Stolen_Saving Setora

by Raven Dark

  Sheriff took out a key and unlocked the doors, then pushed them open. Silent, he strode into the room; there was nothing for it but to follow him as he pocketed his keys.

  I stared around me wide-eyed, at what was obviously the General’s personal quarters.

  They weren’t ostentatious like Pretty Boy’s, the way I’d expected, but there was no mistaking their quiet luxury. Off to the side of a large open living room furnished in dark leather couches and chairs, I saw a personal water area, with a wheel that purified the water. To the left, there was a grill, but it was bigger, with multiple layers for preparing a more elaborate meal. Everywhere, the rooms were paneled in some kind of polished, dark wood, like oak. Someone had to have smoothed the stone on the walls and floors to allow the panels to sit flush. A few torches on the walls kept low lighting. Everything in the rooms exuded a dark kind of masculinity.

  Without looking back to see if I followed, Sheriff crossed the living room area to a back room with another set of double doors. He opened them and waited for me to step inside, his expression such a cold mask, I had no idea what he might have been thinking.

  I allowed a quick look around, taking in the giant of a four-poster bed with its simple white curtains tied back, the darkly paneled walls and thickly carpeted floor in beige, before I turned around to look at him.

  Was my punishment to sleep with him? No, that seemed too easy. His eyes burned with hunger like blue flames again, but I had a feeling he was holding himself back from something.

  Twice, I opened my mouth, only to close it. What could I say, other than to ask him what he had in store for me? He wouldn’t answer anyway.

  Feeling self conscious and a little foolish, I stood and waited for whatever unfolded.

  Sheriff turned and went to the doors. He set his hand on the knobs like he was going to close them, then stopped. The muscles in his back corded under his cut, then he closed the doors slowly. His fingers turned the lock with a soft click.

  Locking me in with him.

  “Undress.” A single command, cool and controlled as he walked passed me to the bed and waited.

  The order revealed nothing of what lay ahead. I pushed down the panic that nibbled at me and stripped off the only thing I wore, the white frock.

  Eyes taking in my every movement, eating up the curve of my breasts, my sex lightly dusted with hair, the feminine curves of my shoulders, just like yesterday his gaze intensified, flames turned higher. He undid and slid off his cut.

  In the low light, his arms and chest were a kalaidascope of black tattoos, mostly harsh, tribal overlapping lines, but when he turned his back to set his cut on the bed, he revealed a huge inked version of the Dark Legion logo, the reaper skull and crossbones, the detail in the skull giving him a deadly, frightening look.

  Everything about this man was menace and danger. I swallowed hard.

  The General turned around and slowly undid his belt. The movement drew my eyes to the growing bulge in his leather pants, harder looking than yesterday. He might have hated me, but he also wanted me.

  I expected him to take off his boots and pants, but instead, he pulled the belt slowly out of the loops on his pants. It slid loose with a faint hiss of the leather, and as I watched every inch of the hard leather move through his large fists, his intensions sank in like an icy blade.

  There was only one reason a man took his belt out of his pants when he wasn’t going to launder them. My back stiffened, the door at my back seeming miles away.

  “I like that no one’s belted your ass,” he said softly. “New experiences are always fun.”

  Every drop of color must have left my face; I could feel the blood leave it. An irrational need to plead with him, to find some way to stay his hand rattled through me. I’d never had a belt hit my flesh, but I’d seen it done to other slaves, heard them howl in pain, saw the bruises. I shoved the urge to beg down, having a feeling it would only spur him on.

  “Come here,” he ordered. He stood beside the foot end of the bed and nodded for me to stand between the foot posts.

  Knees shaking, I wobbled over to him and stood at the footboard. I could imagine what would come next. He’d have me bend over the footboard, supporting myself on the mattress, bare ass raised to him, at the perfect angle for his belt.

  But Sheriff didn’t order me to bend over. Without looking at me, he crossed the room to a dresser, opened a drawer, took something out of it, and pushed it closed. When he turned and walked over to me, he had four long, red ropes in his hands.

  I scrunched my brows. “What are those for, Master?”

  “Rule number one in this room. Slaves do not talk without permission.”

  It hit me how hard that was for me. When I got nervous, that’s when questions wouldn’t stay silent. Someday I’d have to have Hawk show me how in the Light he controlled himself so well.

  Sheriff crossed the room to me. He grabbed my arm and lifted it up, tying it to the left foot post of the bed.

  Oh, no. I instinctively tried the rope, but it didn’t give, holding my wrist fast. Sheriff tied the other to the right post.

  “Master, you don’t have to do that. I’ll just—“

  He ran his hand down the length of my lavender hair and made a hushing noise in it. “You’re running your mouth already.”

  Behind me, I felt him kneel. He tied my bare ankles to the bottoms of the posts. The position left me spread wide open, both exposing every inch of my nakedness for him and keeping me from escaping whatever he did to me. This was just way too much vulnerability for me in front of a man like him, especially when I heard him inhale a deep, growled breath into my neck.

  “You really do have perfect skin.” He ran the metallic buckle of his belt over my bare shoulder, a long, slow drag of the cool steel.

  I closed my eyes, but it didn’t calm my ragged breaths.

  Moving in front of me to the side of the bed, Sheriff undressed. He took every stitch of clothing off, revealing a body so perfect he made me wonder how he could think mine was so grand. Every inch of him was coated in the dark tan of a man who spent a lot of time out of doors on the back of a bike. Ropes of thick muscle rippled with every movement. His cock pointed straight up, thick and long.

  My nipples peaked, easily visible even in this low light, a rush of sensation heating my sex. Then I noticed something about the man’s cock. A single silver ring was pierced through the tip.

  Lovely. The man must not have felt pain at all if he could stand that thing being put there. He’d have zero mercy for me now.

  “Like what you see, sweetheart?” he said, walking around to my side. He took the belt from the bed where he’d left it, and holding it bent in his fist, ran the fold of it down my arm. I shivered in a strange mix of delight and fear.

  What was I supposed to say? It cost too much to tell him the truth, but he knew, I could see it in his eyes.

  “This is what Damien trained you for, isn’t it?” he rasped into my ear now. “To fuck with a man’s common sense until he doesn’t see the kingdom being taken from right under his nose?”

  Indignation riled me, but I didn’t rise to his bait; for once, I forced my lips to stay closed.

  He smiled, a crooked, knowing smile. “I will take your silence as a yes.” He moved behind me, and I felt the fold of leather run along one of my butt cheeks.

  I panted. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t a spy, but I couldn’t even get the words out.

  “Damaging the enemies prized stock is par for the course for a man like me,” he said coming around to my other side and meeting my eyes. “But I’m going to have extra fun with you. Nothing this perfect falls into the lap of a man like me by accident.”

  There was no convincing him of how irrational his thoughts were. I wasn’t an unknowing plant. I couldn’t be. I would have known, somehow.

  “How many lashes do you think you deserve, slave?”

  I licked my lips, feeling like he’d taken a gag out of my mouth. “For whic
h offense, Master? For endangering your men to help Cherry, or for infiltrating your Grotto?”

  “Oooh.” He made a long, low, mocking sound. “She’s a smart little slave.”

  The menace there dripped like dark poison.

  I closed my eyes again, a tear leaking out of one. With my hands tied, I couldn’t wipe it away. Sheriff wiped the tear away with his finger and put his finger in his mouth.

  Without another word, he went in behind me again. The fold of leather in his hand slapped my left butt cheek hard and fast. The shock of pain seared my skin and went all the way to my toes.

  I whimpered and jerked instinctively.

  His nose brushed my neck. “Mouth off like that again, and I’ll add more lashes.” His voice was full of lust. He’d love for me to mouth off again.

  When I didn’t speak, he brought the belt down again, across my right cheek. The hot sting made me hiss between my teeth.

  Sheriff’s hand slid around my front while his hard, rippling body pressed against me from behind. My belly quivered at the heat of his slow, controlled touch as he slid his hand between my folds, fingers finding the wetness there.

  “I knew it. Pain gets you off.”

  His hand dropped. The belt cracked down hard on a fresh spot on my ass. I let out a shaky whimper, going up on my toes. He did it again. The blaze of pain seemed to pull at my nipples, turning them to painful points.

  As though he knew, Sheriff ran his hand up and tweaked one nipple, flicking each of them and making me gasp in pleasure.

  “Damien’s fucking trained you to get off on pain, hasn’t he? Another weapon in your well-honed arsenal.”

  Light, help me, this man was crazy. He actually thought my reaction to pain was deliberately engineered into me. Like Damien could have known. Dice had hinted he and the others were damaged. Sheriff wasn’t damaged. He was well and truly broken.

  He flicked my nipples again, and when I arched at his touch, he stepped back. The belt crashed down. My skin felt like it was on fire. I sobbed.

  “I wish Damien could see this.”

  Another swat. I went up on my toes, trying to twist away from the waiting belt.

  “I’m gonna tear you apart; maybe I should have my men leave you on his doorstep.”

  There was a snapping noise behind me, and I jumped, heart thudding until I saw the belt fly over my head and hit the pillows. I heard a sound like unsheathing steel. A blade, I realized, when the ropes on one of my wrists sliced and felt to the bed. The other one sliced and fell on the other side.

  Arms aching, they dropped to my side, and for a moment I just stood there, too dazed and in pain to move.

  Then, before I could think to react, Sheriff shoved my shoulders down onto the bed, over the footboard the way I had expected him to do when we’d first got in here.

  Leaving my feet still tied to the foot posts, legs still spread for him.

  I let out a small, helpless sound, trying to pull my feet together, but the ropes didn’t give. Sheriff’s large palm pinned my shoulders down, and awareness of his intensions knifed through me, hot, hard, dark.

  “I should break you and leave you for him,” he rasped. With one hand still on my shoulder, the other gripped my hip. “But there’s no way I can pass this up.

  His cock thrust into me, a single, intense stroke. I bucked and cried out.

  Next instant, he was pounding into me, fast, angry, punishing. “You’re trained to make a man loose control, mission accomplished, sweetheart.”

  I clawed at the mattress under me. He grabbed my wrists and folded my arms behind me at the small of my back. Gripping them as he rode me hard and vicious.

  “Makes me so damn hard, fucking Damien’s prized little princess.” He grunted in pleasure, thrusts sharp, hips slapping mine. Pleasure and pain ripped through me in equal measure as he filled me, stretching me. The sounds he made should have horrified me, but instead they made me hotter. I cried out in despair at my own need, hips rocking into him as though I’d become a woman possessed.

  “You perfect little witch. Got into my head until I had to have you.”

  I came apart, screaming, and he spilled into me with a grunt and a sigh. He slid his arm around my shoulders, hand cradling the front of my throat.

  I tried to stand up. He made a sound that sounded like a chuckle, but stayed where he was, chest pressing into my back, pinning me in place.

  We both caught our breaths, my chest heaving, his breaths filling my ears. While part of me wanted to be away from this man—far, far away—another part of me had a strange, euphoric, floaty feeling that made it impossible to grasp a coherent thought, much less move from where I was.

  With his palm still cradling the front of my throat, his other hand smoothed my hair away from my cheek, off my forehead.

  Then he stood and pulled me up. Weakness washed through me in a wave and I stumbled. Sheriff’s hand rested on my shoulder, steadying me. I turned slowly to face him. Sheriff turned, picked my frock up from the floor, opened my fist and closed my hand around the material, his expression the oddest look of calm I’d ever seen. He looked almost resigned.

  Then, taking his time, he took me by my arm and walked me across the room, unlocked and opened the door, then pushed me out into the hall.

  Not that I could have found any words at that moment, but before I could have spoken them, he shut the door slowly, resolutely.

  I heard it lock with a soft click.

  Numbness poured over me slowly, from my scalp all the way to my toes. For a minute, I couldn’t feel my bare feet on the floor or the cold air against my naked skin. I turned away from the door and walked down the path that led out of Sheriff’s quarters.

  Before I knew it, Gore was standing in the waiting room off of Sheriff’s office, ready to take me to the laundering hole. Now that I was no longer with Sheriff, the numbness that had taken over began to fade. Pure panic set in, taking my breath away. I didn’t understand why, only knew I had to get out of here, far from this room, from the guard, from everything.

  With Gore at my heels, I scanned the walkways and halls, searching for an escape. If only I could be alone to breath. I couldn’t get enough air.

  Seeing a group of people walking toward us, I stepped to the side, pretending to make room for them to pass. As I hoped would happen, the guard behind me turned in such a way that he collided with the crowd. I took advantage of the commotion and walked a few steps backwards, then quickly turned into a tunnel we had just passed. I quickened my steps.

  Halfway down a passage, I recognized the tunnel to the back of the common room, and from there, I recalled the walk to the pool Hawk showed me last night. It was the perfect place to be alone, regroup, get my head together.

  But as I came upon turn after turn that went nowhere near the area I was looking for, frustration bit into me. I was lost. Just as I was about to turn around, I saw a cluster of cavern openings in the distance. One opening had a faint glow that could only produced by the afternoon sun.

  Outside.

  “Going somewhere?” a familiar voice cooed.

  Patch.

  I turned around and saw him leaning against a wall behind me. Had he followed me? Or did I just have ridiculously bad luck?

  Patch walked toward me and touched my cheek. His eyes roved over me. Maker, I was still naked. I must have dropped the frock somewhere along the way.

  “Damn, my timing sucks. I have to run an errand.” He sighed and raked his gaze down my body again, his lips wet from his worm of a tongue. I fought back the urge to retch.

  He dropped his hand and looked behind us, into the depths of the tunnel.

  “Shit.” He shook his head. “Nah, don’t have time. Can’t take you with me either. But I’ll be back.” He patted my cheek and turned on his heel, going back the way I’d come.

  “Oh, sweet Maker, I can’t take anymore of this,” I said aloud as I headed toward the glowing entrance I saw earlier. I followed it all the way to the bottom where
it ended. About eight feet above, the sun’s light poured in through a hole at the top. Grassy topsoil pieces circled the edges of the hole, and on the floor laid more grassy chunks. Maybe it was an animal that made the hole. I looked at the rock sides, considering the best way to pull myself out.

  Eventually, I found my footing in the stone crevices and reached my arm out, grasping at the grass. My heart beat hard in my chest and sweat started to trickle between my breasts and under my arms. I was leaving…

  I pulled myself through the hole and sat on its edge. All around me, the expanse of blue sky stretched, brown dirt spreading out as far as the eye could see. The vista was dotted with sage brush and straw-colored weeds. The ground was hot and dry, already making me thirsty.

  The choice lay before me. Did I run? Leave this place behind, bottle it all up tight, and hope that I’d survive long enough to find shelter and live on my own? But how was I going to do that?

  I angled my body so that my legs swung freely in the hole. How long would it take for me to find civilization? Somewhere to hide until night came? It didn’t help at all knowing that I’s been unconscious when I came to the Grotto that night for the first time. I had no idea where I even was.

  I had no money, no clothing, no vehicle. Nothing. No, I wasn’t that stupid, not that desperate. A part of me screamed to go back inside. Hawk and Cherry, Dice. Those people meant something to me now. Even the thought of never seeing Pretty Boy with his handsome face and laughing eyes, and Steel with his oafish sense of humor, was too sad. What the hell was wrong with me?

  My thoughts circled around to Sheriff. It made no sense, but I felt a rush of adrenaline, thinking about him. The intensity I saw, the raw power that I glimpsed in his room earlier called to me in a way I didn’t understand. I’d never felt so alive as I did when his belt crossed my skin. When his thrusts pounded into me, I’d felt his pain, taking it inside me.

  I hardly recognized this woman I was becoming anymore.