Wolfe (7 page)

Wolfe

One stroke.

Her scream when the plastic strut whipped across her ass made me stop and stare, then step away. Her sobbing lasted so long.

Orgasm then pain. Or pain then orgasm. It did it for me.

For her too. She couldn’t hide that, not from me.

I unbuttoned, unzipped, and took off my jeans and boxers. My shirt had gone long before, before she shrieked, before her body stiffened and came with my hands on her. She’d almost bitten me.

Before.

This was going to be good. I walked around her, my blind and sobbing girl, knowing I had forever to do what I wanted. All night. I could make her come and scream and come again.

If anyone else was camped nearby, I’d find out soon. The sound would carry.

If anyone arrived, I’d make her say she was happy and fine.

She was mine to do with as I wanted.

I sat on one of the other blocks of weed-grown brickwork, with the strut across my thighs and my hand wrapped around my erection. From here, only a few yards away, the wheal on her butt stood out plain.

When I rose and walked closer, around to her front, she turned her head, following the sound of my footsteps. I kneeled before the pile of my clothes and slid the belt from my jeans. One hand held the strut, the other the tinkling belt. The buttons of her areolas had flattened though her nipples had stayed erect, as had her little clit. Tempting.

“You wondering what I’m doing next? Or if I’m done?”

Hesitant, she nodded.

“Good.” I put the strut on the block near her, gathered the belt in my fist so only ten or so inches of it was free. I lashed one breast then the other. She jerked and her foot slipped from its place then recovered. Paleness showed on her skin before the blood rushing back pinked her skin.

Who needed floodlights when the moon showed me everything?

“Pretty.” I squeezed the striped breast, taking a big handful.

She bit her lip but said nothing.

“Don’t hold your breath. I won’t be stopping soon.”

I lashed them both for about twenty strokes. I wasn’t precision counting. I was watching her jerk and squirm, her gasps, the little hops she almost made. I kept going, only I alternated and tapped or smacked the leather onto her clit every few strokes. Her mouth fell open. Her breathing became erratic.

Smiling, I swapped. I picked up the strut and applied it to her ass until it too was striped with red. It took a while before she got over the change in the hurting. Then she writhed and her stomach muscles twisted as the instinct to avoid pain reversed and sent her chasing it instead. She strived to keep her feet still but sometimes they slipped.

I stopped and found myself panting, same as she was. Fucking with her mind and body was good exercise.

Slumping into the rope, with her head lolling forward, and her hair across her face, Kiara struggled for air.

Oh god
came out repeatedly, as if she was clockwork. When she wound down, I started again.

I whacked the belt across her mons. She jumped, moaning. I pressed my fingers into her pussy, working her higher with those as well as gripping her mind and making her face what I did. I think for a while she saw my fingers as I did, saw how destroyed she looked, how lost in the pain I’d made her.

I caught some of her moans in my mouth, kissing her lips, taking her there while my fingers penetrated her. I made a construct of lust, built it high, higher, then I stepped away...

Three well-placed strokes on her cunt and clit and she tensed and came, crying out as her body arched. Spittle shone in the moonlight, trailing from one corner of her mouth. Sweat sheened her skin and ran in thicker trails down her stomach.

When I stepped to her and dragged up one eyelid, her pupil was barely visible and had rolled into the top half. I released her eyelid and for a second she focused on me before her eye slowly shut.

“Think I’m done? Did that hurt?”

She gulped a few times then whispered, “Yessss.”

But it was good too. That was a yes I didn’t need to check on. Not that the hurting wasn’t obvious.

“You dance well, but...”

I didn’t want her falling.

I let her go, then I retrieved some more rope and four tent pegs. I hammered them into the earth and roped her ankles, tying them so she couldn’t close her legs, couldn’t open them much either.

Now, I could really do what I wanted. She was red most places – belly, breasts, ass, upper back. Nothing wrong with painting her in deeper red.

I heaved in a few lungfuls and wiped away the sweat on my face with the back of my forearm. Then I gave my cock a few languid strokes.

Not to be fucked? Was I sure of that?

Everything I’d brought with me made a long row on the grassed area. A whippy branch plucked smooth. The strut. The belt, laid out like a dead snake. A dozen bulldog clamps from a stack of folders the woman had piled in the back seat.

Should I be doing this? The question lay before me, accusing. I shouldn’t.

My head filled with such a dire craving. No man could deny his nature.

I closed my eyes then opened them on a sight that swept away sense – Kiara, bound to the huge beam above her, that spanned from one wall of the saw mill to the next. Below her, the block. There was no saw. I’d made that up. An ancient, rusty saw seethed of threat, of teeth, of cutting, of blood spilled and agony. The knife was the bent-over end of a shiny tent peg that was tied to a baseball bat. The woman with the BMW must’ve had kids. I’d wedged the thick end of the bat into a slot in the middle of the block.

I went to her and took away the baseball bat. I put my hand on her hip, marveling at how perfect she was. How well she writhed at the scrape of my nails as I circled her.

Moonlight cascaded down her body, lighting her up in coruscations of startling red and pink and blue. I tasted her sweat, took a mouthful of the flesh at her hip and bit, then another of her ass. I painted her with her own orgasmic cum, fed her some on my fingers, and whispered sweet threats as I fastened some of the clamps. I listened to her cute whimpers. Then I whipped her again with my arsenal and watched the rise of the colors in the air around her. They worshipped her as I did. The flecks and motes caressed her until she became a goddess of pain, a dancer, a supplicant who begged me to stop making her twitch and writhe, to stop her coming.

Her scent overrode all.

I lapped her sweat and bit her feet, tasting the grit mixed with faint traces of her blood. I delved into her cunt with fingers and implements, relishing the wet sounds as I fucked her with them. My cock throbbed when she screamed for me to stop, and it throbbed when she begged me to
never
stop.

The scenery spun around the female.

I slashed the ropes and let her down and she lay over the block, belly down and gasping. Her cunt lay open to me, swollen and ready. I pulled her down to the grass, arranged her ass, spread her wide. And I dragged her onto my cock, feeling her cunt strain to take me. I fucked her while the moon laughed. I lay over her and pulled out, then prodded her other hole with my cunt-moistened dick until it too, slowly, let me in.

My cock sank into her until all of it was swallowed and inside her asshole. When she scrambled to rise on hands and knees and crawl away, I growled. Then, I began to fuck her properly.

Kiara

My mind was full of fucking sounds and my ass was full of cock.

This should’ve bothered me. I knew that. Yesterday, I’d been a nurse, a carer, a person to respect. Now...

He withdrew completely, then fed himself into my ass again and I lost track of logic as he forged deeper. That appreciation for being taken how and where he wanted to, rippled into me, pushing up the volume, plugging into whatever place in me arranged for orgasms.

He’d given me fire and pleasure and more pain until I was a jigsaw person shattered into a million pieces.

I tried to crawl from him, instinctively, in self-preservation. His cock had pulled all of an inch out of me when he growled a warning. I shuddered to a stop. Body aching, stinging, flaring with pain in places uncountable, I stuck my ass out for more.

Wolfe gave it.

He hauled back my hair, gripped the front of my throat in his other hand, and fucked me.

Grass scored my knees, my palms. Then he twisted my hair and pulled my head back until I knew he was meeting my eyes.

“Look at me.” The words sounded rough enough to scrape his throat raw.

I opened my eyes, for the first time in what seemed hours. So dark, but I could see his eyes and they never left mine, his focus obsessed, despite his cock shoving in and out. My arms were outstretched and clawing at the ground before me, as I strove to stay in place and not be driven into the ground.

Sweat dribbled down the sides of my face and soaked my back. His skin slid across mine in that incessant rhythm.

“Don’t make me come,” I choked out. I’d begged him before.

This time, though immersed in his pleasure, he seemed to hear.

I was rocked and hammered back and forth, and each thrust filled my ass with what seemed an impossible amount of cock.

He lowered his head and took a bite of my shoulder, grunting, as if the mouthful of my flesh pleased him. The last few, flesh-slapping thrusts banged into me. As his cock swelled, I braced myself with a new handful of grass and earth. I could feel it, feel him about to come, and my pussy seemed far too empty. Then he shoved in one last time, pushing my face to the grass, flattening me as he climaxed.

Done. I blinked through stunned eyes.

Surely, now, this would end?

Nothing had ever come close to this, ever, in my entire life.

What was I to think or to feel after so many orgasms had been forced on me? After he’d whipped me, made me hurt, given me the most incredible orgasms? Was it punishment or some depraved, distorted gift?

I couldn’t...think. No one could have. Weary, we sank into sleep together, dirty and cum-smeared, wrapped limb over limb, and he was still inside me.

Caring about this or wondering, it could wait. I couldn’t leave anyway. Best...to sleep.

When he began to lick me, I came awake for only enough seconds to understand what was happening. Smiling, though hazy as to the why, I let my eyes close.

By the time he stirred, pulled me upright, and dragged me away by the hand, I’d recovered some awareness though I was bleary-eyed and stumbling.

“Where are we going?” I croaked.

He stared back, ferocious in demeanor, yet silent. I tried again.

The man holding my hand seemed unwilling or unable to speak. Half my skin felt as if it had been flayed and stuck back on – almost true. From predator and torturer, he’d become, what? My patient again?

How to deal with this?

Gently, I encouraged him to talk but he said nothing. Without drugs, did Wolfe regress until he forgot how to use language? I couldn’t figure that one out, not at this time of night.

Pretend he’s a patient.

“I have to pee.” Embarrassed, I mimed it too. His huff seemed the best reply I’d get.

I walked away and he watched me go, then went off to a nearby spot and, from the sounds, also urinated. On my return, I found my handbag and retrieved a dose of Keppra while he stood a yard away.

My hands shook. His eyes fixed on my every move, but he said nothing.

Okay. How did I get him to take it?

“Drink? Eat?” I mimed again, feeling silly to do this before him when hours before he’d been sane and normal.

And in between he’d been my monster lover.

Instead he pointed at the sleeping bags and dragged me down to them. Lying on my side with the pills clutched in hand and under my chin, I waited while he arranged the sleeping bag so it covered us both.

What would happen if he never recovered? I could manipulate him while he was like this – Neanderthal-like. Or perhaps not. There seemed no humanity in him. He might kill me or maim me and not even see the consequences.

I had to get this into him.

Wolfe slurped his tongue across my neck, grumbling as he molded his body to my back. His heavy arm was draped over my chest and I could feel him growing hard again. My pussy was so sore, I prayed he’d sleep. The licking continued and it dawned on me what to do. Quietly, but quickly, I chewed at the tablet until I had the soggy remains in my palm. Then I reached back and smeared the drug over where he licked me.

Gross, but necessity was the mother of doing stuff that was gross.

After one lick he grunted and stopped.
Dayum.
A moment later, he gripped my breast and his cock prodded at me, found my entrance, and slid inside.

I gasped at the initial sting of my abused flesh being stretched.

His lovemaking was surprisingly gentle and almost an afterthought. I was so exhausted, with my skin throbbing in time with my heartbeats, and so tired of being scared and unsure that being fucked like this sent me floating. He thrust into me slowly and within a minute I felt his tumescence increase, his rhythm become harder, faster, then the pressure of his cum injecting into me.

It had to be how he handled me, that way he could make me do stuff, but...yeah, that’d felt good, and I smiled drowsily.

Oops and fuck. I mustn’t sleep yet. He’d not taken the drug. The stuff was bitter. What might entice him? Something to overcome that nasty taste?

Chocolate or beer or whiskey or a hundred other things weren’t anywhere within reach. I could only think of one possibility that was within reach. One thing that might attract him. Icky, but, if it worked...

I wrinkled my nose then reached down between my legs and collected some of the natural moisture there, then I attempted to mix it with the paste of the tablet. The things one did when desperate.

He snuffled at my neck, then began licking me again.
Yesss.
Oh, yes.
The relief, that hopefully he would be more normal soon, let me relax. How strangely erotic his licking could be. I shifted my neck, murmured an appreciative noise, and let myself succumb to the pleasure of having a man warming me with the heat of his body.

In the middle of the night, I woke with a start. He slept beside me, on his back and I sneaked a glance his way. Snoring. Oblivious that I watched him. I wanted him normal again but, if he remembered the pills...I could be in trouble in the morning.

And what had that been about, before, snuggling up to the man who’d just beaten me? Even so...my skin didn’t crawl at that piece of delivered fact. I liked being near him, and that was so...so...

Ugh.
I squashed shut my eyes.
Does not compute.

It took a while before sleep again claimed me.