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Fandom: Stargate EssGeeWun
Title: Power
Author: Venom69
Category: DDS – Demi-dark smut. (Typo intended!)
Pairing:
Sam/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There’s something to be said for having a beautiful woman tied to your
bed.
Spoilers: None.
Season/sequel: None.
Archive: SJ, Heliopolis, my site. Anywhere else, sure, just let me know
where so I can come visit.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Promise to put them back in the state I found
them.
Author’s notes: The things we do for our friends when we’re too poor to send them gifts…. *Shakes
head* I can’t believe I wrote this. But the birthday girl liked it, so I guess that’s ok then. Many thanks to
Heids and my Twinnie for the lovely beta’s.
Feedback: Hell, yeah! Don’t make me beg, hit reply and stroke
my ego, please.
Date: 31/12/04
Copyright © to Venom, 2004
***
There really is something to be said for
having a beautiful woman tied up on your bed.
I mean, I have all the power. There is absolutely nothing that she can
do to stop me from doing what I want. She isn’t objecting, my beautiful spread-eagled angel. If it weren’t for
the stirring in my groin, I would be happy to sit here all night, silently, watching as she uses all of her training to try
to figure out where I am and what I’m doing.
Sorry, honey, but you’re the one who suggested this.
She
likes to give up control. There’s a shocker. But, hey, if she wants to give control to me, then who am I to argue? Don’t
look at me like that, you wouldn’t say ‘no’ any more than the next red-blooded male.
I can’t
very well imagine that anyone, of either sex, would say no.
This woman, my beautiful spread-eagled angel, is all heat
and limbs and ass. I’m articulate, I know.
But, really, when faced with this particular naked blonde tied to
your bed, I don’t think I know anyone who would be able to form a coherent sentence.
Her voice is hoarse, though
I haven’t made her scream…yet. “Where are you?”
I smile. I trained her well. She wants me to
react, to at least chuckle so that she can pinpoint my location and feel like she has some control over the situation. She
doesn’t. She knows it. She loves it.
And so do I.
I rise from my chair by the window, and slowly and silently
walk to the bed, walk to her. My angel is trying to hear something, anything. She’s not using her nose. I’m disappointed.
Though I know the only thing she would be able to smell is the wet flesh between her thighs, I still expected more.
If
she uses her nose, she may be able to smell the soap on my skin as I get closer. But she doesn’t, so she misses my approach.
She
doesn’t miss the feather that barely wisps against her nipple, puckered and erect in the cool room. Her gasp is audible,
but it’s not enough; I did promise to make her scream, after all.
“It kinda makes you wish you’d
used your nose, doesn’t it?” My voice is smug, and we both know it.
She nods, and I imagine her eyes are
moving wildly under the blindfold. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I’m taunting
her. I love it. So does she, my spread-eagled angel.
“I…I didn’t think!”
She’s
so in control all of the time, my poor baby. Has to be perfect for everyone, including me. She never loses control. I’ve
seen her at her worst, and she’s still in control. She hates a loss of control, hates it even more if someone sees her.
I’ve seen her, but only in private moments, when she’s falling apart in my arms and whimpering. But just
as quickly, she’s in control again.
Whoever had her before I did, and we won’t even think about that, trained
her well.
“Oh, come on, honey! You’re famous for those big brains of yours. Don’t tell me that you
weren’t thinking. I don’t appreciate being lied to.” My words are harsh, and she is tense with wonder at
what I’ll do next. She knows, without doubt, that I won’t hurt her.
My blindly trusting spread-eagled angel
is in for a shock.
A big one.
I grin.
“I’m sorry.”
I can see the flush on her
cheeks. This must be so hard for her. I run the feather over her heated flesh. “You have such lovely skin, honey. So
white, so perfect. I’m going to feel bad marking you.” I won’t.
She has very little time to shudder
before I bend down, careful not to make the bed move, and sink my teeth into her neck, sucking hard to mark her as mine. I
would smile at her reaction if I didn’t have a mouthful of skin.
The beautiful thing about this, aside from her,
is that I’m using everything I know about her to my advantage. I know that she loves soft things on her skin, which
gave me the idea for the feather. I know that she loves knowing she can trust me, which is why I’m marring her supple
flesh now.
A gasp, a whimper.
They escape her mouth and I have never heard anything sound sweeter.
I
forgot to mention what a sensitive neck my spread-eagle angel has.
Only when I’m certain, beyond reasonable doubt,
that her skin will bear the mark of my mouth for a week do I pull away, much to her disappointment. Her mouth opens in protest
as she tries to follow my retreating lips with her neck.
Not tonight, honey. You’re not calling any of the shots.
I
move back from the bed and scan her body. Long legs, meet in the middle of some very nice-looking wetness. Continuing my survey,
I skim over her wide hips, along the small rise of her stomach that hasn’t been completely flat in a while, to her breasts.
They’re bigger than I remembered, and they’re mine. The mark on her neck that meets my eyes as I travel up her
body tells me that; she's mine.
I don’t care who had her before, no one will ever have her again but me.
And
I’ll kill anyone who tries to touch her.
“So beautiful…” I whisper, the endearment slipping
out before I can stop myself. My spread-eagled angel smiles. She feels safer now, knowing that there’s still a part
of the gentle me in here with her.
Oh, this is going to be fun….
I’ve had her tied up for almost
an hour now. Her arms must be starting to get numb, if they aren’t there already. I spare a thought for them, for her,
before returning to my inventory of the body that I own.
Well, it’s on my bed, in my house, restrained with
my handcuffs. Possession is ninetenths of the law.
“You’re mine. You know that, right? I own you.”
“Yes.”
She doesn’t hesitate. I really did train her well.
“I could break you.”
“You’re
going about it the right way!”
Oh, how I wish I could slap her on the ass for that comment. Instead, I slip
a finger directly into her, startling her. She knows me, knows that I like to tease her, trace her lips gently, spread her
moisture, fiddle with her clit. All of these things happen before I slip anything inside of her, usually.
Usually,
I’m gentle with her, when we make love. I don’t want to hurt her; she is precious to me. I’ve made slow,
sweet love to her, I’ve fucked her, we’ve had quickies in the closet; I’ve never tortured her. But tonight,
oh no, tonight all bets are off.
And she loves it, for all of her protests.
I can tell by the finger sheathed
in her wetness. She can’t hide anything from me, my spread-eagled angel. Her body won’t let her. Her body is an
instrument, and I can play her like Mozart. And I can tell that she’s so worked up right now, it won’t take much
to finish her off and rock her world.
God, I love her.
Enough of that.
I wiggle my finger around, searching
for that perfect spot that I just know will make her…
…scream.
She shatters, falling to pieces so that
I can mark them all and then put her back together again. I’m surprised, but not unhappy, that she came so quickly.
My manly pride is skyrocketing, along with other parts of my anatomy that have been denied for too long tonight.
I
slip a quick glance to the clock by the nightstand, wary of the time limit.
Shedding my boxers, I move to sit on the
bed, and then lie on my side, facing her. My legs are curled up underneath me to keep from touching her. Skin on skin contact
will come soon, but for now just my fingers are going to do some exploring.
They start at her neck, stretching across
to grip her throat. I feel her swallow, throat convulsing against the slight pressure. “I could choke you.” I
marvel. It would be so easy- just a little pressure. Beautifully naked, my spread-eagled angel would still be warm when I
left.
So easy. So quick.
“You could” she agrees, her throat constricting tightly under my grip.
“But I know you won’t.”
My hand tightens threateningly. “You’re sure of that?”
She
doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
I smile. “Good.” Her trust thrills me, and I remove my hand
from the offensive position on her jugular to grasp her cheek, turn her face to mine, and kiss her for the first time since
I tied her to the bed.
Her tongue duels with mine and I bite her bottom lip to remind her just who is in charge here.
She instantly understands the meaning, and kisses me back in a more docile fashion.
Perfect.
I move my hand
from her cheek, slipping it down her throat, past the bite on her neck, over her breasts. She moans into my mouth, and I smile
against her lips.
I wish we had more time, but I know we don’t. We still have responsibilities. We have to be
up and dressed soon, and I haven’t even had my fun yet.
Pulling away from her lips, I straddle her thighs. “I
wish I had a camera.” She is truly a sight to behold. I wish I could keep her like this, chained to my bed for my pleasure.
I know I can’t, though, so I move back, lie flush against her, and slip into heaven.
***
My poor baby
is dead to the world. I wore her out. Kept her on sensory overload for too long, denied myself the pleasure of coming inside
of her until she was sobbing underneath the blindfold.
And when I finally let her come, she screamed so loudly that
I expected the neighbors to burst through the door demanding to know what was going on. I laughed, adding to her humiliation,
but it was a useless gesture. My dominance over her had already suffered a blow when I moaned how much I loved her as I came.
I guess some things are ingrained in me.
I untied her and shifted her arms and legs into a normal position, pulling
her against me as she slept, her muscles still twitching.
I don’t want to wake her, but I know I have to. “Sammie,
open your eyes.”
She does so, still following my orders despite all of the years that have passed.
“You
could’ve killed me, Jack,” she whines in mock protest, snuggling into my warmth.
“You loved it,”
I tease.
“I did. Thank you.”
“Hey, anytime. Whenever you want to play out another one of your
fantasies, just let me know.”
She chuckles, the sound muffled against my chest. “I’ll be sure to
do that.”
“We have to get up.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel is bringing
the girls back soon. You don’t want them to see mommy still in bed in the middle of the afternoon, do you?”
The
expression on her face turns gentle and tender at the mention of our two beautiful daughters. My spread-eagled angel, my wife,
the mother of my children, my lover, and my best friend, has a soft spot. Who knew? I smile softly down at her.
I did.
***
El
Finito.
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