The Hunter's Pet: A Scifi Dystopian Romance

“Sorry,” he said. “But you're mine, and it's time to go home.”

“No!” Her shriek was angry. Climbing quickly, she ascended to higher reaches. “I am not going back to the city. I refuse!”

He could have followed up into the tree and dragged her down, but that wasn't the point of the exercise. The point was to take her out and bring her home willingly, as farfetched as that seemed in the moment.

“You picked a poor tree for this little stand,” he pointed out. “Sort of isolated up there, aren't you.”

“Shut up!” She clung to the branch and bared her teeth at him. Out here in the forest, she behaved like an animal, giving rein to aggressive impulses without thought. He would have to curb that tendency too. There was a lot to fix, but he had time. There could be no rushing the process.

“Come on down,” he said. “We’ll go home, get some food.”

“I am not hungry.”

She was lying. Running gave her no time to eat or hunt and he had ensured her breakfast that morning was small. She would be terribly hungry. Letting his pet keep her distance, William pulled out a box which contained a sandwich. He began eating it, knowing that she would be able to scent the food.

“You are a bastard,” she growled from on high.

“If you're hungry, all you have to do is come down and have some.”

There was a growl and then a silence in which he enjoyed his sandwich. The sun continued its sedate pace toward the horizon, sending a red glow across the tips of the forest trees. William finished half the sandwich, then held the other half up.

“Last chance,” he said. “Come on down and get something to eat.”

She didn't move, so he finished the sandwich. “I guess that means you'll have to wait until we get home to eat.”

“That is not my home.”

“It is now.”

There was another long silence, then a scuffling in the branches told him that he'd prevailed. She was coming down—and not to run again, but so that he could take her home.

“Good girl,” he praised, handing her a small, wrapped piece of chocolate. She took it, looked at it, and he saw the struggle on her face as she tried to decide whether to eat it or throw it in his face. Hunger won. She unwrapped the chocolate and ate it angrily.

William turned toward home, not checking to see if she was following, but trusting that she would.

It was nightfall before they reached the gate. She could have slipped into the shadows at any time and disappeared, but when they activated the sensors and illumination flooded their faces, she was still there.

“Enter, citizens.”

They stepped through the doors and into the decontamination chamber. As the misting spray settled over their bodies, Sarah shot him a grim look as if to say 'why do you put me through this?'

“You did well today,” William reassured her. “There's reward in that for you.”

His words did not have much of a positive effect. The reward had been the wilds themselves. Now she was back in the fold he was going to have to find another source of reward. He had a few ideas.

“Take your clothes off,” William said as they walked through the front door of his home. He had already shed his armor. Sarah obeyed, thinking he wanted her armor as well. She shed it all, the armor, her underclothing, a little bit of literal naked defiance for the man who controlled her.

She was surprised when William pulled her close and began kissing her. His hand slid over her bottom and between her thighs. She gasped as it moved across her sensitive skin and pressed against the apex of her legs, the warm strength of his fingers claiming her body.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” The words were murmured in her ear as his hand slid back and forth against her lips, petting her softly. Each stroke brought fresh pleasure, a warm, soft sensation that both soothed and excited. She rode her hips forward, wanting more pressure. She was rewarded when William let his fingertips trace across the moist seam where her lips met.

“More,” she moaned huskily.

He kissed her, his mouth covering hers possessively. Their tongues twisted and entwined like tendrils of a vine joining their bodies. One hand stayed between her legs, the other slid up her back and around her waist, pulling her close.

“There's always more,” he promised. “For you and me, there will always be more.”

He was so large, so strong, and yet his touch was tender and practiced. He knew precisely how and where to touch her, each and every part of his body tuned to the task of pleasuring her. Sarah's resistance, feeble enough to begin with, melted away completely. She kissed him back with urgency, her natural impulse to mate coming to the fore. Thrusting her hips forward, she invited him in, wanting his fingers inside her, his cock inside her, his hardness filling her, his seed in her womb. It was a powerful drive, one which eclipsed all others. Panting against his mouth, she tore at his shirt. It ripped open, revealing an abundance of golden curling hair covering the hard slab of his chest muscle.