Epilogue II
The Pen
Malcolm
He stood silently over her, arms crossed, the forest silent, yet not, his huge erection already rearing high and hard as he anticipated what was to come.
“You will be obedient, and silent, when I breed you. Do you understand?”
Selena nodded, eyes down.
“This will not be easy. It is not meant to be easy. You need this as much as I do. You need to be reminded of your place—at my feet, at my will.” He bent low, his breath brushing against the hair at her temple. “That you are mine to use.”
It was the first time he would breed her, but he wanted to ensure she understood it would always be this way. Every time. It would not be about her needs, her desires—it would be about her purpose. Her duty.
His pleasure.
But there were…the others.
They were not far, all around them.
Waiting. Wanting.
Coveting.
It was the vines who’d brought his wife, forcibly, to the place of her taking, Selena bound, gagged, blindfolded.
Her body had been under their complete control, like a living marionette, they had “walked” her to Malcolm, every bit of her limbs and body controlled utterly by the vegetation.
Placed upon the warm ground at his feet, she’d been forced to her knees, her arms still tied behind her with twine.
He gazed over at it, the intricate construction bathed in shadow for the moment.
Almost time.
The pixies were remarkably skilled craftsmen, surprisingly, aided of course by Malcolm’s design.
Fashioned of a deep, smooth coffee-colored wood, every plane and curve of the apparatus was sanded to flawless smoothness.
It dripped with straps and chains, glinting at several places with polished metal rings, and grommets, and cleats.
“Do you have anything to say? It will be this way, every time.” He stroked her chin with a taloned finger, and he thrilled that she still leaned into his touch, despite the way she trembled.
“Until the seed bears fruit, we will do this over, and over, again. I will not stop. This will not stop, no matter what. The sweetest torment, Selena.”
With only a hint of a nod from him, the vines swept her up once more, dragging her in moments to the apparatus.
The Pen.
With frightful swiftness, she was presented, hindquarters foremost, her upper body lowered, prostrate, hidden away in the shadow, her hands and arms bound high to the pen’s upper crossbar, helpless, emphasizing her utter subjection to whatever he planned for her.
And his plans… were many.
Reinforcing her status as a vessel, a breeder for his young, was part of this process, and it would always be so.
He took a moment to drink in the sight. Selena’s bottom, broad and smooth, presented in almost obscene display, the cleft of her buttocks yawning wide, her anus, tight and cringing, fully exposed.
Below, the glistening slot of her sex was blatant between the trembling, pale thighs extending straight down, affixed with numerous dark bands of leather, her toes wiggling, not quite able to touch the forest loam covering the ground.
He ran a hand up the trough of her spine, smiling as he drew a broad length of leather across the lowermost part of her back, just above the fetching twin dimples at the tops of her buttocks. Cinching it down tight, then tying it off, her flesh bulged slightly at the edges of the strap.
Then he did it again across the middle of her shoulder blades, pinning her breathlessly tight to the frame of the Pen. She whimpered softly as he tightened the strap one notch more.
Her breaths came faster then, and he crouched down beside her, staring, rapt at the heavy weight of her breasts suspended below her, the veil of her dark hair all about her.
The vines had released her breasts as she’d been placed in the Pen, so they now swayed free, quivering with the cadence of her breath as she waited, helpless in her bonds.
He took them each in his hands, and her breath caught as he kneaded them firmly, just short of harsh. “I can’t wait to see these, when you’re very far along, heavy with my progeny. How these will swell. How they will drip. And I won’t ever let them stop.”
Her thighs went rigid at the words.
He squeezed each of her soft breasts in turn in both hands, pressing downward, until only the nipple remained in his fingers, her flesh white under the cruel crush of his grip.
Repeatedly, he did this, mimicking the milking of an udder.
Squeezing, twisting and pulling at each nipple in turn, until she gasped with the hurt.
“Soon, sweet human,” he murmured at her ear, still tormenting her breasts with the pain of the moment, tormenting her mind with the dread of her future ordeals.
“Soon, this will be real. All of it. And your milk will spray onto the leaves below as I pull on these whore’s udders.
And it will never end. I’ll never allow it to. I shall love it so.”
He couldn’t wait.
Though he was normally loving, if rough, when fucking her, for these sessions—up to and during the act itself—he intentionally made it this way to reinforce her status, to mark the importance of this process.
There would be many more of these occasions over their long years together, so he wanted to start it exactly as it would continue. Relentless. Methodical. Merciless.
Obsessed.
He took hold of both of her breasts by the tips, shaking them sharply, then again, loving the way she groaned in embarrassment.
Then he slapped them back and forth, front to back, then side to side, entranced at the way the heavy flesh bounced, and bounded, swinging wildly under the crisp blows.
“Such gorgeous udders.”
Again, she seemed to still at the word. Probing her mind, he could see it, warring within her as two opposing furies: the one horrified at the objectification, at the degrading words, the other part of her reveling in it, aroused even more at her treatment at the hands of the man who owned her body and soul.
Forever.
Her internal—and eternal—conflict only spurred him on, encouraging him to be still crueler with her, more uncompromising.
The vines, as if reading his thoughts, pulled at her limbs again, ensuring she was brutally tight against the frame, twin lengths of them twining round and round the base of each of her breasts, then squeezing firmly, until the flesh stood taut, the nipples swelling slightly under the stricture.
He wanted her to feel bound, and controlled, and subjugated as he bred her, and the vines knew this implicitly, knew how to achieve it, maximizing her feelings of vulnerability, and helplessness, and encouraging her surrender in every sense of that word.
For when she had truly given in to him, it was when her body was most exquisitely fertile, allowing his seed to take root.
She trembled then, and he stroked her buttocks, smoothed his palms down the mouthwatering curves of her wide hips.
His fingertips played at the twin whorls of the dimples at her lower back, his eyes unerringly drawn to them as he drank in the perfection of her broad, round bottom, laid bare for him to do whatever he willed.
He spoke aloud then, as if addressing the forest as much as her.
“You will be good, and obedient. You will be still and take your owner’s seed.
You will submit, to all of it. You are mine, in all ways.
Nothing can change that. Not ever.” He pinched a buttock harshly, and she hissed.
“It will be so hard for you, at times, perhaps most of the time. But I will enjoy every second of it, sweet human. My property, my mate.”
Standing up over her, he took his cock in hand, stroking it slowly, savoring the moment. Then the vines wrapped about her upper thighs, reaching between them.
She yelped as they drew her buttocks wide apart exposing all to his gaze.
“These holes. They are mine—and they will be well-used today, I promise you. Perhaps more than you think you can bear.” He bent close to her ear.
“You may plead, but today alone, your pleas will not be answered. This is for me, and it will be done, no matter how arduous you find it. There will be pleasure, and there will be pain. Both will always be part of this, and I will deeply enjoy both. There’s nothing you can do about that.
It’s happening. Accept it, or don’t—it won’t change what’s to come, my beautiful Selena. ”
He spoke these words as he stared down at her perfect, trembling bottom, at the splayed cleft, it’s strong scent of both fear and desire making his head swim with lust. It was if those sexual parts of her were the center of her being, that which was most important about her.
For the purposes of that afternoon, they were.
He let her see those thoughts, and she whimpered ever so softly. “Please, Malcolm…”
Ignoring the rising desperation in her tone, he took hold of her hips, signaling to the vines once more.
The stamens were presented again, curling beneath her, their tips gleaming bright with the sticky, pleasingly strong scented unguent. She gasped as they wrapped about her hard nipples, painting the coral flesh with wetness.
The effects were almost instant, her body beginning to twist in her bonds. “Oh…oh, God…the heat. Itches! Please!”
Her presented cunt spasmed then again, a thick drop of her essence growing at the entrance to her sex. The scent of it made him want to fall upon her, devouring it. But he held back, knowing it wasn’t the time for that, that such a thing would simply be a reward for her.
No, it was time to be strong, even cruel, to guide her through this journey of torment and bliss, to take her, to make her his in the most elemental of ways.
The one thing she had not yet given over to him.
He crouched down again, to get the best view of what was to come, his cock aching hard in his sliding fist as he watched.