March Wk. 5 Art Challenge - Trysts!

[Ubique]

this challenge is open to any typical form of art or expression, including 2D, 3D, poetry and short stories.

so....marriage isn't the big deal here some of us thought it was! so how about trysts? affairs? that woman you can't stay away from. that man who speaks in your ear over your shoulder and makes your knees quiver. they aren't your mate, they aren't your husband. and maybe you sneak around in order to see them. her kisses on your lips stain your fantasies even while you make love to another. no one thrusts into you quite like he does, knows the slut inside you like he does...

so write it out! draw it out! that forbidden kiss and stolen moment! one night stand or longtime lover!

[Ehlanna]

Meant this for the previous week, but it fits this theme better, I think ...

[Tehya]

Very nice Ehlanna!

[Stormbringer]

What goes on behind those net curtains...

[Tehya]

Tryst

He warned her of golden eyes

Primal sex

Teasing her with ill respect

The room of burgundy and gold

A promise of flowers not even sold

There can be all kinds of love

To honor and hold

Or a tryst of lust

With each wicked thrust

Earth shattering climax so grand

Pain and passion she couldn’t even stand

Wickedness engraved her mind

While their bodies kissed and entwined

When his eyes turned gold

There became a secret story she never told

A fragile thing a tryst

For honor and hold shall always exist

[kitten]

Zeph pulls the robe around him and ties it as best he could, noting that the towel went to the floor. A grin creased over his lips then as he let a roaming thought run through his mind. "No, it was fine. Just was not expecting the delivery from Silents Embrace is all." A shrug was given then, "Besides it did give me a reason to send word, to find out a few things." He nods as he listens, "That sounds good. I am sure that it would be appreciated, so that i do not catch something." He would not get sick, ever, there were things about him that most didn't know, but it had to do with a few items that were booned to him. But at the moment, he wouldn't bring that up, as he would take the time to be there with the woman. "I take it that i am getting a view of what you wear more time than not around here?" Walking over to the couch then, and taking a seat upon it.

Faith listens then chuckles lightly, "and what few things did you find out?" curious to what he was meaning. she goes about getting some tea mugs and such, she fills a kettle and sets it by the fire to heat up. she watches as he takes a seat, she blinks then nods, "oh. well. most times. yes." about the towel she had on after her bath. a slight laugh at a glance towards thier situation, "so we both look of drowned rats.. i wish it was better weather or that i had more than robes and towels to spare."

Zeph shifts a bit upon the couch. "That there was no one here with you." He grins as he spoke. Watching the movements of her body, and how the towel hugged her slender form.

http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L8cpnzc_Gso/TWBvQ-v74WI/AAAAAAAAACg/lPWz0lz_oe4/s1600/Fantasy-Dark-4807.jpg

[Ubique]

wow, great entries!! stormbringer, that thing with the curtain was just amazing!

i think this time i'm feeling like writing too. such inspiration here! this is what i think of when i think of tryst. i will try to keep it short...! that's hard!

The heat of his breath on her neck as his finger pulled a lock of her soft hair to the side and exposed an expanse of sensitive flesh was almost too much for her to take. It was like having the lava of a flowing volcano poured over her skin and she slid away from him, out of his reach - or so she thought. But he was on her like a shadow, his lips now kissing that skin that had bristled with the heat of his whispers.
"Don't fight me," he half hissed, half spoke, and even the sound of his voice after not hearing him speak for ever so long, at least in her direction, was enough to make her legs want to collapse beneath her. "Just let me..."
Let him what? Oh she well knew but still, the reward of his actions as he pressed her forward against the nearest wall and lifted her tunic up over her strong hips to expose her ass cheeks to him was wondrous indeed. She could feel his meat's heat before it ever touched her, and it was all she could do to not press back against him. But this wasn't supposed to happen, she was supposed to be stronger than this. Wiser, smarter.
As he entered her, she gave in utterly, breasts pressed through her shirt to the cool of the adobe wall before her, her head tilting back as she let out a soft moan. He was rough with her, he knew what she liked, and as he slid that thick length into the crevice of her body, he found her wet and he found her wanton.
"Gods, hurry," she cried, almost weeping the words. She wanted to be with him for hours, but time was against her, against them. And as much as he knew it, it seemed like he took forever to bring himself to a head, to bring their secret tryst to its ultimate climax.
She was a puddle of flesh when he left, curled up against the edge of the wall where it met the tiled stones of the floor beneath her. She hugged her knees to her chest, knowing that later on she would wonder why she gave him what she had, why she let him have her so abruptly, so effortlessly. But for now, there was only that sweet golden sensation of having been had. By him. And that anticipation of the next time, when no one was looking. The thrill of the risk outweighed the punishments that loomed in her future. All to be with him.

[mozenwrathe]

*When one thinks of intimacy, the mind to does not immediately slide to either goblins or ogres. Most consider them brutish and ignorable, filthy or callous. Surprisingly enough, that argument about whether or not they can be as tender as a flower petal if they were raised in a different environment is as old as any sage elf. The end result of tests on the matter? Well, they varied. And these "tests" normally meant a lot of raids and kidnappings. Such is the educational mind within Belariath indeed.*

Great Taste Starts With Quality
by Ruidyynäh, lover of Shéyriöa and Ariaz Refinnej, former slave along with Touhoushinki

If there is anything I remember about my days with My Possessor, was that he loved his dalliances. Not all of them were to his immediate benefit, I have to admit. More than once, was he subject to the same whims and winds of fate that sweep up any elf or vulpani, human or dwarf. My Possessor had a great love of variety, so he was rarely finicky about whom he would stick his tongue or shaft into. He merely had three rules that needed to be maintained at all times: they had to be clean, they had to speak a language he understood, and they had to be desirable to him. He cared little about how attractive others around him thought the person. After all, My Possessor was a wolven, and his appetite for food was almost as impressive as his appetite for passionate affairs. There was a reason he owned five of us in his personal slave folds., and it was not simply to boast about how much coin he had in his satchels.

One thing My Possessor loved doing was distracting his target's mate or owner with "bits of fluff" as he liked to call them. Not usually his own personal slaves, but good looking women and men from off the street who had nothing or next to nothing. Some gold and silver into their hands, and they would allow My Possessor to "transform" them, if you would, from some random homeless beggar to an amazing looking tidbit to be presented. It was his way of making sure the one he wanted would be left completely alone or unguarded. Not that he had a fetish for danger, but that which he wasn't supposed to touch always intrigued him. He could not understand why anyone would prevent -Him- from sampling everything that was on the social menu, as it were. He had fought for Nobles and saved the lives of soldiers, educated the sons of merchants and the daughters of priests. As far as he was concerned, everything was there just for him to taste and touch... within certain reason, of course.

He loved seducing men even more than women. Something about making a male submit to his heavy thickness pressing slowly into them, his teeth scraping their shoulders but never cutting them, and hearing them whimper for his length to impale them fully always amused him. This wasn't a bad thing, unless the male happened to be a notorious hater of anything with claws or talons and only wanted females in his bed. That sort of thing happened twice, and the second time he finished soiling the man's sheets with his own seed, My Possessor had to wake us up in our inn room and bustle us out of doors in cover of night. Apparently the sex was so good the Noble's father wanted in on the fun... and wanted My Possessor collared like a dog to make sure it happened whenever he wanted. That wasn't what my owner considered a good time by any means.

Every so often, My Possessor allowed we his slaves to be the subject of the illicit affections of others. Though not quite a complete hedonist, he believed his slaves should experience all sorts of wanton experiences - both good and bad. So once in a while, he allowed a married man or woman to think they got one over on him. The fortunate person would sneak into whatever room or hall My Possessor had us staying with to indulge themselves once or twice. One rather brave laird actually did craftily get into the sheets and between the thighs of one of My Possessor's slaves without him noticing thrice over. Of course, he was out of the town at the time, and said slave had been told to "be good to any who requested nicely." When my wolven master returned to the inn he had put us up in, was he none too pleased. His punishment for the slave was to bathe and tend to his fur wearing chain mail every day for a week. She hated the feeling of metal anywhere on her body, and was sobbing in misery by the third day. The laird, of course, suffered no ill. After all, he was actually important - unlike we slave-flesh that were under the will and whim of My Possessor. Though, I do remember hearing as we left My Possessor chose to enjoy the bed of the laird's mother, sister, and three aunts before we left...

Killing the desire of a wolven takes normally a shock to the system. My Possessor never suffered such trauma in his life that would keep him from hunting down someone he wanted and creeping into their rooms like a spider. Not as a spider, mind you, for such transformations were beyond and beneath him. More often than not, would my owner and trainer in so many things go alone to sup upon the forbidden ambrosia - especially if there was the risk of one of us being harmed in being caught. It would be a special occasion for him to take one of us along to one of his secretive sexual sessions. Though he did change slaves every few months to a few years, most of us were with him for quite some time, and therefore were brought at least once. He liked doing it with those men that loved men, so there would be an audience for his ravishing ways. Once, he had dwarven damsel he owned at the time compose poetry while he sodomized a minotaur merchant's favourite elven man-pet. After making the poor slave pass out in carnal exhaustion, he had the poem written out properly on good parchment and left on the sticky chest of the slave. I have no idea what he was thinking when doing such, but I know he was in a frighteningly good mood for two days afterwards. Another time it was an ogre who had slighted him in public he thoroughly seduced, sodomized, scraped the shoulders of, and had singing out his praises. That time, was it an catgirl he had snagged from a village. He had her transform into a boy and drain the ogre's shaft by stroking him to four different orgasms. And then he had the catgirl slave transform back and press her sex against his face until she herself came. Though this was not just to humiliate him, but mark him: the ogre's main lover was a barbarian savage who despised catgirls. And now would he smell of such unless he managed to get to the baths in time for a long soak.

Yes, My Possessor could be cruel with his chosen lovers. He thought it kept the mind sharp if you did something people would hate you for while making them addicted to you. That, of course, and the fact some times he just felt like hurting someone's feelings and twisting their personal honour for their trespasses against him. What can I say? He was The Master, and I was no more than slave-flesh. He would have loved the empire of Ilfiran had he lived quite that long, for have many embraced what he had lived throughout his life wholeheartedly.