He tosses me down on the bed and yanks off my shoes. I lie there panting, frustrated.
“I’m going to have to tie you up again,” he growls. “For your own good.” He grabs something I can’t see. It’s softer than the plastic, like fabric. But he forces my wrists behind my back and binds them tight.
I can’t escape now. Kneeling over me on the bed, he looks down, panting, his chest heaving. I don’t remember him getting winded from carrying me. He did that effortlessly. He must be struggling with something else, some other burden he’s fighting.
I wriggle under his gaze, a strange heat creeping into me, the hard muscle of his leg pressing rough in his jeans against my thigh. I should feel frightened, and I do, but I feel something else, too. Something confusing and insistent, licking its way into my core.
“You’re bound tight now.” His voice is gruff.
“Why are you doing this?” I struggle on the bed, working my way down and away from him. But then I stop, realizing my movements are twisting my shirt, making it ride up and expose all of my stomach. He watches the rise and fall of my breathing, my quivering skin. He licks his lips.
“Please,” I plead, frightened and vulnerable. “Please, untie me.”
He looks down at me struggling beneath him, his eyes dark and dangerous. “I like it better with you tied up.”
What does he mean? I’m trembling and I want to pull my skirt down. It’s barely covering anything. He clenches his hands, looking at my exposed thighs. His fingers are so large and strong, inches away from my body. He could reach right out and slide his hand up my bare leg. I bet it would feel rough and hot, masculine against my skin.
There’s a bulge in his jeans, thick and long. My eyes widen. That can’t be what I think it is. I don’t have much experience when it comes to men, but that looks gigantic. I swallow, my eyes wide, my lips parting as I watch it grow even bigger. He makes a sound low in his throat, almost like an animal.
I rip my gaze away, confused. I feel like I’m going crazy, so many warring emotions tearing through me. Tears sear my eyes.
“Are you going to gag me like they did, too?” I want to hurt him, make him feel guilty, show him he’s no better than the men who attacked me.
“I don’t need to. No one can hear you scream.”
Oh God. I whimper, trapped in the middle of the woods with this giant of a man. He’s tied me up and can do anything he wants with me.
And the worst part?
I’m quivering and wet at the thought.
4. Knox
Christ, the way she’s looking up at me. Wild and confused, panting and blushing.
She’d been staring at my cock, watching it grow hard for her with parted lips, her innocence mixed with wanton lust. I want to give it to her, make her suck it and take it all the way down her throat. I’d cum in her hard, then make her lick it clean and start all over again.
But now she has terror in her eyes. That stops me cold. There’s legitimate fear in her along with desire. I’m a dominant man and I want to take this woman rough, but I won’t do it until she’s all quivering need.
She’s halfway there. I can scent her feminine musk, rich and intoxicating, as she’s wriggling beneath me tied up on the bed. Her skirt is so far up her panties are almost showing. What would I see if I did what I wanted, shimmying her skirt just a little more? It would only take a few more inches. Then I’d make her part her legs. She was confused and frightened, but I could still sense her responding to me, even if she didn't want to.
What would I see if I made her show me? Would there be a wet spot on her panties? That would snap my control. I’d drive my tongue along her wetness. I’d rip off her panties and make her lick her own juices off them, force her to taste how much she wants me.
“Please don't hurt me,” she whimpers, starting to cry.
Damn it. I roll away from her. She's been drugged and abducted, and here I am fantasizing about doing a hell of a lot more.
Swearing, I get off the bed, adjusting my massive hard-on. I swear my cock just about bust out of my jeans with her looking at it like she had, so hungry and amazed. My zipper practically undid itself.
But now’s not the time. She must feel like hell, with a vicious headache coming off the drugs. And I hadn't even offered her water.
“I'm not going to hurt you,” I snarl, pissed off at myself more than her. I'd nearly lost control. I’m a 29-year-old man who's seen heavy combat. I’ve been trained to use my body as a finely-honed weapon. Yet around her, I'd almost acted like a teenager, wanting to rut like I was in heat. For all I know, she’s a teenager. I'm nothing more than a dirty old man.
I head to the kitchen, and by that I mean walk eight steps to the sink and stove. I'd found this cabin three months ago, right on the Canadian border in the northern Wisconsin wilderness. It normally took longer to get there from Chicago, but I'd done the drive in five. A drugged woman tied up in my backseat plus mobsters possibly on my tail had motivated me to make good time.
The cabin had been used as a hunting lodge, nothing much more than four walls surrounding one room and a bathroom, plus a big shed for wood. I’d bought it for next to nothing, then fixed a few things, replacing the wood-burning stove with an updated model to get me through the winter. I hadn't expected any company. Now it looks like beauty and I will be sharing close quarters. One bed, one bath. I’ve dragged her into my lair.
She moves behind me. I hear her feet make contact with the floor. “Don't do it,” I warn her without even turning around, sensing her intent to flee.
She sighs. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Right, she hadn't done that either for hours. I’d promised myself I’d take good care of her. I needed to start doing a better job.
“It's right there.” I nod to the only other door in the cabin. She's already been in and out of the front door. Twice.
She walks over to it, but pauses at the threshold. In a shy, quiet voice, she asks, “Can you untie my wrists? Please?”
The sight of her standing there barefoot, her hair down around her in a messy cascade, her clothes rumpled, damn if she doesn't look like she's just been fucked. My cock hasn't fully gone down, and seeing her like that, it rises to attention yet again. I wonder if I'll ever get a moment's rest while she's here in the cabin with me.
How long will I keep her?
Forever, the beast within me growls. That's crazy, of course. I’ll let her go, once I know she'll be safe. Probably.
I walk over and untie her wrists. Her hands are at her lower back. I can't help it, my fingers graze lightly over the curve of her ass. She shivers at my touch, so responsive. My blood pounds in my veins.
“Make it quick,” I snarl. “And don't try anything crazy. You try to attack me with a shaving razor and I'll have you over my knee so quick your head will spin.”
Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. Mine darken, picturing her ass ripe and ready for me, positioned over my lap for a good, hard spanking.
She ducks into the bathroom. I fill her water glass and pull out a sleeve of crackers. The pantry isn't fully stocked like I'd wanted before I moved out, but it isn't bare. I've been lining it with canned goods and staples like oatmeal and rice, onions and carrots. We'll be fine for a few weeks, enough time to let this blow over. Enough time to fuck her hard against every surface in the cabin.
She comes out of the bathroom and I head over, making her turn around. I can fit both of her wrists in one of my palms. That will be useful for holding them above her head and pinning them against the wall. For now, though, I tie them together again behind her back.
“Do you have to?” she asks, plaintive.
“Last time I untied you promised me wouldn't run. And then you ran.”
She looks down at the floor. I bring my finger under her chin and tilt her head up to look me in the eyes. “Are you thirsty?”
She nods, licking her lips. The sight of that little pink tongue makes my eyes darken. “Sit down.” I poi
nt to the bed, gruff. Compliant, she sits and waits for me.
I bring a water glass to her lips. Looking up at me with big eyes, she opens her mouth and sips. “That's good,” I encourage her. I want to call her my good girl and pet her hair, then teach her how she can cum from my sucking on her nipples. But I hold back, just bringing the glass to her lips.
Wrists crossed and fastened behind her back, her big tits are offered up for pleasure. I bet her nipples are sensitive. I could play with her like that, take one in my hot mouth, make it pebble for me even if she didn’t want it to. Even if she thought it was wrong, I’d turn her body traitor on her.