by Vonna Harper
“Neither can I.”
“You’re talking about what happened to you earlier, aren’t you?” Her arms were useless; she was naked. But she had to do everything she could to connect with him. “It—it’s going to happen again, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He slid his fingers down her arms, warming them.
“You can’t stop it?”
“No.”
She should ask him more questions, maybe warn him that she was determined to slip into his mind the next time he became a cougar. Instead, she fixed her gaze on his chest. He was still stroking her arms, his fingers lighting small fires wherever he touched. It wasn’t fair! She should have the freedom to do the same to him, to show him she was capable of turning him on. She’d wordlessly let him know she no longer feared him. Yes, he was equal parts human and predator, but that’s what excited her. He’d become precious to her.
No, not that, damn it. Just because he’d stolen her self-determination didn’t mean she was going to let him do whatever he wanted with her.
Lay her down? Stretched out on his bed with her arms reaching for him, her legs splayed, her cunt exposed and waiting.
He had to stop touching her in that possessive way, and had damn better hand back ownership of her body, because she needed…
Needed what? she tried to ask as he finger-combed her tangled hair. She should have taken time to put it in a braid this morning, should have had the unwieldy mass cut before coming to Sani, but knowing she’d be living in primitive conditions, she’d clung to that one piece of femininity. And now it was being used against her, reminding her of what it was to be a woman.
But she loved the slight tug against her scalp as he continued working her hair. Maybe the gesture said he found the badge of femininity attractive and couldn’t keep his hands off it.
When had he last touched a woman?
10
Before she could so much as think how she might answer her questions, Hok’ee’s hold tightened, and he pulled her head back. She tugged on her bonds, only to forget what she was doing when he cupped a hand around her right ass cheek. Although he released the meaty flesh before his hold became painful, the aftershock headed straight for her sex.
She stared at the stone ceiling, barely seeing it, waiting for his next move. She had no doubt he was looking at her breasts. They ached for his touch, to be massaged, even pinched. That’s what she needed, to be manhandled.
Anasazi? Who cared?
Her throat felt stretched, and she was starting to have trouble breathing. Comprehension of how fully he controlled her awoke a now familiar fear. Then apprehension changed and became hot anticipation. She had to be patient, had to wait out his silence.
He was good with silence, wasn’t he? It became his tool, and yet another way of pulling her into his world, perhaps unknowingly. Earlier today, he’d demonstrated how easy it was for him to rob her of speech. That, coupled with the loss of her clothes, stripped her down in ways that went beyond nudity. His hands would claim her when he wanted, his cock would plunder her when he was ready, and his world would become her reality.
She might see Cougar again.
Another tug on her hair had her gasping and leaning against him. Bringing his mouth close to her ear, he exhaled a long, slow breath. Heat spread over her to erase memories of what she’d been before today. Even when the tension on her head let up and she was no longer in danger of falling, she continued to be his.
There, his hand back on her buttocks. Only this time, instead of grabbing and compressing it, he lightly slapped the too-receptive flesh. Again and again he smacked her until, unnerved, she tried to move away. Her rebellion earned her another warning tug on her hair. The gentle spanking continued.
She should know to remain where he wanted her to, but with energy building everywhere and mostly between her legs, she started walking in place. Lifting a foot, only to set it down so she could lift the other, gave her something to do, some way of controlling her response to the assault.
“Don’t, please, please, don’t. Oh, God, I can’t. Please, stop.”
“Not going to happen. Not until I’ve accomplished what I need to.”
He’d been focused on her right cheek, heating and heating it until she swore her flesh would catch fire. Then he stopped and blew into her ear again, and she sobbed.
“What’s that?” he demanded. “Something you’re trying to say?”
“Stop, damn it, stop.”
“You don’t mean it.” The words said, he lit in on her again, this time targeting her left side. She counted, tried to anyway. Tried to lock her knees and keep her feet from moving. But he kept after her, a light quick slap building on the one that had come before. She couldn’t remember where she’d been in her counting, so she tried to start over. At the same time, her legs slid apart a few inches, her lips buzzed, and her temple pulsed.
Being trained, taught, controlled.
“I can’t, can’t—it hurts, please, it hurts.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m—”
He pinched the flesh he’d been attacking, gripping and twisting a little at the same time. Yowling, she rose onto her toes, only to settle back down when he released her. It vaguely registered that she could turn her head a little, and the pressure along her throat was gone, but she couldn’t put her mind to how she might test the limits of this new freedom.
Was he done punishing her?
Afraid to ask, she concentrated on slowing her breathing and trying to get her mouth to close. She might have succeeded if he hadn’t pressed something, probably the heel of his hand, against her tailbone. As if that wasn’t enough, he rotated his hand from side to side, the pressure building.
“What…”
“What am I doing?” he finished for her. “Reaching.”
That made no sense, or maybe the truth was his few words made terrible and irrevocable sense. In her mind, his hand became his cock. It was pushing through her layers, finding her core, entering her, and claiming ownership.
He, owning her?
Instead of the fury she needed, her legs weakened. His fingers were on the move, heading south, finding her crack and sliding into the hot, close space. Trying not to make a sound was so damnably hard, and she couldn’t begin to think how she might send strength to her legs. All she could do was stand there like an animal about to be slaughtered.
No, not slaughter.
His thumb, she reminded herself—keep track of it.
Oh, there it was, pushing between her ass cheeks. His nail touched her puckered rear opening, retreated, touched again. She tried to prepare herself, to throw up a civilized woman’s defenses, but hearing herself bleat like some lost lamb, she knew she’d failed.
“I’ve thought about this for a long time.” His mouth was near her ear again, his breath like butterfly wings on the incredibly sensitive flesh. “What I must do if I’m going to succeed.”
At what? What are you trying to do?
“I don’t know what it is to be a woman,” he told her with his short, smooth nail unraveling her. “So all I can do is try to put myself in your place. You hate what I’m doing, don’t you?”
Yes. No. I don’t know.
“I know what hate feels like. I live with it every day of my life.”
His voice had dropped to a low, harsh whisper that pulled her out of herself. Not moving, she began a slow, relentless surrender. This man she’d be wise to loathe had stepped into her personal space. Not only had he taken control of her physical body, he’d begun touching her at a deeper level. She cared about him, that’s what it boiled down to. She cared.
“What is it you hate?” she asked, despite the pressure against her ass.
“Being alive the way I am.”
“Cougar and man, you mean?”
He didn’t answer, prompting her to ponder whether to repeat her question. She suspected she’d already gone further than he’d anticipated, and as such was forcing him to reasse
ss their relationship.
What relationship? She was Hok’ee’s plaything, his sexual possession. He wanted and intended to use her for sex. Maybe he had no other interest in her.
Being afraid of her body’s weakness was an overwhelming sensation. For someone who’d always taken pride in her intellect, what she’d become seemed impossible, and yet she couldn’t deny the truth. On a summer afternoon, she stood naked and restrained while a powerful stranger laid siege to everything she’d ever believed about herself.
His large and rough thumb was no longer simply at her rear entrance, it plundered there. Pressure built upon pressure. Her ass muscles protested by clamping down. At the same time, she needed to know what total invasion felt like, to test her limits.
To be ass fucked.
Why that instead of normal sex? Was it part of some diabolical plan to shred her self-determination? Or his idea of a gift.
“Why this?” she managed. She tried to pull away, then sagged back against him. “Oh, God, why this?”
“What’s your name?”
“I—Kai Tallon.”
“You know your name.”
“Of course, who doesn’t? What are you talking about?”
Once more he gave her only silence. Her mind was filling with dark heat, a thick nothingness mercifully blocking all shame. This was happening. There was nothing else.
Gone. Pressure missing. Her ass muscles tightened as if trying to find something to grip. Before she could think how to make them stop, he ran his fingers over her sex lips. She became lost in the sensation, heat rolling through her, and her breathing stopped. Eyes open or closed? She couldn’t tell which, and didn’t care.
A shift in his body brought her back a little. He was no longer behind her, but at her side with a hand back on her hair. A too-familiar smell awakened her nostrils, and she knew he’d brought his fire-drenched fingers close to her nose.
“You want this, Kai Tallon,” he said. “At least your body does. Taste yourself.”
Driven by what might be her last shred of resistance, she shook her head and clamped her teeth together.
“All right,” he said, when she thought, and maybe hoped, he’d punish her. “But whether you taste or not, we both know the truth.” That said, he ran his hand down her cheek, leaving behind a sticky trail.
Suddenly angry, she glared at him. However, with him close by her side and her head still immobile, all she saw was a blur. “How far is this going to go?” she demanded. “What do you want, me on my knees begging you to…” Unwilling to continue, she struggled not to acknowledge the proof of her arousal he’d left on her cheek.
“It’ll go as far and for as long as I believe it needs to.”
For maybe two seconds, she believed he wasn’t going to go after her sex again, but then her thigh muscles jumped. Trying to shake her head only earned her a tugging sensation. Looking front and center like some felon about to have her mug shot taken, she willed her legs to relax, but how could they? That damnable hand of his was on her labia again, taking unacceptable liberties, gliding over heated flesh, stroking her repeatedly. One finger after another slid along her opening, touching lips and clit.
Her legs again threatened to go out from under her, forcing her to widen her stance. Of course that only increased his access, and ratcheted up her vulnerability. A swimming sensation floated around her, hot and alive and peaceful at the same time. She existed between her legs and wanted nothing except to have her cunt caressed. Vaguely aware of how quickly the floating sensation could suck her down, she nevertheless gave only scant thought to how she might protect herself from drowning.
This was warm afternoons and sensual music, a man’s talented hands on her electrified body, languid foreplay.
Mouth opening, she arched her back and thrust her buttocks at him like an in-heat mare welcoming a stallion. She had only one thought, one reason for living.
Her pussy was swelling, blood pooling and adding to her pleasure. This time, instead of trying to deny the vulnerability that came with a dripping cunt, she silently thanked her woman’s body. And Hok’ee. She was so grateful to him for, what—understanding what she needed?
As her cunt overflowed, her mind slipped away and became all instinct. Soon, oh yes, soon the balance would be tipped. There’d be no going back, nothing except rushing. She’d cry out, saying things that made no sense. Her pussy would tighten, and then tighten even more. The explosion, the incredible, life-affirming explosion—
No! Where had his hand gone? Just a second more, another heartbeat, and she’d—
“Taste yourself.”
Opening her mouth, she let him lay his wet fingers on her tongue.
“Suck.”
She did that, too, closing her lips around three fingers and not gagging despite the pressure at the back of her tongue. She drank of herself, tasting sex and him. Deeply hungry, she ran her tongue between his fingers, licking until she’d cleaned everything he’d gathered from her cunt off him and taken the truth about her vulnerability deep into her throat.
“Good,” he told her. “Now we’re going to do it again.”
He was right. Five, six, then seven times he replenished himself from the bottomless well of her hunger and placed her offering in her mouth so she could, like a dog licking her master’s hand, lap and lick. Her empty stomach recoiled, but she continued to feed off herself.
Unexpected pressure on her shoulders lifted a bit of the mist she’d slipped into. The pressure continued, leaving her with no choice but to bend over. As she did, she mentally stepped behind herself and studied her naked buttocks. Then there was no need for imagination because he’d placed his forefinger against her ass. Concerned she might lose her balance, she flexed her knees and turned her feet outward. What did she care about dignity when she’d already left it in the world she’d once lived?
Releasing her hair, he looped a hand around her tethered wrists and lifted her arms. At the same time, the finger against her rear opening made a fresh inroad. Dangling in his grip, she tried to fixate on muscles and bone, but her mind—if that’s what it was—cared about only one thing, his finger.
“You’re a woman, a sensual woman,” he muttered. “And that’s your greatest weakness. Your body needs what it needs. It will learn I satisfy those needs. Only me.”
“What—what do you want?”
“Everything.”
Everything? As an infant, her parents had been her world, but since then she’d assumed ownership of her body and mind. Now this man was determined to turn her into a child again?
No, not a child, something even more elemental.
Fight! Don’t let him do this!
His finger, working even deeper into her, curving and turning, stroked and explored her rear passage. Another finger teased flesh that all but wept for him. He’d stepped beyond her final defenses and laid waste to self-determination. The plundering finger asked no questions, waited for nothing from her, took, and took, and took.
And yet it wasn’t enough.
Her nerves shimmered and shook. Her arms, legs, breasts, and belly became part of an inescapable whole. She existed as a cunt, Hok’ee’s cunt.
“Who owns you?” he asked.
Desperately holding onto what shreds remained of the woman she’d been this morning, she refused to answer.
“Who owns you?” A finger, it didn’t matter which one, flickered over her clit.
“No! No—no!”
“I asked—” Another lightning stroke and the invasion to her asshole ending. “Who do you belong to?”
“Damn you!”
“I’m already there.” A third touch to her clit, quick and light and lifting the top of her head. “Who is in charge today?”
“You. You.”
The admission brought a sense of peace with it. There were no more battles to be waged, no more desperately protecting her trembling body. She’d surrendered.
For now.
“That’s right,” she
heard him say from a great distance. “You’re mine.”
Something about his tone touched a nerve, but she couldn’t hold onto the sound. What a slut she’d become, a willing and eager whore. Her dignity for a climax, that’s what it all came down to, didn’t it? Relief and release before she could think again.
“So long,” he muttered as his fingers continued their exploration and her legs quivered. “So long.”
She should ask what he was talking about, turn the conversation to accountability on both their parts.
Later.
Her cunt was a river, a swollen, flooding river. Proof of her insanity ran down the insides of both thighs. Irrational pride for what her body was capable of made her smile. At the same time, she ached to distance herself from the primitive. Was she reacting this way because Hok’ee was primal, half man and half animal?
Didn’t matter. Not now with her head about to explode, and need screaming through every inch of her.
“What are you doing?” Throwing what strength she had behind the question, she closed her sex muscles around the thumb that had slid into her. “What the God damn hell do you think you’re doing?”
He chuckled, and although she cringed at the sound, she couldn’t blame him. Once again blood rushed to her head and her temples throbbed. No matter that she was willing, even eager to stand here like some malleable sex toy, she needed relief. She tried to straighten, but his hold on her wrists tightened. No, he wasn’t done with her.
Get it over with. Bring me to climax.
Giving herself over to the only thing she wanted out of life, she focused on the living invasion. She was being fucked, albeit finger fucked, but fucked just the same. She’d ride him, buck and twist and in the process, push herself into space.
And after…
There, clenching and releasing, fighting to suck him even deeper, muscles burning, screaming even, everything building. One more second, almost there, that final leap!
No! Not withdrawing!
Too late, she clamped down with every bit of strength in her. He was already gone, escaped. Screaming in fury and pain, she struggled to look back at him. If she could reach any part of him, she’d make him bleed.
