It's a re-upload, but some people told me they enjoyed my history ramblings. And by some people I mean like... two of them. One of whom may or may not be a pigeon. :D

So:
There are days when a warrior just needs to lay down and receive head pats. This is one of these days.

Click here to listen.

You have been so stressed-out lately, and the one thing that will help you to relax and ground yourself is... A lesson in medieval German history and Middle High German! Yes, really. Trust me on this one.
History is her love language, and she will shower you in praise because of it.

Best listened to with headphones at the end of a long day.

Today was mine. I got to read the book I wanted; I got to go on a long run. I got to relax in the tub. Everything was taken care of, and I was just… being.

I was still being when I lay down at nightfall. My good boy was on his knees in front of the bed, his hands holding my bare thighs open. I knew he had been thinking about my taste on his tongue the whole day, because he came in with the biggest grin this morning, kissing my shoulder and whispering these wonderful words in my ear: "I would like to eat you out tonight. If you feel like it, my Princess."

Oh, how I did feel like it. This was for me. He was being so good, he kept everything and everyone off my back, and he was still serving me. I didn't even have to think about it. He just… served.

I opened my legs further as he lapped at my core. His tongue worked my clit, gentle strokes at first, then he became more eager. Hungrier. His lips pressed against mine, then they wrapped around the swollen pearl of my clit and started sucking. My legs instinctively wrapped around the back of his head, holding him where I needed him most. My knight. My sweet man.

"Just like that," I moaned, encouraging him as he breathed me in. He gave me another little suck. Tasting me, breathing me in. With a breathy voice, I only gave one gentle instruction: "Put your tongue on my clit again."

He obeyed. Deliberate licking. A moan escaped me. Then another one. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the wet sounds he made on my pussy and these little moans I felt vibrating through me, letting him hear how much I appreciated him. His tongue made me tense up in the best kind of way.

This was when he added his fingers. Two of them thrust into me, mindful to choose an angle I would feel comfortable with, pressing up, not down where I had that little invisible scar that I got for making us a family. Up, where I would feel him the most. He pressed against the back of my clit, that delightful spot that we had spent a lot of time exploring lately.

"Ahh!" I moaned louder. Harder. It felt exhilarating, magical. My good knight brought me closer, and closer still, giving me more of his worship, more of that delicious tension inside me.

"Hng… S-So good for me," I breathed, pressing my core to his face. His fingers curled, pressing deliberately at my G-spot.
He hummed against me. “My Queen.” More caresses from his lips and tongue. “You deserve this.”

"My good boy… Sweetest knight." I reached out, my hand resting on his head while my thighs held him. A flicker of reason went through my mind. "I- I must warn you, it's going to get wet," I managed to say, but it only made him dive in deeper. His hands grabbed me harder.

This was all I needed to know. His magic fingers gave me another deliberate caress from inside me, while his tongue lapped at me. I cried out in happiness.

It felt so fucking good that my moan almost turned into a scream.

More.

I want more. Need more.

Did I say that out loud? Maybe. My vision turned white for a moment, and I felt my release ripple through me… And gush out of me. One squirt of release. Another one, while my body surrendered to pleasure and my thighs kept him in place.

The wave went on and I was riding it, while he kept his fingers where I needed them and his mouth— He dove in completely.

He drank me up. Lapping, swallowing. Until my thighs were shaking.

It might have been a minute. Or seconds. I didn't care. It was only when my thighs went from quivering to shaking that his licks turned from urgent to gentle.

He kept eating me out until I was calm and relaxed. Only then did he pull back, giving me the biggest grin, his wet beard tickling my skin. "Happy Mother's Day, my Queen."

 

sub: This feels so good. You rail me so good. Please give me a spank!
Dom: *slaps the sub's behind as hard as they can*
sub: NOT LIKE THAT! This hurts!
Dom: Sorry, I thought you liked it like that. Sorry!

They end the scene here, and the sub approaches their Dom later, trying to explain their point of view.

sub: I like it when you build it up, and it gets harder, but I asked for a little smack, not... that.
Dom: I already apologized, didn't I?

Does this sound familiar? Then this text might be for you. Please, take a moment, sit down and let's talk. To those who don't know me: Hi, I am Dove, a NSFW writer/artist who occasionally likes to join discussions about gentle, safe BDSM. There are so many guides out there how to do BDSM right, so today I want to talk about BDSM gone wrong. The above example is from a couple I know, and I have their permission to share this here. The external example is something I chose because it's easier for me to discuss this from an outside perspective.

This is a little reminder for all the subs and Doms out there who learn and grow together as they explore what they like. Lately I have seen an alarming amount of BDSM advice that has been badly researched at best and abusive at worst. As someone who has been part of the scene for several years now and has had her fair share of doing things wrong herself, I would like to share with you some thoughts about this.

The reality is we can do all the reading work in the world, there are still things that can go wrong during a session. The important part is not to never mess up, but to handle it responsibly when it happens.
In the example above you can see that both parties have communicated poorly, and the Dom acted irresponsibly. The sub enjoyed impact play and had asked for harder spankings in the past, which the Dom here took as a green light to just hit them hard because "that's what they wanted". The sad part is this often happens and stops there without ever getting resolved. But the good part is that these issues can be fixed. First, let's take a look at what went wrong:

1. Miscommunication: The sub asked for a (little) spank, and had told their Dom that they liked to be spanked hard in a conversation prior. The Dom misunderstood the context of impact play (The sub wanted a smack of approval, not an actual hard slap) and the sub explicitly used the word "spank"
2. Lack of accountability: Instead of owning up to the mistake, the Dom gets defensive ("I apologized already, didn't I?"). Now this kind of attitude is where BDSM can turn into abuse, and even without malicious intent will feel like abuse to the sub. It doesn't matter if they both communicated poorly beforehand, the sub is the one in actual pain, and the Dom has a responsibility here. Before both re-discuss what kind of impact play is actually wanted (and when), he needs to make sure the sub feels safe enough to open up about this.

Now, how to fix that?

Doms, do read up on how to take care of your partners when things go too far. The correct response to a sub signaling something goes too far is to stop the scene immediately and make sure they are alright. A "too far" does not start with a safeword, it can be a sub who is overwhelmed and signals they did not want this, which happened in the example above. I place more responsibility on the Dom in this scenario because a sub can simply be overwhelmed by the impact (literally) and might have trouble speaking up right away. These things happen! We all fall sometimes. And us Doms need to be the safe haven here, especially when we were the storm before.

For the Doms: Give your subs options and ask them what they need. That means: You stop the session. You sit next to them, and ask them what they need. A better response here would be something like: "I am sorry, I didn't mean to actually hurt you. Let's stop here for a moment. What can I do for you right now? I would like to hold you and soothe you if you like to be touched. But I can also bring you a blanket, a hot cocoa and an ice pack. And give you some space. You don't have to speak right now if it's too much, just nod if you want me here with you, or shake your head if you need some space, we will go from there. I got you. I am here for you."

And later it's important to own up to a mistake without being defensive or deflective. "I am sorry I hurt you." No ifs. No buts. An actual apology.

For the subs: It is not your fault your Dom hit you too hard. Even when you asked for a harder spanking beforehand, it does not mean you always have to be spanked with full force. And this is exactly what your Dom needs to hear when you discuss this again. Tell them how you feel. You can agree on using a specific word when you want a hard spank, so maybe you'll ask for a little "smack" when you want something light.
This talk does not have to be in that exact moment, it is okay to sleep on this until you find the words to express yourself. But expressing yourself is important, it helps to keep both of you happy and safe. When expressing yourself is hard, practice it. Your Dom has a responsibility, yes, and so do you. You both hold equal responsibility of your couple dynamic, and the unequal power during a session or inside your D/s dynamic is something you grant, not something anyone gets to take.

Will they be okay?
The couple from this example had this discussion a day later. They spoke about what went wrong, and what both of them needed. They practiced this scenario without actual impact play by going through the steps I mentioned above (stopping a scene, the Dom asking the sub what they needed, trying out different aftercare techniques like snuggling, gentle whispers and a weighted blanket to see which felt right).

They messed up, and they learned. I encourage you to do the same. Because at some point, you will mess up. We all do. And we will have to handle our mistakes.
If you find yourself in a similar scenario that stopped at "Well, I apologized" and never got worked through, I encourage you to please leave that dynamic.

Be safe out there. 🤍​

Click spoiler for additional tag, but I recommend to just read the story without the spoiler for a little surprise! :-) >!squirting!<

“Honey, I’m home!” His voice carried over, and I stayed at my desk, typing away. When he approached a moment later, he looked… restless. As he leaned in, I tilted my head, accepting a soft kiss on my neck, and chuckled when he lingered. And kissed me again.

“Needy, aren’t we?” I grinned. “How come you are so nervous today?”
My fingers touched his chin, holding him in place so he would look at me. He bit his lip. “It’s your fault,” he said, almost sulking.

“How so?”
His eyes flickered over to the pile of books I had placed strategically on the sideboard so he would have to walk past them before getting here. He mumbled: “Do you have to leave your sex books lying around everywhere?”
I lifted an eyebrow, letting go of his chin. “Sex books,” I repeated. “For starters, Vagina Obscura is not a sex book, it is a well-researched history book,” I scolded. “And just because ‘Every Body’ features—”
He interrupted: “I only peeked at one chapter, and I landed directly on a page about masturbation!”

My eyebrow lifted higher. “And?” The books were not the thing in this household that would make anyone clutch their pearls, to say the least. And we both knew the books were not the issue here.
His shoulders slumped. “I have been seeing you working on this project for a whole week now and I know it’s important, but… you read all these facts about sex and masturbation… It makes me horny.” He finally admitted. Then he gestured at the goodie box that sat on my desk. “You even have a dildo and a vibe lying around here, for Heaven’s sake!” Oh… That. I placed it there, but not for book research. It was something I researched for him, specifically.
I scooted back on my office chair, adjusting my glasses. “And who will decide when your horniness will be released with a climax?”
My heart skipped a beat when he went on his knees, gently caressing my knee with his hand. “You are, my Queen.” His words almost melted me into the chair. He had been so good. Admittedly I had tortured him with denial for a whole week. It had been hard for me, but it was a decision that would benefit both of us. My research had not been for the book this week. It was a special gift he had earned, and he was about to find out.
“Such a good boy.” I nudged my knee into his hand, opening my legs a little. He leaned in, his eyes finding mine to see how I would react before he pulled up my skirt lightly, just far enough to reveal the pale skin of my knee and lower thigh. His beard tickled me as he brushed a tender kiss above my knee.
“Always good for you,” he promised. Another kiss up my thigh. “Let me help you relax, my Queen.” He inhaled my scent. “You know I have been your good man. Goddess, I have craved to smell you. That scent…” He left a trail of kisses up my thigh, going underneath the fabric of my plaid-patterned skirt. Then he inhaled again, pressing his nose in the already damp patch of my panties. He hissed.

And my initial plan on wanting to play it cool and torture him a little more flew out the window. Desire could be a force of nature. And mine had been rising for days now. I knew I was fertile. And this little hiss was all I needed. It made me feral.
“Let your good boy serve you. My Queen deserves to have her knight take care of her.” His voice was still coaxing, but my thighs had fallen open already. He pulled my panties aside, finding my folds—
“So fucking wet,” he said with a growl. Then he dove in.
My head fell back when he lapped at me ferociously, finding that sweet nectar he loved so much. I could hear him hum in appreciation. And every little lap sent a jolt through my body. It short-circuited my brain right away. I wanted this feeling. His tongue diving into my heat, caressing my clit, making my heart race.
“Ah… My Knight… Hm…” I moaned, leaning back in my office chair. My hand found the back of his head, clawing into his long hair. He hummed, a dark sound of approval when he sucked at my swollen clit until I started to twitch. My hips moved, offering him a rhythm.

“I can taste that you are needy. That time of the month, hm?”

Damn it. His words made me drip. He reached behind himself without pulling his mouth off me. The collar. He had reached for the collar. It was something we used as a signal. He wanted to take the lead. Before I was able to process it, the shiny little chain went around my neck. He pulled back, gripped my chin and looked at me.
“My turn to play, Queen.” He breathed against my mouth. I could smell my essence in his beard, a perfume of arousal. “Will you be good for me?”
Fuck. I gasped. It took a little tug on the chain until I remembered to speak.
“Yes…” I breathed back.
Before I could add anything else, my chair hit the wall next to me with its back, leaving me effectively trapped between him and the wall. He pulled my legs up. And my panties too, pulling them over my lifted legs until I lay bare and exposed in front of him. The fact that my office chair was one of the XXL variety came in handy for him; it allowed him to tilt my upper body back until my legs almost rested next to my head. The tension felt… deliciously good.

“This pussy is mine now,” he growled, rubbing it with his hand. His fingers were slick right away. I felt them inside of me, mapping out my inner walls and massaging my G-spot.
“Hngh…” I answered elaborately.
“Good girl.”
He kept stroking me with his slick fingers while his other hand reached for the box on my desk. “So… So much ‘research’ you did here, hm? Be truthful, is this for your book?” He held the pink G-spot dildo close to my face. It was curved and had a thicker tip than base, designed to hit all the right places.
Fuck. Of course he saw through my little game right away. And I found that I wanted him to see through it. I shook my head, trying to push my core against his fingers without letting my legs down.

He pulled his hand away, steadied my legs to keep them up, and slowly teased my pulsing entrance with the tip of the dildo. “So… Be good and tell me why you placed it here on your desk. Was it to be naughty?”
“N-No…,” I moaned as the round tip nudged between my labia. He teased my clit with a deliberate, “accidental” little stroke.
“Why then?” He simply asked and stopped moving the dildo. I understood. Answer first, pleasure second.
“I wanted you to use it on me,” I confessed. And I realized that the position he chose, legs up and hips tilted, had been exactly the one I had in mind. For science. Literally.
The thick tip of the dildo went inside of me until it finally disappeared in my slick heat. “I…” I whimpered.
“Use your words, my good girl.” He slowed the movement, not to tease me now, but to let me speak. “I wanted you to use this angle. Specifically.” I moaned as he hit my G-spot. “Just like that… Ah… And the vibe, too. To… Hng… It… I wanted to show you something. A surprise.”
He teased my entrance with the dildo again, letting it slide in and out of me. “Hm… I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
He reached for my desk again and handed me the vibe, a small one that was designed to suck on the clit. “Tease your clit. Don’t cum yet. But tell me if the angle is right.”
The dildo slid into me. He found the perfect angle, thrusting slightly from above as he met my lifted hips. I reached around my own leg and held the little vibe to my clit.
“That’s my girl.” He growled. The dildo picked up the pace. The G-spot stimulation was a lot, and it was something I had only started to explore recently. For him. That he took it now by himself was… insanely hot. My mind was still reminding me that this was the feeling of inner pressure I had been aiming for, something to please him with, but the control of my pleasure had been surrendered to him.
The curved tip stretched my entrance every time he pulled it back and almost out of me. Then it went in again. My fingers clamped down on the vibe as I held it against my swollen clit.
“Hm… Ah… Ahhh…” My moans sounded needy. Gods, I did need this. The pleasure came from both sides, from my clit, and from the depth of my vagina as he worked me. I had to pull the vibe back.
“Close already, Princess?” His voice was not taunting me. He spoke lovingly.
As I looked up at him, I could see the adoration in his eyes. And the hunger. He was enjoying this, and ignored the thick bulge that was tenting his dress pants entirely.
I nodded, feeling the building pressure behind my clit where he thrust the dildo into me.
“You may cum,” he said softly. “But be warned. We are not done here. If you think you can handle that…”
The vibe was back on my clit in an instant. My body craved this, and I didn’t care for ifs and buts. I had to fucking cum.
And fucking cum I did. The vibration on my clit sent me over the edge, my little moans became more urgent, louder. A high-pitched keen. Then it turned into a growl as the waves of pleasure hit me. Normally I would clamp down, but he kept my legs up and my pussy stretched open, so the orgasm opened me.
The vibe fell from my hand. And he still pushed the dildo into me. “Oh…” I groaned. My thighs were shivering; he refused to let me come down from my high.
“Yes!” I cried. “Just like this! Please… Ah…”
“Such a good girl.” He said it reverently. With his free hand he opened his fly and pulled pants and underpants down. And in an instant the dildo was replaced by him. Warm, thick and hard. I cried out. Had my mind not gone out the window a few seconds earlier, I would have thought that this was exactly what I had planned, and that it was remarkable how aligned we were. But my mind was sailing away on waves of bliss as he fucked me senseless.
“So very good,” he said, more urgently now. “Taking my cock, moaning so beautifully.” He slammed into me. “Take it, Princess!”
“To see you cum—” He growled and picked up a faster pace. His hands gripped onto the armrests of my chair, and the pressure, the feeling of pressure that had not gone away since the first orgasm became almost unbearable.
“Ahhh!” I screamed my arousal out. And it happened. The pressure gave way. A gush of liquid hit him, wetting his lower abdomen.
He froze. “What?”
He pulled out, gripping his cock and falling on his knees. “Goddess!” He managed to exclaim as another gush hit him, but this time he was prepared. He dove in and his open lips sealed me as I whimpered, shivering through the second orgasm while my essence, clear and abundant, squirted out of me. His tongue worked me; he drank me up and groaned. Swallowed. Licked. Swallowed again. I was still trembling. When he came up, his beard was wet. Soaked. He pumped himself vigorously.
“You…” he breathed, stroking his hard cock with one hand while his other hand held my legs up again. A final little squirt left me as he brushed his thumb against my clit. And he erupted. With a loud growl he came, spending his own essence all over my throbbing pussy, marking me in the most primal way possible. Spurt after spurt hit me and trickled over my mons, my labia and my thighs. And it was the hottest thing I ever felt.
After what felt like minutes, even though it was likely only a few seconds, he helped me to pull my legs down and even kept my skirt bunched up to not make it messier than it already was. I leaned back in my chair.
He kissed me, sealing my lips with his, then he caressed my cheek. “You can squirt like this?” he asked with a dreamy smile. I nodded sheepishly. “That… uh… was the subject of my recent research.”
This made him laugh. A heartfelt laugh that made his eyes shine and his shoulders quiver. “My Queen. And my Princess.” He kissed me again. “My love.”

I leaned over the sink, splashing water on my face and could feel his gaze on me, taking in every curve embraced by body-hugging sportswear. We had a tight schedule today. But it didn't matter.

My words were not needed to coax him closer to me. As I stuck my bottom out, his hands found my hips on their own. Strong arms wrapped around me. His nose buried in my neck.

"Mhmm…" I hummed, pressing myself against him. He had been all over me for days now. "You smell it, don't you?"

He breathed his response against my skin. A rhetorical question; he had been trying to get a whiff of me all morning, bringing his face close to me. He did smell the rising restlessness in my body. He heard the call. Fingers caressed the curve of my butt, then they found my hip. And dove into the tight pants, right underneath my panties. I let him.

My own fingers gripped onto the sink, but he was the one who hissed. Soaked.
I pressed back against his touch, letting his fingers part the petals of a flower in full bloom.
I didn't even bother about the damp patch in my panties; it would have appeared there sooner or later anyway. I was almost at the peak of my most feral self today. My hips swayed, and I gave him a little moan that was not only joy, but a deliberate tease.

"So good for me," I moaned as two fingers dipped into my moist heat. I clamped down on them and felt my wetness covering his knuckles.

Light thrusts. Little moans. His body pressed against mine. Just a moment. Just a little appetizer.
I gave him a nudge, and he pulled his digits out of me. My fingers closed around his wrist, and I didn't need to guide him when his slick fingers went up to his mouth, coating the beard above his lip in my essence. I brushed a kiss into the corner of his mouth. My scent lingered between us. Light, sweet. Fertile. “Good. Breathe me in,” I urged.

He inhaled. "Now I may smell you the whole day, my Queen."

"Very good. When I come back, I am going to feed you properly, my sweet Knight." Another quick kiss, before I left for my routine, feeling the wetness blooming in my panties. I was looking forward to dinner.

 

 

The headdress felt heavier than expected as I stepped from the changing hut. Bronze mask, double moons on my forehead, gossamer veil brushing my collarbone—but beneath the ceremony, I was already thinking of him. Him. My partner. My fingers trembled as I adjusted the mask, and not from the weight of headdress.

This was my first Sabbat as her. The priestess. The vessel. Not the maiden I'd been, not the mother I'd become, but the Huntress. The one who runs. The one who claims. My mentor pressed the vial of sacred oil into my palm. "Choose wisely tonight," she'd said. "The Goddess will be with you, but you still choose who receives Her."

I understood now. I was more than myself, yet somehow more of myself. Leader and servant. Lover and predator.

The others were dancing when I emerged, beer bottles in hand, radio songs I half-recognized. But I didn't scan the crowd for friends. I found him immediately: My lover, bare-chested by the bonfire, already wearing his antlers, already watching for me. We'd been lovers first. Then partners. Even Mistress and her servant. But we had been always gentle and human. Tonight the rules changed. Tonight I would hunt him, and if I caught him, I would tear him open in ways our bed never allowed. If I failed, if he reached the Maypole first, he could choose any willing woman beneath the full moon.

He would choose me. I knew he would. But I needed him to run.

The drums started their heartbeat as I stepped to the central fire. I nodded at the singers; they faded, guitars softening to rhythm. The crowd formed their circle, faces I knew turning solemn in the shifting light.

From my veil, I found my lover’s eyes. Held them. What we leap toward, we claim.

My handmaiden approached. I let her remove the veil. And then, deliberately, I cupped her cheek and kissed her, tasting the sweet mead on her lips. A public blessing. The crowd murmured approval. "I know what you've prayed for," I whispered, and took her flask.

The viscous liquid felt heavy on my tongue. I held it, it would be given to the fire I was about to serve.

I centered myself, feeling the energy go through me like warm honey in my veins, feeling my body preparing me.

I breathed fire, spraying the liquid from my mouth. The torches roared. The circle erupted.

"Make your wishes!" I commanded, but my voice had dropped, become Her voice, layered with something ancient.

They came forward. I watched this time. Not as distant priestess, but as participant. A woman on crutches whispered her prayer to a firewalker, who then walked barefoot through the embers to carry that wish into flame. I watched lovers jump hand-in-hand, and others that burned papers in the flames, letting go of whatever they needed to part with. We prayed for prosperity. For health. For a good harvest. For love. I circled the fire in my robe quietly, thinking of my own wishes by the fire. Of the people I wanted to protect. Of the ones who protected me. And I thought of the hunt. Like a pendulum my thoughts came back to him. My lover. The stag.

By then the crowd parted. There he was. Looking at me almost smugly, his antlers singling him out as my prey. His bare upper body showed me he was ready. I lost my robe, revealing a white sports bra and a skirt that did not cover my knees. The attire of the huntress, ready to pursue. The drums stopped.

I smiled and mouthed: Run.

He turned and bolted. For three seconds I let him go into distance, further into the meadow. Give him a moment, I thought. Let the weight of his own muscles tire him out. When the moment felt right, I kicked after him.

This was the test. If he reached the Maypole first, the old law gave him the choice. Not just of me, but of any willing woman here. The thought should have stressed me or make me insecure. Instead, as my feet found their rhythm, I realized I wanted him to almost win. I wanted him to earn this as much as I wanted to earn him. I wanted him choosing me with certainty that he had been chosen, too. The predator will choose her prey, and she will grant him the freedom to be hers.

I could see it in his shoulders when he glanced back. He was running full-out, not holding back, not surrendering. Good. Make me earn you, sweet one.

I gained. The wet grass, the moonlight, my trained breath versus his longer stride. The crowd fell behind, their shouts becoming texture, not noise. We were alone in the hunt now, predator and prey, and for a short moment I felt the truth of it: The old law worked in both directions. If I were unsatisfied, if his run was lazy, if his fear wasn't real, I could turn back. Choose another. The Goddess didn't demand him; She demanded worthiness.

But his run was perfect. His determination was art.

I pounced. My hand raked down his back, as it was custom. Five lines by my nails, deep, claiming. And we crashed together into the grass. He hissed, back arching into the pain, and I felt the rush of my success burn through me.

"Got you," I breathed against his ear. Mask and headdress laid behind me, fallen as I pounced. It was good. It was my own voice, and my own excitement as I was still panting, feeling the heaviness of my curves now as the sports bra felt suddenly too tight for me.

 

Still panting, I pulled him into a hug. I reached around him, then I started to soothe the scratches on his back with hot kisses. I tasted his skin.
My stag moaned softly. When he turned around, I could see the hunger in his blue eyes. His hands found my shoulders and pulled me in for a kiss. “Goddess…” He breathed against my mouth.  “Huntress. My Lady.” Sweet adoration as his tongue found mine, tasting me, licking my lower lip. My prey wanted to savour this. My prey wanted to worship his huntress.

I let myself fall back into the soft, cool grass that caressed my hot body. My legs opened for him, revealing my bare womanhood to his hungry gaze. I needed him. I needed all of him, and I needed to feel him.
“Feast.” I commanded in a breathy voice. My stag obeyed. He took off his antlers to move more freely. “Goddess, yes.” He breathed, then he was upon me. One hand on my stomach held me down while the other gripped onto the soft skin of my thigh. And his face buried between my quivering thighs. Before his mouth touched me, I heard him inhale deeply.
“Your scent…” He hummed darkly. “Intoxicating. So good.” He breathed in the call of my flesh. I was dripping wet already, craving the attention of my prey while I laid down in front of him. Everything reacted; I was wet, and my nipples tightened and full. This moment was meant to be.
His tongue found the soft petals of my labia, and he dove in. In the privacy of the darkness and the magic of the moonlight he feasted on me. I felt his lips nip gently on my clit, he sucked on that pearl until my hips bucked. I moaned.
“Hmm… Yes. My stag. Ah… More. Eat me.”
I didn’t need to tell him. He lapped at my clit like a man starving. My juices wet his beard and he drank me up. My hips pushed back, meeting his lips and his tongue. With one hand I clawed into the back of his head as his hand pushed onto my stomach. He was so good for me.
“Yes…” I said again. “My stag… Ah…” More little words escaped me. Moans. Praise. Need. His tongue pressed between my parted labia, then he sucked on my swollen clit again. The hand from my thigh wandered to my center, teasing me, making my hips buck. My voice became higher, more urgent.
I felt the pressure inside of me as I tensed, and tensed, and my thighs locked him in until he breathed nothing but me, kissed nothing but me, lapped at me, again and again and with a high-pitched little cry I came.
And I came hard. And he held onto my trembling thighs, licking and humming against my most sacred place until my high-pitched cries turned to moans and finally a giggle.

“Ah…”
My whole body shivered as I kept him between my thighs, panting. Afterglow and need. I sat up, skirt ridden up to my waist my swollen pussy was exposed to his gaze. My hands found the zipper at the front of my sports bra. The running was over; I didn’t need it anymore.
“Look at me.” I whispered as I pulled the zipper of the bra down. I took my time with it. Showed him the wet spots where my body produced another kind of essence for him to taste. When the fabric parted, I teased him, letting him see my full cleavage without revealing my nipples yet.

He sat up, looking at me hungrily. “Please.” He groaned, holding onto my thigh urgently. “Please, my huntress. Show me.”
With one hand I kept the merciless fabric in place, while my other hand found his. I guided him toward my chest, letting him feel the sweat-slick skin, letting his fingers dive into the cleft between my breasts. Then I let go, letting the bra fall open and slipping out of it completely. My stag groaned in appreciation. I could tell he wanted to dive in again, worshipping more of my body with his mouth, appreciating every part of my being, the nurturing softness and the predator. And I would let him, but I needed him to do it on my terms.
I pushed him onto his back and was on top of him in the blink of an eye.
“You will feast on me more. But you have to feed me, too.”
I undid the button of his shorts. His cock was already bulging the fabric, and when I pulled it down, he was hard and perfect for me.
“Look at you,” I said, stroking his full length with my fist. “So hard. So needy.”
He looked up at me with absolute confidence. A gift of the hunt. He knew how much I desired him; there was not a single doubt left.
“All for you, my huntress. It’s yours.” He said proudly.
“Exactly.” I stroked him harder, and brought his swollen cock head to my labia, coating him in my essence again.
I swayed my hips and teased him with my wet entrance. “Mine to take. Mine to use.”
His hips bucked, not trying to demand entry, but showing excitement. I felt his hands on my hips, feeling the softness of my curves.
“Yes.” He said with a growl in his voice. “Yours. Your cock. Only yours.”

I positioned myself on top of him, nudging his hard cock with my pussy. Then I lowered my hips and took him into my tight heat. His grip on me turned almost painful. He hissed, feeling me grip onto him with my inner walls. The stretch of his girth was delicious. He opened me, and I took what was mine, welcoming every inch of him until I felt he bottomed out inside of me.
My fingernails clawed into his chest, not deliberately marking him this time, but simply needing to feel him.
“You are such a good stag.” I praised him now, grinding onto him in slow motions while I closed my eyes. “You made it count. You made me earn it… Ah… So good for me.” Praise fell from my lips again as I rode him. My words spurred him on, made him thrust more strongly.
When I pulled him closer and pressed my boobs against him, he understood the assignment immediately.
“Do it.” I urged him. “Feed from me as you feed me.”

“My huntress.” He held onto me and his open mouth found my nipple. One hand caressed the other breast while he latched on my nipple, teasing and licking at first, then sucking in earnest until I saw his jaw moving in a slow rhythm as I let down. He drank from me, drank *me*. My body reacted instantly. My wetness reached a new height and dripped onto his thighs.
My stag squeezed my boob gently, massaging it, coaxing more of my milk out of me. It trickled down my underboob and onto his upper body.
“Drink me.” I moaned as I rode him slowly. He latched onto my other nipple, and didn’t need to coax anymore, my body was feeding him eagerly now. This day was meant to be. Full moon. Fertile. Ready to feed and be fed.
I felt him throb inside of me, and I was sure my inner walls must have been pulsing around him.
He breathed reverent words against my milky nipples. “I will drink all of you.” He promised. “Every last drop, I will worship your body, every curve, will feel all your softness, your strength, your need, your grace. Just let me serve you.” His words were accentuated by deliberate thrusts that hit my deepest core.
I felt like I was floating. We both were, letting the magic of this moment carry us through it. His moans became louder now, and I also felt it. The urge. The call. I wanted more. Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him closer and let myself fall back.
When I felt the cool grass on my bare back again, I spread my legs for him without breaking our sacred connection.
“Fill me.” I said. “Deep inside. Give me what I deserve.”

His expression was almost pleading. But his resolve was unmatched. He pulled my legs up and pushed down on me.
“YES!” I screamed as he folded me. I let go, let my head fall back and gave myself to his powerful thrusts. Then my words turned into moans.
Skin clapped against skin. Hands on my ankles. This was not about us anymore, this was not about power dynamics or rituals. This was the most primal part of being alive. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

Harder.

Deeper.

My ankles were pushed next to my head. A roar that came from both our mouths as we came. And our essences combined, filling my deepest part and trickling out of me. We both shattered. He collapsed forward, and I think he was crying. Maybe I was crying, too, and didn’t care. His arms came around me, holding pieces of me I didn’t know needed breaking. We stayed locked together, breathing, his softening cock still nestled inside me, his mouth pressing kisses to my shoulder.

“My love,” he whispered.

I kissed his chest, right over his heart. “My stag.”

We didn’t rise until the sky turned gray with dawn.