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The air was heavy with the smell of wood smoke, so thick she could almost taste it. The sound of bubbling, murmuring water was somewhere nearby. Bright light. Soft breeze.
“Selena,” the voice said, inside her head, yet not.
She was still sleeping, she knew that. But it was so peaceful lying there.
Just a little bit longer. A few more minutes.
“Selena,” the voice said again, much louder this time. Deeper.
Malcolm!
Her eyes flew open. His face, the eyes dark and flinty, the jaw tight, was directly above her—yet it was upside down.
He was not happy, not in the least.
“You’ve got a lot to explain to me, human.”
She rolled instantly, heart frantically pounding, and scrambled to her feet. It was pure instinct, even though she knew it was utterly futile.
As she sprinted for the edge of the clearing, her legs felt hopelessly stuck in wet concrete.
He caught her by the hair in a handful of steps, his great feet pounding the loam just behind her. He hauled her up short and she screeched, the hair at her scalp protesting at the hot pain of his fist twisting deeper into her locks.
Spinning her around, he held her by those same locks as he brought his face almost nose to nose with hers. “How could you do this? This is my valley. It’s sacred to me. It’s... my home.”
“Malcolm, I was just trying to sig—”
“You started a fire. Here!” Then his expression grew pinched, his jaw twitching. “And you tried to run—again. After I told you how dangerous it was.”
Oh, shit, he’s pissed.
And yet, inside part of her—maybe all of her—knew he had every right to be angry with her.
“I didn’t know! How could I know? I—!”
“Quiet. I can see going easy on you was a mistake.” He hauled her behind him, still gripping her by the hair as she stumbled along in the dirt. “I think I’ll rectify that right now.”
“What’s—damn—what’s the problem with fire? We have them all the time on Terra!” She grunted, pulling on his wrist where he grasped her by the hair. It was like trying to move a mountain.
“This isn’t Terra.”
Stopping under a large, expansive tree, its thick, stout branches reaching out in all directions, he pulled her under one of them. Letting go of her hair and ripping a hanging vine from the branch, he pointed at her.
“Hold up your hands.”
“Why?”
“Do it now. You’re already in enough trouble. Don’t make this any worse than it has to be.”
Already beginning to tremble, she obeyed, her mind playing over the things he’d already done to her. Dreading—and shockingly, fascinated at—what he might do to her next.
Looping the vine over her wrists repeatedly, he cinched it tight, binding them together. Then he threw the other end over the branch, hauling on it until her arms were raised over her head.
“What are you...?”
Pulling harder, he lifted her clear of the ground, and she wriggled and swung her legs wildly.
Oh, my God!
The worst though was the fact that her legs slipped together easily, slickened as they were by her juices running down her inner thighs. What was wrong with her!
Tying off the vine around the broad trunk, he stood before her, where she hung several feet off the ground, her head just above level with his.
“You’ve proven that you need a firmer hand. That’s my fault for not recognizing that until now. So, you’re going to get it, from here on out, little human.”
“I... please don’t do this.”
She wasn’t even sure what this was—but she was certain she wasn’t going to like it in the least.
Then how come your cunt is practically a raging waterfall?
He held out a hand, palm up—and she had to shake her head, utterly disbelieving of what she’d just seen.
The branch above her—the same one she hung from like a trussed-up goose—produced several lithe switches, complete with tiny little buds along their lengths. Five or six in all, they grew from the main branch right before her eyes, then dropped neatly into his hand.
“We are doing this—and we’ll do this every single time you disobey me, Selena. You have only yourself to blame.”
“You... you don’t have to do this. I’m... I’m sorry!”
She didn’t know what she was saying sorry for—that she’d been caught or that she’d unintentionally defiled his ‘sacred’ valley.
He wrapped more vines around the base of the bundle of switches, then held it up for her.
“This will teach you, little human.”
As he walked around behind her, she tried to follow him, as if keeping him in sight might stave off the inevitable. In an instant, the garlands draped over her hips were ripped away.
“What are you...?”
The first swish of the switches took her by surprise, both with its swiftness and with the instant itchy, stingy heat it left across her skin. She grunted, pin-wheeling her legs, trying to twist around toward him.
He began a regular, methodic switching of her ass, and down the entirety of the backs of her thighs. At first, after the shock of the first blow had worn off, the stinging seemed almost manageable, but it took a mere dozen or so before she could feel the heat rising.
And she knew that before he was finished, she was going to be one very sorry girl indeed.
Soon enough, the burning was such that she would jerk and twist her hips each time the slender switches bit in.
“Stay still. Let the switches do their work.”
Several more blows, in rapid succession, sliced into her naked bottom, this time drawing a yelp from her as they marked her, the pain sinking in like white-hot fire now.
This was much worse than a mere spanking.
“Please just let me down. I’ll obey, I’ll—”
Another stroke cut low across her ass, forcing a tight shriek from her lips. Tremendous boiling heat was growing just under her skin, the switches causing an itch-burn with each strike. He took up harder strokes, growling out the words amongst her anguished cries.
“The next time—”
Schlack!
“—you feel—”
Schlack!
“—like defiling my home—”
Schlack! Schlack!
She screamed, kicking again, the pain clawing into her bottom. “No!”
“—you’ll remember this whipping—”
Three harsh blows followed, and she pulled up on her bonds, screeching like a scalded cat. The pain was so hot, so difficult to endure, all she wanted was to get away from it.
But all she could do was hang there and suffer.
And a part of her knew that was her just deserts—but not for setting the fire. No, there was a little, solemn voice in her mind, whispering to her that she should never have run, that it was here—and only here—where she truly belonged.
He didn’t give her time to chew over the gravity of such a notion, smoothing a palm over her bottom, left and right, then back again. Placing the bundle against one cheek, as if to carefully measure his aim, he slashed in another blow, pain tearing through her.
Then another, and another, each methodically placed, Malcolm utterly silent as he did so.
“One more, I think.” The bundle pressed up under the overhang of both buttocks, then pulled away. She tensed, suspended in time, awaiting her doom, the moment seeming to go on forever.
It sliced into her finally, the burn and throb so deep it shocked her for an instant. Then she let out a hoarse shriek and burst into tears. It was too much. She couldn’t resist it, the pain impossible to cope with, and she hung limp, the hot tears coursing down her cheeks, tickling her as they dripped between her heaving breasts.
Standing before her, he lifted the bundle of switches up. “Kiss it.”
“W-what?”
“From now on, you’ll kiss every instrument used to discipline you.”
Her belly clenched at his words, her face heating, but she complied, kissing them gently.
“Good, just like that.” He touched her face, taking firm hold of her chin. “But we’re not done yet. You’ve got another lesson to learn.”
Sniffling, she tried to wipe her tears away against her inner arms. “L-lesson? What...?”
Taking hold of her ankles, he drew them together, until he held both of her feet in his palm. He wrapped another vine thickly around and around her ankles, until they were securely trussed. She struggled against it, trying to pull her feet apart. But it was useless. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Without saying a word, he pulled her feet up, higher and higher, jackknifing her body. Then he tied them off at her ankles, linking them directly to her wrists, leaving her hanging utterly helpless, the lowest part of her body her hips—and her seething, burning bottom.
“You—you can’t just leave me here like this!”
“Oh, yes, I can—but leaving you is the last thing I intend to do. Though you’ll probably wish I had by the time I’m done with you.”
No.
Her body spun ever so slowly as he walked over to one of the rocks along the riverbank. Stooping, he laid a palm upon the rock, stroking it. Then he appeared to draw something directly from the stone.
Oh, dear God, no.
It appeared to be a slender, phallus-shaped piece of stone, perfectly smooth.
“What are you doing with that?”
But she knew already.
“You can wait here for me, can’t you?” He gave her a wink as he walked past her in the opposite direction, toward the edge of the clearing. She watched him, heart pounding as he appeared to search for something in particular, stopping at a bush festooned with brilliant maroon-colored flowers. He rubbed the phallus in several of the flowers in turn, then finally returned.
Her mouth went dry when she noticed the stone glistening.
“What did you put on that?”
“This”—he held up the phallus—“is the nectar of the fhirulae bush. It should work nicely for my purposes.”
“What purpose?” She struggled against her bindings, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. “Don’t come near me with that!”
“You’re staying up there just as long as I want you to.” He stepped close, his palm caressing the stinging back of her thigh. “The marks are already fading. What a shame.”
“I don’t want this. Don’t... do whatever you’re about to do.”
He laughed. “You say these things, and yet”—his fingers insinuated themselves between her thighs and he spread her open, exposing the entirety of her cleft to the air—“you’re incredibly wet.”
“That doesn’t mean anything!”
Not even you can believe that anymore.
She jerked, grunting in anger—and something else entirely—as his finger worried her between the lips of her sex.
“Your clit is hard and swollen already. It knows what you need—even if you don’t want to listen to it.” He patted her sex, giving her clit a gentle pinch. “Not yet anyway.”
She squealed as his finger played with the sensitive opening to her bottom. “No... not there. Please!”
“Open up, little human.” His fingertip slipped between her swollen labia, collecting her copious juices, then he painted them upon her anus. She jerked at his touch, clenching tight.
“Don’t do that.” He slapped her thigh, then the other. “Obey me. Now.”
“Please...”
“You want this as much as you fight this. You fight this because you want this.” He stepped close, his lips whispering against her leg as he said it. “I’ll make you surrender to it, either way—whether you need to fight it or not.”
His fingers slicked back the hood of her clit, spreading her pussy wide, plunging deep, then frictioning her clit in tight, torturous circles, then back again. Though she was frightened that he would gouge her with his talons, somehow they’d smoothed, softened, become little more than long fingernails.
She didn’t know if it was him transforming... or yet another trick of her mind.
Regardless of whether it was real or imagined, it felt real.
She was panting in moments, a tension coiling tighter and tighter deep inside.
It was wrong to like what he did to her. Wrong and right were murky things now, in her state of mind. This was going to happen, and no amount of denial or fruitless defiance would stop it.
Giving in was what was smart.
But much worse, it was what her body craved. Bending to this superior will, submitting to his irresistible masculine strength. It was facing the truth of what she’d become.
And perhaps what she’d always been. Perhaps that moment was the first time Selena had let herself drag her true identity into the light, the person Langley saw, but was too stupid, too selfish to know what to do with.
Malcolm didn’t have that problem, as he’d proved more than once.
As he was about to prove all over again.
His finger was back at her anus, caressing it insistently. Then he pressed in, and she opened for him.
Slowly, he worked his thick digit inside her, sliding it within her in slow pumps, repeatedly entering and exiting, loosening her opening.
Langley had been obsessed with her ass, and fucking it—with pain, if he was in that sort of mood—had been one of his very favorite things.
Though she’d have died before admitting it, his use of her back passage had become one of her favorites too. It didn’t matter that it humiliated her, that it sometimes hurt—and that accommodating a man of his size in her ass was never going to be less than uncomfortable.
In fact, those factors only made her want it more.
You’re just as fucked up now as you were back then.
Only now—unlike with Langley—she had developed at least a modicum of acceptance.
Malcolm had said it himself.
“There’s no shame here.”
In that one small respect, he was right. There wasn’t any shame anymore, not in that way anyway.
The truth of that made it easier to give in, to yield to Malcolm’s lust.
Because he seemed to understand her even better than she understood herself.
“That’s it... good, Selena.” He thrust his finger briskly within her bottom then, and her discomfort was already morphing into that confusing, contradictory pleasure that only anal penetration could bring.
Just as she began to breathe harder, her hips just starting to sway, he withdrew his digit.
Before she could silently lament how much the illicit pleasure of having her ass played with elicited within her, a broader—and much harder—something was placed against her anus.
The stone phallus!
The way well-prepared by his clever fingers, the phallus pushed, and her opening immediately began to give way. “Take this, little human. Open wide now.”
Strangely, the stickiness coating the rod had her anus itching and tingling, even before the stone nosed its way inside.
“Good... relax that hole... that’s good. No—more. No squeezing yet.”
“I can’t!”
It was almost impossible to comply. The tingling and itchy heat got worse by the second, far surpassing the discomfort of the wide phallus passing through the circlet of her bottom’s entrance. It induced an almost overwhelming urge to squeeze, to clamp the stone feverishly tight.
But when she did, the heat instantly flared into real burning, which suffused more and more of her rectum as the stone relentlessly pushed deeper.
“Fuck! What... is that?”
“The fhirulae nectar is an irritant to mucous membranes, and produces a very satisfactory burning.”
“I... I have to tighten though! Goddammit!”
Malcolm pushed the rest of it inside her, the phallus narrowing until the flared end seated firmly against her anus.
It was impossible not to squeeze down upon it then—which only made it more painful.
His finger stroked playfully at the rim of her bottom, where her anus was stretched around the stone the most. “It presents a most delicious predicament for the female subjected to its effects. Squeeze to try to alleviate the itching heat—but that squeezing only makes it burn hotter still.”
“Ahh... ahhh, fuck!”
The burning now was fiery around her anus, her rectum protesting both the bulk of the phallus and the nectar searing her tender tissues inside.
“When I tell you to do something, I expect to be obeyed, little human. When you defy me, there will be consequences. Hot, painful consequences.”
At that moment, she wasn’t sure which burned most—the whip-scorched buttocks still trembling with the sting of her punishment, or the searing, ever increasing heat of the thick, merciless plug cruelly staking her bottom hole.
“Take it out!”
“We’re nowhere near time for that.” He walked to the trunk, loosening the line holding her slung over the branch. For a terrifying moment, she thought he meant to let her plummet to the ground, but instead he merely lowered her slightly.
Until her bottom was level with his waist.
“That should do nicely.” Tying it off once more, he turned to her, his cock high and hard, the slit at the tip glistening.
His took his shaft in his hand, his fist pumping it briskly as he walked back to her, the veins along the thick cock congested, swollen.
Without preamble, he pried open her pussy, holding the lips so wide, it almost hurt. Then, without preamble or so much as a single word, he drove inside her cunt.
Her breath left her lungs in a wheezing groan as he filled her near to bursting, the phallus in her burning bottom making the already very snug fit almost unbearable.
But he made sure that she would bear it, regardless.
Holding her by the upper thighs to gain better leverage, he thrust over and over into her, punishing her with it, her pussy—still sore from his previous use of it—protesting almost as keenly as her fire-consumed asshole.
“I... too much... too much!”
“Oh, it’s nowhere near too much, little human. It’s just the beginning.” He pulled out, making her groan again, only to slap the head of his cock several times against her clit. “You’re being reborn”—he plunged inside her again, pounding her even harder, her body swaying under his assault—“as my plaything.”
The sounds of her pussy’s lubrication squeezing out around his plundering shaft were clearly audible, even over the sounds of the jungle all around them. She was dripping again, despite the pain—or perhaps because of it.
Her pussy liked this, needed this. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t have to make sense.
It just was.
They both knew it. And they both knew she was much too far gone to pretend she didn’t need him to take that choice away from her.
Perhaps forevermore.
As if he could read her mind, his fingertips worried her swollen clit, even as he continued his punishing thrusts within the tight clutch of her aching, and still quite sore, sex.
The burning in her ass was now far more intense than the stretching ache in her pussy.
“Please take it out! I’ll... do anything!”
Despite the discomfort of being so very full, the pleasure/pain of her pussy being stretched to its limit by his big penis held an illicit thrill that she knew she would take to her grave before admitting to her captor.
Don’t you mean your lover?
Or her owner.
“The only way I’m taking out the stone is if I replace it with my cock.” He pushed deep until she groaned loudly. “And you’ll have to beg even more this time.”
“What? I... this isn’t fair!”
He pulled out and thundered inside her again.
“Ah! God... damn!”
“Beg me, human. Beg or your little bottom is going to burn even hotter. Do you really like the pain that much?”
“No! N-never!”
His voice was very low, even as he thrust into her with harsh, quick strokes. “Then beg, slut. Beg for my cock in your bottom. Beg me to stretch you there even more than the stone is stretching you right now.”
Utterly and completely helpless, defeated, she knew there was only one way. Escape was impossible, the only deliverance in the arms of surrender.
“Please... my God... please!” Her voice seized, tears threatening again, even as the feel of his big cock battering her pussy was engendering a distressing amount of pleasure, the pain beginning to transform into something else entirely.
“Not good enough. Beg me—convince me you want me to stake that luscious bottom on my cock. Show me how much you want that pleasure, that pain.”
“Please... sir! I... need it!” Her voice was almost a rasp now. “F-fuck my ass!”
“I like this ‘sir’—you’ll continue with that. Now, say it correctly, slut.” He sank his teeth into the back of her thigh, but not enough to truly hurt. It was a mark of possession, rather than punishment. “Say: ‘please take me in my bottom, sir.’”
She thought her entire body might ignite with the force of her blushing, and yet, a surge of fresh juices let down, dripping out around his pistoning shaft, her perineum wet with it.
“P-please... take me in”—she swallowed miserably, forcing herself to finish it—“i-in my bottom, sir!”
Incredibly, instead of withdrawing, he pounded into her even harder, his fingers rubbing at her clit. She was very nearly at her climax—and it was the most tortured climax she could have imagined.
When he pinched her hot, swollen clit, she squeezed tight, crying out, clamping down upon his plunging shaft, throwing her head back, her orgasm shaking her, wringing her out, exhausting her still further.
“Good... good. Come on that cock, slut!” He frictioned her over-sensitized clit until she pleaded wordlessly with him, her nerves frayed, the pleasure threatening to tip over into pain there too.
Finally, he pulled from the clutch of her pussy, his fingers working at the end of the stone phallus. Mirth, triumph, and even affection were evident in his low voice. “I’m not sure when you’re prettier, little human—when you come, or when you beg.”
The pain of the stone’s withdrawal made her hiss and arch her back, her trembling arms now so exhausted she could barely pull herself up anymore.
She shivered as he teased her stretched, aching, and still burning anus with the broad head of his penis.
Immediately, he began to press, and much to her shock, her ass opened for him, loosened as it had been from the merciless phallus. But as his thick shaft plowed deeper, she yelped, her voice nearly breathless. It was even bigger than the stone had been—and she feared it would be too much.
No matter how much you want to try.
“It’s not going to fit!”
“Mmm, you’re going to have to ask yourself which is worse—my fucking your bottom, and hard, or that terrible heat ravaging your flesh. My seed will bring you relief... even if I have to fuck you raw first.”
She tried a different tack. “The—the nectar! It’ll burn you too!”
His laughter was rich and deep, and it caused a frisson deep within her that was part fear, part animal lust.
“I’m one with this world, remember? The nectar can no more hurt me than my own blood can burn my flesh. Choose, slut.” He pushed deeper, and she groaned, fearing he might split her in half. He leaned close, his hot breath against her thigh as he said the words. “If you don’t surrender, and beg for my cock as deep in your bottom as it will go, I’ll coat it with nectar first—and make you keep it in all night long.”
There was little real choice.
“Please... help me. Fuck me, sir.” She swallowed down a groan, a fresh wave of burning sinking deeper into her. “Please!”
“My pleasure, sweet Selena.” He took hold of her thighs again, squeezing them hard, almost brutally, then pushed steadily inside. She panted and groaned, clenching against the veined monster, then bearing down to open for it some more.
He didn’t stop until his hips were pressed to her sore buttocks, her breaths coming in panicked little gusts. She’d never felt so full, so stretched, so invaded. But instead of repulsing her, it stirred a twisted, dark pleasure deep in her belly that had her gasping anew with its power. Her pussy squeezed and released, over and over, bereft of that heavy penis, but spasming just the same at its memory, all the while her tortured anus, stretched to its absolute limit, throbbed around the thick member, staking its claim to her in the most profound way a male could.
There was a problem though.
Nothing had ever felt more right—at least as far as her body was concerned. Her clit practically singed with the pleasure, her juices running almost continuously from between her slackened pussy lips. It felt as if her entire being was wrapped around that great penis, a slave to it, a vessel in which to empty its lust.
And to proclaim its—and his—rightful dominion over her.
Over his mate.
He began to move within her, slowly at first, the shallow strokes increasing in depth with each plunge and retreat. It was torturous, it was more pleasure that she knew how to process.
Suddenly, she had the intense urge to void her bladder, as he took up faster and faster thrusting.
“I’m... I’m going to... pee!”
“No, you’re not, little human. Let go, relax. More.”
She focused on his words, the rising pressure and heat between her legs entirely different from the heat of nectar sting ravaging her tender tissues.
Then with a brush of his fingertips over her clit again, she tipped over and screamed, shuddering in her bonds, the orgasm so unlike any she’d ever had before, liquid spurting once, twice, then a steady stream from her pussy.
“Good girl. Such juices. More—give me more, slut!” He pushed even deeper, making sure to swirl his fingers round her clit each time he pressed against her.
“No... oh, fuck... no!”
Incredibly, though she was sure she would pass out from exhaustion—and a pleasure so engulfing she feared it might actually kill her—he brought her to several more climaxes, each even more arduous than the last. She begged and pleaded; he took her even harder, using her in the most primitive, animalistic of ways, wringing everything from her whether she thought she could endure it or not.
As she begged in a hoarse whisper, her mind spinning, nearly delirious, he finally pushed tight, his grip on her thighs so tight it was painful. He grunted, then again, his hips bucking against her, his head dropped back and his chest heaved as he came, the muscles of his arms going taut, the veins bulging.
“Take my... seed... slut!” He cried out in turn, shaking her body with his final spasms, the shaft of his cock somehow swelling even more as it began its strong, endless pulsing within the tight clutch of her bottom.
Liquid heat flooded her insides then, squeezing back out and dropping in sticky strands from between her buttocks, her cleft coated with it.
She sighed long and loud, for his words had proved true; the gush of his hot semen somehow salving her pain, cooling the fiery torment of the nectar.
And confirming she was now utterly helpless to resist him.
She’d surrendered in every way a woman could.
It was all so wrong.
But nothing could ever have felt more right.