A Prisoner's Desire

by Shelby Morgan

  * * * * *

  The constant drip of the water was a torture he could not escape, like the smell of the mildewed stone walls and the damp that seeped through the floors into the core of his being. Worse was the drag of the chain that bound his Torc to the heavy iron ring on the wall. He fought against it, enraged, digging and pulling at the chain as if he could fight the wall, cursing the guards with all the strength he had left.

  "Cullaelon! Cullaelon, don't, please don't, you'll hurt yourself! I'm sorry! Forgive me. I'll take them off. Cullaelon, it's Braunnan. I'll take off the manacles, I swear, just let me get to them. I wasn't thinking. I only meant—"

  "Shhh." The present came back into focus slowly, starting with her weight over him as she reached for his restraints. He curled a leg over her, running his toes along the curve of her calf. "It's all right," he assured her, using his voice and his body to break through her hysteria. "I'm all right. It was just a dream."

  Braunnan calmed slowly, letting him nudge her down against his chest. "I wasn't thinking. It was a stupid idea. I should have known that after the guards' torture you wouldn't like this."

  He twisted enough to nip at her shoulder. "Did you see any dead guards in my cell, Braunnan?"

  "No." She wiped at her eyes with her fingertips.

  "That's because the guards didn't chain me up so they could mate with me, my love. I will not mistake you for the guards." The fine sheen of sweat that had broken out on his skin as he fought with the dreams began to dry, like a cool breath blowing over him. The thought of what she might do to him tied down like this made him hot all over again. He tested the strength of the wrist cuffs experimentally, flexing his arms hard against the restraints. The table's legs would give way before the cuffs would break. And that wasn't likely. Not with timbers strong enough to shore up a mine. "Anything you want to do with me is all right, Braunnan. Anything at all. But I think you might need to wake me up first. At least until I get past the dreams."

  "Do you trust me?" she whispered hesitantly.

  He groaned as she ran one fingernail up the underside of his cock. "With my life."

  She snorted softly, laughter mixing with her tears. "You once begged me to kill you. Name something you value more than your life."

  "You." He reached for her neck with his teeth. "I value you above all."

  "I will not hurt you," she promised.

  He lunged for her breast with his tongue, making her laugh when he missed his target. She ran her hands down his arms until her fingertips found the cuffs she'd slipped over his wrists while he slept. "I'm your prisoner, Mistress Braunnan. You've captured me. Do what you will to me."

  Her smile grew more confident as she straddled him, slowly working herself back into her fantasy. "I want to make you beg."

  His cock jerked against her, already hot and hard and dripping. "Then I'm begging. Fuck me, Braunnan. Have your way with me. Do whatever you want. Please."

  She did something. She stood. She took her heat away from him, rising to strip her tunic back off over her head. From a shelf he couldn't see she pulled down a small bottle of murky liquid, holding it over the flickering flame of the candle until it took on a golden glow. She poured a small amount into her hand. Her skin glistened wherever she rubbed her hands.

  Oil. Her hands slid over her body, leaving a shimmering path of oil behind. A faint scent reached him, though he couldn't identify the smell. Subtle. A spice he was not familiar with. One of the guards must have smuggled it in to her. Such things could be had. For a price. He would not think about what the price might have been.

  The scent of the oil became stronger as she ran her hands over her skin, paying extra attention to her breasts, hard now and rising firmly out to sharp peaks of desire, the nipples bright coral where she touched them. The candlelight reflected off her glistening skin, making her look foreign, exotic. Even more exotic than she already was.

  Standing over him she tilted the bottle slowly. A drop of her oil ran out, dripping onto his chest with an audible plunk. It was warm, but not hot enough to burn him. Warm enough for him to feel the path the oil traced. He shivered as it ran down his breastbone. Another drop followed, slowly, so slowly, in line with the first, but lower. Already he could picture her hands as if he could feel them, spreading the oil, touching him everywhere. Could he come from just thinking about what she was going to do to him? His body trembled with need for her, his cock already thrusting toward a heat he could not possibly reach. He wondered if the anticipation might drive him mad as she dripped her slow, steady way toward his cock.

  There was something in the scent of the oil. Something that made him toss his head, trying to capture more of the smell. He felt warm, hungry. Hungry for her. He wanted to touch her. Needed to touch her. Now.

  She stopped at his navel, watching as the drop of oil hovered on the edge before rolling inside. He couldn't help himself. His hips jerked up out of the furs, thrusting madly toward her. "Braunnan," he whispered, his voice already hoarse with desire. "Fuck me. Please. Touch me. Anything."

  "Don't move," she admonished.

  "I'm not going anywhere, my mate. You've seen to that."

  She only smiled, the amber light of the candle reflecting wickedly off of her eyes. She was the Daemoness. His Daemoness. And he had created her. He groaned in frustration as she dripped another drop of her scented oil into the dark V of hair that started below his navel. He could feel it spreading, like tiny invisible hands, creeping across his skin. He would go mad before the first drops reached his cock.

  Another drop. Then another. He could feel each hair on his bush as his cock danced before her. The urge to snap the legs off the table and grab her, pushing her underneath him and ramming himself into her over and over again, was nearly overwhelming. He flexed his wrists again, testing his restraints. She wanted him to beg? He would beg. "Braunnan. Please."

  Oil spread through his bush, dripping slowly down over his balls. She grinned down at him as she let the first drop roll down the length of his cock. He screamed out her name, thrashing wildly as he attempted to rip the legs off the table, but the sturdy timbers held. Then her hands were on him, stroking across his chest, her heat hovering over him, her fingertips brushing his nipples, and he screamed out her name again. "Braunnan," he sobbed. "Please."

  She would not be hurried. The ache in his cock built to an unbearable pressure as she bent her head to lick his nipples, and only her weight planted over his hips kept him pinned to the furs. "Please," he begged, tears of frustration dampening his eyes.

  She moved down his body, slowly, so slowly, working the oil into his skin, the scent filling his senses now, sharp and sweet and spicy at once, until he could no longer think. He was made to mate with her. Yet he couldn't reach her. She lingered just beyond the touch of his aching cock. She rose up over him. Yes. Yes!

  He cursed as she resettled her hips just below his throbbing cock. He thought he would break when her fingers began to comb through his bush, so close, touching everywhere but where he wanted them. He stilled completely as her fingers massaged the oil along his balls, then swept back, back and up, his body frozen in delicious anticipation as she explored the tight muscles of his anus.

  Her touch disappeared. He raised up his head as far as he could to see her reaching for her little wooden box. He'd seen inside that box now. There was only one toy she hadn't used. A string of three large beads, knotted a finger's breadth apart on a leather cord. He forgot to breathe as she closed the lid, slowly turning back towards him. The oil from her hands made the beads glisten in the soft glow of the candlelight. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Then her fingers were back, probing once more, gently, urging him to relax.

  "Do you trust me?" she asked again.

  "With all that I hold precious in life," he whispered.

  Her finger circled his anus, probing gently, slowly pushing its way in. The universe focused down to the feel of her finger sliding within him. He was dangerously close to coming, and s
he had yet to actually touch his cock. "I need to touch you," he managed. "I want to lick you all over. I want to fuck you till you scream for me, then do it again. I want to—"

  "It really doesn't matter what you want, now does it?" she reminded him in his own words.

  She pulled her finger slowly back out of his anus, leaving him sobbing with need. He'd taught her too well. "No, Mistress Braunnan. What you want is all that matters."

  Conscious thought failed him as she inserted the beads, first the smallest one, next the larger one, and finally the largest, each one stretching him as it slid slowly over sensitive tissue, her finger pushing them farther inside, so that he could feel each one with every minor movement he made, even the shallow tug of his gasping breath.

  She dropped the lasso around the base of his cock, pulling it tight enough that he wouldn't be able to come until she allowed it. Just thinking about what she was doing made him need to come now. "Braunnan," he whispered, his voice nearly breaking. "I'm begging you. Fuck me."

  Chapter Seven

  Braunnan bent over her victim, blowing softly on the tip of his penis.

  Cullaelon screamed out her name as her tongue tasted the cum that managed to leak past her lasso. If she took it off now he knew he would spurt like a geyser. He might anyway. Her mouth slid over his shaft, licking, sucking, demanding. He bucked off the furs, only to remember the beads as they sent his nerves screaming with the need for release.

  There was something in that oil. Something that made him want to lick her all over. Something that made the urge to fuck her uncontrollable. Yet she'd taken care of the control part. The more he thrashed about, the more the beads moved within him, hitting the sensitive spot that made him scream with need and frustration. And then there was her tongue, licking him now, licking his balls, licking his cock, licking his belly, licking his chest. He bent his head as far as he could reach, kissing her hair, nipping her ear, roaring out his need as she poured oil into her hands, stroking him now until he dripped, then spreading herself open to comb through her mons until the coarse curls reflected candlelight like the surface of the water.

  She was the Daemoness. Her eyes no longer glowed green, her nails no longer ripped him open, but there could be no doubt, she was the Daemoness. She sank slowly over his impossibly hard cock, her muscles already so tight that he had to fight his way in. Each thrust of his pelvis carried him deeper within her. Each stroke brought him closer to losing his mind. She rode him like a woman possessed, her skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat now, her body jerking mindlessly with the need she'd built, his cock slamming into her in perfect rhythm to her moaning dance upon his shaft, need screaming through both of them in a furious frenzy.

  It didn't take long. Not now. She broke over him in moments, it seemed, her muscles contracting so hard around his still thrusting cock that he could feel the cock ring forcing against her orgasm.

  It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He quivered within her, giving her a few moments to steady her breathing before he fought his way back into her, thrusting as hard as he could against her quivering muscles. Within moments she was gripping his hips, riding him as hard as she had the first time, screaming his name as she shattered around him, her fingers digging into his flesh as she jerked back and forth over him, riding him like the Daemoness possessed.

  Enough. It wasn't enough. It was too much. It was more than he could handle. The room faded to black as he gasped for breath. He heard her calling his name from a long way off. Felt her fingers fumbling with the knot of the lasso. He would have emptied himself into her like a fountain, but even now he could not. The cock ring sustained his orgasm, holding him back as she screamed out her release, her claws digging into his chest as reached for something he did not know how to give her. Still he thrust into her, unable to help himself, his cum shooting into her until he knew his balls must be milked dry, and yet still there was more.

  He screamed out her name, loud enough for the entire crew to hear, as she pulled on the beaded leather thong, the lights and the stars exploding all over again as first one then the next passed through his tight opening.

  He was no virgin. He'd never mated, but he'd had sex before.

  But never like this. Nothing even close to this. She'd reduced him to ashes, destroyed him, only to put him back together exactly the way she wanted him.

  And still it was only sex. Sex alone wasn't enough. No. It was worse than that. He wasn't enough. She'd come for him, over and over again. But there was something more. Something they both wanted that they could not reach. She would turn from him now. Call in another. He'd seen it happen before among the females of his shift-mates. Tradition said it took a whole crew to father a cub.

  He pictured Sandish reaching for her and he roared out his denial as he buried himself within her again, his balls aching with the pressure as he spurted out the last he had to give her.

  And still he knew it was not enough.

  The sound of their breathing was all that disturbed the quiet that followed. Braunnan curled against his chest, too sexually sated to voice her unsatisfied needs at the moment. But once she recovered they would have to talk about what hadn't happened. They would have to discuss the cubs she had not conceived.

  A new resolve filled him. He would take her away. As soon as they could safely escape he would take her to the surface. Perhaps they would find what they searched for there.

  He would not share her. Not now. Not ever.

  Some traditions were meant to be broken.

  * * * * *

  He was in a foul a mood as she'd seen him in. Braunnan kept her mouth shut and her torch high, scanning the darkness for signs of the vermin that inhabited the tunnels. This was your idea, she reminded here once again. He tried to warn you. You knew he didn't want to come back down here again. Now you know why.

  The why was easy to figure out. Foul bloated bodies that dropped out of the darkness to attack them from all sides with almost no warning. Leagues of unmapped tunnels that seemed to run in no discernable pattern.

  His mood was another matter. She no longer feared for his sanity. They'd been together long enough for her to believe he had but reached the limits of his endurance when she first found him in that dark filthy hole.

  That didn't explain the present. He'd slept. He'd fed. He'd regained his memory. The gods knew his other physical needs had been met. Even if she hadn't…

  She hadn't ovulated. He knew. Somehow he knew she hadn't ovulated. Why should that put him in such a foul…

  I will not share you.

  He'd said that on more than one occasion. He'd driven himself to impossible lengths, pushed himself to impossible goals, held himself to unachievable standards, all because he feared she might take another mate if she did not conceive?

  "Why are men so stupid?" she muttered under her breath.

  "We think with our cocks," Cullaelon responded morosely.

  His hearing was more acute than she'd anticipated. It didn't matter. They were both more than ready for a fight. She stopped in the middle of the tunnel, thrusting the torch into a fissure in the rock wall. "Would you have tried to take me to the sunlight if you weren't so concerned that I might take another mate to my bed?" she demanded.

  "I gave you my word, didn't I?"

  "You didn't act on it until you felt your territory threatened."

  His lip curled back in a snarl, and he started to respond, then thought better of it. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "No. You're right. I did nothing until I knew you would not bear my cubs. I told you men think with their cocks. I would rather have died in that cell than to watch another man mate with you, Braunnan. But my death will not give you the cub you deserve. I am sorry. I will take you back to Sandish."

  She reached out to punch him playfully on the arm. "Men are idiots."

  "'Tis no huge secret."

  She sighed as she sank to her heels, to tired to continue sparring with him. "Why didn't you say something? We could have talked a
bout this."

  "If we had talked there would only be one logical conclusion. I must share you with Sandish. I thought if I could give you what else you wanted, if I could give you the sunlight, you might forgive me the cubs, at least this mating season."

  "Whether I ovulate or not is neither your fault or your triumph, idiot male. I love you. Does that mean nothing to you? Do you think it means so little to me that I would take another man to my bed just because I did not ovulate the first season we attempted to mate? Can we not simply enjoy the trying without there having to be cubs this season? Will the world end if I cannot bear cubs? Are these cubs that we may or may not ever have more important to you than I am?"

  "Braunnan, I…" Words failed him. He came to kneel before her where she rested, his head falling into her lap. "Forgive me. I am an idiot male. I was so afraid…there is a reason we have a matriarchal society. I love you, Braunnan."

  Braunnan sighed as she pulled him into her arms. "As I love you. I would not share you, either, foolish one. Do not think that I would not become your Daemoness and claw you to pieces if I thought you lusted after another."

  "Never. There will never be another for me."

  "Are you certain? You seems to have some fascination with Sandish. I might forgive you if I thought—"

  "No!" The last of his angst dissolved into laughter. "I would not share you, my love, nor would I ask you to share me. Not even with Sandish. Especially not with Sandish."

  "As men go, he's rather well built," she mused. "If you like that sort of physique."

  "I do not," he assured her. "I like your muscles. Female sort of muscles. The kind that come with curves in all the right places."

  "Then get me out of here and into the sunlight," she suggested as she ran her fingers through his hair. "I would mate with you somewhere there are no fat bugs waiting to feed on our juices."

  "I like the sound of that," he whispered as he kissed her nipple through the thin tunic.

  "Even if I don't ovulate this season?"