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Again, that confusion set in. The scent. The soothing platitudes he murmured to put me at ease. But I pushed it aside for the false security he wove around me. While humiliating and contradictory, he was not actively hurting me. He was just…essentially fucking me in the ass with my well-lubed plug.
Just when I thought I might be into this, and lifted to meet his soft thrusts, he stopped, leaving the tail in place.
“No, no. Punishment before pleasure, naughty rabbit. That’s how things go down in this forest.”
I felt the air move. Suddenly, his palm connected with my backside. I screamed. My shocked inhale had dirt clogging my throat and my eyes burning. I clawed at the soil as he kept smacking me, spattering discipline all over my ass and thighs while he worked me over. I tried to use my upper strength to inch away from him, but it was not enough to pull out of his reach.
“Please,” I begged, trying to army crawl out of range. I felt like my ass was going to fall off from the force of his slaps. I thought for sure he’d break skin.
“Another lesson then. You apparently haven’t noticed that I only go harder when you try to escape me, naughty girl. Be still and take your punishment like a good rabbit, and I will stop sooner.”
Once I stopped moving, simply covered my face with my dirty hands and cried through the agony, he rewarded my obedience with less intense smacks.
Finally, he stopped his assault.
I felt foolhardy enough to weakly ask, “Why are you doing this to me?”
He laughed like a cruel tyrant. shoved an arm under my pelvis and pulled my lower half onto my knees. My forearms pulled under my chest to compensate for the sudden incline. “Because you gave me the power to do so.”
The realization of that truth both titillated me and made me feel sick. And fuck, if I didn’t know his voice from somewhere. Did we meet earlier during registration? Was this one of the rangers?
Horror dawned when the sound of a drawing zipper met my ears.
“I’m going to take you deep, little bunny.”
Panicked, I lurched forward, turned on my side, and kicked back. Hard. A soft impact and loudoomftold me my foot had connected with either his stomach or his balls. I clambered forth out of his reach and flipped all the way around, skuttling back like a crab. Even with the wolfy half mask he wore, his fury and agony were apparent as he cupped his injured testicles.
Sure he’d likely choke me out if he got his hands on me again, I shot to my feet and fled the area like my life depended on it.
Again, I ran blindly through the woods, the desperate too-stupid-to-live heroine in a b-horror movie. I was ugly crying. Branches snagged my clothes. Twigs tangled in my hair. I tripped over stupid roots and fell face first into the soil, only to scramble back onto my feet and repeat the cycle. My heart was about to beat out of my chest. But my adrenaline allowed pure instinct to take hold, and the pain and indignities suffered during this “flight” of my fight-or-flight mode hardly register.
When I looked behind me to see if the dark wolf was tracking me, I collided into a hard barrier. Strong arms caught me before I fell. I screamed and flailed in the sturdy embrace. “No! No!”
“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “It’s me.”
The blue wolf from earlier.
With a gasp of relief, I collapsed into his strength and wept into his chest. “Thank God,” I strained.
“Let’s safeword you out,” he whispered into my hair as he hugged me.
“No, no,” I sobbed. “Please just claim me. Please. God. Don’t leave me.”
“Okay. You’re mine. All mine.” He pulled the ears off my head, tossed them aside, then lifted me into his arms and carried me away.
ChapterEight
Ibarely acknowledged where the blue wolf took me. I rested my head on his chest and closed my eyes, content to let him be in charge. For all I knew, he was taking me to my doom. At this point, I didn’t care. I let the warmth of his embrace and self-imposed darkness lull me into a false sense of security, and sleep teased at my psyche.
The echoes of wooden steps and of a door unlocking startled me from the blessed peace I have retreated into. I opened my eyes.
We had entered into a beautiful rustic space that was as amazing as those travel magazines showed. Cozy furniture before a stone fireplace, a stocked kitchen with a huge dining island made of marble or granite. Plush rugs and throw pillows screamed romantic rendezvous on the floor, sipping wine before flickering flames.
“Where are we?” I whispered.
“One of the cabins on the reserve.”
He moved quickly through the hall. We passed a cushy bedroom of warm woods and stuffed quilts upon a king bed and entered the bathroom. The space was surprisingly open and clean with floor-to-ceiling tiles and loft-styled skylights. What did designers call the style these days? Modern-minimalistic?
