Smutty Distraction

Video: Bad Things

By: Jace Everett

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Description:**Alert!! : Rated TM; Not for the faint at heart.**🙃

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She was tied down by silk sashes. The cloth wrapped around her ankles and wrists to the four corners of each bedpost. Her body was positioned comfortably in the center of the mattress and resting on her hands and knees.

To be fair, the man wanted her comfortable. He was not this demented, he'd tell himself, and arguments to the fact would ignite in his mind. Replayed images of other occurrences would haunt him --each with a rekindled delight, simply to prove how far deep that he lied to himself. The man tended to argue with himself a lot--or rather with his other 'self' a lot. Either way, it didn't matter because of the here-and-now. Here, he Now was, and he wasn't the one truly making the demands. In this case, he answered to them.

Her brown hair fell from the crown of her head and around in thick wavey curls down each side of her face. Her eyes were a tad squinted and bright green--a natural Starkhaven or Ferelden trait that the man had noticed to occur. He had known many women, and while he wasn't truly picky in looks, he had to admit that he enjoyed the way those bright emeralds were sizing him up. The look of anticipation--the glitter--the lust, he could have reveled in it if he wasn't too cautious to have the woman wait too long for him.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, then?" She questioned while nibbling on her bottom lip. The slight nervousness that seemed to creep in her accented voice; turning it a bit raspy.

This made it difficult to determine her origin. The man would almost bet his lucky sovereign that she was a tad bit Ferelden.

"I don't believe I gave you permission to speak, lass." He responded almost nonchalant and with an amused tilt of his head.

He was slender and rugged-looking; the kind of man who seemed to only gain muscle from being on the run and a dark five'oclock shadow that he allowed to grow a little longer in some places and had trimmed others. He wasn't manicured by any means, but he certainly was easier on the eyes than most of the crew he accompanied at times. At least, he thought so.

He watched her smile broaden and her chin lift almost in a challenge to his taunt- -despite the fact that she had been tied down in such an exquisite manner just for him. Anticipation. It was weighing heavily in the air between them both and the man was clearly stalling this bittersweet torture. Because, he intended to have some fun in this game too somewhere...

"Speaking out of turn makes you a bad girl," he told her and took the lit candle from the nightstand before approaching her left shoulder; climbing onto the side of the bed, "and bad girls need to be punished."

"That's what I--" A sharp gasp erupted from her throat as something extremely warm and thick slid down her spine. The man seemed to have taken an even brighter delight at watching her back arch from pouring hot red wax over her light peached skin. "--T-Tempest!"

"Aye?" He questioned in a hidden chuckle and turned the candle over the small of the woman's back next.

He dripped more candle wax there, earning another pleasured writhe from her, a sigh and a shiver. She was responsive, and Tempest certainly enjoyed that--practically fed from it. His blue eyes tempted his own desires by staring at traces of where the wax touched between her skin, the lace of her undergarments and dripping over her shoulders towards the the swell of her breasts once she arched forward and away from him.

"You know this could all end if you just say the word." He reminded her and leaned towards her ear.

"Mm. Don't you dare." She teased back in delight before turning to kiss him. His chuckle was soon muted between the exchange.

Spank her.

A voice itched in the back of Tempest's mind like a tick. He didn't want to rush this experience, or to have been too rough. Though before he could even control himself, his left hand already moved of its own accord. He struck her matching buttock from as far down as his could reach. The sound of his cupped hand surprised even himself. However, the guessed action seemed to have been a correct one, for she squealed in a giggled fit of delight after her small reflexes jumped against him.

"Harder." She told him as she tore her mouth from his.

Tempest smiled and tilted his candle away briefly while his other hand answered to her wish. Again, the woman coo'ed, and bounced slightly for him.

"Harder!" She demanded and ached for him.

Told you. She likes it. Wants it.

Tempest flinched visibly from the annoying twitch and he clenched his hand into a fist to resist the solid control from being lost again. Vince was not going to ruin this for him--to control his actions--he would not allow it. He could not!

"We're not trying to wake the whole house, lass." He attempted to remind her of their situation with a subtle approach.

"I thought you were a man." She scoffed in a harsh tease and looked back at him in a dare.

That struck a fire in him; pulling at the demon to claw to the surface. Vince wanted to so much now, to have answered this challenge instead. It nearly felt as if he was dying for being held back for so long so far. Gradually, Tempest slipped away into the darker shadows of the room. The candlelight that remained in possession bounced off the broadened toned tan and branded symbol that remained scorched into his left hip. One spider-like scar popped out and around the side of that same waist as he turned to place the candle down on the nightstand. He didn't say anything then, as he took a silk scarf and used it as a blindfold to place over her eyes. She didn't seem hesitant or nervous; at least until the moment that she couldn't see, and when Tempest placed a strawberry to her lips, she inched away.

"Lass," Tempest's smile grew at the sudden shyness and he nibbled at her ear to hear her breath quicken, "You'll have to trust me."

She opened mouth then, and gave a small sigh of relief when finding out that it was only fruit. Once her jaw began to move; however, Tempest's voice quickly warned her.

"Ah-ah. This is not to eat just yet. No teeth." He rasped and his hands sparked with electricity.

It was a slow and nearly harmless pulse that singled the skin. Tempest wanted to test her pain's level of endurance, since she challenged him so strongly. Though at the same time, he didn't want her afraid of him or of what he could do. The tingle coursed from his fingertips and into her body, causing the woman to writhe and moan a muffled tone from behind the berry. His hands continued to travel just inches away from actually touching her. Tempest watched and continue to take in the sight of her delight until his hands traveled lower below her waist. He saw a glimmer of pink liquid soon stain against the otherwise peached complexion of the woman's jawline and chin. It would have happened eventually. The fruit was supple, soft and succulent, but Tempest wanted to seem as if he was at least trying to play fair.

"Uh-oh..." He teased and ran his tongue in a slow lick along the trail of the juice before quickly moving away from the bed. "Looks like someone failed."

He didn't return to her side then; Tempest wouldn't even touch her. Instead, what came was a harsh strike of a horse's ridding crop against the untouched flesh of her seemingly virgin skin. A loud moan was muffled shut from behind the strawberry again, and she arched her back like a cat in heat.

More. The voice in Tempest's head demanded; calling for another strike. Tempest obeyed and watched with pleased amusement to the actions that he pull out of the wanton before him. The voice pushed onward in his mind and grew even louder. More! She likes it. You like it. You like making others bleed. Make her bleed!

He had to admit, that even without the voice in his head--Tempest did enjoy the exchange of pleasure and pain. He wouldn't have been trained to one day become a Magister, otherwise. That sting to senses was a reminder to the soul that the body was alive and there was nothing more important to love in life than life itself. It should have been celebrated and of which to be reminded.

He was striking her faster, now. Not necessarily harder- -much to the voice's awareness and dismay- -but certainly faster. The voice seemed to retaliate with flickering images of flashbacks in Tempest's mind. The images of other slaves and sadism he performed in the past quickly clouded over his sight in order to entrance him, and in response, the bludge to his pants was pressured tightly. A dark chuckle escaped him, and for the brief moment he forgot even his true purpose to have been there.

However, this was a moment that was soon short-lived. The door to the room opened and in the doorway stood a man that was clearly twice Tempest's size in muscle mass. The exiled imperial froze from the bedside and looked up at the burly man; equally slack-jawed in a brief moment of shock. The riding crop in his hand fell limp and Tempest slowly took a step back.

"It's... not what you might think." Tempest tested in a peace offering, while the demon within him was struggling to maintain a hold.

No. He didn't want to kill the man, or much less cause the woman any true painful harm--though to the demon's defense, she still seemed to enjoy it...

"What do you think, I think?" The man snarled and quickly reached for his sword and lunged towards Tempest.

"I think you think that I think I'm dead--"  Tempest ducked the first swing; unable to really pay much attention to the woman's sudden screaming now. He looked as the blade wedged deep into on of the bed posts. "My, that's pointy!"

The warrior hollered angrily, jerking his blade free to swing at Tempest again, but the mage twirled away across the dresser. He tried again to speak in a peaceful manner. "There's no need to be bent out of shape, mate. It was just a harmless flogging!"

"Harmless flogging--I'll flog you!" The man chased after him in a blinded rage.

He swung ceaselessly but could never seem to reach Tempest in time. He always struck a wall, or a piece of furniture--tearing down his own house. The dash eventually left the room, and Tempest made it into the hallway. He leaped down the stairs and made a circle around the parlor table just as the warrior rushed down like a battering ram that spun out of control.

"You black-heathenous bastard!" The warrior shuttered and after two rounds around the parlor table--trying to reach the 'slimy fish,' he jumped on top of the table.

Tempest's eyes widened, glancing up at the giant briefly and with a nervous smile, he reached for the tablecloth to give it a strong tug. He did this in the hopes that the man would slip and fall.

"Now, now. Both my parents married before that-" Tempest explained, but ended his word in a grunt from pulling on the cloth with all of his physical strength, "--happened."

The warrior looked down at the trail to where the cloth was under his feet, but nothing budged. He was too heavy--and more-rather too grounded--to have the tablecloth slip from underneath him. Looking back at Tempest then, he snarl grew in even more anger.

He's going to kill you. He's going to kill you--let me kill him. Let me kill him! Kill him!

"D-Damn it, shut up!" Tempest shouted at himself, curling his fingers from underneath the table as he pushed with a leaning leverage in order to flip the table over instead.

This happened just before the warrior came within contact of striking him, and the man rolled to the ground with the table crashing over him. He hollered in his anger and briefly seemed even immobile. This left Tempest almost at a standstill briefly. He felt nearly as if his heart stopped! Tempest had to get out. He had to leave before he actually did die, or killed the man and unleash the abomination plaguing him. Neither outcome seemed appealing.

Come to think of it... How did he get into this mess...? Oh, that's right... Tits.

The man's groan quickly reminded Tempest of his current place and time, so he darted towards the nearest window. Doing a barrel-roll leap, the mage jumped through the window and covered his head with his forearms. He rolled down, down the siding of the second story of the building. Trying to twist his body downward and stretch pit his legs.

A sudden thud, following the sound and feel of cushioned leather hugging his seated form alerted Tempest upon the impact. His eyes popped open and he lowered his arms to look around, and saw that he landed promptly in the saddle carriage of the driver's side passenger. Across from him was his friend Arlen- -a muscled blonde arcane mage--who was just as surprised to see him.

"Fancy me dropping in, ay mate?" Tempest grinned with clear guilt in his expression. "I hope you changed the roster's numbers for the guild by now."

"I... did, but--" Arlen slowly started to answer.

"Good. Lets go." Tempest announced and pointed overhead the horses that were pulling the carriage.

"What we're you doing?" Arlen asked and raised an eyebrow at him, taking in for the first time in that moment that Tempest was in fact naked from the waist up. He couldn't help the light blush that automatically dusted his cheeks then. "And... where's your shirt?"

"You son of whore! You son of a whore!" The warrior repeated after sticking his head out of the window, still shouting at Tempest's spontaneous departure. "I'm gonna kill you, you son of a whore!"

Tempest glanced skittishly from over his shoulder and reached for the reigns to take in his hands instead. "What?--I was busy! We don't have time to play Twenty Questions--Let's GO!"

He cracked the reigns, starting the horses up to a sudden full gallop right afterwards, and the momentum knocked Arlen out of his seat and stumbling into the window of the carriage behind him. The horses whined and sputtered as they were being pushed to race against the rising dawn and out of the village. All the while, Arlen could hear the demented cackle of Tempest's laughter--which seemed to spring up anytime the bloodmage had a rise in his adrenaline levels. One thing was certain, dull moments never lasted around Tempest.

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