Land of the Brave: Forbidden Spice (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Jools Louise

  “Well done, little dove,” Chatan murmured, stroking her cheek. “Such a responsive mate, so passionately giving. You honor me with your trust.”

  Mary looked at him, smiling with her eyes as she kissed Kata, her pussy enjoying Maska’s attentions, his slow thrusting so arousing and yet so undemanding. Just a steady pressure, teasing her gently. Dustu looked up from her breasts and tilted his head, studying her.

  “What is your name?” he asked suddenly.

  She laughed, amused, because she knew all their names, but had yet to introduce herself to them. She had been fucked into a coma, had all four ready to share their seed in her various orifices, and they didn’t even know the name of their mate. She arched a brow at Chatan, who flushed a little at his faux pas.

  “My name’s Mary Spice,” she said, smiling at their varying reactions to her name. Chatan looked pleased, Maska a little embarrassed. Kata kissed her even more intently while Dustu grinned widely.

  “A spicy little dove,” he teased. “I love your flavor, Mary Spice.”

  She laughed again, and realized that Chatan had now eased a second finger inside her, scissoring gently, and stretching her even more. The burn was actually an added bonus, sending darts of renewed arousal to her clit. She moaned, moving her hips restlessly, feeling the fullness in her ass as Chatan worked to loosen her.

  “It’ll be a little easier if Kata does the honors,” Chatan said gently, urging his brother to change positions again. “Kata’s cock is a little slimmer, and for your first time, I don’t want to hurt you…Kata will help to stretch you out.”

  “Yeah, and he wants to come in your ass.” Dustu laughed, dodging a slap from his brother. “I really want to fuck your breasts when he’s done.”

  Mary thought about that, and went hot all over. So far, she’d had their seed in her pussy and mouth, but she quite liked the thought of being covered in it. She wanted them to spurt that delicious cream over her, bathe in it, so that everyone would know she belonged to them. Blinking, she wondered what was happening to her. It was as though another creature was speaking for her, one which bordered on feral, possessive, and untamed in its passion.

  Daringly, Mary rubbed her breasts, pinched her nipples, and saw all eyes focus on what she was doing. “I’d love for you to fuck my boobs,” she told Dustu, seeing his eyes darken with lust. “I want your seed all over me, and in me. I want your scent on me when we leave here.” She moaned as she kneaded her own breasts, tugging at her nipples and feeling the darts of pleasure zinging to her clit.

  “Fuck, that’s hot,” Dustu growled, placing his own hands over hers, helping with the erotic massage.

  “Kata, get your dick wet, brother,” Chatan told his brother, and Mary held her breath as more fingers slid into her warmth sheath, cool against her heated flesh. She heard the slopping sounds of her pussy as Maska removed his fingers, letting Kata coat his own fingers and cock. She breathed hard, grabbing a handful of Dustu’s long braid when he began to mouth her breasts again, sucking at her voraciously.

  Then something pushed at her quivering rear hole, requesting entry. She kissed Chatan, moaning, and her pussy filled again with Maska’s playful fingers, her breasts at Dustu’s mercy. She felt the burn, the pinch, as Kata’s thick cock punched through the guarding ring of muscles, and then paused to let her adjust to the size of him.

  “There you go, Chenoa,” Chatan soothed, stroking her hair, his mouth tender against hers. She sobbed with need, trying to push out the fat cock in her ass, which actually made the entry easier. Shunting back and forth with shallow thrusts, Kata swore luridly as he slowly entered her, one inch at a time, pausing with each new increment to allow her body to accept him. Maska kissed her thigh, nibbling along the silken skin, and lapped at the moisture beading there. Panting, she felt the burn in her ass turn to burgeoning pleasure. Her clit throbbed in tandem with her nipples, and her entire body tingled. Her ass clenched around Kata’s cock, milking it, and she thrust back against him, wanting more pleasure. Cursing again, he began to move, his strokes longer, deeper until he bottomed out, his balls slapping her ass.

  “She’s so tight, I won’t last much longer,” Kata said, eyes closed as he pumped inside Mary’s snug chute. Lying behind her, spooning her, he nipped her neck with sharp fangs, then soothed the sting away with sultry licks.

  “So good,” Mary moaned, thrusting back at him with each instroke, shoving him deeper, lost in the pleasure he was giving her. “Harder, please,” she begged, gripping Dustu’s hair, holding him against her chest. He growled, nipping her, tugging her nipple into his mouth and pulling hard on the sensitive bud. She felt the graze of his sharp teeth, and moaned continuously as Kata upped the tempo, plowing in and out of her ass, thrusting strongly. She heard the slap of flesh against flesh, the wet suctioning sounds of Dustu’s mouth, and the slopping of her pussy around Maska’s fingers. Chatan’s mouth pressed hard to hers, his kisses passionate and wild, as he fisted her hair as the four brothers made love to her. She came with a shrill cry, her pussy milking Maska’s fingers, which had her ass clamping around Kata’s manhood. He gave a sharp cry, jerking erratically, and then roared out his pleasure as he spurted hot seed inside her most forbidden hole.

  “Fuck!” Kata screamed, still pumping, his back arched and his head thrown back as he found his release.

  Dustu lifted his head, staring at Mary with desire-filled eyes. He got to his knees, pumping his hard cock, and then came with a cry, spattering her breasts, marking her with his scent. Maska, cursing, removed his fingers from her pussy, fisting his own cock. He came a second later, splashing thick ropes of his seed over her dripping pussy, grimacing as though his orgasm was almost painful. Chatan followed suit, kneeling behind her head and tilting her face up, jacking off and anointing her face with his cream, which she lapped up greedily. She came again, convulsing around Kata’s cock, her clit throbbing as a second climax tore through her.

  Kata kissed her shoulder and withdrew carefully, and then fell onto his back breathing hard. Mary felt his warm seed inside and the slow trickle down her crack as it overflowed. Her entire chute tingled from his invasion. Dazed, she watched as Maska stroked her mound tenderly, soothingly, and then began to lick at his fingers, cleaning off her juices. Dustu hummed with pleasure, and lapped at her breasts, licking at his own seed which was erotic as hell. She sighed, replete, and kissed Chatan hungrily as he stroked her hair and face gently.

  An instant later, Dustu got to his knees, a grin on his face and swiveled her around so that he was kneeling between her spread thighs. Hooking her legs over his shoulders, he braced himself on his haunches, slapping her ass lightly, his cock already hard again.

  “My turn!” he said, his light green eyes twinkling merrily before shoving forward, filling her in one, smooth thrust. Crying out, Mary arched her back, gripping the blanket beneath her as he began to move hard and hot, fucking her with abandon. He gave her no time to catch her breath, his cock shunting furiously in and out, his hips moving powerfully. The hard fuck took her breath away, helpless against his passion. Each hard thrust had her tits bouncing, her entire body jerking from the force of his strokes, his balls slapping joyfully against her ass.

  “Aaahh, Dustu, please don’t stop,” she screamed, thrusting back at him, ravenous for his cock. That wild creature inside her was taking over, and she gripped him around the waist with her legs, forcing him to drive deeper still. She felt him at the head of her womb, felt each punishing stroke, and loved every moment of it. She was no fragile flower, but a woman who was in her element, being fucked into oblivion by a sexy, passionate man.

  A second later, she was rolled over onto hands and knees, and Dustu barely paused before plowing into her again, gripping her hips tightly and slamming vigorously in and out of her craving sheath. Her pussy wept for joy as her fingers scratched at the dirt floor of the cave, trying to gain purchase. Dustu let out a roar of pleasure, giving a few more slams, and then let loose, spurting heavy loads of cum
deep inside her. A second later, she felt his fangs digging deep into her neck, just below where Chatan had claimed her. Screaming, she felt Dustu’s cock thicken even more, and lock into place, a tiny barb stinging her deep inside. She felt his hands at her breasts, and he sat back on his haunches, dragging her back to sit on his lap. He kept his teeth at her neck, pinching her nipples hard and then rubbing her clit vigorously. Sobbing in a frenzy of unbearable pleasure, her senses exploded, overwhelming her.

  Mary came apart, unable to deal with the tidal wave raging through her, feeling another little snap, another piece of a puzzle clicking into place. Then the orgasm took her over the edge into oblivion. As she fainted, she thought she heard a wolf’s triumphant howl. Then nothing.

  Chapter Four

  Darkness blanketed the wide canyon, shielding Chatan and his new pack as they negotiated the steep cliff path to the river far below. He had spent the day making love, sharing Mary’s soft body with his brothers. With the mating bond halfway begun, she recovered far more quickly, her body even more responsive as they played in her sweet depths. Her taste was as addictive as sugar, and they craved her nectar. No part of her was left untouched as they all got accustomed to their new relationship.

  Chatan was tense, despite the joy he felt at finding his mate. As he led the way to the horses, he had the feeling, a premonition, that their departure would not be smooth. Bimisi would not let their desertion go unchallenged, and he had allies and spies. There was one who had an inkling of where this canyon was, a female called Flo. She was young, less than twenty winters old, and would be easy pickings for the chief and his sidekicks. If Bimisi had discovered their disappearance, it would not take long for him to figure out that Flo was close to them. She had lost her parents as a youngster, and they had adopted her as an honorary sister when their own parents had been alive. Their mother had long ago died of the pox, and they had been alone for five years, until finding their beloved Mary.

  “Shhh,” Chatan cautioned, stepping carefully. The horses had scattered, a sure sign that there was something else in the canyon. They were trained to return on command, but would flee from danger. This did not bode well.

  Chatan sniffed the air, scenting another presence close by unfamiliar to him. Finding his inner wolf, he used his superior vision to seek out the intruder, and spied a group of Comanche warriors moving cautiously toward him, using the cliff wall as cover. Bimisi was there, too, and Chatan bit back a snarl of rage as he saw Flo’s limp body on the ground at his feet. She looked like a broken doll, her face swollen and her arms and legs lying at an unnatural angle. One of the braves tried to stay with her, almost as though he guarded her, but Bimisi snarled at the man, who sent Flo a concerned look before obeying his leader. Chatan vowed he would rip out Bimisi’s throat. He had a score to settle with the bastard. The man had no honor, only hatred and cowardice.

  “I see ten,” Maska murmured, barely audible. Chatan nodded, knowing his brother could see him clearly in the darkness. That was their advantage. Their foe had only limited night vision…Chatan and his brothers were blessed with wolf vision.

  “Fight or flight?” Maska asked, crouching beside Chatan. One by one the others joined them. Dustu helped Mary down the lethal path, her footing not quite so sure.

  Chatan made a quick decision. With Mary here, he could not risk a confrontation with the ten who had come after them. He needed to get Flo away from Bimisi, however.

  “I will lead them away,” he said, hearing Mary’s protesting gasp. He turned his head, speaking in a sub-level tone that would not be heard by their pursuers. “Get to the horses, I’ll meet you later, at our first camp. Bimisi would kill you first, Mary, because you are our weakness now, until you get your full power. I need to get our little sister to safety. He’ll kill her if I don’t. I don’t want to have to worry about you. What I have to do, you don’t need to see.”

  “The others will meet us in two days,” Dustu said, nodding. “We will keep our mate safe until then. Be careful, brother. Bimisi is a snake.”

  Chatan grinned at him evilly. “I know what Bimisi is, little brother,” he replied. “If he strikes, I will remove his head.”

  Dustu grinned back, gripping Mary’s hand in his, and led her away in the opposite direction of their enemies. Kata followed, with Maska guarding the rear. They melted away into the darkness.

  Chatan took a deep breath, greeted his wolf, and then felt the change come over him. Ten seconds later, he was standing on four legs, his long fluffy tail standing straight up and his gaze fixed intently on the insurgents creeping forward. His hackles rose, and he let loose a vicious, spine-chilling snarl. The interlopers froze, looking nervous, and glanced at each other. Bimisi ordered them to move, forgetting to be quiet. Chatan grinned and crept forward, his paws silent on the hard-packed earth.

  He passed two warriors, unfamiliar to him, and frowned. Who were these men? They were not of his tribe. He worried that Bimisi had already done something terrible. He hoped that his friends had already deserted their home, and made their way to the meeting point two days north. Avoiding government troops, and other tribes, would make the journey perilous. His heart ached that their way of life was ending, and they were forced to retreat like scared rabbits in order to save their kind. He would have preferred to go out in a blaze of fury, but that would make them extinct. He vowed to survive, if only to spite all those who would subjugate his people.

  Unlike Chatan and his family, the rest of their tribe was human still. They knew of Chatan’s special secret, however, and were loyal. Chatan’s parents had protected them for decades, since the Comanche had first formed their nation, breaking from their Shoshone brothers and sisters to form their own tribe. Now, late into the nineteenth century, it was time for a new way, far from the hordes who invaded their lands. The larger bands of Native tribes were already eking out a living on reservations set aside by the new government. Chatan was too wild to exist there. He and his followers would live free, not die imprisoned by progress.

  Creeping closer to where Bimisi stood, Chatan scowled as he saw the bastard kick her prone form viciously. He heard a low moan of pain, and felt relief that she was still alive. The rattle of her breathing told him that she had damage to her ribs and lungs. It would be dangerous to move her, but even more dangerous to leave her here. At least with him she had a chance.

  Crouching low, Chatan crawled on his belly, slinking stealthily ever nearer to his target. His ears were alert for new danger, his nose quivering as he scented each new enemy he passed. In the darkness, the moon shielded behind a bank of heavy clouds that threatened rain, he was practically invisible. His coat was a dark sable, with only a few lighter patches on his belly, a perfect camouflage for nighttime prowling. He held his breath as one insurgent slid by him, focused ahead, and not realizing how close he came to having his throat ripped out. Chatan did not believe in such cowardly tactics, however. Had he been discovered, and attacked, the man would have his vocal cords ripped out in seconds.

  Ears twitching, Chatan breathed again as the man passed. Only air stood between him and Bimisi now, who stood tall and arrogantly confident that he would win this battle. Bimisi was a fool to think that Chatan was a mewling, and untried in warfare. Chatan had taken his first scalp before he’d hit puberty, a buffalo hunter who thought to have fun torturing the little Comanche kid. Chatan had pierced the man’s stomach with his dagger, and ripped his hair off while he screamed for mercy. Chatan had a reason to kill Bimisi, two now. He had no time for torture, but would take Bimisi down swiftly, and then carry Flo to safety. Taima, Bimisi’s cousin, would not have her. She hated him, and feared him. She was a virgin still, and Chatan would let her choose her own mate rather than let her be owned by a brutal dictator.

  Chatan’s ears lay flat against his head as he moved into striking distance; his lips curled back into a silent snarl. Glancing behind him, seeing the others at least fifty feet away now, he crouched even lower, tensing, and then pounced. Leap
ing across the ten feet that separated him from Bimisi, he sent the man crashing to the ground, and crushed his windpipe in his powerful jaws before he could raise the alarm. The noise of Bimisi falling alerted the others, but their leader was already dead, his eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. Letting loose an unearthly, triumphant howl, Chatan shifted back to human form, gathered Flo carefully in his arms, and began to run. She weighed but a little, and he moved easily over the rocky ground, leaping over shrubs and boulders as his powerful legs carried him away from danger. He had the advantage of his animal’s essence lending him speed and strength.

  He looped around instead of leaving the canyon, and headed for the river. The middle was deep enough to swim, and he could use it as cover, the current swift enough to aid his escape.

  An arrow came whizzing toward him, grazing his arm. He cursed beneath his breath, barely feeling the thud of the second missile biting into his ass. He kept running, leaping into the shallow river, splashing madly as his pursuers let out screams of triumph.

  “Bimisi is dead,” Chatan yelled at them, wading into deeper water and letting Flo loose as she roused slightly. “Stay afloat, little one, I will come for you. Keep your head above water until I return,” he whispered to her, and heard her low moan, taking it as agreement. The currents took her away from him as he turned to face the men. “If you want to die also, then stay and fight for your cowardly chief. I will take pleasure in removing your scalps.”

  They paused at his words, but not for long.

  “Taima is our leader now,” the first warrior shouted. “He will want to reclaim what is his.”