Chapter 2 #2
The other approaches and yanks my chin up hard, peering into my face.
“Pretty little thing,” he pronounces after scanning my face with sharp brown eyes that are so dark they are almost black.
“Almost pretty enough for me to fuck,” he says, making the other one laugh.
“I am Master Séverin, and this is Master Erek. And you, my lovely Girl, belong to us now, to do with as we wish. You’ll come to dread our wishes,” he says with a feral smile full of flawless white teeth.
The wolf in the forest, ready to tear me to pieces, to devour me. “Won’t she, Erek?”
Another chuckle from the one called Master Erek, then he loops an arm around Master Séverin’s shoulder—an arm thick with muscle and fully tattooed in black and gray, his shirtsleeve rolled up—and he kisses the older Master’s finely sculpted jaw.
Master Séverin turns his head and kisses Master Erek’s mouth, and they grin at each other.
Ah, there it is, that wicked gleam in their eyes, and also, if I am not mistaken, love between them.
Oh, to serve these two beautiful men. I almost don’t care what they do to me. Almost. I am theirs, and the world is once more as it should be.
“Stand for us,” the softer one commands, and I do.
The older Master steps forward and grabs my chin in his hand, his long fingers digging into my jaw as he turns my head from one side to the other.
He releases my chin and continues his examination, cupping my breasts, squeezing.
My nipples go hard in an instant as he gives them a sharp squeeze between his strong fingers. My pussy clenches.
He runs his palms down my sides, over my hips, then he reaches behind me, almost as if in an embrace, and his hands stroke down my spine, a lovely, sensual chill chasing his fingertips.
I bow my head as he continues, his hands running over my ass, then grabbing the flesh there and squeezing hard.
But I’ve seen up close now how handsome he is.
How every bone in his face is perfectly placed.
Perfectly sculpted, if a little hollowed through his narrow cheeks.
And this perfection is intimidating as hell, because I can also see how evil he will be, how much delight he’ll take in my suffering—suffering he will bring me.
I want to sink down to my knees once more and offer myself up to his wickedness, but I have not been told to, so I silently command my legs to hold me in place.
He turns me around roughly so my back is to him. “Spread,” he commands.
I do, instantly, eagerly, and he slides his hand in between my thighs from behind me, his fingers stroking my bare pussy, more gently than I would have expected.
I am soaking wet in an instant. Then he yanks me hard against him, my back against his chest, and sliding both arms around my hips, he reaches down and spreads my pussy lips wide with the fingers of both hands, pinching them hard enough to make me pull in a gasping breath.
The other Master—Master Erek—appears before me, that sweet smile on his face as he stares into my eyes. That look alone melts me, and in this moment, I would do anything for him. For them both.
Why is it that even though I have always craved the roughness, the harsh command, these moments of gentleness on their part are making my body surge with need? It’s as if I’m discovering for the first time something I didn’t know I’ve missed.
Master Erek moves closer and brushes his lips across my cheek, and I am devastated in some way I don’t think I have been before. And all the while my mind is spinning, questioning. Waiting.
I don’t have long to wait as he pulls back, and with his blue gaze locked on mine, he shoves his fingers into my hungry cunt, and I can’t help the gasp that escapes me.
As wet as I am, his fingers slide inside easily. They fill me up and begin a hard, driving thrusting, deep and seeming to scrape me inside, somehow, and his eyes narrow, his gaze becoming more intense.
Ah, there it is. That glint of evil in him, too.
Yes.
He pumps faster, fucking me harder and harder, and the walls of my pussy are burning, burning, and I don’t understand.
I can’t tear my gaze from his as the pain rips through me, pain and pleasure in such equal measures the divide between the two becomes more and more vague with each hurting thrust. Even despite the intense burning, I don’t want him to stop.
They all know the secret to our hearts, the Masters and Mistresses.
His free hand wraps around the back of my neck, and his grip is demanding my stillness.
I do my best to obey this silent command, but whatever he’s doing deep inside my cunt hurts in a way I’ve never felt before.
I am on fire. A tear slips down my cheek, making him smile wickedly, like a wolf about to feast on its fallen prey.
Prey.
Yes.
That is what I am now. No longer Girl. No longer simply a slave. And the idea is both devastating and provocative as hell.
I need this.
He goes faster, adds more fingers…I think. I don’t know. But fuck, it hurts. I feel as if I’m being scalded and torn apart all at the same time, and behind me, the staccato heartbeat of my other new Master hammers against my spine, the buttons of his shirt pressing into my skin.
I hear a small laugh from him. “I’m getting hard,” he murmurs.
It’s not for my ears, of course—I am an object to them, which is as it should be. But I am fascinated.
Then he says, “The ginger oil seems to be working its magic.”
Master Erek grins, then pulls his fingers out of my body, holding them up. They are slick with something more than my own wet need, and three of his fingernails are long and filed into points.
But it’s the ginger oil; that’s the burning, made harsher by those nails tearing at my inner flesh.
What an introduction to these two. I need more—need them—and it’s a craving that’s tearing me apart every bit as much as Master Erek’s sharp nails,
Master Séverin reaches around and pries my mouth open, holding it while Master Erek shoves his fingers into my mouth, then down my throat.
“Suck, pretty Girl,” he commands.
Master Séverin releases his tight hold on my jaw so that I can close my lips, and I suck, my tongue slipping around Master Erek’s thick fingers, tasting myself on him, somehow, even through the evil ginger oil.
Then it is my lips and tongue on fire, but not as bad as my pussy.
And the dual sensations seem to join these two parts of my body, and I have an odd sense that they are, for the moment, one and the same.
Orifices. Holes to fill. Yes.
I suck harder, needing to please him, to please them both, letting the tips of the nails pierce the surface of my tongue, the inside of my cheek, tasting a hint of my own blood.
And as I suck, the two Masters come together and kiss, their faces right next to mine.
And I think I might die from the heat these two generate between them.
Master Erek, with his fingers still in my mouth, uses them to turn my head toward them, and Master Séverin kisses my cheek. Gently at first, then he bites it, just hard enough that I know he will leave me marked.
Yes.
His.
Master Erek pulls his fingers from my mouth, replacing them with the other hand, and rams his fingers down my throat until I gag, then choke, and I sputter, trying to drag some air in through my nose.
Then a hand wraps around my throat, cutting off the blood supply to my brain, and I barely have time to wonder if he’s going to choke me out before I am gone.
When I come to I’m on the ground, the carpet of leaves soft beneath me. Master Séverin is bent over me, watching my face. And before I can help myself, I smile a little at him.
He slaps me, hard, across the same cheek he bit into, and my head reels for a moment.
“Daring Girl,” he says, but there is more humor in his tone than accusation. He straightens and looks at Master Erek. “She amuses me. Please radio the base and ask them to send someone to prepare her.”
He places his booted foot on my chest, holding me down to the earth as Master Erek walks away, and I can hear him talking faintly. When Master Erek returns a few moments later, he places his boot between my thighs.
“Spread, Girl,” he demands.
I do, and he places his heavy boot on my mound, pressing down. It should hurt, and it does, but he’s pressing and releasing, pressing and releasing, and in moments I am about to come.
I bite the inside of my cheek, which is already sore, trying to hold back. I know I must. And just when I’m afraid it will really be impossible, a man and a woman arrive.
My two Masters step back, and the new people—Handlers, perhaps?
—quickly tie my wrists and ankles in a toothy coconut rope that digs into my skin.
Ah, I have a love-hate relationship with this sort of rope.
It makes me feel utterly taken, which soothes me, but it also itches and scrapes my skin, making me tune into my body perhaps more than I’d like.
They know exactly what they’re doing.
In moments I am tightly bound, then a long pole slides through loops they’ve left in the ropes at both wrists and ankles, and suddenly I’m hanging like a pig on a spit.
Why is this so utterly humiliating? Why does this make the tears come once more as they carry me through the woods?
My body sways a bit as they walk, the pole on their shoulders, and soon the rhythm offers me some comfort.
I look up at the brilliant blue sky through the heavy branches of the sequoias, and take a deep breath, inhaling the forest smells: earth, green, water.
Even the mulching leaves on the forest floor.
Once I quiet my mind a bit, I notice a few birds chirping, the wind rustling through the trees, and I remember my encounter with the doe in the creek.
I remember her enormous brown eyes. The way she held herself so still until she recognized I wouldn’t hurt her. Or so my mind imagines.
But even as I revel in the beauty around me, my cunt still burns from that evil oil, and with the stark, nearly shattering need to come that has faded only a little.
I have no idea when they will allow me to come, or if they will at all.
I have no idea what awaits me. Where they are taking me.
What they will do to me once we arrive there.
But it’s not my job to know. It is only my job to endure.
To serve them in this way. And that is my freedom.
To be their captured prey. The victim of the hunt.
How fucking glorious is this?