The sanctity of Myra's willingness was paramount in Freya's mind, a principle she held with unwavering conviction. Taking Myra’s whispered consent as her guide, Freya pressed forward gently but firmly with her finger. A sharp intake of breath escaped Myra’s lips, followed by a cry that echoed in the dimly lit chamber. Her body tensed beneath Freya’s touch, and her breathing became rapid and uneven.
“Myra, my love, I am so sorry,” Freya murmured immediately, her voice filled with genuine remorse. She withdrew her finger slightly, her touch becoming feather-light. “Are you alright? We can stop, if you wish.” Her crimson eyes were filled with concern, her focus entirely on Myra’s well-being. She gently stroked Myra’s thigh, offering a silent reassurance, waiting for her response. The initial passion had been momentarily eclipsed by the reality of the physical barrier, and Freya’s priority was now to ensure Myra felt safe and in control.
Tears welled in Myra’s eyes, and she gasped, her chest heaving. The initial pain had been sharp and unexpected, but beneath it, a strange mix of vulnerability and a stubborn determination lingered. She squeezed Freya’s hand tightly.
“No… no, don’t stop,” Myra whispered, her voice still shaky. She took a few deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. “It… it hurt, but… I want to. I trust you, Freya. Just… go slowly, my love.” Her words were a testament to her deep affection and unwavering trust, even in the face of discomfort. The desire to be fully intimate with Freya outweighed the initial pain, fueled by a longing that had grown strong over the past weeks.
With Myra’s hesitant yet resolute consent, Freya continued her exploration with gentle care. Her fingers moved slowly, easing deeper within, allowing Myra’s body to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. She could feel the yielding warmth surrounding her, the delicate textures of the inner walls, a profound intimacy unfolding with each careful movement.
As she became more accustomed to the feeling, Freya added another finger, gently widening the opening. Myra’s initial discomfort had begun to recede, repced by a increasing awareness of the new sensations. The gentle stretching created a fullness she had never experienced before, a deep ache that was intertwined with a growing arousal. It was a strange mix of vulnerability and evolving pleasure, a journey into uncharted territory.
Freya's touch became more deliberate, her two fingers now moving in a slow, scissor-like motion, stretching Myra gently, allowing her to acclimate. She pressed downwards along the inner wall, feeling the subtle ridges and textures, eliciting a soft gasp from Myra. "Does that feel alright, my love?" Freya murmured, her voice low and soothing. "Tell me if anything is too intense." Myra nodded, her breath catching. "Just... a little tender still," she whispered, her hips involuntarily lifting slightly as Freya's fingers found a particurly sensitive spot. A low moan escaped Myra's lips as Freya repeated the gentle pressure, a rhythmic exploration that was both tender and increasingly arousing.
The dual pressure created a different kind of stimution, a deeper, internal awareness that resonated through her core. While the initial sharp pain had faded, a duller ache lingered, but it was now overshadowed by the expanding sensations. Her breath hitched with each careful movement, her body beginning to rex in Freya’s gentle and deliberate exploration. It was a feeling of being opened, both physically and emotionally, a surrender to the intimacy of the moment and the trust she pced in Freya’s touch. The novelty of the sensations, the feeling of being truly explored and known in such an intimate way, began to override the initial discomfort, repced by a sense of burgeoning arousal and a deeper connection with Freya.
“Freya…” Myra murmured, her voice breathy and filled with a mixture of surprise and a budding pleasure. “That… that feels so unfamiliar. So… different.” The sensations were unlike anything she had ever experienced, a stretching fullness intertwined with a growing throb of arousal that was both intense and intriguing.
As Freya continued her gentle exploration, reaching deeper within, she finally withdrew her fingers. Her gaze fell to her hand, and her breath hitched slightly. There, smeared across her fingertips, was a faint trace of crimson. Her brow furrowed, and she whispered, almost to herself, the single word: “Blood…” The realization of what that signified hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of Myra’s untouched state and the boundary they had just crossed. Freya’s movements ceased immediately, her focus shifting entirely to Myra’s well-being.
A primal instinct stirred within Freya at the sight of the blood, a flicker of the ancient hunger that was a constant part of her existence. Her senses sharpened, the scent of Myra's life force suddenly more potent, more alluring. But looking into Myra’s trusting eyes, seeing the vulnerability and love reflected there, she forcefully suppressed the urge. This was Myra, her love, not a source of sustenance.
With a visible effort, Freya refocused her attention, her gaze softening with renewed tenderness. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Myra’s lips, a silent reassurance. Then, with a slow and deliberate movement, she returned her finger to Myra’s intimate depths. The initial resistance was gone now, repced by a yielding warmth.
She began to move her finger slowly in and out, a steady, rhythmic motion. The internal pressure created a deep, pulsing ache that resonated through Myra’s core. With each gentle thrust, Myra’s breath grew more ragged, soft moans escaping her lips as the unfamiliar yet increasingly pleasurable sensations intensified. "Argh," Myra sighed, a sound ced with both discomfort and a unfolding pleasure she couldn't deny. Freya continued the rhythmic stroking, her focus entirely on eliciting pleasure from Myra, pushing aside the lingering whisper of her own primal instincts. The slow, deliberate movements within created a deep, internal friction that began to build a new wave of arousal within Myra, a different kind of pleasure than the external stimution she had experienced before.
Myra, her senses heightened by the intimacy of the moment, couldn’t help but notice a subtle shift in Freya. There was a flicker in the depths of her crimson eyes, a momentary stillness in her movements, a barely perceptible tightening of her jaw. It was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but Myra, attuned to every nuance of Freya’s presence, sensed a momentary tension, something held back. A question flickered in her mind, a faint whisper of concern beneath the waves of pleasure that continued to wash over her.
“Freya?” Myra murmured softly, her voice a little breathless. Her hand, which had been resting on Freya’s arm, tightened slightly. She tilted her head, her gaze searching the vampire’s eyes, trying to decipher the fleeting expression she had just witnessed. “Are you alright? Is everything… okay?” The question was gentle, ced with a genuine concern and a desire to ensure Freya was as comfortable and present in the intimacy as she herself was.
