21. Hunted
Chapter twenty-one
Hunted
(Nico)
P erched on a hill, the Ricci compound stretches out into a dark forest that seems to swallow the night itself. The dense canopy of ancient oaks and towering pines creates an impenetrable wall of shadows, their gnarled branches reaching out like grasping fingers.
The untamed wilderness, spanning nearly a thousand acres, is a stark contrast to the estate’s manicured lawns and pristine gardens.
As darkness falls, the forest comes alive with unseen creatures, their calls echoing through the trees in an eerie symphony. Moonlight struggles to penetrate the thick foliage, creating pockets of silver amidst the inky blackness.
The air here is different—heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, carrying whispers of secrets (and bodies) long buried.
At least it’s not snowing. It’s cold enough for my fingers to go numb, but this year, Christmas is mild, according to the weather reports.
I’ve always been scared of the wilderness in our backyard. Ever since my mother tied me to a tree overnight as punishment for being a naughty six-year-old.
It was an accident. I didn’t mean to break the cup; I just wanted to surprise her with tea in bed. But she didn’t care about my intentions, just about the mess I made.
“Grow up, Domenico,” my mother said as she dragged me outside by my ear while my father wordlessly watched. “ Stop crying. Boys don’t cry.”
I begged and pleaded for mercy as she wrapped the rough rope around me, but she just walked away, leaving me tied in the darkness with the howling cayotes as my only companion.
It was the longest night of my life as I waited for the monsters to come for me. I was so certain I was going to die a painful death that moonless night.
The monsters never came, but it didn’t matter.
When my mother finally sent a guard to untie me the following day, I was shivering cold, terrified, and unable to form sentences without stuttering, my little red shorts soiled and clinging to me uncomfortably.
“Monsters are not real ,” my mother insisted, dismissing my fears.
But tonight, the monster is real, not just a memory or a dream.
Faster, Domenico, faster!
I’m running as fast as I can.
But it’s not fast enough.
Around me, the forest is a blur of black shadows pierced by only a slither of moonlight and the menacing beam of the flashlight in pursuit.
The night air is cool, but I'm burning up inside. Fear and exertion set my nerves on fire as branches whip across my face.
My chest is heaving, sweat mingling with the blood from a dozen minor cuts on my hands and face as the foliage resists my passage.
As my feet pound the uneven ground, my boots keep slipping on damp leaves and loose stones.
They’re going to catch you, hurry.
Not unlike my recurring nightmare, I keep running despite knowing for sure that there’s no escape.
The farther I run, the more desperate I get, the oxygen supply to my brain diminishing, along with my ability to feel anything but fear.
My lungs burn.
I can't get enough air.
But I can't stop.
They're behind me.
Getting closer.
The flashlight beam suddenly illuminates the bushes to the side, and I dart in the opposite direction.
Behind me, I hear twigs snapping, leaves rustling. Or is it just the pounding of my own heart, thundering in my ears?
I dodge around a massive oak, nearly losing my footing. My hand scrapes rough bark as I push off, propelling myself forward.
I can’t see where I’m going, but I push at full speed.
A root catches my toe.
I stumble, arms windmilling.
For a heart-stopping moment, I'm sure I'll fall.
But I regain my balance, pushing myself to run faster.
They'll catch me if I fall.
I can't afford to fall.
Thorny vines tear at my legs as I go.
I ignore the pain, focusing only on the ground ahead, searching for obstacles in the dim light.
My breath comes in ragged gasps.
Spots dance at the edges of my vision.
How long have I been running?
I've lost all sense of time.
A twig snaps behind me, closer than before, definitely real.
Terror surges through me, lending new strength to my tired muscles.
But it’s not enough.
My heart nearly stops as the flashlight’s full glow falls on my body, blinding me.
The dark figure I’ve been running from suddenly looms before me, backlit and ominous. The Hunter.
I put my hands out, trying to fight them, but I can’t see anything. Not in the too-bright light.
In an instant, the Hunter is upon me, overpowering me with a single knee to the nuts that takes what little breath I have right out of my lungs, doubling me over in pain.
Their flashlight drops to the floor, casting ominous shadows around me.
Grabbing me by my hair so roughly I swear the roots nearly pull loose, I’m forced upright again, pushed up against a tree.
My breath comes in short, desperate gasps that mist in the moonlight as I beg, my voice weak, “No, n-no…please, no.”
Panic floods my system as the masked assailant wraps their hands around my neck, pressing their body into mine, trapping me. Nothing, not even their eyes, is visible behind the all-black tactical mask.
Terror grips me, unlike anything I've ever known.
My mind races, searching frantically for a way out but finding none.
I feel utterly helpless… afraid .
Adrenaline surges through my body as I fight for a breath.
Every muscle is tense, trembling.
My senses are hyper-aware—the scent of pine and sweat, the cool night air on my skin, the sound of our ragged breathing.
The Hunter’s hands move, releasing my throat, and I gulp at the air, desperately trying to fill my aching lungs.
But my relief is short-lived.
The sudden introduction of a cold blade against my throat contradicts the warmth of the body pressing against mine.
“Hunt over, little rabbit. You’ve been caught,” the whisper tickles my skin as every hair in my body rises to attention, an involuntary shiver slinking down my spine.
“Don’t you dare move,” my captor threatens, digging the knife deeper into my skin, deep enough to draw blood.
There is no more fight or flight —all that’s left in my mind is fawn. I’m entirely at the mercy of the Hunter, and the thought is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
They yank my hair, hard, and I want to scream, but no sound escapes.
I remain entirely frozen as the Hunter wraps my body in rope they pull from a black backpack. It’s too tight, but I’m powerless to resist as they tie me up and force me to my knees.
As my heart races on, I can’t think of anything but how hard my cock is.
This shouldn’t turn me on; this is fucked up.
But I can’t help it.
With a dirty boot right between the shoulder blades, the Hunter bends me over, pushing my face into the dirt.
The gravel digs into my knees uncomfortably, adding to the mounting list of aches and pains blossoming over my skin.
It isn’t real, I know it isn’t, but it feels so fucking real.
With no weapons, no light…I am completely vulnerable, at the mercy of the merciless Hunter.
“P-please,” I beg, digging my fingers into the dirt just to hold onto something.
I want to fight, but my limbs betray me—heavy and useless.
The Hunter bends down over me, tugging at my collar as they lick the back of my neck, biting down on my earlobe until I’m convinced they might bite it right off.
“I wouldn’t recommend struggling. It will only hurt more,” they whisper in my ear before smacking my ass loudly.
I gasp, digging my fingers deeper into the dirt as they rip my pants down without bothering to undo the belt.
The cold air stings my exposed skin, but it’s nothing compared to the discomfort of the gloved finger that suddenly pushes inside my ass, violating me without warning.
Oh god, it’s so cold!
I cry out in surprise as the sudden pain mixes with the humiliation that burns through me.
“You’re going to like this, whether you want to or not,” the Hunter tells me, forcing a second finger inside, stretching me painfully.
When a third fills me to the brim, I can’t help but buck my hips into their hand. I don’t want to; I don’t want this —but I do.
What’s wrong with you, Domenico?
“Look how needy you are. You like this,” the Hunter chuckles, reaching a gloved hand to my cock to run their fingers over my hardness. It feels foreign, plastic, so strange to have that latex hand on me.
I grunt despite myself, hating how aroused I am.
My cock is virtually leaking into my assailant’s hand.
When they suddenly pull their fingers out of my ass, I gasp loudly, feeling empty.
It’s over.
But it’s not over; it has just begun.
When I feel the cold, hard tip pressing against my entrance, I swear my heart stops for a second.
Oh, Dio mio!
“Have you had enough yet?” the Hunter asks.
I know it’s a check-in, a rehearsed one, but it sounds like a threat, keeping me in the scene while throwing me a lifeline should I need it.
“No, n-no, please…” I whine.
Despite everything, I don’t want to stop.
“Hmm…Now be a good boy and let me in,” the masked Hunter whispers as she shoves her cock into me—roughly, in one go, smashing into my ass like she’s trying to rip me apart.
The pain is immense, immediate, muddled with discomfort, as she fucks me into the dirt, gloved hand palming my leaking cock until I’m delirious, circuits overloaded.
Again and again, she thrusts into me until I’m crying, unable to stop myself, shaking in the dirt.
All thought dissipates like mist until nothing but sensation remains, nothing but pain and pleasure.
My mind is blank as I give into the moment, fully surrendering myself to the Hunter.
With a whining sound that sounds more animalistic than human, I spill my cum over the gloved hand as the Hunter fucks me into oblivion.
It’s the most intense orgasm of my life that rips through my body, adrenaline adding to the rush as the world blurs away.
When there’s not a single drop of liquid left in my body,
I go limp. I want to collapse into the cold dirt, to let it swallow me whole, but the masked Hunter holds me up, refusing to release me as they continue to milk my overstimulated cock.
Crying, I mutter words of nonsense, losing my mind as the discomfort burns through my mind.
Too much.
I can’t.
No more.
Digging my fingers deeper into the earth as if it can find me strength, I find the single word I’ve stored in my mind.
“D-dolphins!” I mutter my safe word, and Kiah stops immediately, dropping my cock without hesitation.
Slowly, careful not to hurt me, she pulls her pegging dildo out.
Like a discarded rag doll, I collapse onto the forest floor, crying, my body ablaze with overstimulation.
As she sits on the cold ground beside me, Kiah takes off her mask and sets it beside her. Carefully, she unties the ropes and pulls my body against hers, onto her lap, with those strong arms of hers.
I can’t stop crying, but for once, I don’t feel ashamed about it. Kiah just tugs me closer, enveloping me with her warmth, her essence, as the flood of emotions consumes me.
“It’s all over now,” the innkeeper says, her voice soft and soothing as she strokes my hair. “You did so well, baby. So well,” she praises, and I curl up in a little ball, still unable to open my eyes.
Such simple words, yet I’ve come to crave them from her more than oxygen.
My Queen kisses my forehead, pressing her head to mine. “I’ve got you, Nico. You’re safe.”
I believe her.
I’m a dirty, broken, freezing mess, but none of that matters. All that matters is that Kiah is here, by my side, holding me.
She doesn't make me feel like I'm weird for wanting what I want; she lets me explore my desires, my curiosities, my needs. Within bounds, of course. But without shame.
The structure of our dynamic calms my mind. I know what's expected of me, how to be. I don't have to calculate a response. She's trained me in what she needs. I can just let go and be.
No matter how imperfect, I want her to have every part of me.
Everything I do is in service to her, the great Goddess who nursed me back to life when she could've left me for dead, who killed for me, sacrificed for me, who took a gamble on me.
When Kiah’s around, I don't feel lost. I'm not just darting my eyes around the room, trying to identify threats. Her scent, her warmth, it grounds me in the present.
She is as much mine as I am hers, and I will break anyone's neck if they even look at her funny.
But she doesn't need me to fight her battles. I've never met anyone Kiah can't take out. Maybe that's why I feel safe, in a literal sense too. I know she'd kick anyone's ass if they tried to fuck with me.
It's just us now.
Us against the world.
And I'm the luckiest fucking Don alive.
Somewhere, a coyote calls into the night, but I’m no longer scared.
I am home .