Caged (5 page)

“Oh–my–Cage–uhn–what–don’t–please!”

She couldn’t even remove herself from beneath him; not only were her hands useless, but his strong arms had wrapped themselves around her thighs, which he had placed with devastatingly casual ease over his shoulders, further spreading her open for his delectation and rendering any attempt she made to try to move completely moot.

And within the next few minutes, she completely forgot to be outraged or even protest what he was doing to her in any way.  She only knew that—to her deepest mortification—she never wanted him to stop.  Rachel had been amazed at what his fingers had done to her—his mouth, she was quite sure—was going to kill her.

At first he had been gentle and almost delicate with her, as if he’d known she would be horrified at the very idea of what was happening to her. He began by giving her a long while of him teasing and tasting her, waiting for her to become more used to the idea before he lengthened each long flat-tongued lick.  He left his tongue there, surrounding her with that warm wet flesh as he moved it over her in a slow swirling motion that hit every single bit of her at once, unrelentingly, as she arched and moaned and tried to buck against him, not trying to escape really—at least not for the same reasons as she had been, anyway—but just trying to find some easement of all of that direct stimulation he was lavishing on her.

But he wasn’t about to let her get away from him, or lessen how he was tending to her.  His hands gripped her hips, pulling her even further down, stretching her arms very close to the point of discomfort until there was nowhere for her to go but further into his mouth.  He licked and sucked and nibbled and flicked, spurred on by the mewling and whimpering he knew she thought she was suppressing, but the sounds escaped anyway, and when he very gently began to introduce his finger into her, she tensed beneath him. When it didn’t hurt and he curled that finger carefully within her, he was rewarded by her first real moan since last night.

It almost had him soiling the coverlet himself in much the same way he knew she was creating a damp spot beneath her.  With his index finger buried deep inside her, delicately probing and pressing, he continued suckling at a clit that had jumped considerably in size, throbbing and pulsating beneath his tongue.

“Cage!  Cage!” she breathed, sounding a bit scared, which was the last thing he wanted for her.

“Shh, shh, shh, Rachel,” he murmured against her, realizing he was inordinately happy that he knew her first name.  “It’s just like last night—only maybe a bit more intense.  The same thing is going to happen, I promise.  Just let it happen and enjoy it.”

He returned to his amazing task and seconds later she was very, very close, moaning constantly.  He stopped being quite so gentle with his finger and began withdrawing more and fucking her harder with it, and that was all it took.  She exploded beneath his mouth, her body heaving and bucking, grunts and groans and squeals coming from that beautiful mouth of hers as he forced her to ride that crest and find her way to another, then another until she collapsed beneath him, begging him not to do any more.

Cage relented just a bit, although he hated to leave her. He reduced his play to simply kissing her lips for long moments as he felt her body trying to slowly come down, but instead of allowing her to come down completely, he leaned forward and very, very carefully took her still fluttering clit back between his lips, mouthing her softly.

Rachel wanted to push him away from her, but she couldn’t.  She had to endure whatever it was that he decided to do to her, and including this terribly embarrassing, thoroughly horrifying thing that wrestled control of her entire body away from her in an even more demeaning manner than he’d done with her wrists. He forced such intimate pleasure on her as to have her betray even her mind. He reduced her to her lowest common denominator, a writhing, panting greedy beast that never wanted to lose contact with his avid mouth.

And yet, eventually, she did.  He left her slowly, reluctantly, but his own body was demanding a release that rivaled hers.  Cage reached down and unbuttoned his pants, wishing he were naked, too, but realizing that he had to maintain as much of an upper hand with her as possible.

He had never felt such relief when he finally allowed his fully erect self out of its terrible confinement, and it sprung forth practically into her as soon as it was released, its thick, veiny length seeking to be buried fully within her.

He did his best to remember that this was going to be new to her, and that it might well hurt, although he’d certainly do what he could to try to lessen that as much as possible.  It had been a very long time since he’d had a virgin, and his size, as much of a blessing as most women thought of it as in this case might not be as much of one.

She was drenching wet, though, so that would help.  As soon as he presented the head of his penis to her tight notch, it was instantly bathed in her sweet syrup.  He didn’t make any other adjustments, except to lean forward over her, gathering her thighs at his elbows, which rocked her back open even further to him.

“Rachel, I need to be inside you now, so that I can get to feel the same way you just did.”

He could see that she was trying to focus her eyes on him, but they were still blurry and he knew she had no idea what he was really talking about, despite her supposed marriage.  And he couldn’t see that explaining to her what he was going to do was going to help that situation much, so he simply did it.

“What I’m going to do might hurt just a bit, but only once, and I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t.”

But, although she’d accept his finger with relative ease, his size was playing hell with her as he tried to enter her, no matter how gentle he tried to be, his slow thrusts were met with her trying to cringe away from him and frightened cries that tugged at what was left of his conscience.  She was, understandably, doing her best to actively fight him, which he deliberately hadn’t left her any room to do. Her obvious anguish came very close to convincing him to back off, but his genitals demanded that he push forward, which he did, figuring that all at once, getting it over with, as far as she was concerned, might be the best thing after all.

Rachel didn’t think that she could agree with that, considering the searing, tearing she felt as he invaded her with something that was long and thick and terribly painful to accommodate within her.  Even moving to do what she could to defend herself hurt, so she lay there, trying unsuccessfully not to sob pitifully, rivers of tears sliding out of the corners of her eyes and into her hair.

And Cage knew that what he was going to do next wasn’t going to feel very good to her, either, but the dictates of his body were overwhelming in the extreme and he had to move or he thought he’d die right there atop her.  She felt so amazingly good that he was quite surprised that he’d been able to hold back this long.

He was dealing with his own pain, too. His side wasn’t at all happy with all of this movement, but what his cock wanted at the moment overrode literally everything else in his mind as he pulled out of her as slowly as he could, which wasn’t very, then pressed himself back into her as she softly chanted under her breath—he didn’t even think she was aware of her repeated pleas for him to stop.  Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, although he could see that tears had no problems leaking out of them.

Suddenly, he sat back, still surging into her rhythmically, but at this angle, he could reach her still nicely slickened clit. 

When his thumb began to polish her little jewel, it was like a bolt of electricity went through her, and Rachel’s soft chant segued into a loud, groaning plea.

“No!  P–please–no–don’t–” she gasped.

But he would not stop.  Cage could feel her tightening around him against her will, and knew she was beginning to enjoy what he was doing to her, although he also knew she wasn’t at all happy about it.  But his thumb never left that terribly sensitive tidbit as he began to move more powerfully within her at the same time, seeking his own ecstasy.

He did, however, make sure that she reached her climax before he found his own, thoroughly enjoying the way her body clutched and clenched at his, how those delicious breasts of hers bobbed as he pressed into her and she couldn’t ignore the dictates of her own body to move with the ecstasy he was bringing her. His last stroke was his hardest and he coated her chamber with his seed on a long, low growl.

Why she began to cry harder now that it seemed to be over, she would never know, but once he was through forcing her to a peak she would have sworn at first that she could never have attained, she somehow completely lost the ability to control her sobbing, and, as they sank further and further into the bed due to his weight, she was finding it harder and harder to breathe.

Her emotions totally frazzled and suddenly completely unable to deal with the idea that she might die of suffocation beneath the beastly bastard, Rachel fairly screamed at him, “Get off me you great oaf!”

For his part, Cage was barely alive.  It had been a very long time between women, and he was pretty much an overcooked noodle, and yet she was screaming at him as if he was actively killing her.

“Get off me. I can’t breathe!”

It took another long moment before what she was saying sank in to his fried brain, but eventually he rolled off her and she began to cough and choke.

“Damn, you were serious,” he said, and he guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised, considering the differences in their sizes.

“If you want to kill me, please feel free to use the gun next time,” she snapped sharply.  “It’ll be quicker and more merciful, not that that’s likely to be a consideration for you, regardless.”

He frowned.  “I’m sorry.  I truly am.”

Rachel met his eyes and said blankly, “Yeah, that means a lot.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable, Rachel?”

Although it didn’t have the sarcastic bite that her previous comments had, she still managed to get in, “You could release my wrists.  That would go a long way towards making me more comfortable.”

Cage sighed, wishing he thought he could, but then he remembered that she had had a knife secreted in the bed somewhere that had gotten her loose while he’d slept, and he didn’t feel quite as bad.  “I’m sorry, Rachel, but no.  Anything else?”  For some reason, he felt compelled to get her to give him something he could do for her that would assuage the guilty feelings he was having about keeping her tied up.  “Are you hungry?  Do you need the pail?  Thirsty?  I could bring you some water?”

She was still on her side, her back to him.  “No, thank you,” she answered primly.

“Sleep well.”

She didn’t answer him, although he didn’t think that she was asleep already.  It came to him within minutes, and she was not that far behind him.

Cage awoke very early the next morning and felt that something wasn’t right.  He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what, but something.  He eased himself out of bed, tucking the gun into his pants and pulling his boots on quickly.  Although Rachel appeared dead to the world and he hated to wake her, he’d rather he did it than someone else.

“Missus,” he whispered as he lightly shook Rachel awake.

“What? Can’t you just let me sleep in peace after everything else you’ve done to me?”

Then they both heard the multiple hoof beats in the distance and he began to scramble to untie her.  “If I hear you say anything to them, if you mention me to whoever it is, I’ll kill them but
not
you.”

Her eyebrows rose, but just then her wrists were free and he was shoving her dress, hose and shoes into her hands.  Rachel had never dressed so quickly in her life.  “What do I do if they want to come in?”

“Stall them as long as you can.”

As she went for the door, looking back at him for a second, he said calmly, “Take the rifle out with you.  They’ll be far enough away—at first—that they won’t notice it’s broken.”

She stood in awe of him.  She’d never shown him where she’d hidden it, under the small, crude bookcase that stood in one corner, and how had he known it was broken?

But she knew they didn’t have time for questions, so she grabbed it and headed out, hearing him whisper hoarsely from behind her, “Be careful.  And I’m sorry you have to deal with this at all.”

His unexpected apology threw her off a bit, although it didn’t assuage any of her fears.

When she got out there, she saw that there were two of them, but they sounded like many more, somehow.  Perhaps it was the way they were riding hell bent for leather, practically standing in their saddles as they pulled up.  They each cradled a rifle as she pointed hers at them, encouraging them to stop a good distance away.

“We’re looking for a fugitive.  He’s a big, tall man, black hair and perhaps a beard by now, goes by the name of Micajah.”

“Is that his first or last name?”

“First.  Last name of Lincoln.  Have you seen anyone?”

“No, Sir, I haven’t.  I’m not very hospitable, and if he’d have come near, I would have done my best to discourage him.”

“You’re very remote out here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Is it just you?”

“My husband’s off hunting.  I expect him home any time now.”

They gave her a look much like he had when she’d said that line.

“Do you mind if we come in and take a look around?” the bigger, older one of them asked, pushing his hat back on his head.

“Are you two lawmen?”

They looked at each other before the smaller of them answered, and she knew they weren’t.  “Of a sort.”

In other words, no. 

“Are you of a sort that has badges?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Well, then I guess you have the answer to your question, don’t you?  If you were Rangers, you’d be required to carry your badges, and as far as I know, they’re the only law in this territory.”  She had no idea if that was true, but it apparently sounded good enough to discourage them.

They exchanged glances again, and then they each tipped their hats and said politely, “Ma’am,” as they rode off.

She stayed outside until she could no longer see them riding off, then went to the barn and did her evening chores before going back in to where he was quite likely going to truss her up again.

And hopefully not do what he’d just done to her again.  If she’d had any sense she would have tested his resolve and said something to those two men, tipped them off somehow, but she knew that doing so would only put their lives at risk.  He’d been entirely too clever in telling her that it wasn’t her own life that was on the line if she mentioned anything, but rather theirs, knowing already that she didn’t put much value on her own because she’d already betrayed her hand to him.

She slowly, reluctantly opened the door and he was lying on the bed as if he hadn’t moved a muscle.

“They rode away.”

“I heard.  They’ll be back.”

She frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Because they’re hired guns.  They won’t stop until I’m dead.”

When she realized her jaw was hanging open, she snapped it shut.  “But what did you do to deserve that?”

“I’m too smart for my own good and too dumb to do anything about it,” he said cryptically.

Rachel was surprised when he rose to his feet, wobbling a bit, and she stepped towards him as if to help him automatically when he started for the door and ended up just reaching for the pail instead.  He chuckled at himself a bit.  “I was trying to get to the outhouse to save you from having to do this for me,” he said when he was done, but she did it anyway, running to the outhouse them coming right back.  He was stubborn enough that he was still standing when she got back, barring the door behind her once she was in.  By then, he looked as if he might fall to the floor at any minute as he leaned back against it with a heavy thud and she well remembered just how hard it had been to get him into the bed in the first place.  She wasn’t at all eager to repeat the experience.

“Come back to bed with me,” he ordered, lurching towards it himself.

“No, I have to see to the animals.”

Apparently he wasn’t that exhausted or incapacitated, because his back straightened as he turned and he assumed his full height, making Rachel swallow hard as he looked down at her in a deliberately intimidating manner that was overkill.  Just his size was enough to make her feel like a mouse facing a lion.  His hand rested on the butt of the gun that was sticking out of his pants.  “I wasn’t asking. I can’t watch you or go outside with those men around so it will have to wait. Put the rifle back and come to bed.”

He stood there, waiting for her to comply.

Rachel’s eyebrow rose, her tone accusatory, as if she thought he’d lied about his name.   “Which one of us, Mr. Micajah Lincoln, do you think can stand the longest?”

“I told you that Cage was a nickname.”

She was unprepared for just how quickly he could still move, and found herself not only dragged along behind him by his death grip on her wrist, but then he landed almost bonelessly on the edge of the beg and pulled her down—not onto his lap or even onto the bed, but over his lap, tugging her skirt up practically before she was all the way down.

“And I didn’t have to stand very long at all.”

But Rachel wasn’t bound and she also wasn’t going to stand for being spanked again by this man, so she did everything in her power, which turned out to be not very much, to get away from him. He kept her firmly in place, rucking her dress up practically to her armpits while yanking her bloomers down to her ankles and off onto the floor in the next second, leaving the entirety of her naked bottom beneath his heated gaze.

The vicious palm of his hand that came cracking down onto her exposed flesh felt like the wrath of God.  “When I tell you to do something, you do it, Rachel.  This is not a democracy.  I expect you to obey me, because if you don’t, this is what you’re going to get, every time.”

He continued to swat and smack her, landing searing swat after swat on a behind that was barely beginning to recover from last night’s punishment.  His hand landed every single time over the remaining bruises from when his belt had roasted her ‘til she screamed, and she was very nearly there now again with just his hand because of it.

“And if you give me trouble while I’m spanking you, you know there’s a whole ‘nother level I can take it to, if you need it—and perhaps you do, more often than not.”

He paused and Rachel was terrified that he was going to reach for his belt buckle, so she gave a tremendous push and managed to almost lurch herself off his lap.  But he saw what she was attempting and wasn’t able to grab her arm but rather her dress, which ripped off her, leaving her in a naked heap on the floor at his feet. A pitifully sobbing heap, at that. 

“My dress!  You’ve ruined my it!”

She didn’t even seem to pay any attention to him.  Cage let the material go and she caught it before it hit the ground, holding it to her as if it was the most important thing she owned.

He shook his head.  She was practically hysterical.  “It’s just a dress,” he said, not thinking about what it might mean to her.

Rachel sat up on her knees, gorgeously, breathtakingly naked, and simply gaped at him, not saying anything, not even really crying, but sniffling and choking a bit, still clutching what was left of the dress to her.