by Loki Renard
I do as I am told, working awkwardly at the binding of his pants. He strokes my hair and waits patiently. They are quite resistant to the efforts of my slim fingers until Maverick helps me out, his thick digits pulling the flaps of his pants open, the leather binding crisscrossed over his thick rod.
His cock is not the same as Hans’. It seems thicker, and the head is larger. Veins run in thick ridges over the shaft and his dark-furred balls swing low. His manhood is a monster, and as I look at it, I see it twitch and throb in the cool air.
“Wrap your hand around the base,” Maverick says, giving me a gentle but firm order. I do as I am told, taking hold of that hard flesh that is still so foreign to me. I wonder at how differently men are made. I am all soft flesh and tender petals down there, but he is hard and his spear is ready to impale me.
I feel a trickle of moisture between my lower lips as I feel his skin against mine. It’s smooth and totally unyielding, and I find my fingers stroking up and down the length of it out of sheer fascination.
“Put your mouth on it.”
I give him an uncertain look, then sort of mush my face against his dick.
There is a burst of laughter from somewhere behind me as Ice and to a lesser extent, Hans and Stryker laugh at me and my ineptitude.
“Open your mouth first,” Maverick says patiently, his blue eyes kind as he reaches down and runs his fingers through my hair, gentling me in my embarrassment.
“Oh,” I blush. “You mean, inside my mouth.”
It is a strange request, but everything is strange. I part my lips and let my mouth slide over the thick head of his member. I don’t know why he wants this, but I want to please him, and the moment his cock breaches my mouth I hear a groan of pleasure escape him.
I learn instantly that he likes this, the touch of my soft tongue against his hard manly rod. It is still strange, but it feels good even to me. To put his cock in my mouth is perverted I’m sure. City dwellers would be horrified if they could see me on my knees like this, taking a savage’s cock inside my mouth.
“Deeper,” he growls. “More.”
His hunger is rising quickly. I try to do as he says, but my mouth is not nearly as deep as his cock is long and I can only take the first few inches between my lips. When he sinks his cock inside my pussy, he’ll fill me completely, but right now the hot wet chalice of my mouth can only give him partial pleasure.
“Use your tongue,” he urges, his strong fingers curling in my hair. He draws my head further down and I find that I can take him a little deeper. The thick head of his cock finds the back of my throat and stays there for a moment before drawing out.
I can see the savagery in his eyes. He wants to thrust roughly inside me, no matter what hole he is taking.
Maverick kisses me passionately. I open myself to him and I feel him push inside me. His cock is thick and hard and it gleams with my female juices of arousal.
He fucks me there on the ground in front of the fire, before the eyes of the other men. They watch as his hips pound against mine, his hard pubic bone punishing my clit with every single thrust, my ass grinding against the ground. He hoists my legs above his shoulders, lifting my hips off the ground. I am suspended from his great fists as he saws his massive cock in and out of me, stretching my greedy walls with his rod.
I am not just being fucked. As Maverick takes my body to the limits of pleasure, I am learning what men are. In all this world, there is nothing so awe-inspiring or so dangerous as a human male at his peak. There is no beast that can best him, because he has wits and cunning to set traps for those creatures that come at him with tooth and claw. He is capable of cold villainy, merciless pursuit. There is no limit to what a man unleashed can do.
The men in the city are not men. They are neutered versions of males. I understand why Stryker left and why he roams with the wild ones. There is no life in the city. We exist there and wait until we die.
I have not been a woman. I have been a perpetual juvenile. Even as an adult I have been raised to think myself small, to be amused with bright, shiny, irrelevant things. I have not felt true desire, because there was never anything in my world worth desiring.
Until now. These men light a need in me that has been dormant for far too long. The feminine power of my unleashed sexuality calls them and they respond. My pussy grips Maverick with desperate desire. I need him inside me, I need his essence flowing into mine. It opens me in a million ways and transforms my experience of existence.
I am glowing with pleasure, it flows through every cell in my body. I am free in a way I never knew I could be, and as I get closer and closer to my climax I feel my breath coming quicker and faster, my toes curling, the roots of my hair tingling. There isn’t a part of me untouched by the pleasure Maverick commands.
He cries out, a ragged male sound of triumph and release. He thrusts deep and hard inside me and I know he’s spending his seed. The knowledge sends me over the edge, the complete branding of my sex, his ownership a tangible thing as he pulls out and the warm liquid spills between my thighs.
Maverick is finished with me, but I am not done. My desire demands more. The other men are circling in the firelight, waiting for their turn. I have had Hans. I have had Maverick. Only Stryker and Ice are left.
Ice outranks Stryker. There is an order to these men. Stryker is at the bottom of them all, but it is him I want. He is the one who offered protected from Maverick. Ice is not my friend. Ice is my tormentor. I fear him too much to have him enter my body.
“Have her,” Ice says, ending the tension as he slaps Stryker’s shoulder. “The wet seconds should be yours, city boy.”
Stryker has tried to be so refined with me until now. He is the only one among them with any real understanding of how taboo their actions are. In the city, sex is close to forbidden. Unprotected sex is literally illegal. He knows that taking me this way is tantamount to a crime.
Our shared bond of knowledge only makes the act more decadent as he turns me over onto my hands and knees. He plans to rut me like an animal. My wet, slick, sticky pussy accepts his cock in a hard thrust and we both cry out in shared ecstasy as his rod plunders my pussy, pushing out the cum Maverick left deep inside me in a pounding effort to leave his own seed in its place.
Chapter Seven
Our coital bliss has led to us falling asleep in a pile, all cuddled up together next to the fire. We didn’t even make it as far as the hut. I am wrapped between Maverick and Stryker when we are startled by the roar of a furious beast.
Maverick’s arms wrap around me tightly. He is around me, protecting me as we all go from the depths of sleep to total alertness in the blink of an eye. Every single one of the men grabs his spear. Maverick hikes me up to my feet and keeps an arm around me. Their eyes are locked on the forest around us. They can tell where the animal is. All I see is darkness beyond the light of the fire, but they see more than I do. Their senses are keener and more practiced.
“It’s hunting us,” Ice murmurs so softly as to nearly be inaudible. “Must have caught our scent.”
“It’s a female,” Maverick murmurs back.
A rumble passes through the men, as if the bear’s gender means something. I don’t understand that part of it. What I do understand is that the bear is nearby and so too is great danger. It must have found and followed our trail.
The men seem excited by the prospect of the wounded predator circling the camp in the dark. I am terrified.
“Stay by the fire,” Maverick murmurs in my ear. “Take this.”
He hands me his spear. I look at it with wide eyes, having no idea what I should do with this. Maverick takes another spear, gestures to the others, and draws the men toward the edge of the encampment. They are going to go after the bear. They are going to kill it.
They disappear beyond my field of view and after a few seconds of pure silence, I hear the bear bellow again. I close my eyes against the sound. In that cry I feel its pain and its anguish. I feel its rage. They
mean to kill it, and it means to kill them.
My knuckles are white from gripping the spear. Every second seems to last an hour. I want to rush toward them, but I know I’m useless to them. What could I possibly do against the might of a wounded bear?
The sound of bushes and small trees snapping heralds the answer to the question. The ground beneath my feet rumbles as the bear bursts from the edge of the forest—and makes its way directly toward me.
I know this is an animal, but it seems like a monster, or spirit. There is something supernatural about its lumbering form speeding across the ground as it comes crashing through the camp, driven mad by the pain of its wounds. None of the men can help me now. They are behind it and no man can run as fast as a ferocious bear can.
Its eyes have been fixed on me from the moment it came through the trees. I know deep in my gut that it wants me. It has been tracking me. The men are irrelevant. This is between the bear and me, and I must face the terror and fury of it.
It comes directly for me, ignoring the shouts that come from behind it. The savages are trying to get its attention. They’re trying to distract it by throwing knives and rocks, but the bear has me in her sights. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is coming for me.
I take the shaft of the spear and hold it firm and shut my eyes. A furious growl assaults my ears, and a sharp sting across my face, along with a rush of air. I am thrown backwards, gripping the spear between my hands as that flimsy piece of wood can somehow best the bear.
There is a heavy impact, a sickening crunch that I will later realize is the sound of stone on bone. I wait for death, but when it does not come I risk opening my eyes and I see that the bear has thrown itself onto the sharp point of the wood, right into the center of its chest. Its head hangs over mine, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. It is dead. Completely, utterly dead. I would be crushed by it, if not for the hardwood of the spear holding it up at an unnatural angle.
It took my blood before it died. There is a hot trickle down my face where my left cheek has been cut by the tips of its claws, little traces of blood running down to my chin, pooling into a dripping line of blood that plops into the dirt at my feet.
The men are mere seconds behind the bear, they rush to me and take hold of me and pull me away from it even though it is no longer any kind of a threat to anything. Maverick holds me between his big hands and looks intently into my eyes. The others stare at me.
I realize that they’re as shocked as I am. They gave me the spear, but they never expected me to have to use it. They talk about me as if I’m not even there, discussing what just happened with hushed, incredulous tones.
“The bear wanted her,” Stryker says. “That thing went right past us like it knew she was here.”
“She took the bear’s spirit,” Ice says. His gravelly tones hold a respect I have not heard from him before. “It gave itself to her. A sacrifice.”
It was a total accident. How can they not see that? The bear came for me and I took the only thing I had to defend myself. It was weak and sick. I didn’t do anything special. I got lucky. And the bear got unlucky. And now its blood is running into the ground. It’s dead. And some part of me has died with it.
I fall to my knees and am sick, the stench of the blood and the rough fur of the wild bear making my stomach churn. I am covered in the bear’s blood. It smears my legs and arms. There is some on my face and neck. The arterial spurting has spread blood from one end of the camp to the other.
“She needs to be cleaned up.”
The last person I expected to hear say anything remotely kind to me speaks. Ice. He stands over me, smiling broadly. His eyes are the color of the moon as he crouches down and picks me up. He doesn’t seem to care how filthy I am. He does not recoil from my dirty state. In the past he has barely wanted to touch me. Now he cradles me against his chest and carries me into the forest. It is dark, but he seems to have no fear of the wild tonight.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere you will feel better. The others will butcher your kill. You can relax now. Your work is done.”
I close my eyes and hope that wherever we are going is more peaceful than the scene we are leaving behind. The sight of the bear barreling toward me is emblazoned in my mind. Every time I close my eyes it replays. I am glad for Ice’s arms. He has not been a friend to me. He has not even been remotely kind. But I need someone to hold me now, and being carried evokes a feeling of safety I curl into.
“Rest,” he says as I tuck my head against his chest. “You’ve earned it.”
After several more minutes, we reach the destination he has in mind for us. To my relief it is a warm spring, surrounded by rocks and steaming gently in the moonlight.
“This is nice,” I say in surprise. “Why haven’t I seen it before? We’ve been washing in that cold river…”
“Some things are only for the eyes of the tribe,” Ice says. “This is one of them.”
“So I am part of the tribe now?”
“A kill is a rite of passage,” he says. “You have proved yourself as a man.”
“A man?”
“Well, not a man, but as a warrior,” he says, stepping into the water. He carries me deeper into the spring and slides into the water. I was naked to begin with. He doesn’t seem to care that his pants are wet as he settles me on his lap and begins to cup handfuls of water over my bare body, taking care to first clean the scratches on my face.
“They will leave a mark,” he says. “But you will bear that mark with pride. You were honored tonight, little rabbit.”
“I didn’t even mean to kill it,” I admit in a small mumble. “It was an accident.”
“It’s not possible to accidentally kill a bear. You stood proud and tall. You faced the danger and you presented your own sharp fang to meet the beast,” Ice says, running his hands from my hair to my shoulders and down to my hips.
He is so impressed with me, but I don’t feel proud. I feel sad and sick.
The water laps around us gently as Ice holds me in his lap. Once he is done washing me, he begins to braid my hair.
“You are much braver than you have any right to be,” he says softly. “You are small and you are female and your life in the city has made you weak. And yet you did that which few of our tribe ever will. You slayed a bear on your own. Your spear found its heart. Your kill was clean and true.”
He admires me now. He could barely stand me a few hours ago. Didn’t want to be between my thighs. Now that I’ve mistakenly ended an animal’s life, he speaks with reverent and approving tones.
“It was just an accident,” I repeat.
“There are no accidents,” Ice repeats himself as well. “Nothing under the sun or moon is an accident. The bear brought you to us and on the full moon it sacrificed itself on your spear. You took its blood. You have been marked as one of us. I can’t deny it anymore. You are ours. Mine.”
His voice vibrates through his chest. I feel the words inside me, moving through my flesh. He is the wildest among them. The hardest to impress. He is the last piece of the puzzle and now he is claiming me as the others have. I can feel my body responding low in my belly, the slight ache between my thighs where I took Maverick and then Stryker now calling to him too.
But Ice seems to be in no hurry to push himself inside me. He is still half clothed as he caresses me, washing away the blood that stained my skin and hair. There is a peace now, after the great death. A calmness that sinks through me as I listen to the soft sounds of the water, and lie in his arms beneath the great moon.
“Our hunt has come to an end,” he murmurs. “We now have enough meat to take back to the tribe. They will feast for many days and smoke much of it so it can be stored for when the winter comes and the game is scarce.”
“We’re going to the tribe?”
“Yes,” he says. “And when we arrive, we will have the chief’s blessing on you.”
“Blessing for what?”
“
To take you for our own. To acknowledge among all the soul bond that binds us five. Our hearts beat as one, but the tribe must know this too. When they see you, they must know who you belong to. Only the chief can make such a declaration. Then you will be marked, and…”
“Marked?”
I turn to look at him, my rear sliding over his leather leggings, which are now soaked.
“As we are.” He gestures to his chest, where the thick blue lines and harsh slashes are marked across his skin. My eyes widen as I understand what he is saying. He is talking about me bearing marks just like his. Marks that must be pounded into the skin, so they never wash off or smudge. I saw a show about it once, lurid detail as to how sharp needles are pressed into the skin and ink is injected with them. The pain was evident on the faces of those receiving their marks, and they were being given with electronic equipment. I do not think these savages will have that kind of machinery at their disposal.
“All who have a kill are given the honor of a mark,” Ice says, smiling as if I should be excited by the prospect.
“I don’t want to be tattooed.”
“It is a great honor,” he says, working his fingers through my locks. “And you have earned it.”
“I don’t want a tattoo,” I repeat.
“Well, you are going to get one,” he insists, his smile fading to be replaced with a frown.
I fall silent. He wants to mark me. Turn me into one of them. I wonder how long I will still be recognizable as a city girl. I don’t think my mother would recognize me anymore. Ice is now braiding my hair on each side, leaving the top loose. My red locks were becoming matted with the grease of wild living. Now he is working them into a style that pulls most of the hair off my face and uses knots and braids to keep it back. I can see my reflection in the water when it is still. My face is already changing. It is less full than it was when I first came into the forest. My eyes seem bigger, my freckles are more pronounced. I am being changed by this environment into a woman I do not recognize.
