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Rowena had always found your love for her hands fascinating.
At the start of your relationship you'd kept it a secret. It was an odd kink to have; the last thing you wanted was for your new girlfriend to think of you as a freak. Despite her background, Rowena was a lady, classy, refined, high class from head to toe. Just like with the food she ate and the clothes she wore, she certainly had standards when it came to bedroom activities.
So you'd kept your little peculiarity to yourself.
You'd steal a glance at her hands here and there. Hold her hand a little tighter, and hold onto it a little longer as you parted. Lace your fingers through hers every time your lips met in explosive, electrifying kisses that left you breathless, panting, weak with need for more. Play with her fingers when you were bored. Trace the little veins on the tops of her hands with your forefinger and daydream of bringing your mouth to them.
It should have been no surprise when she'd caught you, but you were still startled when she'd, casually sipping tea and in a tone one would use in conversations about the weather, brought up your apparent fondness for her hands.
Your throat had instantly tightened with dread, breath caught, icy chills of shame cascading down the back of your neck. You'd felt like a deer in the headlights, like a wild beast caught in a trap, caged, helpless, embarrassed to high heavens. Would she laugh at you? Would she mock you and call you names? Would she look you straight in the eyes and call you a freak?
Surely, she wouldn't.
And she hadn't.
It turned out Rowena had found it endearing. She'd dated many people in her long life, she'd said. Each of whom had had their little fetishes, little quirks. Most common, usual ones she'd grown bored of after having come across them for over three centuries.
Not one of her former lovers had had a love for hands.
You were the first.
Ever since then, she'd let you play with her hands whenever you wanted. It didn't take long for you to get comfortable with enjoying your kink openly; Rowena had an aura about her, a charm, that easily made all your worries go away. She wouldn't judge you. Wouldn't point and laugh. One smile of hers, one tiny little smile, and you knew you had nothing to fear.
You were practically worshiping a part of her, and if there was one thing Rowena loved, it was being worshiped. Taking away your pleasure would take hers away, as well.
You brought her hand to your mouth and pressed a soft kiss to it. You'd done this a thousand times by now, in the three years of your relationship, but each and every time felt like the first. The sparks of excitement were there, the anticipation, the rush of desire in your veins like a hard, potent drug.
You kissed all over her hand, tender press of skin on skin. Rowena let out a little moan. Her eyes closed, and her head lolled to the side, face raw with bliss. You smiled, a tinge of pride blooming up inside you. You did this to her. You made her happy. She trusted you with her body, with her most vulnerable bits, and you proved yourself worthy, today and every single day before, since the moment you'd met her. You couldn't not pride yourself in it.
Your tongue traced the veins protruding from her skin. They were thin, a tad wrinkly. A beautiful, breathtaking mixture of green, purple, and blue, like a twilight sky in Summer. Your pussy throbbed with want, desire growing, building up like lava, hot and furious.
You latched onto a vein, captured it with your lips delicately, tongue circling the tiny spot. With a moan, you started sucking. Your pussy clenched with each pull, with each little graze of your teeth over her skin.
"Oh, yes, dear," Rowena panted. She threw her head back, shallow breaths leaving her mouth one after the other, in-between a storm of moans. "Good girl."
You parted from her hand with a wet plop. The spot you'd marked was a deep, angry red, no doubt to blossom into a proper bruise later on, purple and beautiful and
yours.
A grin spread over your mouth at the thought, images of previous markings flashing in your mind. So, so beautiful, each and every one of them. A trademark of sorts, a signature that was yours and yours only.
Just like Rowena was.
You found another spot, another vein, mere inches away from the first one and instantly got to work. You nibbled and sucked, eliciting moans of pleasure from Rowena, your own pleasure dripping down your pussy, soaking your panties. You repeated the process one more time, then moved to her other hand, marking it all the same.
"Such good girl," Rowena gasped throughout the ordeal.
The praise made you wetter, more excited.
The bruises would last a few days, a reminder of tonight, of your mouth on her hands.
And she would wear them with pride.
She always did.