Bad, Very Bad Shifters- The Complete Mega Bundle

by Daniella Wright

  “Yes, master.”

  “Good. Don't slip up like that again.”

  “I won't, master.” Feltan nods and runs his hands over my bare knees, tickling the skin there before drowning it in oil. He then reaches between my legs, and brushes the tips of his hands along my slit, before prodding at my bundle of nerves. With a shivering sigh, I whimper, tugging against my bindings as his wet fingers flick my core – though I'm also not getting the friction I need. His fingers are a little too slippery, and the oil too gloopy to have the effect I crave, that my body screams for.

  Arula notices this, and he orders Feltan to strip off and start masturbating.

  The shifter responds in eager delight. His hands retract from my core as he takes off his boxers, and grasps his erection. Slowly, he begins sliding his palm up and down, even as Arula starts his work on my clit. His cool, rough fingers quickly generate an almost unbearable sweet friction on me, causing my thighs to jerk of their own accord, as if pulled upon strings.

  Within moments, he has me shaking in an orgasm, and I scream out, gasping, even as Arula orders Feltan to come inside me.

  “Don't worry,” he informs me, even as I look in trepidation, through the glow of my orgasm, because I don't want to become pregnant, “it's only a certain time of the year that a dragon shifter is fertile. What you'll receive is the fluid, but without the sperm. You have my word.”

  I've not heard of this, but I'm still dubious all the same. However, I've only ever felt an unsheathed cock in me twice in my lifetime, and on both occasions, I took the morning after pills, after waddling shamefaced to a charity organization that helped with teenage girls like me.

  With my consent, Feltan dives into me with his bare cock, and I sigh at the sensation, and how easily he slides inside me. My eyes widen when I see Arula take off his boxers, revealing a thick cock, thicker than Feltan's, and he dabs lubricant on it, before smearing Feltan's ass. My heart stutters in increased excitement and amazement as Arula inserts himself into the shifter, who shudders and groans.

  “Move, slave.” Arula orders, and Feltan obliges, eyes locked onto mine as he pumps into me. Sweat forms on his forehead, trickling down his cheeks like tears, and his cheeks are as flushed as mine as he groans. Arula kneels on the bed on the furthest edge from me, gripping Feltan's hip as he thrusts, focused on the shifter's back.

  I convulse around Feltan's erection, and he groans, coming inside me, filling me up with warmth. Arula groans as well, and he speeds up his movements. Feltan's still inside me, and he braces his muscles on either side of my body as Arula dives into him with speed and force, until he too comes.

  It's not over there, though. Gradually, Arula tests out other boundaries. He gets Feltan to kneel between my legs and lap his tongue against my bundle of nerves, until I shudder out another orgasm. It's so hard to control my body, and my limbs are aching, weak from the two climaxes. I'm boneless and floating in bliss, even as Arula unlocks me from the chains at last. With the unlocking, new life breaths into my limbs, along with a tingling sensation and an irritating cramp in my left leg.

  Quietly, Arula hands me something that looks suspiciously like a dildo, though not one I've seen before. He then orders me to shove it up Feltan's ass, but to be gentle and slow. He even teaches me the angle I need to use, in order to make it possible for him to come from the stimulus.

  In short, I've gone from being chained to the bed into being an active participant in affairs. I'm ready for more. I'm ready to see what else can be done. Whether I'll be asked to whip him, though I don't think I want to endure the same pain myself. Whether I'll be asked for something I've never thought about.

  I shut out all the fears, doubts and worries, and plunge myself into the moment, making sure that I learn everything I can to make this experience magical.

  The dynamic here excites me. How often do I hear men go “No homo,” and act repulsed at the idea of being taken by their own genders? And how many gay men do I know who look deliberately camp and effeminate, rather than the mountains of muscle people seem to want to be? Too many, I think.

  Too many.

  When Feltan collapses in a heap beside me, having endured another orgasm through my usage of the dildo, Arula lets out a chuckle. “I think we're worn him out another, Elle. Let's give the poor prince a break.”

  I smile back, although I'm unsure if he even deserves a smile from me.

  Feltan raised up one hand weakly. “Yes... no more, please, master. I might die.”

  “At least you'd die doing something you love, slave,” Arula says, his voice hard.

  “No,” Feltan and I echo simultaneously.

  Arula shrugs. “I'm sure I can squeeze a few rounds out of you yet.”

  “No!”

  “Shame,” he murmured, drinking a glass of water, confidence leaking from every pore – even when he stood there stark naked.

  Oh my, I think. This could be an interesting next few weeks...

  Chapter Three

  Well. I wasn't wrong about it being interesting. What I didn't expect though, was that I'd end up looking forward to the sessions. Even when I'm kind of not in the mood, I can dredge up the mood for the moment, or at least start getting into it once Arula does his shit.

  It wasn't exactly clear when I first came to this place, but it is a kind of hideout, like I suspected. Feltan lives separately inside the mountain with another brother, and Arula is some kind of noble in the mix, who serves the kinks of other nobles and royals. Feltan isn't his only customer, but he's quite fussy about who he serves. In short, it turns out Feltan's been paying Arula for a while, and he comes over twice a week to prepare for whatever's planned.

  When Feltan goes back to the mountain, he leaves me behind with my thoughts and my soul. I have the run of the place to myself, but it's quite boring without digital devices to entertain myself, and I'm not that much of a book reader. I mean, I might slog my way through say, ten books a year, but I don't have the desire or pull to keep reading them. It's something I do when someone recommends me a series, like they have with Harry Potter or Shadow Man, and it would be nice if we could have the wizarding world, instead of shifters.

  Shifters are the closest thing our world has to magic. But if I'm honest, there's far more impressive things out there. Though anyone who can fly, like the dragons, like eagles – I imagine it's a wonderful gift to have.

  Wonderful enough to make me envious, and consider why the shifter world does not have any female shifters. At all. Their entire societal structure is built upon relying on female humans, and the most isolated shifter tribes will just abduct to bolster their numbers.

  I suppose in the past it was easy for them to do so. Humans didn't have world wide communication, couldn't fly, didn't have the technology to make their lives easier. Now, Shifters are in conflict. You have those who want to integrate and assimilate into human societies, and you have those who proudly preserve their societies, and continue with the abductions.

  When preparing for a session, Arula comes over to the abode early, and also to have a chance to talk to me. He knows I'm bored, and he also knows I can't step outside, because the other dragon shifters would happily pounce on me and take me away. Regardless of whether I'm with a prince or not. Feltan tries to come to the place every day, also to talk to me, but when Arula is there, it instantly becomes the slave and master dynamic. So we don't get that much talking done.

  “We're not as sophisticated as Balteria,” Arula admits, boiling the kettle to make coffee from the massive pile of different brands in the kitchen. I've drank my way through most of them now, and have a particular fondness for the Fado brand. “Because there's still so few women here, the shifters here have to fight for them. As long as you stay indoors, you won't be taken. But if you go outside, you're considered free game. Until our society becomes larger than just two thousand or so people, I think it will always be like that.”

  The way Arula speaks intrigues me. “Have you had much experience outside
North Dakota, then?”

  “Yeah. I've been in the human world for culture trips, and I visited Balteria a few years back. I actually got my experience as a dom from a mistress in an Orlando dungeon. She was very good.” He gives me a smile at my shocked expression. “We all have to start somewhere. As you know. Speaking of experience, I don't think I ever asked you where you got yours.”

  I hesitate. Sharing too much means getting closer to the people who imprison me. It means baring my soul, and learning more about them in return. It makes it harder to see them as the enemy, as people I must escape from at all costs.

  Though, I'm already struggling as it is. I'm not... suffering, exactly. Sometimes I don't want to do what I'm made to do, and I certainly don't like being stuck here without anything, so far away from home and friends – but my situation could be a lot worse.

  It messes with my mind for sure, because I'm in a halfway place.

  And I'm running away from the idea of confronting my dad. So I'm less eager to escape than I tell myself.

  No. I'm not running. I'm just... preparing myself. Gearing up the mental courage to want to face him.

  “I wanted to make enough money to go to Uni,” I say. “It's ridiculously shit to be in America if you're poor, so I wanted to make money to not be poor. So... I started selling my body.”

  “Hmm.” Arula nods in understanding. “Is your family poor, then?” The kettle hisses in the background, sending plumes of steam into the air. I know for a fact that Arula is considered wealthy. I have no idea how the nobles and royals accumulate so much money without their interactions in the human world. Maybe they were around during the gold rush in the 1800s and just accumulated from there? Maybe they do trade with travellers. I don't know. Either way, Arula and Feltan have both informed me they have international bank accounts and do small operations there.

  “Yes and no. I never starved or anything when I was growing up, but I never got anything real special, either. Just whatever, you know?”

  “Whatever. No, I don't know. Please elaborate.”

  “We were a good Christian family. Our wealth was in the church and community, and though we didn't go on holidays or whatever, we never worried about money that way.”

  “Could your parents have provided the money for you to go to Uni?”

  “No.” I'm positive about that. “They had money for when I'd get married, but not for education. I was full public schools. I wanted an education, so... I started earning money my own way.”

  The kettle stops boiling. Arula heads over to it and begins to pour the steaming coffee into a mug, offering me some as well. I graciously accept, and I stand next to him, watching him pour, enjoying the aroma of the crushed beans filling the space between us.

  “You said your family were Christian? How did they take the news of you selling your body to earn money?”

  “They didn't. I never told them.”

  “Ah.” He hands the mug of coffee over to me, and I sniff it for a moment, before taking my first sip, closing my eyes and sighing in relief. Coffee has always been a great revitaliser. It doesn't really do much to calm my chaotic thoughts, since it revs them up and fires all my synapses at once, but it does enough to zing a bit of juice inside.

  “Did they ever find out?”

  This is the question I know that will head down the slippery well when I answer it honestly. Just thinking about my family sends a heavy sadness in my heart. One that I've been able to banish and distract myself from by my current life here.

  I must have been here for a few weeks by now, but it feels like centuries.

  “My father did.” A lump rises in my throat. I don't want to keep talking, but I know I have to.

  “How did he take it?” We both go to the sofa and sit down, our legs sprawled across the length of it. On the table a short way off is a game of Risk. Feltan has troops spread across it, though he's been unsuccessfully trying to take Africa from me. Arula has bottlenecked in Australia and is trying to creep out in each other continent to stop us from completing our bonus sets.

  “Not good. He... he kicked me out the house. He disowned me.”

  Arula lets out a great sigh. “Very Christian-like. Did you not get to go back at all?”

  “Nope. I was abducted on the night I got kicked out.”

  “Ouch.” Arula swills his coffee. “Bad timing. Well, I mean, pretty much every abduction is bad timing.” He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes warm. He can be kind at times, and it makes it harder to deal with.

  When I really think about it, I've not had a lot of kindness in my life. My mother and father simply reinforced good values to me, but dire consequences if I broke them. However, I had good influence from some friends, online and offline (or bad, depending on how you look at it), and I followed a lot of news threads on twitter and Facebook, wanting to keep up to date with the world. And sometimes just reminding myself that the world is a really, really big place.

  When I got into the business of making money on my own, the men for the most part didn't care for me at all – only what was between my legs. Sure they'd mutter things like “You feel so good,” or “you're amazing,” but they don't actually care. They just care about how they feel.

  My father, though. He could have been a demon disguised in angel skin. But I have to hope that somewhere he does love me.

  Arula reads the expression in my eyes, and sighs. He fishes in his pocket, and takes out a phone. I stare at it in sudden interest.

  “You can phone them. If you want. I just want to warn you, though, that we'd appreciate it if you don't mention about the whole kidnapping thing. Because I can promise you that no one here will be planning to give you back. Not without some extensive time and trust built. And dragons... are hard beasts to drag down in a fight.”

  It's a threat, so matter how amiably he addresses it, but I nod my acceptance. I don't care. I want to see if my family are worried. If they care at all. If I've been on the bulletins and headlines in my area.

  I remember our home phone, but not the mobile numbers. I take the phone from Arula after he asks for it to be on loudspeaker – and though I'm self-conscious of the lack of privacy, I agree to the deal. Just, whatever. Let's hear what my mother and father have to say. I check the time. It's after seven, they should both be at home, with my mother watching gospel on the television, and my father reading. I have more chance of being answered by my mother, so that's good. She may be weak willed, but she won't slam the phone down on me, if it's not the situation I want.

  I tap in the number and the phone rings. My heart's pounding strangely, pumping through a queasy sensation in my blood. My hands are trembling, as I wonder how I'll be answered. If my fears are misplaced or if they'll come true.

  Someone answers.

  “Hello, this is Richard speaking. Who is this?”

  My heart sinks like a stone in water. My father. I fight the fear blocking my throat, and say, “Hey, dad. It's me. Your daughter.”

  There's an electrifying silence.

  “I have no daughter. Don't ever call this number again.” The phone slams, before I even have a chance to say anything.

  Disappointment and overwhelming sadness spill out my eyes and down my cheeks. Arula instantly puts his coffee down, alarmed and guilty for the call, even though it's not his fault, and drapes an arm around me. I'm sorry, he says. Over and over.

  I'm sorry, too. Not for what I did, because I don't think I did anything wrong with my life choice. I'm sorry for having to find out that family bonds to my father, doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean that he'll stay with me, whatever happens. It doesn't mean he'll love me, even if I do something he doesn't like.

  It just means that if I do something outside his control, then he'll drop me like a hot potato. He'd let me drown, and eighteen years of my life shared with him is forgotten in an instant.

  I don't understand it. Wouldn't any parent want to take back their own child? He didn't even ask how I was. If I was in dang
er. I could have just escaped some drug gang for all he knew, and he just ruined my only chance to escape. It might be an exaggeration, but my father has as good as said to me I don't care if you're dead.

  I consider for a brief moment just phoning some other time and trying to contact my mother or my younger brother, maybe I'll just imitate someone else's voice and pretend to get wrong numbers until I hear my mother – but whatever my father says, mom and my brother will follow right up with.

  The complete rejection has floored me. And it's odd to think that a friend of the person who bought me is now comforting me.

  I don't know my friend's numbers, but I could ask him if I can try Facebook. However, what's the point? None of them are altruistic enough to suddenly take me in. I could chip into a rental house with my money, but I don't have a stable job secured to ensure I keep earning it. My seven thousand was gathered over two years. I suppose I could look into finding more work with it, but there's now a taint to it that wasn't there. The knowledge that it's because of this, that I no longer have a family. I no longer have a home.

  The tears continue to flood my face, and I struggle to breathe, my body heaving from great sobs. Honestly, I just want to curl up in a corner – and of course, when I'm in the middle of crying, Feltan walks in through the door, stumbles across the scene of me weeping almost hysterically, with Arula's phone dropped on the sofa, and he immediately walks over to us, instead of taking off his shoes like he normally does.

  “What's going on? Why are you crying?” When I don't answer, he says, “Why is she crying, Arula?”

  Arula ignores the slave master rule for once, and shakes his head, even as I blub into his chest. “I let her phone home. Turns out she has a dick for a father.”

  “Huh?”

  Arula explains in more detail, because I'm content to just wallow in my own misery. I know I should be picking myself up, because there's nothing worse or more annoying then having someone in a heap on the floor, not doing anything else other than cry, but I don't know.