ellen, of dark by demon_integral lostellen@yahoo.com Long legs in leather first catch a man's eye, then, his body Tall, so very tall; that is the sensation received from the corner of my eye, my head already beginning to turn. And what I see steals my breath... stunning is effect and description. Dark red hair; short, but thickly styled. Fair skin. Long and lean of body, wearing a loose blouse of white silk; but it is her legs that imprison my gaze. Legs that go on for days. Legs that flaunt a pair of black leather pants that fit like a second skin, defining the tone of her thighs in alluring shine. Slim, but obviously athletic. The way she moves, with feline grace; but with power, like a true predator. Like she is stalking; the four inch spiked heels of her ankle boots only add to that impression. And put her well over six feet. Yet soon the mundane atmosphere of the coffeehouse returns. She is occupied with conversation a few tables down; I settle back into the secondhand sofa, return to my poetry. Return to a decent mug of Kona, and a world where imagery is held in word. A paragraph becomes a page, and I barely notice the impression of another weight settling into the battered cushions. Just the motion in my peripheral vision, of a swinging boot, with a wicked looking steel stiletto heel. Surprised, more than pleasantly, I turn my gaze away from my writings. Right into a pair of hauntingly pale green eyes. For the second time, this woman has overloaded my senses. She seems to know something of that effect, as her lips curl into the barest of grins. Leaning forward, she speaks to me in a low voice: "I know you. And I'm willing to bet... you want to know me." She raises her hand, which has concealed a scrap of paper. "Come to me, this night. I will show you, how I know," giving me the scrap, "and you will know. Mmmn... you will know more than you can handle." Her lowered gaze, with the way her purr hints at menace; I feel a chill travel down my spine. She unfolds out of the sofa in a sinuous stretch, taking a determined stride towards the door before glancing over her shoulder. "Unless... you are afraid of the dark..." I watch the huntress continue on her way, mesmerized by the raw sexuality of her movement; the lessening sense of apprehension reminding me, I never even asked her name... "Ellen." A sultry voice informs me as I approach a vast, and obviously expensive, leather sofa. Black of such depth, her form seems nearly swallowed in its expanse; black on black. In an otherwise deserted warehouse space; other than a create, and a bottle of chilled Chablis. She sits in the corner, with one long leg propped up against the back cushion; inviting me to sit, and share the wine. It seems a little forward, with our short acquaintance, to be seated so intimately; but with a few minutes of sharing anecdote and exchanging pleasantries, leaning back against her bent knee barely registers. Her long fingernails are soon tracing fine lines along my scalp, causing another kind of chill. I turn to look in her direction, and she stares back from a lowered gaze. "I know you were watching my legs," she says, "and I know, from the way you were watching, what you wanted." Slowly, she lifts her other foot from the floor; extending her magnificent leg up and outward to its full, significant length. "You wanted to know, how it would feel, to have such an alluring pair of limbs, wrap themselves around your body." Lowering one said limb into my lap, she leans forward. "Well..." she purrs, entwining her slender arms about my chest, pulling me into her; guiding me so that my side presses firmly against her leather-clad sex. "How does it feel?" They stretch, and come together; along my lower back, across my stomach. A soft squeal of leather announces the locking of her ankles. A gentle embrace of leather tightening around my middle. I am nearly intoxicated, from the sensation of leather-clad thigh caressing front and back. She returns one hand to my head, twining her fingers in my hair. Settling back into her corner, but maintaining a light and varying pressure on my waist, using casual contractions of her inner thighs. "When I was young, " she begins in a voice, barely above a whisper; "I discovered something about myself that first caused me a bit of apprehension. I discovered that I liked having things between my thighs. Things that I could grasp tightly with those muscles, and hold. Feeling the hardness resist my grip, yet continuing to apply pressure for as long as I could. I felt a tingling deep within, a feeling I was taught, was somehow shameful..." My hand caresses the thigh running along my waist, feeling those muscles occasionally flex and contract. The sensuality of the embrace, the soft tone of her voice, brings a low and pleasant sense of arousal. I am captivated. "One summer, I was required to stay with relations. Country cousins, how quaint; completely within stereotype with their lack of sophistication. A girl, to them, was an exotic pet. Because that summer I sprouted with most of my ridiculous height; a pet, they assumed, big enough to be harassed." "They were into wrestling, enjoying themselves for hours with exaggerated strikes and choreographed throws. They would also try to involve me in their play, but my disinterest was discouragement enough. That is, until one afternoon; when elder cousin and uncle went to market. Junior, about my age and nearly my height, found me in the barn. Sought to test the limits of that disinterest." "Just pushing, playing around at first. I knew fighting back would be mere encouragement. Avoidance worked for a moment, but with his play pal otherwise occupied, Junior would not be denied. I ended up, with my back against the wall. Not anticipating, his swing hit my shoulder, hard. Then, I pushed back." "He grabbed me, and we fell. It just so happened, he fell almost on top, with his waist between my legs. Almost instinctively, I coiled my legs around his body. I knew, because I ran, and rode horseback, that my legs were rather strong. At that moment, however, the ache in my shoulder overrode my sense of caution. Something between my thighs, was something to squeeze..." Which was when I began to notice, that the pressure on my body had been growing. As she spoke, she had been slowly, and steadily, clenching her thighs ever tighter. The soft leather embrace has become a slick, cool vice of hard muscle. Each breath drawn with increasing difficulty. And she reaches her hand forward, reaching in through the neck of my shirt. Taking her sharp fingernails, and slowly drawing them up from my waist. Scoring painfully up my bare chest. "Something I could squeeze," she says, staring into my eyes, "something to resist the closing of my thighs. Something, that wasn't hard." My eyes seem unable to break free from that haunting, pale green gaze. But the tightness of her grip on my body grows uncomfortable, as I reach a hand between her knees. Looking to pry myself free, or at least, lessen that pressure. "And because he was a boy on the road to proud manhood, he could not admit that a mere girl could overpower him. Even as it was obvious, the force of my legs cutting into his belly, causing these involuntary gasps of pain; he kept trying to swing..." "And I twisted one hand into his hair; giving his head a vicious yank..." Even as the hand in my hair now entangles itself, painfully pulling away... "And I squeezed his belly between my legs with all of my strength..." "Ugh," I gasp. Feeling the surprising strength of her lean limbs, as they straighten in a muscular contraction. I clench my teeth, struggling just to breathe... "Fuck..." I groan. "Ellen... please... you're hurting me.... I can hardly breathe." But she just continues to stare into my eyes, crushing my body with a long, hard scissor... Damn, but this girl is strong, I'm thinking, as I struggle to get my other hand in between her thighs to break her grip. "Dammit... Ellen..." And a surprised yep of pain escapes my lips. She suddenly relaxes the muscles of her thighs; the resumption of blood flow to my lower body brings with it a red wave of agony. "Holy. Shit. Your legs, man, are they strong. No more, please..." Just being able to breathe moderates my response, but those legs remain locked. My mind begins to plan for a method of escape. Ellen, however, casually leans forward, one arm around my neck, as if she didn't just nearly snap me in half. Her other hand plays with my chest, as she brings her lips to my ear. "My legs are very... very... strong," she whispers. "On that day, I learned just how strong they could be. I thought I was using all the force I had, when I bore down on Junior with my thighs... But then, I started getting... turned on..." Her voice slows. Her words become interrupted with waves of passion, as her tongue runs along my ear. My emotions are in turmoil; one moment I want to slug her, the next; thoughts run in a completely opposite direction. She has seemingly reverted to the pale, fragile beauty of the coffeeshop; despite the menacing leather coils now lax along my body, coils whose steely power of moments ago remains in my lower chest as a dull ache... "Becoming aroused... I found, that suddenly... I could squeeze, even tighter... and the more I became aroused... the harder, I could squeeze." "Do you know why, I wear these leather pants? Pants so tight, that my muscles strain with every movement? Because it turns me on. I get... excited... just by walking, moving my legs..." I reach out to the intersection of her ankles. Knowing the time to act is now, feeling the swell of muscle within the leather pressing against my body. Feeling her arm reach across my back, to hold me within her grasp... With one sharp fingernail pointed upward, into the underside of my chin; she turns my face in her direction. We are inches apart. I almost drown in the intoxication of her dangerous beauty. With a tiny, wicked grin, she resumes her tale. "My first orgasm. Breaking... Junior with my legs. You shall be my latest..." With a vicious *snap,* her legs straighten, ankles escaping my prying hand... and Ellen's long, powerful legs... squeeze... "aaaahggug," a weak groan escapes my lips. God. She literally *stuns* me with the power of those luscious, lethal legs. In moments, the air has been crushed out of my body. I am nearly paralyzed; feeling as if I am slowly being cut in half by a cruel leather vice. "El... Ellen... no..." I mutter. Sounds which become mere grunts of agony. My ribs ache. I can feel them bend... Purring, in my ear... "Mmmn... I can feel you weaken... the muscles... in your abs... failing... and I am going to squeeze... you... so... fucking... *hard!"* Cannot struggle, cannot breathe... The pain, is awesome... Ellen, those incredible legs... breaking me... Fading to black, fortunate, in a way; as the *snap* of a rib, becomes distant concern... *"I'll try not to kill you,"* the last thing, I hear...