth were unforgiving, and his efforts were far more intense. She felt her entire body tense before trembling. Lucy crouched. It was strange. She wasn’t trying to get away from him. It was as if she were leaning into him, into his efforts. “Please,” she cried, her voice shaky, laced with her desire as she felt her legs weak. Her word, her plea, came just before she felt something clamping down on her abused nipples. Lucy’s head lulled back as she groaned. There was no concern for someone hearing her. There were no thoughts of anyone but him. She felt as though she were drifting in a sense. Her feet were still firm on the floor, and yet she felt light. The sensations were pinpointed. Her nipples ached against the softness of the restraining rope. The contrast was beautiful. She could feel how her sex nearly dripping. Was the moisture running down her thighs, painting her skin? Exquisite. Yes. That word described everything she was feeling. “Yes,” she muttered her voice soft and serene.<br/><br/>He carried her to the bed. A perfect act. “Yes,” she responded. “I am….yours’” Her last word a groan, punctuated by his shaft spearing into her once more.  Lucy felt her body come up from the bed slightly only to crash back to it. Without a reply, she began to move her hips, using her thighs to push her body against him. She could feel him sinking into her deeper, softer, slower, as she was in control. No matter how she pushed, no matter how she turned her hips, it wasn’t enough. She could not get enough of him inside her. Harder, with more fever, she tried to take him, rocking her body against his. She was taking him, fucking her own body with his, but it wasn’t enough. Frustration began to rise. Lucy’s face began to convey it. “I can’t,” she whimpered. “I’m trying.” Behind her back her bound hands formed fists as she tried to cope with her growing annoyance. “Please,” she called out. “Help me. Please. Help me.”