Epilogue I
Captive of the Forest
Malcolm
That morning, he'd found her in their secret garden, where the vines grew thickest, strongest. Where their will was as iron as their grip.
And where Selena endured her most arduous hours as Malcolm's beloved possession and plaything.
For it was not only he who lusted for Selena's flesh. There were others, many others, those who were even more obsessed with possessing—and ruthlessly using—her luscious body.
He took great pleasure in giving them time with her, his enjoyment of their sojourns with her deepening with each passing year, until, with time, it had become a prominent feature of their lives together.
Now, her time in their clutches was invariably a prolonged trial, though she would never know how much that darkest part of him relished it.
While at first she had protested, even resisted on occasion, she had learned, over the years.
She had learned to at least... acquiesce to it.
Though she would never, ever, look forward to it.
Usually once a week, sometimes more often, he led her far into the humid, mysterious recesses of the garden, the immense trees soaring overhead, the unfathomable depths of their dazzlingly beautiful foliage muting the light, the dense underbrush and nearly ankle-deep moss lending a hush to the sounds of the forest, the air closer, denser in the domain of the vines.
"Obey. Let them have their fun." He would always part ways with her with those words, never telling her how long she might be at the not-so-tender mercies of the vines.
Perhaps it would be an hour. Perhaps it would be an entire day.
She would never know, always guessing, always uncertain. It lent a certain extra edge to making her submit to them, over and over, and over again.
They had been hovering, writhing, anticipating, all around them as he parted ways with a soft kiss to the crown of her hair.
She was unspeakably beautiful, his heart twisting with aching longing as he stepped back, her tear-bright dark eyes, locked upon his, near to overflowing as the vines, the vegetation, closed in about her.
“Be good,” he’d spoken in her mind as her fright overtook her, the vines wrapping round and round her limbs.
In an instant, a thick hunter green vine snaking possessively about her neck, she disappeared into the flora’s not-so-tender embrace, the leaves, the blooms, the stalks vibrating with a near audible hum so powerful was their zeal to grip her flesh, to force her surrender yet again to their alien, fathomless lusts.
This time, the vines seemed intent to take her deeper than normal, far away from where he'd seen her off, with his parting admonishment to surrender to all that would be done to her.
Though he would leave her to their lusts, he was never truly far away, for he could feel, and see, and experience what they did, in their rapacious, obsessive, limitless plundering of her body's charms.
He stayed close, drinking in all of it, the plants of the forest surprising even him with their inventive – and quite sadistic – treatment of their weekly captive flesh.
Standing beneath the vast, green expanse he watched in his mind’s eye, feeling through each of them as vines stripped her naked, tearing the fabric from her body, leaving her gasping.
They tightly wrapped around and around her arms, her legs, softer but still firm lengths, an impossible storm of them, encasing all of her, even over her eyes, and ears, and face, until the only parts of her exposed—almost obscenely—were all of those sexual parts of Selena: her bottom, her sex, her milk-swollen breasts, her great, rounded belly, even the quivering, crimson plumpness of her lips
Her breath came in quick, frightened gusts, as she was deprived of her senses, one by one.
In that moment, he slipped into her mind, too, sensing the panic dancing just at the edges of her consciousness.
Be still. Surrender. I am with you. They may hurt you, but you will never be harmed.
It was the tiniest relief to sense her limbs relax just the slightest even under the stricture of her bonds.
Yes…
Her mind, her soul, they fought this. But her body… it craved it too. Even if she could never understand the how, or why.
Still, he would be strong with her. She would take it all. Because it gave him the greatest of pleasures to witness her ordeals.
To realize that confirmation of what she would endure, all for him.
Through pleasing them, you please me. Surrender to this, Selena. You are mine. You are theirs. Accept it…and give in to it.
The vines had gathered close, stroking her as if some alien lover, while others splayed her legs wide. Still others drew open her seething, soaking sex, the blunt end of specialized stamens pushing inside her, until she trembled, cries issuing from her bitten lips.
The pleasure of taking her was overwhelming, for he felt all that the vines did, even as they were independent of his will. She was so very wet. Yielding. Even as the blunt length plunged deeper, spreading her even wider, until she jerked with the discomfort of it.
A smaller, slightly narrower stamen probed at the opening to her bottom and then pushed forward.
She drew a sharp breath, trembling as it too breached her defenses, the tightness there making Malcolm nearly groan inside his mind at the sensation of her flesh giving way before the vines’ implacable lusts.
Not content with taking her pussy and her ass, a softer, fragrant stamen, presented itself at her lips. A word or two at most of inchoate pleading was silenced as this too was taken, forcefully, relentlessly.
Though she gagged once as it found the entrance to her throat, she acquiesced to this too, Malcolm’s soothing cooing in her mind, lending her the strength to give in to this indignity too, as the stamen plunged still deeper, over and over, pausing only infrequently to allow her ragged, desperate breaths, before violating her throat again, and again.
It was the sweetest yet.
The vines firmly squeezed her then, over every inch of her skin, two of them winding round and round the base of each breast. She whimpered around the vine plundering her mouth and throat as the strictures at her breasts drew ever keener, until her nipples throbbed angrily.
The lightest whisper of a tender tendril tickled the very tip of each engorged, erect nipple, and Selena shuddered again.
He was firmer with her in her mind then.
Let this happen. It’s good for them. Let it happen. You need this. They want this.
Surrender to it.
Surrender…
Surrender…
More tendrils stripped back the sticky, swollen labia, even twining in the pubic hair at her mound, tugging on it too, until she keened. Yet more found her clit, pumping it, making it swell under the stricture of its very own tiny noose, until it fair pulsed, red and huge.
It was only then that another stamen appeared, its broad, flat purple-crimson tip gleaming with the viscous fluid that caught the muted light deep within the forest.
Panic surged once more within her, for though she could not see it, with her eyes covered as they were with her bonds, she still sensed it, the scent striking, piquant.
He reveled in it, and rather than soothe her, he allowed her mind to wonder, to fret, to consider rebelling after all.
For it was on that knife-edge of internal conflict where he enjoyed this process most, his possession, his property, wrestling in her own mind with her fears, and with the primitive, elemental needs of her own body, her desires that she could never truly keep at bay for long.
Malcolm remembered how the vines were far rougher with her when he had first allowed them to use her, how they drew her far above, into the upper reaches of the jungle as they used her, whipped her, bound her, penetrated her.
How her moans and cries echoed through the trees, an occasional tight, lost shriek from Selena disturbing a great flock of birds deep in the forgotten depths of the forest canopy.
When they’d finally returned her to him, she was trembling, murmuring, wrung out, an impossibly weary languidness to the well-marked, but still stunning curves of her body.
She slept many hours after her ordeal.
For days, weeks, her eyes never left his feet, her humbled, meek affect was striking, in such contrast to the performative—and futile—defiance she’d exhibited even until the last moments before the vines had devoured her helpless form in its verdant, avaricious storm.
It was during these periodic quiet times, following the sating of their dark desires—Malcolm had come to think of these periods as an interregnum—that the plants would turn their attentions, their focus, their obsessions elsewhere.
The plants had distinctive voices, languages, desires of their own—and only he could understand them, their chittering, and vocalizations something the simple human auditory sense couldn’t hope to make sense of.
It was during these periodic interregna that the vines had, from time to time, asked him for even darker favors. Whispered desires to use her body cavities to birth exotic, and rare plants, a human host for plants still unknown to even Malcolm, the planet still slowly changing.
An inter-kingdom use of his mate that could never be spoken of.
Even he had lines he wouldn’t cross…no matter how darkly intriguing the idea might have been.
If it weren’t for the fact they would have her to themselves for many weeks to accomplish their twisted aims, he might have considered it more seriously.
But he could not be apart from his mate for so long.
It would be a burden too difficult for even he to bear.
There was one surprisingly intimate request though that the vines had made which he was very much inclined to—indeed eager to—grant, and that time was finally upon them.
It would make things even more of an ordeal for her, but that only made the appeal of it even more enticing.
At long last, Selena’s true purpose—her destiny—was about to finally be realized.
And now, in Malcolm’s zeal to breed his human mate, he would be far from alone.