HOWL and HUNT the HEIR: HOWL 1-3 (Dark World)

by D. S. Wrights

Still, there was no way she could do what he was demanding from her. She knew she would bite, instinctively, because that would kill him, tearing off his cock. He would bleed out just like that. His blood was all Liala wanted to taste.

  “Oh, you want to be the defiant kind?” He asked and then laughed. “By all means, that’s how I like ‘em, defiant.” After a brief moment of hesitation when he just stared at her, expecting her to give him any reaction, he shouted at the driver: “Keep driving if you want to fuck her later.”

  With his free hand, he managed to open his fly and pull out his half flaccid cock. Liala couldn’t prevent taking in the scent once more, instinctively trying to pull away from it. He wasn’t a shifter. It was wrong. She had no idea why, but the thought of having sex with a human was suddenly unimaginable, a wrong of the worst kind.

  Liala didn’t have the time to think about it, because her face was pushed against the member that started twitching as she was instinctively fighting him, bringing one of her hands up, to find some relief in grabbing his hand.

  “Open your mouth and use your tongue,” her captor bellowed, but Liala had to swallow down the acid that was crawling up her throat. “Come on, little bitch, or do I have to teach you everything?”

  “I… I can’t, “Liala stammered. “I will bite, I just know I will.”

  With one forceful yank on her hair that had her swear he had pulled a few strands from her skull, her captor was forcing her head back, so that she had to arch her back to avoid even more pain.

  “Fine,” he growled, and she could only hear what he was doing as her visual range didn’t reach farther than his chest for which she was somewhat grateful.

  It sounded as if he was pulling his belt from his pants, and it fit to the movements he made, tearing at her hair while he was fidgeting. Before she knew it, he had taken her other hand and pulled it up behind her, tying both her wrists together with said belt. But he didn’t stop with that. Quickly he brought the leather around her throat and pulled on it. With that he rendered her arms immovable; choking her slightly should she try to evade him.

  “Pat,” her captor patted against the seat in front of him, making the one riding shotgun stir. “Your knife.”

  Brenna’s dad, the leader of the hunters, kept pulling on her new restraints, making her arch her back even more, to ease the tension on her shoulders. If he didn’t stop, she knew she would fall backwards onto his lap, or into the foot space, in perfect height for him to fuck her mouth.

  With this horrible image in her head, Liala did her best to stay upright. She could only see from the corners of her eyes that ‘Pat’ obeyed and handed something that looked like a hunter’s knife to the man that had bound her.

  “Lay back,” her enemy ordered her, yanking on the leather of his belt and forcing Liala to do exactly what she had tried to avoid; bringing her legs down to kneel in the foot space.

  With one hand, he held her head down to his knees, by using her restraints, while he had the knife in the other. Slowly he brought down the blade and pressed the cold iron of the flat side against her other cheek.

  “You’re so pretty,” he whispered into her ear and she couldn’t hold back a shudder. “I would hate to ruin this face, so hold still.”

  Sliding the safe side along her jaw, he turned it, so the tip barely pinched her chin and then he brought it down, not stopping when he reached the rim of her t-shirt. It was frightening to feel how sharp this instrument really was, easily cutting through the fabric of her clothing.

  Liala imagined that it was the claw on Nate’s index finger destroying her clothing with the promise of amazing sex, despite knowing that this was nothing but a fantasy, a desperate attempt to make the situation bearable.

  “Boss… we’re here…”

  11 – Captors

  Liala didn’t have the time or focus to monitor the anything around her, and to memorize where they had been going. When she thought of the time that had passed, she knew that they couldn’t be that far away from the settlement of her mother’s clan, and yet she had the feeling that it was just far enough to keep their location hidden.

  When the car stopped, her captor got out first, but he didn’t let go of the restraint he had created. He pulled on the leather and made her shuffle and skid across the uneven ground, gasping for air.

  “You’re my bitch now, Liala,” her captor told her, speaking loudly, for everyone to hear.

  It was a good and bad thing. Good, because everyone knew that she was his to play with, and bad, because it did degrade her to nothing more than just that: something even less than a slave. But then again, this was probably a better status than being nothing more than a shifter.

  With his hand on her lower back, her hands still restrained behind her head, Liana felt nothing more than embarrassed walking through the makeshift camp these men had set up. Looking around, she couldn’t make out one single female in this place, which was quite unsettling, but then again, this was a hunter’s camp.

  With every step, she took, what happened to Brenna was brought back to her mind, because she knew that just the same was waiting to happen to her. Liala knew that she had to brace herself for what was to come, and yet… somehow, she couldn’t imagine what would happen.

  Her captor had pulled her out of the car and basically dragged her across the campsite into a large tent which was easily the biggest in the camp. With the momentum of his movement, he shoved her across the floor towards what looked like his bed. Liala didn’t bring herself up onto her feet but stayed on her knees close to the floor.

  Sliding across the dirt, Liala couldn’t help but silently beg for the images in front of her inner eyes to vanish. But instead she started to replace them, with the rough and relentless hands belonging to Nate and not to her captor. The roughness of these hands displayed wasn’t born from hate but from need. When she was shoved across the ground, her skin breaking from the force, drawing blood, it wasn’t because her captor wanted to make her suffer, but because Nate was impatient to bury his cock inside of her.

  Can I keep up this illusion?

  “Now you’re going to blow me like your life depends on it, Liala, dear,” her captor hummed as she found herself on her knees, him sitting on some seat, legs spread and a cock saluting her.

  Fuck no!

  There was no way on earth that she could pretend that this cock was Nate’s, when she knew that he was laying on the ground back where they had left him, dead, lifeless, somewhere farther in the depth of the forest.

  She wanted to yell ‘no’ at him, but she couldn’t, her body and her mind were numb, paralyzed.

  Just let him have you, fuck you, and it’ll be over soon.

  His cock was standing up straight, just like a proud pole missing the banner and she didn’t want anything more than to vomit all over it. But Liala couldn’t keep her head straight, couldn’t prevent herself from shaking, looking at that staff of flesh. All she could think of was how pleasant it would look to watch him dying, slowly, and full of torment, because he had killed Nate. And yet, she didn’t know him, the dad of Brenna. That was the most certain thing she became aware of, watching all these people getting ready for a war that had started countless ages ago and still wouldn’t calm down. All she wanted to see in front of her eyes was Nate, looking down at her, grinning that naughty and mischievous smile, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to resist placing her lips around his hard and hot cock. Liala imagined herself sitting upright on her knees, and allowing her tongue to slide along the head of Nate’s cock, listening to the approving and desperate sounds he made just because of her. She let her tongue draw a circle right beneath the crown of his cock. The approving sounds were guttural, and Liala didn’t need anything more than to feel him inside of her, feel the tip of his hard-on at her entrance. She wanted to whimper his name but there was something holding her back. Liala wanted to say his name out loud, from the depth of her throat, but she couldn’t, because a part of her knew that it was evoking the reality
of the past and with that the death by the hand of the man who was now her captor.

  “Look at me, little wolf,” he demanded, softly, as if he knew that she was creating a day dream around herself, and destroying all the delicately designed images of Nate, when she followed his demand.

  He had already ruined her shirt with the blade he held in his hand, but now, in the security of his tent, he held her captive on her knees. Liala knew what would follow now, and she did her best to imagine Nate towering over her, and not her captor, with his fly undone and his cock emerging from the folds of his pants, ready to be embraced by her lips. But he didn’t have the size, or color, or scent of Nate.

  How am I supposed to live through this?

  Liala held her breath as she opened her mouth and placed her lips around the staff of flesh she was supposed to worship. But she couldn’t. All she could focus on was to not vomit all over her captor’s cock.

  He didn’t tell her what to do, instead, he simply pushed her head towards his crotch, making her throat stretch painfully, so it could accommodate his hard-on down her windpipe. Liala was gagging, gasping, and heaving, thick tears streaming from her eyes.

  She still didn’t try and fight him, because what choice did she have, really?

  Liala gasped for air whenever her throat was free of the foreign body, trying her best to not rebel against the force that was bobbing her head, but she couldn’t fight the tears or hold them back. It was the only way she could allow her body to revolt against the force that was working against her.

  “This is no fun,” her captor, her enemy, stated, yanking at her hair again, leaving her throat.

  He pulled her farther away from him, but still looked at her, angrily.

  “Maybe I should get the dogs,” he thought aloud and Liala tensed unintentionally, giving him just the reaction he had hoped for. “Do you like that idea? Or do you dread it, little wolf?”

  Liala just stared at the man, hoping the only emotion he read off her face was disgust and hate.

  “Glare at me all that you want,” he scoffed. “I don’t care, little bitch. I’m gonna rape you and fuck you until you begin to love it. How’s that idea?”

  Liala’s wrists were still bound behind her neck and the man was pulling her towards the desk that was looking more fragile than it actually was, because her captor shoved her against it forcefully and it didn’t budge. The edge of the desk cut into her lower stomach, which told her that if he could push her torso onto the table top she would be able to stand on her tiptoes, which would help her to keep a halfway secure stance, but it would be uncomfortable for her shoulders.

  “Let me help you with that,” her captor murmured, quickly bringing the knife back to her throat below the belt, but only to slide it across her skin further down her chest.

  With a jerk of his wrist he cut the fabric of her bra where it held the cups together, freeing her breasts so that they swung freely above the desk. Then, he focused his attention on the button on her jeans.

  Liala shut her eyelids tightly, doing her best to picture Nate impatiently unbuttoning her jeans to pull them down her legs, with one hand in her hair, humming approvingly as her wet pussy met the cool winter air.

  Her elbows collided with the tabletop, as he pushed her forward, reminding her of the uncomfortable position her arms and wrists were in.

  “I really don’t know if I want to have you for myself or if I just want to watch you get fucked by every guy on my team,” Brenna’s dad – her captor – mused again and Liala tried her best to twist the words she just had heard in the wrong voice into him wanting to fuck her in front of every guy of the pack, like he already had done.

  But it had the wrong effect on her, instinctively rubbing her legs together as her fantasy was creating real arousal.

  “Why don’t you just kill me?” Liala could hear herself ask and tensed because of it, pulling her back into reality.

  Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?

  “Oh, little bitch,” her captor answered quite instantly. “Because the only thing I won’t do is kill you. I want you to suffer, to be tormented, to feel pain with every fiber of your body. I want your mother to sense what you are going through, or at least imagine it, and I want you to beg, to plead for all of this to be over.”

  “I don’t know how to beg or plead,” she could hear defiance in her own voice.

  As a response, her head was pushed towards the tabletop her hips were already colliding with; her right cheek pressed against the surface. She flinched as the cool table connected with the hot skin of her breasts and buds.

  “Spread your legs,” he ordered Liala, kicking against her ankles to make her obey his command and more of the cool night air reached her pussy.

  If this had been a dream, if this had been Nate, if this was what she just had fantasized about, she would have loved every single second of it. She would have pleaded and begged him to finally enter her with his long, hard cock. She maybe would have even asked for him to shift into his half man, half wolf form.

  Suddenly, she felt two rough fingers pushing into her, pulling out just a moment later, leaving the uncomfortable sensation of being stained.

  “Look at that, you’re wet, dirty little whore,” her captor sneered. “Let’s see if I can get you dripping wet.”

  Instantly, she regretted having come up with the idea to pretend that this was a dream, a fantasy, in order to endure this, because it had made it worse. Liala braced for his fingers to enter her once more, but it didn’t happen.

  “Will!” Her captor yelled instead and Liala flinched. “Will, bring me a rope, no, two!”

  There’s someone standing in front the tent? Was he watching?

  Her face instantly burned with even more shame.

  It didn’t take long for the man to obey his boss, and he entered the tent without making himself known. She could feel his stare burn into the back of her head as he was taking in her naked form, pressed onto the table. Liala thought that she could taste his sudden arousal on her tongue. The worst thing was that she didn’t hear him leave. What she did hear was her captor moving as the pressure on her head and shoulders lessened.

  But the relief was brief. From what she could hear and see, her captor was bringing the ropes around the legs of the table and then bound her arms with what was left of them. After that, he pulled them tight, pulling her upper body forcefully against the table top, lifting her feet from the ground. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that he pulled one rope down, placing it between her butt checks and then against her pussy and clit. When he was finished, he started grabbing her hips and moved her, causing her to grind against the rope.

  Liala did her best to suppress any sound that was trying to break from her throat, but the rough friction against her clit was close to unbearable.

  Even though she muffled every noise, the movement still had its effect on her. Making her lips swell and moisten. She couldn’t help but think of last night when Nate was rubbing his hard-on against her pussy.

  What would I give to relive that moment again? Over, and over again, instead of this. But… he’s gone… He’s gone!

  Realization became a huge lump in her throat and again tears gathered in her eyes, breaking from her lids in huge, hot orbs running down her cheeks. Her breath stuck in her lungs and the absence of air burned in her chest. She didn’t want to sob, she wanted to stay quiet and strong, and not giving this bastard the satisfaction of reacting to anything he did.

  Then she felt how the rope was pushed aside a bit and how her pussy was spread open wide.

  “Have a taste,” she could hear her captor. “You can come back later and fuck her.”

  Again, a pair of fingers was pushed into her soft folds relentlessly and retreated just in the same way, as if her cunt was nothing more than a honey pot, not belonging to a living being. Although she didn’t hear it, she could imagine how this Will guy was bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them, tasting her
juices.

  In any other circumstance, she would have found that incredibly hot, a part of her still did; but then again, this was a situation that made her want to protest, struggle, and try to break herself free.

  “I know that look on your face, but this time you’ll actually get the chance to make it happen, Will,” her captor said behind her back. “But I’m first.”

  …this time?

  Silence followed, but she was sure that he had nodded.

  “I want Rick here asap, got it?” Her captor demanded and Liala froze, involuntarily.

  Rick, the one she had entrusted the lives of her father and brother with, who was a hunter. She had dared to trust him; she had allowed him to kiss her, just to learn from her mother that he was the enemy.

  “You’re wondering, aren’t you?” Brenna’s father asked. “If he really liked you or if all he did was just an act. You know that it can be real and a lie at the same time, right? Depends on how far he went with you. Tell me, how far would you have allowed him to go?”

  Liala stayed silent, receiving a panging slap on her right butt cheek in return. She gasped; trying to make sense of what she felt when the burning aftermath sent a wave of goosebumps across her body.

  “He was supposed to stay close to you no matter what,” her captor continued. “And yet he disobeyed his first directive and brought your adoptive father and half-brother to safety. Because you asked him to.”

  Hearing these words gave Liala hope, despite her being absolutely sure that this was the worst idea in her current situation. And still, she wondered if Rick would help her once more, especially if she promised him safety within the walls of her clan’s reservation.

  “But until he comes, I have all the time in the world to come inside you,” her captor continued and his words made her skin crawl. “Oh yes, little bitch, that’s all this is about, getting you pregnant. Your mother hasn’t told you about the power of a first born? That the first born of a pureblood is special?”

  His hand pushed down from her tailbone to her shoulders, taking the fabric that was still covering her with it, ending in him pressing her face even more forcefully against the tabletop.