A Wilder Heart

by Loki Renard

  “I’m not going to spank you hard,” he said. “Just enough to remind you where you stand.”

  “No!” Her voice rose in a shriek, which temporarily silenced some of the insect life around them. “Owen, no!”

  “Yes,” he insisted. “You’re tired, you’re hurt and you’re scared. You need this.”

  “I don’t need this!” She was arguing, but he was gently maneuvering her off his lap and over it. Before she even knew it she was over his lap, her upper body stretched out over his sweater that he had laid on the ground in a gentlemanly attempt to save her from being face down in the mud and leaves. As much as she appreciated that, she did not appreciate the fact that he was actually going to spank her.

  “This is silly,” she complained. “It’s stupid.”

  “It’s neither,” he said. “Now more than ever, you need discipline.”

  She felt him fiddling around with the waistband of her pants and lowering them slowly over her bottom. Though there was nobody around for thousands of miles, she still felt a hot flush of vulnerability as her bottom was bared.

  “Owen,” she whimpered his name softly as he ran his palm over her cheeks.

  “Aster,” he replied, swatting her lightly. His palm landed swiftly but with gentle restraint, warming her skin just a little. The sound echoed through the cool night air, blending with the soft song of the forest insects. He kept the following strokes to the same light, relatively slow pace, which left Aster surprised at his gentleness. This wasn’t discipline, or if it was, it wasn’t as she’d ever known it. There was no pain at all, just a heat and a sting and a slow swirling pleasure.

  “That feels nice,” she admitted. It did feel nice to have his hands roaming her body with masculine dominance, his long fingers trailing down between the cleft of her cheeks to tease the outer lips of her mons. His touch was as comforting as it was arousing, more like a massage than an erotic advance. He was letting her know in the most primal way that she was his.

  Her mind drifted back to the last night they’d spent in civilization, when his fingers had penetrated her and bought her to a powerful climax. Could she be so easily distracted from her cares? Was the touch of a powerful man all it really took to make things right?

  Owen drifted his fingertips back up over her bottom and all the way up her lower back. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. “I know that’s hard to believe after everything you’ve been through, but it is.”

  Aster was starting to believe him. He was so sure of himself, so completely resilient. “Okay,” she said in a soft voice. “But I don’t want to spend whole days alone. It’s too much.”

  “Deal,” Owen agreed. “I just wanted to make sure we had food. I found a stream not far off too, so we’ve got food and we’ve got water and tomorrow you and I will build a shelter. We’re lucky the weather is good at the moment. A night of rain would really wash us out.”

  Aster looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you really going to talk meteorology while I’m here half-naked over your thighs?”

  Owen grinned down at her. “Sorry,” he said. “Am I not taking care of you?” His hand slipped back down to her bottom and began patting her lightly. “Are you saying you want a spanking?”

  “I hurt too much for a spanking,” Aster whimpered plaintively.

  “Don’t worry. I’m strict, but I’m not so strict I’d seriously spank someone who fell out of a crashing helicopter yesterday,” he said reassuringly. “At least, not unless you really deserved it.”

  He squeezed her bottom gently. She squeaked and giggled a little in response, which made her ribs hurt all the more. “Ow,” she whined. “This is not good. I hurt. You need to make me feel better.”

  He nodded. “Let me see if I can find you some painkillers in my—”

  “No,” Aster said. “You need to make me feel better.”

  “Oh, I see,” he drawled. “You want something else.” His fingers slid down between her thighs and then ran back up over her bottom again, just barely missing her pussy.

  Aster squirmed in an effort to make him stroke her where she so needed it, but he was savvy to her tricks and brushed his fingers around her pussy again and again, denying her the touch she was quite obviously desiring.

  “Stop teasing me,” she whined. “I’ve been through enough.”

  “Oh, you have, have you?” He slid his hand down between her thighs and cupped her pussy. “Is this what you needed?” He massaged her there, moving his hand in tight circles.

  Aster let out a low moan. His touch was hot and reassuring at the same time, her pussy completely covered by his large palm. Owen continued to take his time with her, teasing and petting until her wetness began to coat his hand without him having so much as penetrated her, even a little.

  “More,” she begged. Even with her eyes closed she could see the flames flickering in the light playing through her eyelids much the same way Owen’s fingers were playing over her pussy.

  “How much more do you want?” He began dipping his fingers inside her just a little. “Is this what you want?”

  “More,” Aster moaned.

  He pressed his fingers deep inside her, filling her with two thick digits, but still it was not enough.

  “More,” Aster whimpered. “More.”

  She was not asking for his fingers. She was asking for a much thicker, longer more satisfying part of him.

  “More? Are you sure you know what you’re asking for?” Owen’s voice was husky as he began to move out from under her, leaving her head down and resting on her forearms, her bottom raised to the night. Aster held the position, feeling the cool breeze playing over the soft petals of her wet pussy.

  She looked back over her shoulder and saw Owen’s face lit handsomely by the firelight. “Yes,” she said softly, locking eyes with him. Time stopped as their gazes spoke in a way words could not. Aster saw lust written on Owen’s face, but more than that she felt the force of his protection and his care. This was a man who would follow her to the end of the earth quite literally if she were to go there – a man who to all intents and purposes, already had.

  There was a sound of a zipper and then she felt Owen’s hands slide over her bare bottom, over her back and down to her shoulders in a gentle caress which was matched by the soft brushing of the head of his cock against her pussy lips. This was it. The whole forest seemed to hold its breath as he pressed forward, parting her lower lips with the flared head of his manhood. He was hot, he was hard and he was thick as he sank deep inside her, taking the invitation offered by her lifted derriere. Aster pushed back against him, wanting all of him, needing to be filled by him.

  There was nothing civilized about what they were doing. Their lovemaking was not preceded by cocktails, or a charming date, or any of the usual trappings of the sexual relationships that Aster was used to. This was something entirely different, a strong male taking his female partner, making her body accommodate his girth and length with firm strokes. He had clamped his hands on her hips and was holding her more or less still as he slid himself in and out of the tight cleft of her pussy. All Aster could do was lie there in the middle of the ancient forest and let Owen have her the way women had been had by men since the dawn of time.

  She could feel that he was holding back so as not to hurt her. But his power and his lust for her were obvious in the way he so easily held her and the rock hard erection, which thrust inside her tender pussy again and again, long strokes interspersed with short teasing ones designed to make her moan and beg for more.

  Aster did not resist him. She moaned and she begged and she clenched the walls of her cunt so she could feel every part of the length of his cock. Her clit was tingling and her hips wanted to grind instinctively back against him, but he was not allowing that.

  “Keep still,” he breathed in gruff tones. “Keep that hot little cunt of yours still, Aster.”

  His words made hot excitement rush through her body. “Why?” she moaned the question softly.<
br />
  “Because I’m going to fuck you how I want to fuck you,” he growled. “There will be time to writhe your wet little pussy all over me later. Right now, I want you to take what you’re given.”

  He thrust forward again, and this time one hand slid under her body and he palmed her pussy from beneath, strumming her clit as he fucked her faster, his cock pistoning in and out of her captive cunt with primal passion.

  Just when Aster was sure she was going to cum, he slowed down again, taking his time with her. She was so close to orgasm, but Owen was not going to allow that just yet. He caught her clit between two of his fingers and held her firmly while slowly pumping his cock all the way in and all the way out of her dripping pussy. Aster’s cries echoed through the dark forest, her need overwhelming any sense of propriety she might ever have had.

  Never before had any man taken her this way. Oh, she had been fucked before, but this was so much more than that. Owen was using every part of her pussy to its fullest extent, his fingers had her pulsing clit in thrall and his cock was massaging the insides of her cunt with a practiced movement. She was being taken by a man who knew how to take a woman and make her his, no questions asked.

  He slid out of her and held his cock at the entrance of her body. “Lean back,” he said. “I want to see you wrap your pussy around me.”

  In spite of the aching of her body, Aster obeyed eagerly, sliding her pussy back as he had commanded until she was filled with his cock. They were both in some kind of discomfort but neither of them was content to let it rule. Their passion for one another was much, much stronger than the bruises and cuts and scrapes sustained in their recent ordeal.

  “Good girl,” he praised. “Now move on me. Show me how you like to be fucked, Aster.”

  He must have known what he was doing to her, he must have felt the way her pussy walls clenched every time he gave her one of those commands and said her name, talking to her as if she were his property, his woman... his... just his.

  She moved on him, moving her hips in a slow grind that she knew would make her cum. He had become hers now, her toy, her source of pleasure and she consumed him with an eager greed unfettered by any notions of propriety.

  Climax was growing between them, not belonging to either one of them but something conjured between them in the grinding of their bodies. Owen started thrusting to meet her, their bodies writhing in the firelight, casting copulating shadows against trees and ferns, which had never before borne witness to such a thing.

  Grunts, cries and moans filled the forest air as Owen and Aster came, his seed shooting deep inside her bare pussy and triggering a cascade of pleasure which wracked her from head to toe with shivers, which only abated when he took her in his arms and cradled her in his lap again.

  Nothing was said as they both stared into the fire, taking comfort from each other’s sated forms. Aster felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and out of every bone in her body. She was lighter, freer. Orgasm felt more like redemption in that primeval place. Soon her head was nodding and her eyes were closing. Owen drew her down to lay with him, his long limbs curled around hers protectively. He pressed soft kisses to her neck and held her close, then murmured something she’d never expected to hear him say.

  “I love you, Aster.”

  She was too close to the edge of slumber to respond, but there was a smile on her lips as those words carried her off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  “You love me.”

  Aster grinned at Owen over a pork breakfast. The memory of the words had been echoing in her mind since she woke, distracting her from the fact that she’d woken up in the middle of the middle of nowhere.

  “I do.” He smiled at her handsomely, his rugged features softening.

  His easy agreement made her glow with pleasure. She had been a little afraid that it was one of those things a man only said in the heat of passion, though Owen was not the sort of man to make the statement lightly.

  “How long have you loved me?”

  “From about the time you tried to bottle an elderly woman.”

  Aster’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t! And... and that was when you first met me. When you were so concerned and all stuffy and serious. I thought you hated me.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he said. “You just didn’t like being disciplined. And you still don’t. Nothing much has changed.”

  “Everything has changed,” Aster said, looking at their surroundings. Her world had evaporated. Gone were the bright lights and the tall buildings and the cars and the media and... well, everything. Now she was left with the sky and the trees and the earth – and the bird. The tui was back again, trilling at them with its usual vaguely affronted medley of whistles, clicks and caws.

  “Don’t worry,” Owen replied. “We’ll have you back to your big cities soon. It’s only a matter of time until they find us.”

  He kept saying that, but some hollow part of her didn’t believe it. It was hard to believe that the world still existed outside the canopy of the forest. She could almost believe that it had never existed, that it had all just been some strange dream.

  “There are no celebrities here,” she mused in between bites of pork. “Except maybe him.” She gestured up at the bird that had taken a break from regaling them with his song to clean his feathers. “He obviously thinks a lot of himself.”

  “You miss feeling famous?”

  “No,” Aster said, surprising herself with the answer. “I mean, I wasn’t really famous most of my life anyway. My father made sure I stayed away from Hollywood, got an education, that sort of thing. But...” She shook her head. “I guess it rubbed off anyway, because here I am, trying to become a star. Trying to act in movies.” She made a rueful expression. “I’m not even sure I can act, to be honest.”

  “The bigger question is, do you want to act?”

  “I thought I wanted to,” she said. “I was sure I wanted to. Father forbade it though, so...”

  “So you had to do it anyway.” Owen shook his head at her. “You really are a brat.”

  “Anyone would,” Aster defended herself. “Everyone wants to be famous these days. Everyone wants to be a star. Thousands of people line up every year to be humiliated on those star search shows. I had an opportunity to live that dream, so I figured I should take it.”

  “And you think that was a mistake?”

  “I think this has to be some kind of sign from the universe.” Aster shrugged. “I mean, come on. I get sent to the end of the Earth and dumped in a forest, and I’m just going to ignore that?”

  Owen cocked his head to the side. “So the universe is responsible for this?”

  “You ask a lot of questions,” she said.

  “I’m just trying to work out what you’re meaning,” he said. “Sounds to me like you don’t really want to be famous after all.”

  “Being famous didn’t stop this from happening to me. Being famous isn’t going to solve any of the real problems in life,” she said. “If I get sick, or feel lonely, or...” she sighed. “My father has been married so many times I can’t keep count. After my mother died, he got himself fixed, you know.”

  “He did?”

  “He didn’t want any more children. You know why?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Because there were women circling who wanted nothing more than to have his kid and get his money. It was sick. So he got a vasectomy and I was his only child. Fame did that to him. It made him paranoid. He doesn’t trust anyone. Any woman he’s with, he never really knows why she’s with him. My mother was different because she was with him before he was rich or famous. Once she was gone... he never had a chance at real love again.” Aster shook her head. “I have no fucking idea why I ever thought I wanted that life.”

  “Maybe you wanted to prove something to your old man,” Owen suggested. “Or to yourself.”

  “Maybe I was just stupid.” Aster frowned. “If I’d stayed where I
was, if I’d gotten a normal job, or hell, even if I’d just been one of those women who lives off her family’s wealth and goes to charity dinners and things, this would never have happened.”

  “But it did,” Owen said. “And you’ve survived it, and whatever you decide to do after this... don’t choose it because you think you’re being punished by the universe for wanting to be an actress.”

  Aster sighed dismally. “I guess, if I wasn’t an actress, I wouldn’t know what I was.”

  “You went to school, right? What did you learn about there?”

  “A little bit of everything and a lot of nothing.” She shrugged. “I guess I was lost even back then. Now I’m just physically lost too.”

  “You’re damn hard on yourself,” Owen pointed out. “This was a freak accident, and maybe you don’t really want to be an actress, but that’s okay. It’s even okay not to know what you want to do. Try giving yourself a little room to breathe and you might find your way.”

  It was good advice; Aster could sense that. She could also sense, that like most good advice, it was going to be much harder to do in practice than in theory.

  “So,” she said, changing the subject. “What are we doing today?”

  “Today,” Owen said, “we are building ourselves a hut. And if we get time, we’re going to find some flax and weave some baskets.”

  “Oh, my god!” Aster trilled. “I actually know how to weave a basket. I took a class in it. Wow. I never thought that would actually come in handy.”

  “It’s going to be very important if we want to store food, which we do. And we can even weave ourselves a bed if we work long enough.”

  Aster was actually excited by the prospect. The night under the stars had been romantic, but he was right. If it rained, they were seven kinds of screwed.

  As the workday began, she had no more time for sitting around feeling sorry for herself. Owen had some grand designs in mind when it came to their shelter. Aster had imagined they would build a simple hut, but Owen was apparently not content with that. He found flax and set her to braiding the split leaves into rope while he planned the structure itself. Several long branches were dragged into the clearing next to the fire and Owen used flax to bind them together into a long A-frame. The forest was not rich in obvious food sources, but building materials were abundant. The roof and walls of Owen’s creation were made up of leafy branches woven together in such a way as to protect the inside of the shelter from weather, and the whole process was supervised by the bright and beady eye of the tui.