Sheryl Nome (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wingsofgoodbye) wrote2016-11-13 03:55 pm
wingsofgoodbye) wrote2016-11-13 03:55 pm
whips and chains excite me
On the whole, Sheryl really does like dating Slaine. Oh sure, the media can be a big pain in the ass sometimes, with one of the world's most popular singers dating an up-and-coming young actor. (She's already sick of the word "Sherlaine.") But he's sweet. He treats her well. And frankly, the sex is great. She loves that part.
She's always been more adventurous and freewheeling, though. So it had taken a little coaxing to get him to agree to this, but Sheryl's confident they'll both have fun getting out of their usual boxes.
She's prepared well. Her staff has been dismissed for the night, which means it's just the two of them in her large home in the hills up above Los Angeles. With high hedges and walls, there's no paparazzi in sight. She's cleaned out a room in the basement, too, leaving it bare save for a comfortable mattress tucked into the corner and a stool in the middle. (With a comfortable cushion on it. She's not some sort of savage.)
She's currently sitting on that stool in a sheer lacy white robe, tied right below and between her breasts, that really doesn't do much to cover them. The only other things she's wearing are an equally lacy pair of white stockings held up by a garter belt, and a very skimpy white thong. It's a far cry from the full dress uniform she'd procured for her boyfriend. (God, he looks good in uniform, she thinks.)
Unfortunately, he's also trying to tie her up, and he could be doing a little better at that. "Slaine," she says, rolling her eyes. "It needs to be tighter! I can still move my arms, you know."
She's always been more adventurous and freewheeling, though. So it had taken a little coaxing to get him to agree to this, but Sheryl's confident they'll both have fun getting out of their usual boxes.
She's prepared well. Her staff has been dismissed for the night, which means it's just the two of them in her large home in the hills up above Los Angeles. With high hedges and walls, there's no paparazzi in sight. She's cleaned out a room in the basement, too, leaving it bare save for a comfortable mattress tucked into the corner and a stool in the middle. (With a comfortable cushion on it. She's not some sort of savage.)
She's currently sitting on that stool in a sheer lacy white robe, tied right below and between her breasts, that really doesn't do much to cover them. The only other things she's wearing are an equally lacy pair of white stockings held up by a garter belt, and a very skimpy white thong. It's a far cry from the full dress uniform she'd procured for her boyfriend. (God, he looks good in uniform, she thinks.)
Unfortunately, he's also trying to tie her up, and he could be doing a little better at that. "Slaine," she says, rolling her eyes. "It needs to be tighter! I can still move my arms, you know."
no subject
Slaine straightens up once he releases his girlfriend from the hold, a slight tensing of his brows at the sight of her breasts alone, and he quickly senses the familiar strain in his pants. It's unbearable, and he suspects it'll grow worse if he keeps watching her, but it can't be helped. He finishes unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and shrugs it out of him, dropping the fabric to the floor.
"Who says anything about roleplaying?" He retorts, quirking an eyebrow at Sheryl as his fingers, impatient and urgent as the way he groped her breasts earlier, now linger on his pants. Hear that, Sheryl? That is the sound of a zipper being tugged down, in tandem with the soft puffs slipping out of his mouth. Gravity does the rest of the work pulling his pants down to reveal his navy blue boxer briefs.
"Now, where were we...?"
Instinct is what guides him to the bed, to crawl on top of Sheryl and ignore the obvious tinge of red dusting his cheeks. He doubts he'll ever stop blushing despite how unusually bold he's acting, but no matter, he ought to stop overthinking.
Closing his eyes and ignoring the nerves overtaking him, Slaine lowers his mouth to one of his girlfriend's breasts, capturing a nipple in between his plush lips.
no subject
Sheryl is now thoroughly perplexed by whether or not they're in character or out of character, and whether or not she should be treating this man like he's her boyfriend and lover or captor and would-be ravisher. She's also not entirely sure she minds. Sure, lying back with her arms underneath her body weight is kind of uncomfortable, but the mattress is soft, and being helpless as Slaine unzips his pants and strips them off is incredibly erotic.
(Sort of helpless. She still has full control over her legs. Next time, she'll have to make him tie her there, too.)
"Ah..." she says, trying to get back into character as he looms over her. (Lord, she's wet) "Y-you monster, I won't... submit to you. Do whatever you like to my body, but my heart and mind will never give in!"
It's undermined a little by the way she bites her lip when he sucks on her full nipple.
no subject
Instead he pulls back to give Sheryl an unimpressed look, lips still parted, hands braced on either side of her as he arches an eyebrow.
"Your role leaves a lot to be desired," he replies, words coming out as a gentle, polite scolding. "Please stop."
She already said that line about doing whatever he wants with her body just a while ago, didn't she? It just occurs to Slaine that he'll have to clear things with Sheryl first, but if she keeps running her mouth off while tied up, well... his eyes dart towards the floor, his tie within his line of vision. He hums thoughtfully, knitting his brows.
no subject
Why the hell is he criticizing her performance for sexy roleplaying?
"Do you want me to be in character or not?" she snaps, her voice a combination of irritated, flustered, and aroused. She is still in the tiniest of thongs, after all, and her boyfriend is still looming over her, helpless and tied with her legs spread on either side of him.
And she still doesn't know if they're roleplaying or not.
no subject
He pauses, lifting up a finger to gently poke at Sheryl a few times on the forehead, before brushing her bangs and moving away.
"... slow at reading the mood, I must admit."
Yes, he just called her dense in the nicest way possible. Possibly dumb. With a puff of breath, he climbs off of her and out of bed, turning his back to her to bend down and pick up the tie off the floor. Saying the following remark comes a lot easier when he doesn't have to look at his girlfriend, much less stammer in her presence. He'd be too distracted otherwise.
"I've since stopped playing my role, yet you fail to recognize it. Am I distracting you this much? I wonder..." He shakes his head with a chuckle under his breath, turning to the bed once more with a tie on hand. "Really, for our sake, you should just remain as yourself."
no subject
Really, she's embarrassed because she didn't pick up on it earlier. Also, a little bit, because of how he'd called her out on it. "I was still trying to play out the scene!"
You may want to act quickly to try and preserve the mood, Slaine.
no subject
Sheryl has no chill, honestly. But at least he gets to use her embarrassment as leverage in his favor. This is your boyfriend being somewhat pragmatic, Sheryl.
Another sigh slips from his lips as he climbs onto the bed, flips Sheryl over so that she's lying on her stomach, then sits on top of her with his tie on hand. He's going to try to do some damage control at this point.
"I appreciate your dedication to your role, for what it's worth," he says in an attempt to placate her, gliding his hand through her soft pink hair and maybe twirling a few strands around a finger or two. "But it's time to stop. The only woman I want is not a meek prisoner... but you."
no subject
That grumble turns into a surprised squeak when he flips her over onto her stomach. With her arms still tightly tied behind her, she can't flip herself back over. (Also, it makes the rope at her crotch shift, the knot sliding against her panties and pressing in at sensitive parts.)
She tries to twist to look behind her, but he's sitting on her back, making it difficult. "I was really getting into it, you know," she huffs. "The whole controlling-soldier act was a huge turn-on. I didn't tell you to stop!"
"So do you just want to do it normally from here or what?"
She kind of doesn't want to be untied.
no subject
He fights back the urge to hitch a breath, restraining a surprised sound in his throat. Did she just admit that his role was a turn-on?
"I-Is that so..." He stammers despite himself, releasing her hair to pinch the bridge of his nose as he exhales. Sure there are women who find him attractive (why they think so is beyond his comprehension), but the heat across his face is difficult to ignore.
Of course, he can't ignore the strain in his boxer briefs when he's practically holding Sheryl hostage between his legs. His gaze drifts towards the tie... and with a groan, he carefully wraps the fabric over her mouth.
"Please forgive me for what I'm about to do," he says as he ties it behind her head all nice and snug.
no subject
Then his tie slips over her mouth and gets tied tightly behind her head, and Sheryl's eyes go wide.
Instantly, she tries to twist and turn to look at Slaine, but their position means she doesn't get more than halfway. She looks shocked and surprised, but not exactly scared. "Mmffphh!"
It's some sort of wordless protest. Maybe. Maybe it's a question. Sorry, Slaine, no way to tell.
Though part of Sheryl just got a little more turned on. She's at his mercy now. God, that's hot.
no subject
Now what? She's practically at his mercy, bound and gagged, and here he is, sitting on her with a look that's best described as the classic "deer in headlights". The sounds of his own heart beating against his chest drum in his ears, far difficult for him to ignore. Slaine takes a moment to close his eyes and sigh, a little louder than intended but he has to concentrate — focus on the woman beneath him.
Shifting a little downward, he lets his fingers grab on to the flimsy ties holding her thong in place. A shame about the ropes, really; they're in the way, or else he'd tug on the lacy undergarment and slide it down those legs (long, lean, and beautiful). So instead, Sheryl will hear a quiet rip break the silence, cool air touching her hips as the fabric is tugged off her body. Slaine makes a mental note to buy a new thong, but hey, at least he won't hear her complain.
no subject
She turns her head to the side so she can breathe, still able to look at Slaine out of the corner of her eye, mostly. Like this, she can feel his hands roaming along her backside, around her ass, and tugging at her thong. Then, she realizes that not only is he not going to just take it off, he can't, just in time for flimsy fabric to snap.
And there she is, naked and bare, freshly shaven and glistening wet from arousal. He can see her. Sheryl makes another irritated-sounding noise, but doesn't struggle or squirm too much, so it seems she's not all that genuinely angry.
She is, however, genuinely horny. God, Slaine, just fuck her already... is what she wants to say.
no subject
As he carefully tilts his girlfriend's body over so that he's pushing her on her back, the ropes strategically placed across her skin is impossible to ignore. How improper, he thinks, teal eyes lingering on a strap near her crotch; it doesn't look comfortable to him. Sheryl sure comes up with the most outrageous ideas to loosen him up.
Swallowing yet another lump, Slaine allows his hand to slowly rest on that area, pushing it away from the slit and— oh. His fingers are shivering and his back turns rigid, a shaky breath drawn out from his lips. It's only been a few moments ago that he fondled her right there. Hard to forget how Sheryl felt and sounded from beneath his fingertips, only he was pretending to be someone else.
This time, however, he'll touch her again — as himself. Far unlike his previous movements, it's as gentle as he can make it while pressing his palm against the crux of her thighs, slow and steady, almost experimentally to see how she looks.
no subject
Her hands are bound behind her back (now underneath her), her legs bent and tied. She can, however, spread her legs for him, which she does eagerly, because please take the hint, Slaine. She's practically glistening, and when his fingers touch her heat, she audibly moans through the fabric of the gag, arching her back and trying to push into the touch.
The next time she looks up at him, it's pleading, desperate. This is not the time to be gentle and exploratory, Slaine.