It’s midnight. She stands. Still. Looking into the darkness, gazing at the shadows which form the mass of vegetation at the bottom of the yard. Her awareness is all-encompassing; the smell of fresh cut grass, damp from the intermittant showers; the stillness of the hour; his presence behind her, watching.

Wrapping his arms around from behind she responds; sliding her hands along his forearms. Holding. Silence. A deep breath. His grip is strong but not demanding. His manner has never frightened her. An unspoken level of trust exists. Patience. Respect. He recognises the child within finding her both challenging and beautiful.

He kisses her neck.

Tilting her head she allows him access to warm, sensitive flesh but her gaze remains with the shadows. She soon finds her thoughts drifting to moist lips now upon her; lips that rapidly move to teeth – biting, demanding teeth. Her focus is suddenly wrenched into the reality of his urgency as he grips her body tight. He pulls her to him, turning her as he does so, and she finds herself held without escape. He pauses. Looks into her depths. And she allows him to. He gives her a few seconds grace; time to get used to his strength; time to realise that for the moment she is his.

Sliding his left hand into her hair, he pulls; elbow into her back as her neck arches to its fullest extent. His grip hurts and she fights briefly but his response is firm. But whereas she capitulates, his cruelty barely wanes.

A drop of water strikes her upturned face. It has begun to rain.

She is of earth and fire. Water is the one thing that tames her. It quietens her. The rain on her face in the quietude of night, the black expanse of a cloudy sky above, it all serves to draw her inward. And the pain has taken on a different quality.

With his free hand, and her co-operation, he removes her shirt. The keys in her right hand drop to the grass as she shrugs the fabric loose. The cooling night air caresses her nakedness as his hand forcefully caresses her right breast. Hand still wrapped in her hair tightly he leans in and takes to her erect nipple with sharp teeth. A sharp breath drawn and his cruelty forces the groan from her parched throat. Her arms instinctively wrap around his body to both steady herself as well as communicate a now burning need; a need that finds her craving the pain in order to sate the sudden ache felt so keenly at her sex. As if in answer he releases control of her head to unbutton jeans that are forced downwards and beyond her knees. Leaning in he abruptly sucks her hood into his mouth. Her body shudders in reply, a loud moan escaping lips made wet by the steady rain. He knows her body and mind well and toys with her; tongue and mouth playing expertly. It is not only the rain which smears her inner thighs.

He stands to whisper in her ear, “I’ve not finished with you yet”. He says this to remind her; to raise her ire; to bring about awareness within her; to assert his dominance over a powerful woman who gives nothing easily. And standing half naked in the rain, she lets him. With that he once again wraps her hair around his hand, telling her that he might take her arse this time as he forces her to bend over. She hears him unbuckle his belt. His jeans drop as his hardness rubs the length of her sex slowly. Once.

Anticipation grips her and the ache inside grows fiercly. Her swollen cunt throbs to the beat of her pounding heart. She stands, bent over before him. Vulnerable. Soaked. Wanton. Craving that his cock fill her. That he fuck her, decidedly; assuage the need burning deep inside her. Reaching between her legs she guides his swollen member to the entrance of her cunt where he hesitates, his hand pulling her head back to fullest extent. His calm observation from earlier that week comes flooding back to her in that moment; “Sometime this week, I am going to take your arse again, and I’ll do it while pulling your head right back… mmmm, I’d enjoy that”. As his cock hovers she waits. And as he enters her savagely she cries out. He fills her aching cunt, driving his cock deep. It hurts – almost more that she can bear. He fucks her savagely. Fingers digging into her hips brutally as he pulls her towards him at every cruel stroke. She bucks and mewls, her utterings punctured by intermittant cries of pain. Her knees grow weaker with his every thrust but just as she buckles he slows, holding her to him tightly. Time stops for her.

His cock begins sliding in and out of her slowly, soothingly. He strokes her; his quietly commanding touch calming her, hushing her. Gentle. Tender. Her body and mind responding in kind. His rhythm taking her gradually. Arousal building steadily within.

Her breath now ragged she moans with growing intensity as his rhythm builds with increasing urgency. His thrusts become deeper and deeper as he buries his cock inside her time and time again but she no longer feels the pain of previously. The cravings of body and mind sees her meeting his thrusts with her own. Pushing against him with every ounce of her being her urges build with each savage stroke until she can contain her release no more. A single cry into the still night air and she tenses, expelling his cock violently; her entire body shaking as she does so. But still he fucks her and it again begins to hurt. She protests. He ignores her pleas.

His strong hands pulls her upright. She is spent. He is not finished with her, however, and she finds herself face to face with her sweet tormenter. He kisses her reverently. Holds her softly as he lifts her chin to place tender lips upon her neck. Then begins caressing both nipples firmly. She knows his intent and a sudden intense pain drops her to her knees. It is then that her awareness expands. Wet grass. Rain. She had forgotten in her pain infused fugue.

His engorged cock stands hard only millimetres from her face. Glistening with her juices she licks; the tip of her tongue against the tip of his cock. He grabs a handful of her hair and she knows to take him into her hungry mouth without protest. He is not entertaining her games tonight. The night’s velvet silence then becomes a backdrop for his slow yet commanding voice. “You’re going to swallow every drop tonight”. Her heart skips a beat at the quietness of his tone. He means it. Guiding her head firmly towards his groin it is as if her protest is anticipated. She takes his entire length into her mouth. Feeling him at the back of her throat he holds her there for the briefest moment then eases his grip; allowing her to once again breath as she withdraws; the taste of her own arousal mingling with his on her tongue.

She slides his cock in and out; sometimes pausing to gently lick his sensitive glans; hesitating to suck the swollen head; flick her tongue over it quickly; circle the tip slowly. Licking his shaft from balls to tip she then slides her moist lips over the end of his hardness and devours him savagely, only to oh so slowly withdraw, tease, entice. His cock is the hardest she’s ever experienced it and all she wants to do is make him ache.

If she cannot have complete control then at least he will come when she is ready.

Her ministrations continue; nails gently find this balls to caress and stroke, tongue playing along his shaft and balls, sucking him into her mouth. She knows what she can do to men; delay or hasten their ecstasy. She knows the signs and reads them well, using that knowledge to pace him. But as she settles into a rhythm of her own design, he grips her hair painfully; forcing her hard against him as he thrusts slowly to his fullest extend. He holds momentarily. She cannot breathe and cannot move.

His control continues as he fucks her mouth carefully; rhythm and depth his to determine. She feels his balls tighten at her fingers. His thrusts become more urgent. His grip, tight. Cock sliding. In and out. Faster. And on occasion, deeper.

Then he comes.

He fills her with his seed; hot, salty, sticky seed. His cock throbs in her mouth as he empties himself, groaning in satisfaction. She swallows. And again. His thrusting slows as he releases the handful of hair in his grasp. Withdrawing his cock his large hands gently stroke and hold her head close in the warmth of his loins. She rests her hands on his thighs in silence.

Rain falls gently. The night is peaceful in its velvet silence. The scent of fresh cut grass once again pervades her senses. The damp beneath her knees. The heat of her body. Wet skin. The taste in her mouth.

And she is calm.

They remain there for a few minutes. He holding and stoking her hair and face. She leaning against him. And satisfaction plays softly on her face having claimed both the night and his tenderness as her own.