tagNonConsent/ReluctanceCaptured Ch. 02

Captured Ch. 02


The walk to Killian Canavan's cabin in the woods was long and arduous and wearied little Katherine van der Poole nearly to unconsciousness. Her hands were bound neatly together; the tether was gripped carefully in Killian's massive steely fist. Katherine's dress was tatters, her body was aching, and her skin was bruised, bloodied, and sticky with sweat and grime from the forest. It had been the longest of days.

Katherine stumbled over a tree root and fell flat on her hands and knees; she flinched, expecting to be hit, as jerked her head up to look at Killian with the frightened eyes of a wounded doe. If she had looked up with a trace of arrogance or cunningness or even anger, Killian would have jerked her to her feet by the rope that bound her and probably slapped her around a bit for good measure. But the abject fear and the sad confusion of an abandoned child on her pretty face appealed to the thin whispers of kindness that rustled around the tendons and hatred in his heart. He reached down and lifted her easily to her feet. She took a single step before her silver eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted dead away.

Killian rolled his own eyes up at the sky. "This is what I get for showing mercy," he remarked with a trace of humor to no one in particular. He gathered up Katherine's little body and held her against his chest. Her head lolled innocently against his shoulder, her soft strawberry lips open in a delicate pout. His little doe. He sighed, finishing the march to his home in thoughtful silence.

Killian's cabin was all honey-colored wood, mismatched dishes, ropes, weapons, and an enormous bed outfitted with a plaid quilt he'd had for twenty years and sheets that could probably do with a good washing. In the attic there were boxes and books and a thin little cot that was usually brought out for guests—or captives as the case happened to be. He considered the staircase and then looked down at the little brownbird in his arms. She was too weak for the moment, too pitiful. He couldn't very well torture her for information—or enjoyment—in this state. Instead, he laid her down on his great bed and tugged off her filthy clothing. He lit a fire and his lamps, heated water over the hearth.

He tied each of Katherine's wrists and ankles to one of the bedposts, leaving her spread-eagled and helpless on that old familiar quilt. He grinned a little at the sight of her so lovely and vulnerable. In the soft golden lamplight, she looked more like an angel than ever.

With a cloth of disputable cleanliness, he washed the dirt and dried blood from her arms and legs, cleaned the dried cum from her thighs. He pulled thorns and splinters from the bottoms of her feet, watching her still face for signs of consciousness. He ran a hand over her taut, concave stomach and over her breasts, watching her nipples stiffen under his touch. Under his touch, Katherine shifted a little, her lips falling open. He could see her pearly teeth, her silky pink tongue, the back of her innocent little throat. Waiting a second to make sure she was truly still unconscious, he leaned down and took her plump bottom lip between his, as carefully as if she were made of glass.

Katherine startled awake, her eyes looking twilight-colored in the darkening room. "Oh!" she gasped out, squirming in her bonds.

Killian smirked down at her. "Hello there, little one."

Katherine looked down at herself, taking in both the state of her nakedness and the new cleanliness of her skin. "You... cared for me."

"We can't have you dying on us just yet now, can we?" Killian chuckled at the new horror that came across her pretty face. Tears sprang up in her eyes.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "My father has money; if you want a ransom, he'll pay, I know he will!"

"Sorry, love." Killian shook his head. "This is about revenge, not ransom."

"Oh." Katherine swallowed, trying and failing to contain her tears.

"I'm going to need to ask you a few questions about your father's business."

He saw the expression in her eyes change, shields coming down over them, and knew she knew exactly what information he wanted. "I can't give you that," she said firmly. "You must know that I can't."

"You'd better cooperate," Killian cautioned her. "Your cooperation is the only thing that'll let you survive all this; worse men than me will have their way with you if you don't let me help you. I can help you, Katherine."

Katherine snorted. "You can't fool me."

"I mean what I say," Killian vowed solemnly. "Don't get me wrong; I'll beat you bloody and fuck you until you can't stand or sit for a month. I'll do it every single day until I get what I want from you. But there are worse things. I don't plan on taking any of your limbs, for example." He ran a finger down the milky paleness of Katherine's trembling arm. "Personally, I prefer them attached."

"You're a monster!" Katherine spat. "You might as well kill me now, for I'll not tell you a damn thing."

Killian had to fight to hide a smile at her cursing; it was almost certainly the first time she'd uttered such a word, and the sweetness of her tone even when furious made the whole thing rather adorable. "You're no good to me dead, love," he said simply.

"I'm no good to you living, either," Katherine snarled. She was getting her fight back, Killian noted. Her cheeks were bright with righteous indignation and her eyes were suddenly disks of ice, cold and sharp and fearsome and lovely.

"Oh, aren't you," Killian chuckled, running his palm along her ribcage and across her hipbones. She twisted, trying to wriggle away from his touch.

"Don't touch me," Katherine ordered.

Killian grabbed her jaw in his hand, sliding his fingers down over her throat and flexing them slightly. "I've warned you about ordering me around," he growled. "Don't make me do it again. I won't do it kindly."

He pressed his mouth down on hers, sliding his lips over hers, deepening the kiss, pressing his tongue lightly against her clenched teeth. "You're mine, little princess. Don't you forget it. I promised to make you scream for me, to beg for more. Do you remember?"

Katherine was silent and sullen and flushed.

He squeezed her throat. "Answer me, Katherine."

"I remember," she gasped at last.

"Good." Killian kissed under her jaw, tasting the flutter of her pulse. He licked his name against the hollow of her throat, bit her slender shoulders, kissed the razor-sharp shelves of her collarbones. "Are you ready for that, sweet one?"

"No, thank you," Katherine responded coolly, but her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were feverishly bright, her delicate hands balled into fists at her sides.

"So defiant," Killian laughed, tracing his thumbs over her little pink nipples, squeezing them gently between his fingers. Katherine squirmed uselessly as he sucked each of her tits in turn, coaxing her nipples into hard, sensitive pounds that stretched nearly an inch away from her luscious breasts. His scruff scratched her skin as he nuzzled into her cleavage, his tongue and teeth and lips marking what was his, tasting what was hers. His hand slid between her leg, finding her pussy dripping wet and already trembling. He groaned, so incredibly pleased and satisfied by how amazingly responsive, how ready, how sexual his sweet little captive was. He pushed a rough finger deep into her shivering cunt as his thumb stroked over her perfect little clit until it was hard as her aching nipples.

"You might not want me, but your body does," he told her, smiling as he licked and nipped his way down her stomach.

"No part of me wants you," Katherine protested. Killian added a second finger to the first inside her pussy, curling them towards him as he smiled up at her. "No?"

"No," Katherine gasped, eyelashes fluttering, hands digging into the bed.

Killian barked a laugh. "As you say, angel." He bent and licked across her clit, drawing little circles around it, licking down around where his fingers were sheathed in her cunt. Katherine gasped, arching her back off the bed. "Oh!"

"Are you ready to admit how badly you want me?" Killian asked, keeping up a steady stroking of her g-spot.

"Never," Katherine hissed.

Killian drew his fingers away from her body, watching her squirm at the loss. He knew she was close to orgasm; he knew just how badly she needed his touch. She bit her lip, fighting it.

"Come on, Kat," he grinned at her struggle. "Say it. Say you want me. Say you need me. Say you want my big hard cock in that tight little cunt of yours. Say you want my hands holding you to the bed. Say you want me to kiss you and touch you and bite you all over. Come on, little princess. Let's hear it."

Katherine was silent, biting her bruised lower lip as if answers were hidden just under the abused skin. "I won't," she managed to get out at last.

Killian ran his hands up her thighs, perilously close to her wanting pussy, warm and sweet and pink and wet. Katherine twitched at the touch.

"Very well." Killian ran his hands down her smooth legs, licked the arches of her delicate feet, sucked each of her toes in turn. "I'll drive you crazy until you do, little one. I've got nothing but time." He slowly, oh-so-slowly, kissed his way up and down her legs a dozen times, stopping a little closer to her pussy each time. He could taste her arousal on her thighs. His cock was a throbbing rod of iron in his trousers, but he loved the game. This was his game. He made the rules. He always won.

He circled fingers around her clit and over her slit, bringing her close to orgasm again and again, never giving her any breath of relief. She was panting and writhing on his sheets, a mess of sweaty hair and wide eyes and bleeding lips and desire. He was in ecstasy.

He traced a single fingertip down her slit and over the little pink star of her ass, making her gasp and jump. He circled his finger over her perfect virgin rosebud as he rubbed a thumb over her clit. "Oh, the things I'm going to do to this ass," he growled gleefully. He moved his hands to her thighs as he licked slowly from her clit to the bottom of her ass, teasing her until she practically weeping.

"All you have to say is yes, Miss van der Poole. One little word. One syllable."

"YES," Katherine gasped out, humiliated, but too desperate for his cock to be back in her cunt, back where it belonged, back where every fiber of her being wanted it.

Killian roared like a king, tearing off his pants, climbing on top of her with the eagerness and strength and raw passion of a man in love, in lust, in hate. His cock, straining, veiny, damp with salty pre-cum was harder than velvet-coated steel. Veins stood out along the shaft, angry and purple.

Katherine screamed out as he plunged it into her waiting body in one perfect, forceful thrust. "I'm going to ride you till you scream for me," Killian whispered into her ear, his voice rough and wild and wanting. He pounded her little pussy until the ropes were the only thing holding her arms and legs up, and then he slowed down, stroking the silky insides of her body with his hot, hard cock. "You're mine, all mine," he whispered, his eyes burning flames into hers. "My little princess. My girl."

Katherine was lost in a sea of pleasure. He was everywhere at once. He was gentle and rough by turns, leaving bruises on her hipbones and bruises on her heart. He kissed every inch of her skin. His hands were buried deep in the taut flesh of her rosy ass cheeks. Their bodies were music. For a moment, they were more than captor and captive. For a moment, they almost forgot.

"What's your name," Katherine begged, turning her face up so the bruises on her neck caught the light.

"Killian," he told her, and she repeated it back to him, again and again, until the syllables ran together into one fluid stream of moans from her aching lips.

"Say it again, little princess," he ordered when her words fell into nothingness.

"Killian," she breathed. "Killian, Killian, Killian."

Her lips were against his neck, but she had yet to kiss him. Her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip, but it had yet to voluntarily taste his skin. Something about this killed him, made something dark and red and furious boil up somewhere deep inside him. He wanted her. He had taken her, and she had let him, but she had yet to give herself over to him. He might have killed her then and there if she hadn't looked up at him with something feather-soft and berry-sweet in her face.

"Kiss me," he commanded like an emperor. Without question, she dove into his shoulder, her soft lips caressing his neck. Her tongue flicked across his throat, sending shivers deep inside him. She struggled against her bonds. "I want to touch you," she said. "I won't run."

He pulled away the ropes that bound her and she melted into him like springtime. Her legs were around his waist, her hands in his hair. She had not kissed his lips. Not on her own. The thought was a spider in the back of his brain, spinning angry little webs that he was hardly aware of now, in the face of his other triumphs, but that would surface later, when he was angry with her again.

He took comfort in the softness of her voice and lips and body, the taste of her skin, the warm squeeze of her cunt every time he drove his cock down into her.

"How many times have you cum?" he asked her, watching her mouth fly open in shock at the question.

"Twice," she whispered at last.

"How about four," he countered with a wicked grin, making her squeal as he pulled her around his waist and stood up, pressing her back against the wall.

He fucked her until his shoulders were scratched raw, until her voice went hoarse, until her legs were loose against his back. When he finally came, exploding against her stomach and hipbones, she was a little limp ragdoll in his arms. He laid her down on the bed and wiped her body off with a cloth, looking down at her glowing skin and bright face like she was an angel, his angel, his redemption. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. He was determined to have her, every bit of her, every piece of her soul and her body and her mind. She was his. He was never letting her go.

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