by Cara Wylde
The answer was given to me when Lincoln tested the ropes by smacking my ass so hard, I swiveled back and forth. He stopped me with a hand in my hair.
“You look so beautiful like this,” he said, looking at me like I was the eighth wonder of the world. He hurriedly undid his pants and barked at me, voice filled with arousal instead of actual threat, eyes half-lidded in expectation of what he was going to make me do. “Take me and don’t struggle, or else the deal is off.”
He wasted no time in pushing himself into my open mouth, and I nodded around his cock. What else was I to do? I didn’t really need to bob my head on his massive length or swirl my tongue around it. He was swinging me back and forth with the hand he kept in my hair. It hurt, and he was going so deep, like before, on that table, where he had finished down my throat. I couldn’t handle an entire blowjob like that, with him wanting to fuck my brains, not just my mouth. I tried to protest, to speak, though my mouth was full, and he seemed to enjoy that even more. He was driving himself further and further with every thrust, and I was choking, running out of air, drooling uncontrollably around his merciless cock.
I looked up at him through teary lashes, and he had a manic grin on his face.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like it, slut?” he asked and slapped my face with his free hand.
My throat closed up in pain, and he groaned in pleasure. He had found a new way to make me hurt. He slapped me again, howling, having fun, then held my head in place and pushed himself so deep, my nose was pressed painfully against his skin.
“Hold it,” he said. The seconds seemed like hours. I couldn’t breathe. I was seeing stars when he pulled out, and I coughed, spitting out the gathered saliva. “You love this, don’t you?”
I wanted to do it – to bite him, if he did that again. It was so fucking hard not to bite him every time he slapped me. I could always pretend it was an accident.
“I’ve always wanted to do that, to fuck a woman’s throat. None of my lovers could suppress their gag reflex. You can. I might never fuck you in any other ways,” he said lovingly, caressing my abused face.
Was that… happiness I saw in his eyes?
He made me open wide again and this time, it seemed easier. My body had learned what to expect, and not even the slaps seemed as bad. My body was relaxing, and my mind was tensing up, a new idea forming and reaching the forefront of my mind, needing to be recognized and accepted. He liked what he was doing to me, and I was the only one able to satisfy him this way. It was a strange feeling that came over me at that realization. I was holding a unique power over this beast. I was doing something great. Something he adored. Something he was becoming addicted to.
Jack had never said I was amazing at anything, I thought as I angled my head to take more of Lincoln’s cock, to show eagerness. Yes, I could be the best cocksucker. Why not? I could be his. I could get used to a man looking at me like that, like he couldn’t control himself around me, like my mouth was the source of his pleasure. I could even do it willingly… he wouldn’t need to tie me up. Fuck! Fuck, I wanted to reach a hand to my pussy and stroke myself.
I was his weakness. The idea was so hot. I was getting him undone, and I was the only one who could and ever would do it like this. I welcomed the cum, I swallowed it with greed and gratitude. It was my reward for a job well done, and his grin was the promise of a repeat scenario. He wiped my chin, gathering every bit of cum left, and I sucked his fingers with the same enthusiasm I’d just sucked his cock.
“Good girl,” he said.
I watched him pull his pants back on, and I was even smiling, waiting to be untied. I was going to do something stupid, perhaps, but I was going to kiss this man and work him up to another erection, and suck him off again.
But then he caressed my face and began walking away.
“Lincoln!” I shouted, my voice a little hoarse from the abuse, but he just kept on getting farther and farther away.
“Not this again, Rosalie,” I berated myself. Every time I thought I was making a step forward, life had a way of pushing me two back. I had run away from Jack, only to be tied up by sex maniacs.
The sky was darkening, and the moon didn’t do much to light the forest. I wanted to scream, to shout, to beg, but God knew what sort of animals were around, what sort of even worse trouble I could get myself into. So, I kept quiet, waiting, praying. My flesh was swollen, the ropes had definitely bit into my skin, their fabric rough and unyielding.
The damned beasts came only when the sky was starting to turn from black to a deep, dark blue. Maybe an hour before sunrise.
“Let me go,” I asked Lincoln. “Please, it hurts. I did all you wanted.”
Colt grabbed one of the ropes and pulled on it, swinging me around in a wide circle.
“Wheel of fortune, guys!”
I was getting dizzy. Cold, hungry, my fear of the forest and its dangerous darkness not yet faded, I just wanted to get off. But when Colt grabbed my ankles to steady me, I knew I was going to get off in a different way first.
They took turns with all my holes, and pain mixed with pleasure again. My brain half shut off. I was freed of my worries, and fears, and morals, and I just enjoyed the sensations these men’s bodies were giving me. Rough hands on my breasts seemed gentler now; the soft, smooth skin of Brook’s cock was cotton candy, and I lapped at him, and sucked, and licked, and I gave every inch of myself to them. No more protests, no more hiding behind words and pleas.
I had finally accepted my situation.
I was never in any danger. These men knew the forest and the cabin, and it didn’t look like someone or something could take them by surprise or overpower them. I was safe. I was useful, and more. I was wanted.
When we each had our fill, I was shocked to see it was Brooks the one who decided to untie me. He held me against him as he cut the ropes, and I leaned my head on his bare shoulder. I felt oddly safe. I closed my eyes, bearing with the cuts on my skin from the new way the rope was rubbing against it, until every single line of it was severed and I was freed. I wasn’t exactly expecting him to carry me back in his arms, but I was surprised when he put me down at his feet. I was sitting on their clothes, removing the leftover rope from my wrists and breasts, when I felt something hard poke my lower back. I got up on all fours while Brooks bent over to reach behind me. Out of curiosity, I looked up and saw that he was holding a gun.
“Shit. No!” I threw myself at him, clinging to his massive thigh, hoping my eyes expressed what my frozen tongue could not. I glanced at Lincoln, who was giving me an odd look, then at Colt, and neither of the two moved a muscle to help me. I pushed myself away, and I thought about running like that through the forest, naked and hurt, but Brooks grabbed me by the arm and lifted me up.
“Move,” he said in a gruff voice, and I fought against him with every ounce of power I had left in me. “What’s gotten into you?” he yelled in my face. “Do you want to get punished again?”
“Yes,” I said, and I was pretty sure I had just shocked him for the first time ever.
He stopped to give me a really long look, shook his head, muttered something that sounded like “fucking cunt”, and he continued to drag me behind him. We were headed for the cabin, I realized, which meant I probably still had some time left. It made more sense for them to shoot me in the forest than in here, inside their home. He shoved me into the bathroom, letting me land on my hands and knees.
“Clean up and wear that,” he barked and pointed at a generic summer dress.
I took the longest shower of my life. I did not want to leave the bathroom. None of the men seemed to want to come in, and I had the excuse that the rope cuts needed to be cleaned well, or else I risked infection. I only left when there was no more warm water. I put on the dress I was given and exited the bathroom. I scanned the room, my eyes landing on the three silent men before spotting Milo between them.
“He’s hungry,” Brooks said simply.
I rushed to the boy and took him in m
y arms. He started giggling and pawing at my chest. I slid backwards on the floor, until my back connected with the wall, not wanting to be near them for now. Now I had a precious, innocent, sweet baby bear, not the brute he might or could grow into. I lowered the already low cleavage of the dress and let him attach to my nipple. I knew I was being watched, but if they weren’t going to say anything else, then neither was I.
Ten
Colt
Seeing the human female with the cub awoke something in me. Something I hadn’t known was there. As I watched her breastfeed the toddler, I started feeling more and more uncomfortable. Like I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, like everything that I’d done until this very day and this very moment was wrong. What was I doing here, in this old, shitty cabin, taking advantage of this woman? Sure, she was guilty. But how did that concern me? I hadn’t even known Krista that well, and Milo wasn’t my cub. I stood up and made a run for it. Lincoln called after me, but I ignored him. I ran to the trailer park, threw the door to my trailer open, grabbed a backpack, and started stuffing clothes into it.
I was doing it again. Running away. I was so messed up. When I didn’t know how to deal, I just shouldered my backpack and escaped. I jumped into my car and drove out of there. Lincoln was going to be furious. I pulled my phone out and switched it off. He was going to call me soon, for sure. In an hour, we both had to go to work. He’d just gotten me this job, and here I was… ungrateful as usual. On the other hand, he knew me! I couldn’t hold a job for more than a few months to save my life. Routine drove me crazy. Sooner or later, I always snapped. Sooner or later, something or someone came up that triggered me. This time, it was Rosalie.
I drove aimlessly. I knew all the bear shifter communities in the area. I just had to decide where I wanted to stop. I also knew all the motels, clubs, and bars run by bear shifters, and I had a little money to spend. After all, that was why I worked. Back at the trailer park, I only used my money to buy myself food and second-hand clothes. Some of it went into the car, too. Even so, most of the time I didn’t need to buy groceries, since I was usually able to find a female to feed me dinner or breakfast before she slipped out of my trailer.
My life was so fucked up. It made no sense. I made no sense. I didn’t have an honest goal, no matter how hard I tried to do some introspection and find one. I wasn’t looking for money, I wasn’t looking for fame, nor for a better, more luxurious lifestyle. I wasn’t looking for a soul mate either, and yet… every time I looked into Rosalie’s eyes, I could see myself years in the future, still very much obsessed with her, still craving her body and her touch. The human female… She’d done something to me. And if I wasn’t completely insane, she’d done something to Brooks and Lincoln, too. The three of us were all wrapped up in her. We wanted to hurt her, and we did. The problem was that after, we always felt this intense need to care for her.
It was all so confusing. I didn’t know how I felt anymore. I didn’t know what I wanted.
Brooks and Lincoln had always told me I was a sex addict. And I’d accepted it. I couldn’t exactly see myself and judge myself from the outside, but they could. I was also terrified of commitment. To me, commitment and routine were the same thing. To wake up next to the same female every day… To have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with her. To fuck her pussy and no other pussy until death did us part. No, I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the thought, which meant that if the thought ever became reality, I wouldn’t be able to handle that reality. The fact that I could see myself with Rosalie for years to come scared me shitless.
I sped up. I shouldn’t have, seeing how Krista had lost her life in a car accident just a little over twenty-four hours ago. But it helped clear my head. It helped me think of other things. Not just Rosalie, Rosalie, Rosalie.
Rosalie Olsen…
She was our prisoner, our slave. Our plaything. And we’d thought she’d hate it at first, we’d thought that by doing the things we did to her, we were punishing her. Most of the time, we did manage to scare her, but it was temporary. The more we fucked her, the more we tortured her mentally and physically, the more she seemed to crave us. She was starting to become immune to our sick games, and that was why Brooks had pulled a gun on her. Not because he ever intended to use it, but because it had become frustrating to him to try and frighten the human female only to have her crawling to him – to us – for more. Thinking back, he really shouldn’t have pulled a gun on her. She would’ve nursed Milo anyway. Her boobs were filled with milk.
Females were strange. It was beyond me how they could start lactating just because there was a hungry cub pulling at their blouse.
Females were fascinating. And Rosalie was probably the most fascinating specimen I’d ever encountered.
I felt something for her. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck!” I hit the steering wheel as I slowed down. The traffic was getting a bit heavier. And if I didn’t care enough about my own life, I should’ve at least cared about the other drivers’. “Where am I going?” I murmured, lost. “Where can I go?”
I just needed to put some distance between me and Rosalie. Between me and the guys. At least for a while, at least until I figured out what to do with these new feelings that were blossoming in my chest, making my heart beat faster and my stomach squeeze into knots.
I needed to get away.
Eleven
Brooks
The human female fell asleep with my cub attached to her breast. When I saw him stretch and yawn, I gathered him in my arms. The female didn’t even notice that I’d taken him from her. She must have been too tired. I put Milo down for a minute and carried the woman into the bedroom. There was no point in letting her sleep on the floor. I tucked her in bed, closed the door, and snatched Milo just as he was trying to crawl into bed with her. He’d followed me, and when he saw that we were walking away from Rosalie, he started to protest.
“No. Back. I want… her…”
My eyes grew as wide as saucers. I stopped in my tracks and stared at him.
“What did you say?”
He pointed at the closed bedroom door. “Rose…”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Milo had never spoken before. He should have started speaking months ago, and when he hadn’t, Krista and I had thought that he might be on the spectrum. It didn’t matter to us. We loved him to bits anyway. But he sometimes had moments when he got so frustrated because he couldn’t express himself, couldn’t tell us what he wanted or needed. And now… Now he wanted to be with Rosalie. And he’d said it out loud.
“Say… say that again.” I swallowed heavily. He was talking. He was actually talking, and I couldn’t have enough of his voice.
“I want Rose.”
“We’re going home now.”
“Rose come with us.”
“Rosalie. Her name is Rosalie,” I whispered as I locked the door to the cabin and secured it.
“Rose-ly.”
“Yes, Rose-ly.”
All the way to our trailer, he kept babbling about her, about the trees, the leaves, and how he wanted new toys. I couldn’t believe it! He was in my arms, gesturing and fussing about, and I felt like I was walking in a dream. We reached the trailer, and I let him slip to the floor. He gathered his toy cars and stuffed bears and started playing, all the while describing what he was doing, like children usually did. I fell onto the couch, staring at him like a stupid man. He’d never talked when he lived with Krista. He’d never even said “momma” or “dadda”. And now he’d said her name. Rosalie’s name. It was as if he’d completely attached himself to her, and almost as if… her breastmilk was doing something. It was good for him.
I ran a hand through my hair. Pinched the bridge of my nose. Why was I feeling guilty all of a sudden? I shouldn’t have treated her so badly. I stood up, took the gun out of the back of my jeans, and placed it in the safe. The safe was the only expensive thing in my trailer, and I’d bought it the day Milo was born. What the hell was wrong with me? The loss I’d suff
ered was too fresh. It was too soon to hope that the wound of knowing that I would never see her again, touch her, smell her skin and her hair again was going to heal. Krista had come from a bear shifter community that wasn’t far from ours. I’d taken her body to her parents, and they didn’t even let me attend the funeral. I didn’t go to them empty-handed, either. A few she-bears from the trailer park had accompanied me, and we’d made sure to take some food with us, as well as some of Krista’s belongings. Her parents took what we brought but chased us away. They didn’t want Milo, either. They’d never agreed to Krista leaving her community to join mine, and they’d never liked me. They’d always wanted her to marry someone they knew, someone who had something to his name. I was too poor for them and their daughter. Too dirty, too uneducated. Maybe they were right.
“After all, look at how I’m treating Rosalie,” I whispered to myself.
Milo heard me and turned to me. He gave me a toothy grin. “Rose-ly. When she come here?”
“Soon,” I caught myself saying. I couldn’t take it back, so why not? “Today.”
“Okay.”
I didn’t know what to do with myself. For a few minutes, I just paced like mad. But there wasn’t enough space for me to pace in the trailer. I stepped outside, leaving the door open so I could keep an eye on Milo. One of my neighbors greeted me.
“Hanging in there, Brooks?”
I nodded.
He patted my shoulder. “It’ll get better, you’ll see. Time heals all wounds.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone was trying to show compassion, but all I saw was pity. I was a single father. Woe was me. No, I couldn’t let it go on like this, or I’d have to leave the community I’d built myself. I needed to do something. Things needed to change around here. Milo needed a mother, and I guessed I needed… a female. I went inside, grabbed my cub, and rushed back into the woods. If Rosalie saw him with me, maybe he wouldn’t fear me as much. I was aware that the sight of me alone made her shake with fear.