Savages: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Loki Renard

  “I will not tolerate disrespect from a woman,” he says. “And especially not from you. We own you, girl. You are property.”

  He is something totally unspeakable, but he doesn’t care what I think of him. He ties the leather behind my head and stands over me, his hands on his hips, his bare muscular torso rippling with every breath he takes.

  “You behave worse than an infant,” he lectures. “You scream and you cry and you expect some result from it. We will never respond to your displays of temper, girl.”

  I growl through the gag, tasting leather and rage. I’m going to do more than display temper. I’m going to run away from them. They have no idea how mad they’ve made me. Up until now I have been too afraid of the world at large to be without them, but my anger makes me more brave than I was before.

  He grabs me by the back of the neck and pushes me forward over the bed.

  “Hold her arms,” he tells Stryker and Hans. They do as they are told, dutiful assholes.

  My ass is bared. My cheeks are spread. I feel him pushing slippery liquid against the most embarrassing bud of my body.

  “She needs to be disciplined,” he says. “She’s spoiled.”

  He’s talking to the others, not me, but my face blushes red with frustration and embarrassment. Ice handles me as if I’m an animal. I’ve seen him deal with carcasses and display more respect than this.

  The pad of his middle finger rubs around my hole, then pulls away.

  “Bring me that root and a knife and hold her still.”

  I don’t know what the hell he’s planning to do to me, but I know I won’t like it. Hans and Stryker have their work cut out to keep me still as I pitch another fit, but I don’t care. It’s worth it to fight. Ice and the rest of them have to learn that they can’t just do whatever they want to me—even if they can. I have to resist, because resistance is all I have.

  He’s doing something behind me. I hear soft scraping sounds, but I don’t know what he has in store until something hard and rounded, and not at all finger-like starts taking advantage of my lubricated hole and pushes inside me.

  “Ginger root,” he says. “Disciplining naughty girls since the before times.”

  At first, it doesn’t feel like much. It just feels like a relatively small, but hard intrusion. It could be a lot worse. Is this what he thinks will subdue me? Sticking bits of the landscape up my ass? Well, good luck to him… wait… what is that?

  I’m starting to feel a tingling deep in my rear. It’s just a bit weird at first, but then it starts to heat up and I realize with a start that the root is causing the tingling, which is quickly turning into a burning feeling deep in my ass.

  Ice snorts in a satisfied way as my hips start to dance with discomfort. They’re not satisfied with beating my ass. They’re going to torment it from the inside out now. Every second that goes by, I feel the heat and tingling spreading. It’s not fair. The lubrication and my own squirming motions seem to be making it worse. I can feel the very tight ring of muscle burning the most, and then my internal parts starting to heat up as well.

  I want to tell him to get it out of me, but I can’t speak thanks to the gag. All I can do is mumble into the leather and writhe about to the extent that Stryker and Hans allow. A few minutes into my session of torment, Maverick enters the house. I hear the door creak open and then a low whistle emits from him.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m teaching her a lesson,” Ice says.

  “And what lesson is that?”

  “If she yells at me, she gets punished.”

  “She yelled at you?”

  “Loudly,” Ice says, unimpressed. “And without end. Now she has a reason to yell, but she can’t.”

  It is humiliating to be spoken about like this, to be held in place by my savage men and treated more like an animal to be broken to their will than a woman with thoughts and feelings.

  The ginger slides from my bottom, but the punishment is not over. Something thicker and harder is already pushing in. It’s Ice’s cock. He is making good on his threats to take me in my most sensitive place, and now it is more sensitive than ever.

  I blush furiously, my entire body reacting to the hot humiliation of being held down and taken by this stern man who has disapproved of me from the very beginning. This is not sex for pleasure. This is sex for punishment. I can feel his disciplinary intent as he puts one large hand on the back of my neck and eases the broad head of his cock slowly, but inexorably into my bottom.

  There’s no point begging him for mercy. I know that there will be none. I knew what I was doing when I taunted him in the first place, practically begging for him to prove to me that I could be controlled.

  Now he is showing me, the throbbing hot flesh of his cock spreading my stinging asshole wide, inch after inch sinking into the tight cavity. The physical sensation is uncomfortable, but I feel his dominance coursing through me. With Ice, I will never get away with anything, and that knowledge makes my body sing with arousal I would deny if only I could.

  I let out a little whimpering moan as the big, mean savage urges his cock forward, sliding the thick shaft in and out of that tender, embarrassing place. Only Ice could come up with such a twisted punishment. It is him all over to calculate a way to first shock, then overwhelm me. The rage that drove me to yell at him has abated, turning me into a whimpering, squirming little mess beneath him.

  The hands of the other savages slide from my body. Now it is only Ice who holds me in place, and his hand is no longer as tight as it was around the back of my neck. I am staying in place of my own free will. I am allowing my bottom to be fucked by this savage. Worse, my hips are rising up and back, taking him deeper still because this is what I want. I want to be held in place, punished and fucked.

  I want to be dominated by him. I want to feel this unique sensation running through my very blood, where I know it doesn’t matter what I want, because all that matters is his will and his desire.

  Ice has made me soften beneath him. He has taken my defiance and rage and turned it into submissive arousal. And he knows it. I hear him growl, but it’s not an angry sound anymore. It’s a sound of masculine triumph as my bottom relaxes all the more, allowing him to surge in and out of the tight ring of muscle gripping his cock.

  He fucks my ass without mercy, his cock sliding in and out of my stinging hole. Gasping and squealing into the gag, I lift my hips. The heat in my ass has spread throughout my sex. My clit is tingling, my pussy is dripping and I need to be filled there desperately.

  I should be furious, or cowering beneath him. Having my ass fucked should not result in this much raw desire, but there is something about his unchained cruelty that turns me on and frees me to be whatever I please. With him, I don’t control myself, because he will control me when necessary. Right now, he has the back of the leather gag in his hand and is using it like a pair of reins, pulling my head back as he pushes his thick rod into my sore ass over and over again.

  “Scream at me again, girl, and I’ll whip your ass before I fuck it,” he growls. “You have been spoiled. But I will un-spoil you.”

  His cock is pushing past the tight ring of muscle over and over, making it submit to him. I feel his hot cock going deeper and deeper with every thrust. There’s not a hole in my body he would not take. There’s not a thing he wouldn’t do to me and I know it.

  Maverick is watching everything. I know he’s seeing the way my ass is being stretched lewdly around Ice’s rod. They are all watching. Stryker. Hans. Maverick. They are all witness to my punishment.

  Should I be crying? Begging for mercy? Should I be learning a lesson? All I’m learning is that my ass is another source of rough pleasure, and that being disciplined doesn’t mean being hurt. My hips roll, grinding my ass around his dick and soon I am sliding back on him, matching him stroke for stroke.

  I hear Ice growl as my ass clenches his cock and I know he is looking for a new way to make an impression on me.

&nb
sp; “Pick her up, Ice,” Maverick says, his voice thick with lust. “I will have her too.”

  Ice pulls me up from the bed and holds me against him, his cock deep in my ass. He holds me up on his cock as Maverick slides to where I was lying. Then he lets me slide back down atop Maverick’s muscular body. Maverick’s cock is hard and waiting for me and I am impaled between them in one devastatingly slow motion.

  My ass is already full, and as my pussy stretches around Maverick’s cock, I feel myself spreading wider than ever before, filled and taken by these ruthless men whose desire and dominance makes me respond with instinctual ecstasy.

  Everything they do to me is so wrong. But everything I feel with them is so right.

  They have made me a savage. They have made me as they are, and as my holes are pillaged by their thick, pounding cocks, I am no more than an animal, and I am no less than theirs.

  I am sandwiched between my men, sated by the savages. My orgasm comes in a crashing rush of sensation that I cannot control or contain. They hold my writhing form between their muscular bodies and spend their seed inside my holes.

  It leaks out as they soften and slide from me and I lie between them, weak with orgasm. Now there are no more lectures, no more arguments. Now my pussy is tender, my ass is throbbing. Now I have no more desire to fight. All I can do is fall asleep feeling a deep contentment that I have felt only a few times in my life before—and every time with these men.

  Afterward, I crawl into Ice’s lap and he holds my naked, cum-dripping body against his, pulling a blanket over me to shelter me from the cold. Ice rarely deigns to share words with me, but his actions say all I need to hear.

  I have been punished, taken to the very brink of my body’s capacity for discipline and pleasure alike, but he does not hold my bad behavior against me. He takes it in his stride and he addresses it as necessary. Now that I am subdued, I have earned his affection.

  I let my eyes close as the savages rumble around me, Maverick and Hans and Stryker discussing matters of the tribe, of hunting, and of war. I nuzzle my head into Ice’s chest and close my senses against everything but him. In return, I feel his arms wrap tight about me, cradling me close so I am completely protected, and completely cared for. Something tells me that this truce is temporary. Ice is too unyielding, and I am yet too untamed for us to exist in complete peace. But for the moment, this is enough.

  Chapter Eleven

  That is the last pleasure I receive. Overnight, I begin to feel the dull ache low in my belly that used to herald one of the twelve agonies of the year. I go back to sleep, hoping to avoid the worst of it, but as the dawn breaks, I hear Maverick shout.

  “Someone is wounded!”

  I have bled profusely absolutely everywhere. I don’t know what they’re going to do with the bedding, but it covers me and Maverick and Ice.

  “It’s her,” Ice says, his lip curling with what might be disgust. “Her moon blood has come.”

  I am so embarrassed I could die. “I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t… I…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Hans intervenes. “We’ve been covered in blood many times before, and we will be many times again. We should have anticipated this when we took your implant out.”

  He’s the only one who seems to understand my shame and wants to do anything about it.

  I start to cry. I hate periods.

  The day does not improve from there. The pain grows and the flow gets heavier. They bring me things to staunch it, boiled moss and woven cloth, but I bleed so swiftly that it is easier to sit in the river and let the water wash it away between waves of cramps that leave me lying weak against the rocks.

  “What’s wrong with her?” The men cluster on the bank and watch me bleed.

  “Some women have unpleasant periods,” Stryker says.

  It’s a total understatement. This isn’t unpleasant. This is hellish. I’d rather be attacked by a bear than go through this.

  “She’s losing a lot of blood,” Maverick says. “Get her out of the river already. She will attract predators.”

  They pull me from the river and take me back to the hut, where once again we try with the moss and the woven material, but the bleeding does not slow and the pain does not abate and I feel myself growing weak.

  “I told you not to take it out of me. I told you,” I moan against the bed.

  “Stryker, go get the medicine woman,” Maverick orders.

  Hans sits next to me and rubs my lower back, massaging as much of the cramping pain away as he can. It helps some, but it does nothing for the worst of it. When I open my eyes, I see concern on their faces. This is not good. This is not normal.

  Soon Stryker brings an older woman with kind eyes and wrinkled skin. She looks at me and speaks in soft words, asking me questions about the pain and the blood and the rest of it. It does not take long for her to come to a conclusion.

  “Meat,” she says. “She needs meat and my brew. She is weak. Her energies are unbalanced. She must rest and restore herself. You must not take congress with her until her energies are pure.”

  I have no idea what is in her brew, but I don’t care. I will take whatever she says will work. The woman prepares the drink for me and I drink it down eagerly, so desperate for relief I don’t care that it tastes like the shavings from a rusty razor.

  At first nothing happens, but over the next few minutes warm relief washes through me. In an hour, I am floating on a cloud, giggling to myself at a joke I haven’t been told.

  “She’s intoxicated,” Ice says, his pale silver eyes floating in front of mine.

  “Good. Leave her be.”

  I’m floating. I’m awake and I can still hear and see them as shadows moving around the room. They’re taking care of me quietly and gently.

  * * *

  The blood begins to flow less intensely and over the next few days, I start to recover. The relief I feel when it finally stops cannot be described. When I am feeling strong enough to do so, I confront Stryker.

  “So that was a stupid idea. Are you going to give me the implant back?”

  “No.” His near amber eyes are warm, but firm. “You don’t need it.”

  “You think I can bleed that way every time?”

  “You won’t bleed that way every time,” he says. “Next cycle, you will have conceived and you will not bleed at all.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Well, I know we’re going to do our best to make sure that happens,” he says with a disarmingly sexy grin.

  Now that the bleeding is over, my desire is returning full force. Stryker is too damn sexy to be mad at for long, but I’m not happy with what he did, and with what they intend to do.

  “Does it matter if I want that or not?”

  “It will be better than the intense bleeding, and better for your body than the implant.”

  “But…” I bite my lower lip. The notion of bearing a child is foreign to me. I never thought I would be a mother. I was not raised with that expectation and I have never truly thought about what it would involve. “Isn’t that dangerous? Couldn’t I die?”

  “A woman who dies in labor is as a warrior who dies in battle,” Ice says. “It is an honorable passing.”

  Nobody asked him, and his harsh comment that seems to imply my death would be acceptable if it came in the service of procreation makes me angry. Deeply, quickly, entirely angry.

  “Fuck you, and fuck honor.”

  Ice looks as shocked as if I just slapped him across the face. The intimacy we shared at his last punishment of me has been erased in blood and pain. I would not have spoken to him this way a week ago, but a week changes a lot, especially when being bred like an animal becomes a topic for discussion.

  “You won’t die. We have medicine. We are not primitives. The secrets of the old world are still known by our elders. We have not lost a woman in many, many years, and we will not lose you,” Stryker says, calming me.

  “He doesn’t care if I die.
I’d rather fight a hundred bears than have his baby!”

  “You do not know how to be a woman,” Ice accuses me.

  His words are barbed and they slice deep. How dare he judge me? How dare he expect me to sacrifice my flesh for his purposes, and then call me unwomanly? He is a savage in all the worst ways. My temper flares brighter than ever and I speak before thinking.

  “And you do know how to be a woman? Why don’t you show me. Put on a skirt and show me how to be a lady.”

  The muscle in Ice’s jaw tics and I see him prepare to grab me. God knows what he would do to me if he got me. He is a throwback to a time before the broken world, and I have no more patience for him in that moment than he does for me.

  Maverick and Hans drag me away from Ice. We are at war, he and I. He can go to hell if he thinks his dick is ever getting anywhere near me again.

  “Don’t taunt him,” Maverick growls at me as he pulls me out of the house and onto the deck.

  “Why not? He’s such an expert on womanhood.”

  “She should be beaten for her insolence,” I hear Ice growling indoors. “We spoil her. She should be whipped into submission and taught her place at the fireside, cooking meals and tending our babies.”

  “She is from another world,” Stryker tries to explain. “She has never learned these things. You can’t beat them into her. She will never be a woman of the tribe.”

  Stryker’s words sting me more than Ice’s do. Ice is upset with me because I am not behaving as he believes a woman should. He at least wants me. But Stryker doesn’t think I’ll ever really be one of them. He thinks I’m too deeply infected by the city.

  I’m going to prove him wrong. I’m going to prove my mother wrong. I’m going to prove the little thoughts in my head that say I’m too weak and too pathetic wrong too.

  I turn my head to Maverick. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Ready to take the tattoo.”

  Maverick raises a brow at me. “Why?”