The Bracelets of Submission

I slowly bore Diana to the bed. I then went and got the full length mirror from the bathroom door -- not the one over the sink, obviously. It seemed right, right at that moment, and my instincts had taken us quite a way. Though… not always where we intended to go.

I set the mirror on the side of the bed, then turned Diana to face it, and slid behind her. Spooning. My erection pressed against the curve of her buttock. My hand sliding over her stomach, and up towards her breast. She was breathing slightly hard as I did it, and the rope of her lariat was glowing even more brightly. Outside, the sun had gone down, and I had turned out all the lights. There was just me and Diana, lit only by the golden light of the truth, wrapped around her in a web of knotwork that bound her. It looked almost like the lines of one of her uniforms, ignoring the ropes on her arms and legs.

Her face was underlit, her eyes glittering in the golden light. And she was focused on her eyes the same way she'd been focused when I thrust into her from behind in the bathroom, pulling her head back by her hair, not even realizing she was powerless in the moment.

"You do love symbolism," she murmured.

"I do," I answered. I shifted my hand higher, grazing her nipple. "And so do you."

"I do." She moaned, softly. "Bound in truth. The Goddess of Truth wrapped up in her own truth, horny as two goats and a satyr, as we used to say back home."

"I thought the word 'horny' was crass," I murmured.

"I did tell you I was familiar with the word..." She chuckled. "So. I was wondering when we would get to this part."

"Which part?" I asked, murmuring against her ear, my fingers working her nipple now.

"The increase of arousal. The denial of release. The control of pleasure, until I beg." She laughed again, very quietly. "It was inevitable."

"And you like the idea."

"Yes." She moaned again. "It is another form of surrender, of course."

"Of course."

"You clearly intended to strip my self-image and delusions away from me, and expose my innermost feminine self," she murmured. "Congratulations. You are a master at peeling away the lingerie of the soul."

I kissed behind her ear. "You like that too."

"Yes." She closed her eyes, smiling -- I could see it in the mirror. She then opened her eyes, meeting mine in the reflection. "It's remarkable, really. Having established my darker fantasies… you have managed to find the three core variations on **** that have filled my thoughts and encouraged my fingers to seek my clit for years, expose them, make them real, and make me like them."

"Three?" I asked… sliding my hand lower… over her stomach, tickling lightly… lower… shifting a leg to pull her upper leg back, slightly… lower… fingertips tracing through her trimmed public hair…

"Three," she answered, moaning with pleasure yet again. "The first was obvious, perhaps. Extortion or ****. In the name of protecting others I would be **** to strip away my armor and slide over a tormenter, not just letting him defile me but actively cooperating, willingly or not. From the moment you showed me the oath I was to swear, I have lived that fantasy. I will live it the rest of your life. And… if things continue as they are… I will miss it when you are dead."

I paused… well, my fingers didn't… instead, they traced either side of her vulva's lips. "You seem pretty certain I'll die."

"I'm a goddess, Thomas. Immortal. You aren't. Barring some sort of intervention or accident, you will age, grow old, and die. It's something I've had to come to terms with in my friendships." She chuckled. "You were right, before. I will one day be released from my oath, when your **** finds you. But I would rather that not happen any time soon."

"Well. Thank you for that." I kissed her neck. "Second fantasy?"

"The bondage fantasy, of course. Cheetah or Luthor or some gangster finding a way to bind and hold me in place, then peeling away my uniform and taking me as they wish, forcing themselves on me… in me… until they **** the orgasm from my trembling, resisting form." She laughed again -- a lighter laugh. Almost musical. "You did that to me not an hour later. Tying me down, making me masturbate for you, then fucking me senseless." She laughed again. "I am… mmmm… learning to like the word fuck a great deal."

"It sounds poetic when you say it," I said, my fingertip tracing down the center of her vulva, the lips parted and the moisture gleaming in the light of the lariat, the ridges of my fingerprint running over the clitoris that had pushed free of its hood, making her breath come faster still.

"It should. It is a poetic word. Fuck." Her hips moved, ever so slightly, in response to the stimulus. "I love the feeling of restraint as much as I dreamed I would. More, even. In more than one case, I was aroused when a villain tied me up."

"Including Cheetah?" I asked.

"Of course. She is my most persistent nemesis. Naturally she's had experience restraining me. And she's so… feral."

"So the rumors are true. You're bisexual."

She laughed again. "I am pansexual, Thomas. I am sapio-sexual. Blessed by Aphrodite, Hermes and Heracles alike, I am intensely grounded in my body and its sexual birthright. And everyone is beautiful, if you know how to look."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone." She moaned again as my fingertips did their work. "Though what makes one person special and beautiful and erotic is not the same as the next. I have never met anyone like you, for example."

"Flattery?" I asked, chuckling.

"Literally cocooned in the Lariat of Truth? You are special, Thomas. I have never been more attracted to another. I have certainly never been nearly as sexual with any other."

I chuckled again, nibbling along her ear, shifting my other arm under her, to caress her breast while I teased her cleft. She pressed her buttocks back against my erection in response. "And third?" I asked, softly.

She chuckled, her cheeks growing pinker. "****," she said. "**** in its purest form. Ultraman of the Crime Syndicate, or Luthor using some kind of device. Cheetah at her most primal, or Ares. Mongul, even Darkseid. In the dark of night where none could see I work my clit and vulva, maul my own breast and twist my nipple while in my mind's eye my enemy batters and hammers me until I have nothing left. Broken and crying out, I can only endure as they tear the battered uniform from my body and impale me or invade me or violate me, forcing my pain-ridden form to react until they tear the orgasm from me, my voice screaming out my climax no matter who might hear." She shivered, muscles tensing against the lariat. "I had figured at some point we would role play such a thing. I never in my wildest dreams expected you to actually tear my power from me and thrust…" Her vagina contracted around my fingers as she spoke. "…into my helpless and unresisting body. But you did."

"Thanks to your bracers," I whispered. "Or bracelets. Why do you call them that, anyway?"

Diana shivered as I continued to tease and twist her breast and nipple, shifting fingers in and out of her pussy as she moved more rhythmically. "They are α Βραχιόλα της Υποταγής--" ta vrachiolia tis yipoagis, more or less "--the Bracelets of Submission. You think of 'bracer' as armor, but they were actually an archer's tool to protect the forearm from the bowstring, and the Anatoli and Macedonians did not use them. Early examples of what the French later called vanbraces -- proper armor on the forearm -- were more of a Roman innovation." She nestled, moaning again. "Βραχιόλια were bangles or ornaments. When the Amazons were tricked into attacking the ship where my mother and Heracles were conferring, leading to a resounding defeat after Heracles stripped my mother of the Girdle of Might, they captured the Amazons as slaves. Laughing and joking, they described the shackles and fetters that bound the Amazons as lovely jewelry for their new trophies and slaves. When Aphrodite, Hera, and Athene granted the Amazons the strength to break their chains and destroy their captors, they were cursed to forever wear cuffs emblematic of the shackles they had been bound in, or have their rage consume the world." She suddenly twitched, gasping. "Are you… actually using a history lesson as foreplay?"

"I'm using everything about you as foreplay," I murmured. "That includes your brain, your wisdom, your knowledge and experience…" I pressed my cock forward, sliding between her thighs to tease her cleft. "…everything."

She hissed, shivering. "You make a good… point… though…"

"Though?"

"…I'm… realizing a few things," she said, shivering. "Don't stop what you're doing, but… don't… go too much farther… I…" She shivered again.

"You what?"

"I'm just realizing… the Bracelets of Submission. I first was given mine long before puberty. I wore them throughout my training and my life, my mission and my journey… and my sisters had all worn their for hundreds or thousands of years. They contained our curse… but what does that mean? Our curse is one of rage. Of passionate emotion." She shivered. "I wear symbolic shackles to keep my power in check. Is it any wonder I like to be bound? Or get a thrill in being contained, or in fantasies of ****? I underwent puberty with α Βραχιόλα της Υποταγής channeling and containing my hormones. Why wouldn't they shape my fantasies?" She shivered again, gasping as I began to slowly fuck her with two fingers, letting my thumb graze her clit, the head of my cock still teasing her anus and my other hand working her nipple. "My sisters play binding games as matters of course. And as matters of foreplay, of courtship. Of passion. Of course I like this, Thomas. Of course I want to be taken and dominated. How could I not?"

"Shh," I said, pushing her knees forward with mine, angling her pussy so I could shift and slide into it, causing her to hiss. "Don't get upset." And yeah, I'd ignored her request. I was beginning to understand that just made it better for her.

"I'm not- oh Hera… -I'm not upset," she said breathlessly as I began to slowly fuck her from behind. "But it is still- mrrauuugh… you… are making it hard to…"

"Good," I said, pulling at her earlobe with my teeth, getting another hiss. "Because it doesn't matter. Whether or not the bracers -- bracelets -- shaped you… you are who you are now. And right now, she's mine and she likes it."

"Yesssss," she said, breath coming raggedly from her bound form.

"And you're right. We will roleplay," I said, grinding to one side and then the other, using the angle to slide my cock against her inner muscles and g-spot. "Only I won't just pretend to capture Wonder Woman and take her against her will, Diana. I'm going to bind your bracelets…"

"Hera!"

"…steal your powers…"

"Oh… oh I…" Her voice became ragged.

"…and fuck your helpless heroic pussy," I hissed into her ear, causing that pussy to spasm around my cock. I thrust harder now, feeling her build. "And you will struggle but you won't get away, your body betraying your every principle-"

"…oh fuck, Thomas…"

"And then I will fill you and you will lose it," I hissed again, thrusting in deeply, holding myself as far into her as I could, hearing her breath coming in gulps and gasps as she writhed against her bonds-

And then I pulled out of her, pulling her close and hearing her shriek in frustration. "But that'll be the next weekend. Right now, we should get some sleep."

Diana fairly vibrated against me, writhing against her lariat. "…I told you," she hissed. "Denial of climax until I beg. I called it."

"Are you begging?"

Diana tried to pull herself free of her bonds -- she couldn't, of course, thanks both to the lariat and her oath -- and craned her head around to look at me. "Amazons never surrender the field that easily," she crooned, eyes wild.

I smiled. The lariat **** her to tell the truth, so she didn't claim she wouldn't beg… "Well then…" I said, shifting her a bit more, hand moving over her stomach again. "I'd never claim otherwise. Mm… so you like it when I talk dirty to you?"

"…in that context… yes. The roughness adds to the moment… and you have… oh Blessed Aphrodite… you have a good sense for when and how…"

"I'm glad…" I began to tease her cleft again, nibbling her neck. "I'd hate to mistime things."