Chapter 19
Silas cleaned her gently, slow and sure, each swipe of the cloth a quiet reminder she was treasured, not just used.
Boone’s giant hands rubbed her sore muscles in long sweeps, not digging into them, but relaxing them.
They murmured to her in low, soothing tones, the contrasting textures of their touches working her further into that floaty, post-use haze.
She didn’t need words for what she was feeling, they already knew.
Boone straightened her in the bed, the silky microfiber sheets cool and soft against skin still buzzing. Silas curled around her from behind, hand covering a boob. Boone pressed in at her front, one massive hand holding an ass cheek, anchoring her with weight and heat and silent possession.
She slept.
She waited outside Boone’s door, hands behind her back, facing the wall, at peace in the silence, her body still amped up from her time with Kenny. Peace wasn’t silence, it was knowing what came next. No decisions. No guesswork. Just obedience.
She stepped into Boone’s room when he opened the door and motioned her in, bent over the bed when he told her to, and then fought to accept his huge damned cock in a pussy that’d had too much time off.
She whined when he denied her an orgasm and told her to be quiet, but even that was as it should be.
No words. Just motion and breath and the dull slap of flesh against flesh.
She didn’t think. Didn’t plan. Didn’t have to please or perform. She simply was — a vessel, a fucktoy, a cherished possession. Flesh and bone made useful.
And then dismissed.
No egg or plug today, since she’d be the hawk most of the morning.
She started breakfast, Boone and Kenny arrived to help, and conversation was relaxed.
Normal. She kissed them goodbye, went online for a little while until Silas awakened and she saw the new list. The dual speculums with the Jennings gag were now at the top of the list, along with six more horrible tortures to choose from.
She chickened out and chose the second-least bad thing — belted to the front of her thighs for two minutes — and then went to knees and chest on his bed for him to fuck her ass.
She didn’t bother complaining when he denied her an orgasm too.
And then finally, she walked out into the chill morning air, propped the door to the screened-in porch open, took the dress off, and shifted into her hawk, a rush of feathers covering flesh.
She flew into the open air and then launched into the sky, soaring wide arcs above the trees, dipping low over the river and banking hard to climb up the ridge.
No one asked anything of her in this form. She flew for the sheer fucking joy of it, the freedom, the silence. She circled the back edge of the pack lands, spotted a fat rabbit and took it cleanly, gorged herself on tender bunny, then perched in a tall pine and fluffed herself.
She swapped to the high branches of a proud oak near the ceremonial meadow and just watched. So much activity. Deer, squirrels, a groundhog.
But she was full and wouldn’t kill for the sake of killing.
She heard Silas come home and flew to him, circled, and went back to her tree.
When the next truck arrived, she flew to the house, into the screened porch, and changed back to human.
Her dress was still out there, so she slid it on over her head and went into the kitchen, pleased to see Silas was cooking burgers.
She always came back to human starving.
He saw her, opened the oven, and pulled fried cheese sticks and fried mushrooms out. “Had them warming for you. Ten minutes until the burgers and fried potatoes are ready.”
Dinner was excellent, with all the fixins on her burgers — and she ate five instead of her usual three, plus a huge plate of potatoes Silas had cooked in lard. Yuummmm.
She fucked up at dinner. Kenny had even reminded her about the drinks when they sat down, but her mind was off somewhere else, so she didn’t notice Kenny and Silas’s drinks were empty, and Boone’s nearly was.
No one was mad, and Kenny pronounced her punishment in his usual calm voice. The words said as only a true Dom can manage. Or an alpha wolf, she supposed.
“Tomorrow, you’ll fill a snack-sized ziplock baggy full of dry rice and pack it with my lunch.
When I’m finished using you, you’ll spread the rice on the floor and kneel facing the corner for thirty minutes, and then you’ll pick up every motherfucking grain and put it back into the bag.
You’ll store the bag in my cabinet, beside the glass cleaner, for future corrections. ”
She nodded. “Yes, Sir. Thank you for caring enough to punish me.”
“Not finished. You’ll go home and write lines about how important it is you pay attention to the needs of the men who own you. I’ll give you the exact wording along with the number of lines before you leave my office tomorrow.”
And then they went back to eating, but Willow’s pussy clenched, and she knew the men would scent her arousal.
Conversation continued once everyone had finished eating, another twenty minutes or so before Kenny said, “It’s my night, little fucktoy. Head on up and wait for me on the red medallion.”
She undressed in the hallway, realized maybe she should’ve come upstairs early to shave. She always came back to human with hairy legs and pits.
But he was a wolf. He’d know that. He would’ve ordered her to shave if he had issues with body hair.
She stood on the medallion, naked and exposed for longer than she expected, then stood in full-on inspection pose in the playroom while Kenny gathered what he wanted — behind her, so she couldn’t see.
Finally, her stomach fluttering, nerves high, Kenny circled her, slow and deliberate, a cane in his hand, held down.
“To welcome you home properly, I figure on hurting all the important bits, and then using all three holes.”
He circled her again. Stood in front of her. Held the cane up for her to kiss.
She did, and without another word, he stepped beside her and the first strike landed.
Fire.
Second. Third. Across the same bruised line until her breath hitched and tears leaked.
Onto the gyno table, hands behind her back, grasping her elbows, pepper oil on her ass for lube, and then the cold metal speculum, which she of course had to kiss first before he forced it into her asshole, opened it wide, stretching her until she ached and burned even more than the pepper oil, raw heat building until the tears ran steady.
She was panting when he moved to her cunt — the light plastic flogger she had to kiss before he started tearing into delicate skin, quick and sharp. Unrelenting. The pain scattered like shrapnel.
The evil flogger landed again and again, over and over until her screams filled the room.
And then he sat her up at an angle, feet still in the stirrups, and focused on her tits.
She got a close-up look at the flogger when she had to kiss it, leather falls small enough to sting like fuck but heavy enough to bruise.
He flogged her breasts with vicious precision, the lashes coming again and again, her tits bouncing while welts formed and her screams filled the room.
She didn’t know which hurt worse: the biting kiss of the tails or the savage twist of the alligator clamps — sharp teeth, unforgiving metal. She scented blood when they went on, looked down and saw it beading around the teeth where metal bit into flesh.
The scent of blood only grew stronger when he beat her breasts with the flogger.
And then he unzipped and crammed his dick in her pussy. No fanfare, no teasing — just shoved his cock into her aching, abused pussy and used her.
She needed to come almost immediately, but when she asked for permission, he told her to shut her whore mouth and stop asking.
He put her on the fucking bench next, her head lower than her ass, and she tasted herself when he used her mouth.
And his use could never be confused with a blowjob. He fucked her face and throat. Hard and fast.
And then a cloth was crammed in her ass. Pulled out. A dozen times.
Lube, finally, and she realized he’d been getting the pepper oil out of her. Wouldn’t want to burn his precious dick.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, he shoved in without gentleness, without hesitation. Her body screamed, but her mind floated.
She was his. Used. Broken. Taken.
Later, much later, when he’d fucked her until she could hear him breathing hard, he came in her ass with a satisfied grunt, and finally removed the damned clamps from her nipples.
She screamed when he yanked them off, and then again when he grabbed her nipples and squeezed, massaged with cruel fingers to wake the nerves back up all at once.
When he carried her to bed, Boone was already there. Kenny settled her in the middle, climbed in, and told her this was why she was here, to be fucked and used, all while Boone worked his huge dick into her ass, pushing and shoving.
She sobbed, still sore, still raw, but her empty cunt clenched while her ass was forced to accept Boone’s girth.
Kenny’s hands went back to her nipples, twisting and pulling. Her entire body arched, overwhelmed — and then he was inside her again, two fingers pressing up against the front wall. That wicked tone in his voice:
“Come for me, little whore.”
She did, but as soon as she stopped to catch her breath, the fingers were inside her, moving, and he said, “Again.”
She did. Screaming, shaking. He didn’t stop.
“Again.”
And she begged.
“Please, Sir. Please!”
But he just pressed deeper and whispered, “Good girls come when they’re told,” and kept her there, between Boone’s cock, different clamps on her nipples, and Kenny’s fingers, the fire and the stretch and the unbearable rightness of it all.
She didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to decide. She only had to obey.
She came until she passed out.
* * * *
The day before had been nice. A soft reentry, time to catch her breath, only having to service her men without everything else.
But now it was Wednesday, and her break was over.