Chapter 13
Moerrven
“We’re camping,” Sky said, as if this were a decree from the Queen herself. “In a forest. Far from any village. Where no one can hear your screams.”
This should not have made my cock hard. I was a hundred and twenty-seven years old. I had standards and dignity.
“I didn’t mean that in a horror movie way. I meant screams of pleasure,” he added.
My cock got even more on board with the camping plan. “I thought you hated camping. There is a village four miles ahead. With an inn.”
Sky moaned. “And it has private rooms.”
“At least two. I have stayed in it before. There is a bunkroom too, but only for overflow.”
“So we’re risking being overflow?”
My lips twitched as I remembered Sky’s dismay at not being able to cuddle last night. One might even think he was beginning to grow attached to me. Not that I wanted that, I was committed to my solitary widower life.
Wasn’t I?
I cleared my throat. “The inn will have mattresses. Remember how much you like mattresses?”
“Doesn’t matter! We’re camping.” He pointed to a break in the treeline where a narrow path wound into a dense stand of oaks. “That looks perfect. Trees, privacy, and no snoring orcs.”
I guided Clover off the road and into the forest. The clearing we found was, I had to admit, suitable.
The ground was level, sheltered on three sides by old oaks, with a small stream nearby for water.
The canopy was thick enough to block the wind but open enough to let the last of the daylight in.
It was a place I might have chosen myself for an overnight camp, though my reasons would have been practical rather than whatever Sky’s reasons were.
We made camp with what I can only describe as suspicious efficiency.
Sky had Poppy settled in her habitat, the fire started, and the bedrolls laid out in a time short enough to suggest intense motivation.
I tended to Clover, set up the cooking supplies, and by the time I turned around Sky was already standing in the clearing with the parcel from Helda’s shop unwrapped at his feet.
Everything was there: the riding crop, the shorter crop, the leather cord, the paddle.
He had laid them out on the ground in a neat row, like surgical instruments. He was backlit by the fire, small and sharp-featured and utterly serious. And still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Take off your clothes,” he said.
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
“We are outdoors. In public.”
“It’s a forest clearing that is completely private and half a mile from the nearest road. Besides, there’s a stream right there. If anyone comes by and asks, we’re bathing in that stream, like that hot guy we saw the other day.”
“It was barely even warm out. I don’t think he was hot, just dirty,” I said.
He crossed his arms. “Hot means sexy, stop being obtuse, you saw his ass. Now strip.”
“Someone could come along—”
“Moerrven, do you want to be fucked senseless or not? I’m starting to think not.”
Right at that moment, I discovered that I’m not the sort of man who leaves his clothes on when there’s an offer on the table to be fucked senseless.
My shirt came off before another protest could form in my lust-addled mind.
The evening air was cool against my skin, and every part of my body announced itself in a way it had not since I was young and uncertain.
I stood there, half-undressed in a forest clearing, while a human who barely came up to my chest watched me with the calm authority of a person who knew what he wanted.
“Keep going,” Sky said, eyes roaming over my chest with obvious appreciation. “Show me that whole beautiful muscly troll body.”
I unlaced my trousers and pushed them down, stepping out of them. My cock was already hard, jutting forward, and I resisted the urge to cover myself. Standing naked in a clearing while Sky assessed me was a level of exposure I had not anticipated enjoying. And I was enjoying it.
I loved the soft gasp he let out when he saw my muscles flexing, loved the way his eyes roamed down to my cock with hungry appreciation.
“Good boy.” Sky picked up the leather cord and walked toward me. “Hands out.”
I held them out. He bound my wrists together and tied the other end to the nearest tree, with enough slack that I could move, shift positions, but not walk away. A leash, not a shackle.
“Where did you learn to tie knots?”
“Summer camp. Mrs. Chen would be horrified at what I’m using her bowline for.” He tugged the cord to test it, then wrapped his fingers around my cock and gave it a quick stroke. “Too tight?”
“No.”
“Good. We’re going to introduce a safe word.” He tilted his head for a minute. “What’s a good word? One that comes immediately to mind?”
“Bunkroom?” My voice came out as a breathy squeak as he let his hand slide down to my balls and cup me.
He laughed. “Perfect association. Damn bunkrooms. Anyway, if you say bunkroom, I’ll stop.”
“Why have you tied me up?”
“For sex, obviously. I think I want you bent at the waist, your gorgeous ass on display. Does that work for you? Test and see if bracing yourself on the tree is comfortable.”
That explained nothing, but I was intrigued and aroused enough that my brain was functioning at fifty percent capacity at best. Perhaps too much of my blood was in my cock. I bent forward, bracing my bound wrists against the tree trunk, cock twitching as Sky groaned.
“This fucking ass is the work of the gods,” he said, running a hand over the curve of my rear end. “Mm, your hole is fluttering. Hungry, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said. Fuck, what had I gotten myself into?
My body was hot all over, and my cock was leaking a long string of pre-cum onto the ground, so hard it hurt.
And as much as I hated to admit it, something was happening to my rear end that I couldn’t explain, especially when he skimmed a finger over it, murmuring something about fucking me good and hard.
“Fuck,” he said softly as his hands roamed down my back, massaging the muscles, touching me everywhere. “Look at you.”
The cool night air skimmed over my overheated skin, the cord was taut around my wrists, reminding me of his control, and the rough bark of the tree scraped my fingers as I dug them in, arching my back in the hopes that he would like what he saw.
I had never been looked at like this. Not by Bryndala, who had loved me but had been shy about examining me openly. Not by anyone.
“I’m going to use the crop now,” Sky said. “This isn’t punishment, just play and exploration, so tell me if anything is too much.”
“Do you… punish?”
“If you were mine, I might. For lies, or disobedience, or simply because you were craving pain and asked for it.”
“Oh,” I whispered, wondering if I craved that.
“Are you in?”
“I’m in.” Honestly, I was in for anything Sky did. His mind was wicked, nimble, and creative, and I knew that he understood the things I was curious about in some innate way. Something he’d read in my books had told him more than I’d meant to give away.
The first strike landed on the meat of my right buttock, and I jerked forward against the cord. A bright, clean sting flared across the skin and then faded to a warm throb. The sound of it echoed through the clearing, leather on skin, sharp in the quiet of the forest.
The second strike landed on the left side. Same intensity, same bright sting, and this time I groaned, because my body was making connections that I had not authorized, the sting blooming into warmth, the warmth traveling downward, my cock pulsing in time with the throb of my skin.
“You liked it, didn’t you?”
“Oh, fuck yes.”
Sky settled into a rhythm. Each strike was precise. He was learning my responses, adjusting his aim, reading the sounds I made. A sharper strike on the curve where my ass met my thigh made me gasp. A lighter tap across the center made me push back toward the crop.
“You push back when it’s lighter,” Sky said. “You want it harder?”
“I — perhaps… Could you try the paddle?” I wiggled my ass toward him, eager for more of this addictive sensation.
He chuckled and reached for it. This toy struck harder, with a thudding certainty that almost made me orgasm.
The crack of leather against skin rang through the trees.
I groaned, my cock leaking beneath me, and I pulled against the cord, not to escape but because my body needed to move, needed to do something with the sensation that was building deep in my pelvis.
“What was that?” Sky asked.
“Harder,” I said. “Please. Oh gods, the paddle, it’s… fuck.”
He gave me harder. Five strikes in quick succession set my skin on fire. I was making sounds that I would be embarrassed about later but could not stop now, my hips rocking, my cock aching.
“Fuck, you’re a good boy for me,” he murmured, soothing the sting of his toy with his hand, then leaning forward and kissing the throbbing skin. “Do you want something a bit more risky?”
“Whatever you want,” I whimpered. “Anything.”
“Anything?” He switched tools again, tracing my cock and balls with the tip of the crop as a rush of adrenaline surged through me. He wouldn’t, would he? Wouldn’t the pain be too much?
“Anything,” I whispered, a strange sense of calm washing over me as I gave up that last thread of control.
He gave my balls a light tap with the crop. Then another.
Everything in me went still. The tap was testing, nothing painful, the leather grazing the tender skin. But the anticipation of it, the vulnerability of that target, made my entire body clench.
“Okay?” Sky asked.
“Yes.” The word came out strangled.
He tapped again, this time on the sensitive spot between my balls and my asshole.
Lighter than the strikes to my ass, but the sensitivity there turned each tap into a bolt of sensation that jolted up through my cock and into my spine.
I bent my head and pressed my forehead against the tree bark and whimpered, because my vocabulary had abandoned me and whimpering was the only language left.