Breeding Call: Virgin Initiations (BDSM Erotic Romance) (Bred in Underfalls)

by Mitchell, Arthur

  Breeding Call: Virgin Initiations

  By Arthur Mitchell

  Content copyright © Arthur Mitchell. All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America.

  First published in October, 2012.

  Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance it may hold to persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental.

  All individuals depicted in this work are adults over the age of eighteen years old.

  About This Work

  When Jordan Whiteshore is sent into the forest, she knows she'll never return the same. Every woman's twenty first birthday means an initiation in breeding. Such is life in the Land of Underfalls, where men and women live in separate communities, pairing only to mate.

  All her life, Jordan's superiors have told her what men are. Coming face to face with a flesh-and-blood male changes everything. Axel, a hard bodied hunter who specializes in virgin initiations, is more than just good looks and raw Nature.

  He's the kind of man she's dreamed of surrendering herself to, one who knows his way around a woman's body, perhaps better than she knows herself. Yet, his protective kindness outside the bed introduces her to a side of men that she never knew existed.

  Meanwhile, Axel finds himself drawn to the young woman, an attraction far greater than any of his previous females inspired. With winter and pregnancy coming, they are faced with the ultimate choice: ignore their budding emotions, or commit the greatest sin.

  Welcome to the Land of Underfalls, where Nature dictates sex and romance. This story is filled with passion, virgin submission, and impregnation. An erotic romance novelette of over 9,000 words.

  Male and Female, Face to Face

  Jordan Whiteshore's eyes strained to see through the darkness, her ears attuned to every snap of leaves and twigs beneath her sandals. At any moment, a wild man might leap out and drag her into the brush. She was in hunter territory, heeding a call that could only be heard in flesh.

  She knew what men were like, though she had never seen one in his prime in all of her twenty one years. The older women who had been through the woods told her that they were all hair and muscles, overflowing with an energy as mysterious as it was irresistible.

  Some of the older matrons never talked about their experiences. Not surprisingly, they were the ones who had only borne one child, rather than a small flock, returning with their daughters bundled in their arms after months in the forest.

  Now, Jordan understood a small piece of their fear. Many yards away, she heard the Great Lake's waves slapping the shore, the very same ground that carried her namesake.

  “Steady, steady. It gets warmer the deeper you go,” she muttered to herself. It was just one of the few psychological tricks her elders had taught her. This one, however, was true. Closeness to the waters at this time of year brought a cold chill that caused her skin to sting.

  She shoved a hard lump down her throat, tasting dryness on her tongue, and forced herself off the main path. Her heart throttled up to her neckline a second later as something thrashed behind two large boulders.

  Jordan scuttled forward and saw the tracks. Just a hare, she thought, feeling for the rabbit's foot attached to her necklace.

  I can't believe women used to wear all hare skins, and nothing else.

  Stroking the soft, grayish fur soothed her. It didn't bother her that the petrified foot used to belong to a living animal. Such concerns were unheard of in the Land of Underfalls, where Nature reigned as sovereign over each man, woman, and child.

  Father Skarr reinforced the point in his last sermon, before she headed into the woods. It was the service during her birthday blessing, an event Jordan had waited for with an adrenaline-charged mix of anxiety and wonder in her veins.

  “You, my daughters, are ready to mate. Though men and women live separately, remember that we are one people. When a man calls you, whether with a harsh roar or a soft whisper, give into his needs. You will face many trials in the forest, but submission is always the answer,” he said, his voice rising above the huge fire pit before him with throaty feeling. “You, my daughters, were given life by Nature, and it is Her will that you receive new blessings, incubating life for others.”

  The Father stepped forward, his limp arm dragging at his side. She tried not to focus too much on the grisly sight. He had become a priest at an early age, slightly grayed and just past his best breeding years due to his crippled limb. There were rumors for years that the old man had bedded some of the women in town, but none had fallen pregnant – if they had, the Father would have suffered severely.

  No one was above the laws of Nature approved by the Elder Council. No man or woman could mate anywhere outside the woods, where natural selection took its course. The supplest females were released to whatever strong man found them for good reason.

  When he came to Jordan's side, he looked her up and down. His eyes were watery with sadness – or was it longing?

  Regardless, Father Skarr covered her forehead in his soot coated palm, pressing it against her skin and shaking a little. It was hard enough to leave the deep, manly grooves from his callouses deeply imprinted on her flesh.

  They had vanished as the ash wore away, but Jordan felt them now, and smiled. The comfort drew her in, until the foamy music of the Great Lake became distant. She must have walked for hours, deeper and deeper into the cool darkness, losing her way home.

  At first, her heart raced. Dead twigs snapped underfoot, jarring cracks that made her feel as though she were out in the open and waiting for any man, rather than concealed in a massive network of gray limbs. The autumn had been dry and the leaves were mostly gone, leaving nothing but dying branches, soon to be covered by snow.

  Jordan pulled her coat tighter as she rested for a moment, sipping water from a canteen. She would have to find a stream soon to refill, or else risk upsetting her balance.

  That would be a disaster. A man can only command you if he can catch you. Weakening yourself for the lame, fat bears to catch won't do you any good, nor your children.

  She feared the older, heavier men the most. Unlike the athletic hunters who traversed the woods, searching for prey to satisfy all of their appetites, the ones affectionately labeled bears stayed in one place. They crafted traps to catch animals and mates, doing with tools what their bodies couldn't.

  “Their rods are too soft and their sacs are too dry,” Jordan once overheard her Aunt saying to an older cousin, a woman who ventured into the woods several years ago. “Never let a bear mate with you. It won't even be enjoyable.”

  The slender, dark haired woman curled her lip in disgust. Jordan didn't dare ask her Aunt if she had fallen prey to a bear's lust, but she suspected it. Unlike the women who often wondered about their sons, separated from them shortly after birth, her Aunt never talked about the boy she had delivered during her first mating.

  There are so many secrets that are never discussed...things you can only find out through experience, Jordan thought. She wrapped her shawl tighter as wind caressed her through the trees. Tiredness came over her eyes, but she couldn't sleep – not for all of the village's cinnamon tea.

  She took other women's stories to heart. Above all, she understood that the first trek into the woods had to be good.

  Jordan was no stranger to pleasure. Since her body began to change, she explored herself for long hours on cold nights, sliding her soft hands into the sharpening curves she hoped a man would desire one day.

  Discovering the little nub at the top of her fol
ds that fired thick, sugary pleasure into her brain had become an addiction. It pulsed even now, along with the moist heat building between her legs, as if it had a mind of its own.

  My body knows. Behind my eyes, my mind is clouded with fear and hope, but the body just craves seed – especially now that it's so close.

  The lustful furnace beneath her abdomen steamed as she picked up her pace, imagining men around every wide tree trunk, or hunched behind fat boulders. The imaginary mates overloaded her.

  Several times, she had to stop and lean back on a tree, pressing the center of her dress into that fiery zone. Her cool fingers crept down to the hem of her dress and pulled, just enough to scrape her bare legs. A man who would take her as a mate might appear at any second, and as the minutes ticked on, she hoped it would be soon.

  Jordan never had time to make it back onto the half-obscured path. There wasn't a sound that announced his presence, but a shadow.

  She never thought to look up, far into the trees, where some men were masters of the canopies that ran overhead. He didn't snap a twig as he crashed down upon her, wrestling her to the ground with a scream.

  “Oh, my little rabbit. What sleek, wonderful thighs you have! I'm tempted to release you for a chase, but that would put me at risk of losing you in this forest, and I can't do that.” He whispered in her ear, a loud murmur that reminded her of the great waterfalls she had seen as a girl. The warbling waters were deafening, but reassuring as they emptied into Great Lake, just like his tone.

  His huge body pressed against her, like a hard shield draped across her back. Powerful, wide hands like Father Skarr's found their way to her wrists and pulled her little arms back. Her limbs so spindly compared to his that she felt he could have snapped them in two.

  Not a bear, she thought with relief. If only I could see him...

  Jordan kicked her legs and fought to scramble away. The hunter was too quick, and he dragged her back by one hand, tearing at the hem of her dress with the other.

  He jerked her back toward him, hard enough to send her spinning face first. Before she knew it, he was over her, leering down and smiling with a pointy, stubble-strewn chin.

  “You almost got away. I'll give you credit for that, but not too much, my dear. Do you have a name?”

  Damn. I don't want to say anything, but I have to answer him by law.

  In these woods, Nature's law was more potent than ever. Besides, he wasn't all bad – was he? She couldn't see his entire body, but she felt it.

  The man was older than her, but there wasn't a sign of gray in his hair, nor a single wrinkle. If he were a woman, she would've guessed he was somewhere in his third decade, perhaps ten years older than her.

  “Jordan. Jordan Whiteshore,” she said, her voice a hushed tremble in the air.

  “Almost as beautiful as I expected. I like little rabbit better, though. Let's keep it at that. They still give you those charms meant to give you quickness and comfort, yes?” He reached out his huge hand and brushed her neck, feeling for the silver chain.

  The rabbit's foot yanked above her breasts in one swift stroke. He held it a moment, turning it over and gazing down, as though he had found a rare stone he couldn't quite classify in his mind.

  Jordan was breathing heavily, and her heart thudded when he laughed. His hands returned to her, reaching lower, down to the ripe breasts concealed beneath her deerskin dress. He pushed and prodded, skilful enough to make her close her eyes and sigh when he reached her nipples.

  He rubbed her tips through the fabric. With every pinch and massaging whirl, Jordan was losing herself. She imagined she could sink into the soft ground beneath him, where the earth would pull her in and mate her with Nature, not letting her rise from the soil until Spring, fat and pregnant.

  A sudden hardness pressed against her lower stomach, bringing her back to reality. She craned her head down with curiosity.

  It took awhile to realize the source – his rod, the fleshy tool men used to mate. Jordan knew they grew thick and stony when they were preparing to couple, but she didn't think it would happen so fast.

  Her eyes locked with his again. “Who are you?”

  “Axel Brush. Not that you need to know what they call me. Consider me a living boulder, just one more immovable servant of Nature's will.” He stared down with predatory hunger, until he could wait no more. Axel lowered his face, roughly tickling the soft nook below her chin.

  Jordan opened her mouth and slowly released a stilted breath. He tested her ivory skin with tongue and teeth, painting her neck down to her cleavage with marvelous lines of wet heat.

  Just when her legs began to open, expecting him to take her there, he stopped. Her head spun as he stood and jerked her close, up from the ground.

  “Not here, little rabbit. I haven't seen that fire – that innocence – in a woman's eyes for a very long time. We need to return to my hollow where I can give you a proper mating,” he said, pressing his hot breathing lips toward her ear. “Besides...I wouldn't dare give you up to another man, who may be lurking around any rock in this territory.”

  She nodded, trying to understand his words. In fact, Jordan's head was still swimming. She looked up above them, where thick clouds were gathering, blotting out the shadows cast by the trees hugging the evening sun. The entire earth felt like a great curtain closing over them, until the dark lure of privacy became the only atmosphere she knew.

  Mating Jordan

  It was only a half mile to Axel's den, but Jordan wouldn't have found it, if not for his strong guidance. They arrived at a large, sunken burrow, a hidden home behind the tendrils of uprooted plants.

  She wondered how many other male burrows she might have passed already, startled at the way they blended perfectly with their surroundings. Axel pushed his way through a thick wall of soil. He reached out to her, urging her inward, through the mossy cover.

  Jordan closed her eyes as she passed through the cool dirt, only realizing upon impact that it was a heavy skin, dyed to match the soil's darkness. Inside, his home held a faint resemblance to a small cottage. There were sturdy looking chairs, an enormous cabinet that stretched to the ceiling, and – most noticeably – a bed.

  Axel wasted no time pretending about his intentions. His strong arms tugged her forward, making a straight line for the rack of thick timber loaded with a downy mattress.

  “Hand crafted,” he said with a grin. “I chopped and chiseled that wood myself. The feathers came from forest grouse, the fattest and cleanest birds I could find after a robust spring. It may not look like much to a village girl, but this is the finest bed Nature can offer.”

  She managed to slide her hand away from him. Axel's huge frame stood before her, walling her in against the huge bars at the base of the bed. Jordan's head swam. Her heart raced with a claustrophobic rush, throbbing until blood beat loud in her ears, drowning out everything else.

  Her knees weakened. Axel saw what was happening and managed to catch her before she crashed to the floor. There was a blur of gray before her eyes, and then nothing but darkness.

  Jordan couldn't have been out long. When she awoke, her back was swallowed by the softness, as if she were immersed in a warm fog. She sat up to see Axel's broad form sitting across from her, a pile of shavings at his feet as he whittled a fist sized hunk of wood.

  “I was getting worried about you, little rabbit. Took you nearly an hour to come out of it,” he said, prodding her up from the bed with his eyes.

  She followed his dancing pupils. The faint and nap had helped. The sickly clamor in her head was gone, and now she found herself filled with a nervous buzz that branched out through her bones. It ran along her neck, setting her hair ablaze, before winding down her spine.

  Unsurprisingly, it stopped where she savored it most: right around the cleft of her thighs. The place of the breeding circle, she thought. Learning about the energy centers in the body was one of the earliest lessons in spiritual anatomy young women were given. None was more import
ant than the aura surrounding her womb, an invisible furnace she had to protect and nurture at all cost.