I came then, bucking against his fingers. When the spasms stopped, he moved away from me and stood. “Wait here.”
He left, and I heard him talking to his brother down the hall in their language. All I knew was that the discussion was intense. He returned several minutes later. I hadn’t moved from where he’d left me sprawled. I had only turned onto my side to keep from pressing against the marks on my back.
He crossed his arms over his chest, and then sat beside me and spread my legs. I closed my eyes while he inspected me as Sir had, only this time it seemed his purpose was different.
“He says he may have torn you a bit, but I don’t see any damage. Your opening is very small.”
I blushed. Stephen and the others I’d been with had always remarked that I was very tight. In fact, it had taken several of them getting together to exchange stories to convince themselves I hadn’t been a virgin when each of them had first penetrated me. Much to their chagrin.
Then Master said the words that started a kind of mindless, groping terror inside me. “I’m a bit larger than my brother.”
That pronouncement got me moving away from him again. But before I could make much progress, his large hands had stilled me.
“Shhhh, Annabelle. Do you think I would willingly harm my mate?”
“Yes. I do.” He was insane. It didn’t matter that my stupid body wanted him. He was a lunatic, and I had to get away. “How can you even ask that after what you did to my back?”
“I didn’t know your kind healed differently. It wasn’t meant to scar or damage.”
That was the closest thing to an apology I was getting.
He was silent for a few minutes, then he said, “I hope someday you’ll understand our ways. I know your kind isn’t the same. But you want to be mastered by me, I can smell it on you. If you didn’t, how do you explain how hot and wet you got in my hands?”
I looked away from him. I didn’t want to think about that, about how I wanted to crawl into his lap and beg him to start fingering me again. How I wanted his mouth on me, my mouth on him. The thoughts spinning through my mind were sick abominations, the products of some psychological damage I’d probably never grasp the source of.
I lay there shaking, wondering what was next, wondering how I’d ever take him inside me if he was larger than Sir, berating myself for still wanting him the most when Sir was the gentle one.
He shook his head and smiled. “Beneath that fire and rebellion, you are so sweet, Annabelle. My brother is right about that.” He was quiet for several minutes, breaking the stillness only to give me instruction. “You will not wear clothing here. I want to be able to look at what’s mine. You will never shield yourself from me or my brother. You will always be available for either of us to use however we please. Do you understand?”
I wanted to say, I understand you’re a monster. But the words refused to climb out of my throat. I was too afraid of just how badly he could hurt me if I kept fighting him. It wasn’t in my nature to give in, but I had to. For the sake of common sense, if nothing else. I may not have been very obedient or submissive by nature, but I also wasn’t stupid.
“Annabelle? I don’t wish to punish you again tonight.”
“Yes, Master.” It was almost a sigh of resignation. He ran a tight ship, and he wasn’t about to let me challenge him in even the smallest way.
On some level, it was easier this way. If I knew he wouldn’t let me get away with much, I wouldn’t feel the need to fight as much, which would get me hurt less. And I needed to fully heal if I wanted to get out of here. I’d need to be strong.
After that, he brought me food. Like the juice, it was strange and different, richer than I was used to, the flavors subtler and more multi-layered. They had a whole food culture outside what we were able to get and prepare in the city.
Soon, darkness fell. I tensed, worrying that he’d fuck and injure me, but it didn’t happen. It was so strange, the idea that I was his mate, and yet it was only his brother who had been inside me so far.
He unrolled several blankets that sat next to his bed and made a little nest on the floor.
“Lie down. It’s time for sleep.”
I was too tired to protest sleeping on the floor, and to be truthful, not sleeping in the bed with him felt safer, like perhaps I could really sleep and get through the night unmolested. I curled up on the blankets as he settled in his bed above me. Then he let his wings come out and draped one of them over the nest of fabric.
I can’t describe what I felt in that moment. I shouldn’t have felt safe or protected. Not after the day I’d had. Not after what he’d done to my back with his claws, or the threat that existed in his mere presence. But I did. His wing draped over me was so peaceful and settling, that although I still had plans to escape, a tiny piece of me broke off and attached itself firmly to him.
***
The next day, Master left the cave again. I was alone with Sir, and although I’d been hiding out in Master’s cave, not wanting to face the awkward humiliation of walking around naked in front of the other one, I eventually got too hungry and had to venture out.
Sir was seated on a couch in the main living area, again reading something on a computerized screen. He didn’t look up when I walked past him into the kitchen. There were some leftovers from the night before that had been kept in a cold box. I took them out and then stared at the machines meant for cooking, not sure how they worked. It was different from what we had in the city.
I jumped when Sir’s arms came around me, and he kissed the side of my neck. I could feel his erection pressing through his pants, and something inside me said it wasn’t just ceremony and loneliness this time. He’d decided he wanted me, specifically.
“Do you need help heating food, Belle?” His hand casually moved between my legs, stroking the flesh on display.
“Yes, Sir.”
He released me and took the container of food from my hands. My face heated, and the arousal that had been absent yesterday flared to life. He didn’t act like he noticed, but I knew he could smell it.
He put the container in a metal box mounted on the wall and pressed about ten different buttons. The box whirred to life and a couple of seconds later, it buzzed. Sir opened the box and handed me the container of food, then went back to the couch to look at the computerized screen again.
I stared at the container in my hands until finally I had to set it down on the table. It was too hot to hold. How could food get that hot that fast? It was like magic. We didn’t have anything like that in the city.
When I’d finished eating, I found the place dirty dishes were supposed to go and tried to slip past Sir back into the bedroom where I could be alone. But he wasn’t having any of that.
“Belle?” He’d caught me in mid-tiptoe like I thought I was sneaky.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Come lie down on my lap while I read.”
I edged over to him and did what he asked, even more conscious of my nudity than I’d been a few minutes before in the kitchen. He positioned me so that I was lying on my back—which hurt a little still, but I didn’t say anything. He arranged me so my legs splayed, open and vulnerable to his touch or gaze. Then he started to pet me, his hand stroking over my breasts, across my belly, between my thighs.
About twenty minutes into this, Master appeared in the cave entrance with a cloth bag, whose contents were a mystery. I started to close my legs and pull away. I knew Master had said they were both free to touch me whenever they wanted, but I still felt like I was doing something wrong by lying there and letting someone else stroke me.
“Annabelle,” Master said, his tone warning, “open.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant, and my thighs fell back open. I burned and squirmed under his gaze. There was a certain level of stimulation involved in being bare to the gaze of others, of being touched in places you’d always felt were private and only open by invitation. But Master’s presence in the room took me from
mild excitement to a throbbing, wet mess. I knew Sir had spotted the difference, because his finger was rubbing directly against my slit.
But he showed no signs of being offended that he wasn’t the one who called forth that strong reaction. He was still reading his screen, pressing buttons every few minutes with his free hand. I assumed whatever he was reading kept shifting to something else when he pressed a button. It made me think about how much technology we’d lost.
Sir’s finger pressed inside my opening, dragging the moisture out of me, and then stroking over my excited clit.
“You will come for my brother like a good slut, do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.” The order had made me even more aroused, and Sir just laughed and shook his head, still engrossed in whatever he was reading.
I was working for it now, moving my hips up to meet his fingers like some filthy whore, grinding, squirming because there was something so wrongly erotic about Master insisting I get off with Sir, while Sir seemed more interested in a book he was reading. I’d given myself over to the wildness. I guess it was my new way of fighting back. Becoming determined to enjoy myself so they couldn’t break me to the point where I couldn’t escape later. If I reveled in it, I remained in control. At least in my own mind, even if nowhere else.
“Do you think my mate will be this horny?” Sir asked as I let out a moan.
I looked over to Master, who shrugged. “It’s hard to say, but I know you’ll find the right one.” He turned his attention back to me. “Now, Annabelle, don’t dawdle. I need you relaxed and sated for what we’re about to do.”
My eyes shifted to the mystery bag, and my fear rose from my belly up into my throat, lodging there, a painful little lump. He moved closer, dropping the bag, which fell open to reveal something large and phallic-shaped. Oh dear.
He loomed, his shadow spreading over me like something that was separately alive and sentient, something that might want to do wicked things with my body. Something I might invite inside. “Come, now,” he snarled.
A moment later I was in the midst of the most shattering orgasm of my life. He laughed, amused. I knew I was being loud, rubbing myself harder and harder against Sir’s hand. I could feel my face growing hotter at the humiliation of Master being so entertained by my orgasm, but I couldn’t stop until it had run its course. Until it would actually be painful to keep going.
“Such a mess you’ve made. Lick his fingers clean.”
I didn’t wait for Sir to bring his hand to my mouth. I was so lost in the carnal haze that I gripped his wrist and brought it to my mouth, sucking his fingers until I couldn’t taste myself anymore.
My body was still humming as Master scooped me up and carried me to his room. He left and returned a few moments later with the cloth bag. I sprawled on my belly on the floor, feeling like a liquid heap of nerves and nothing more. I watched him from the ground as he took the phallic object and tools out of the bag. Then he set to work putting something together.
When he was finished, the object had been firmly affixed to the chair beside the table, obscenely protruding upward and at a slight angle.
He snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor. I crawled to him, my trepidation over our next activity growing. When I reached the chair, I noted that the phallus was a cold metal, smaller at the top then gradually widening.
“When you can take all of this comfortably, you’ll be able to take me,” he said.
I think I audibly swallowed.
I was still wet from earlier, and though this new scenario terrified me a little, it also aroused me almost to the point of madness. I refused to analyze that too deeply.
He lifted me from the floor and arranged my thighs so that I straddled the metal, then he pushed on my shoulders as I slowly sank down onto it.
The gentle flare and smoothness of the object, coupled with my own extreme arousal, made it easier for me to take in more than I ordinarily would be able to, but I still wasn’t taking it all. It wasn’t that it was too long, merely that it was too wide.
Master turned a dial and the temperature of the metal started to rise.
I let out a plaintive mewl. “It burns.”
He pressed his fingers against the base. “It’s my body temperature. It’s only that your skin is so delicate. It’s not going to hurt you.” That’s what he’d said about his claws in my back.
He freed his cock from his pants and made me hold it in my hand to prove he was telling me the truth. It was hot, but like a hot beverage when it became easy to drink in gulps, not as extreme as it seemed.
“You’ll get used to it.”
Then he positioned his cock at my mouth. And that part of me that couldn’t quite make myself go along with the game plan reared its ugly head again.
I shook my head, my mouth squeezed shut. I was smarter than to say anything, because he probably would have shoved himself down my throat if I had.
His claw flicked out and my eyes widened. He trailed it in a threatening manner over my throat and down to my shoulder, then pressed down enough to break skin, but not enough to do what he’d done to my back.
“Open. I won’t make you take it all, just what you can handle.” While the claw of one hand pressed against my shoulder and a thin trickle of blood ran down, his other hand, claws safely retracted, stroked my hair and face in a soothing gesture. Something in the dangerous mixture of kindness and threat made me hornier.
My mouth fell open and he took another step toward me. “Lean forward and lick. Worship it.”
My tongue laved his skin. He’d been truthful. He was larger than his brother. The mercy displayed by not just plunging in and taking and ripping made me overcome with an aroused kind of gratitude, and a bit more of me surrendered to him.
Without being told, I pressed my hands on the arms of the chair and used it to raise and lower myself on the metal phallus, my mouth never leaving his cock as I licked, sucked, and kissed.
At first when I raised myself, he seemed prepared to punish me, but when he saw that I was riding the object he’d forced inside me, he said, “That’s my good little slut. Fuck it.”
He reached down and turned another dial. I was afraid it was going to grow hotter—I’d just gotten used to its current temperature, almost craving the burn now—but the new dial made the object hum to life, vibrating inside me. I jumped, not expecting the new sensations.
“I reward effort,” he said. “Always remember that.”
I whimpered, lost for a moment in the taste and scent and mere presence of him. He pulled back from me, his hand jerking his cock, going at a faster rhythm than he could manage inside my mouth without genuinely hurting me. That kindness made me cry a little.
He smiled at the tears, as if I’d cried them just to please him more. And in some dark, secret corner of my mind, I wondered if I had.
“Leave your mouth open.” A minute later, I was swallowing, taking his cum down my throat like I’d been born for it. I was still fucking myself on the metal, a second orgasm rising within me. When he finished, he turned the phallus off and pulled me off it before I could have my own pleasure. I cried out and begged and pleaded, my body now so hungry for release, I’d do anything.
He just laughed. “Such a greedy little slut. Be a good girl and I’ll let you come later. And I want you in that chair, riding that metal every day, getting your cunt ready for me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Considering our disparate sizes, I won’t use your ass, and neither will my brother. Thank me for that kindness.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Relief.
***
For the next several days, he made me masturbate for him. It quickly became apparent the orgasm was a means to an end. He wanted me wet and relaxed so I could take the metal phallus deeper. Each day he made me straddle the chair, each time pushing me farther down on it, as my walls stretched and expanded, preparing me for his use.
There were other m
ethods he could have used to slowly stretch me. He could have had my pussy much sooner than he actually took it. But he wanted me to fear and crave his cock in equal measure. He wanted to drag the anticipation out to torment me further. It called a strange sort of respect out of me that made me want to kneel or straddle the metal phallus anytime he was near.
Every time I felt that fullness inside me, he taught me how to please him more with my mouth. I got better at it every day, until he could finally finish with my lips wrapped around his cock.
I was hungry for release then, for him to be inside me, but the single daily orgasm to help me onto the phallus was all he’d allow me. I couldn’t believe how desperate I was for more. As he came, a little dribbled out of my mouth and onto the ground. I wasn’t quick enough to stop it. His instructions about swallowing had been very clear.
He jerked me up off the chair and threw me down on the bed so fast I couldn’t think. A moment later, a leather strap was in his hand and it was falling across my ass and thighs.
“Master, please. I’m sorry, please!” I instinctively reached back as if I could protect myself from the blows with my hands.
“If your hand gets in the way it will only be worse. Do you need me to tie you up or can you control yourself?”
The idea of being bound, helpless on the bed, laid out before him while he punished me with the strap was both terrifying and oddly arousing. I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to take one of the cords from around a blanket and bind my wrists together, but I couldn’t say it. It was too shameful.
He seemed to see something in my eyes anyway, and I was spared the indignity of begging for something so wrong. He got the cord.
When I was properly restrained, he went back to strapping me. I was crying so hard, begging, pleading, feeling myself growing hotter and wetter. With his power, he easily could have killed me or seriously done me harm, but he didn’t lose control. He wasn’t angry. He was simply teaching me with the tool I would most deeply respect. From that point on, when I even saw the strap I would go to my knees before him to accept my punishment.