Stolen to Neverland Ch. 03

Authors note: I'm sorry for the long wait! It's been busy around here but I assure you I'll be updating this story. This chapter has a lot of lead up and some background information as well as some new characters!

Friendly reminder this is in the non-consent category for a reason.

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Chapter 5~

Peter didn't leave her for terribly long, but it was long enough that every minute felt like a lifetime. She was full with the phallus, only able to pull herself up enough for a modicum of relief before her arms were too sore and she sank back down. Her sheathe was so sensitive, leaving her on the edge of finding relief but not quite able to fall over it. She pulled herself up again, groaning as she was granted some relief, then her arms were screaming and she had to impale herself again.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Tears tracked down her cheeks; frustration personified. It felt like she was on fire, thisclose to consuming her entirely.

A hand touched her cheek, stroking gently over the wetness there. It was then she realized she had closed her eyes. They opened slowly, lifting to take in the familiar face of her captor, "Shh." He crooned, "You did so well, pet. So very well." He continued muttering nonsense pacifications to her as he gently disengaged the phallus, kneeling before her to slowly slide it from her whimpering form. Slowly, his fingers traced over her puffy folds, watching the slight gap left from being stretched for so long. He traced over it, making her whimper again.

His sage eyes lifted up to look over her stretched, taunt form waiting there as though to be devoured by him. He slid a finger into her entrance, moving slow circles against her until her hips were tilted toward him. Agonizingly slow, he pulled it out and glanced down at his cream covered finger. Smiling wickedly, he stood and used his clean hand to tip her chin up. Hazed eyes met his and he brushed his finger against her lower lip until she opened to him, then all she could taste was herself as his digit nudged inside the warmth of her mouth, "Suck."

She was too tired to do anything else and compiled, much to his delight. Her plump, pilllowy lips sealed around his finger as she suckled it, making him think of all the other places her talented little mouth could be put to use. His cock strained against the front of his breeches but he ignored it, determined to complete the ceremony before even thinking of taking her properly. Eventually he withdrew the finger and stroked over her hair, surveying her face closely. Sweet little thing that she was, he had worked her hard and she needed rest. And so he dipped his fingers into his pocket where the acquired fairy dust was waiting. Fingers glittering with it, he raised it to her face and softly blew it into her eyes, "Sleep, little one." He bid, watching her lids slowly close in response. His lips brushed the corner of hers before he set to disengaging her from the bindings.

Chapter 6~

Briar woke to the scent of something delicious. It smelled like Sunday mornings and the pancakes her father used to make when she was a child. She let out a soft yawn, stretching carefully in the bed, the sumptuous mattress strange feeling this morning. Perhaps Martha had forgotten to turn it as she had been told. A frown pulled at her lips, feeling as though something were not quite right, there was something she was missing.

Her eyes flickered open, sleep addled gaze slowly sharpening to find herself in a beautifully decorated room... but it was a room that wasn't hers all the same. Pushing herself up on her palms, her narrowed eyes swept over the place. It was like something out of a fairytale, vines creeping over the walls and soft brushes of fabric hanging from wall to wall to leave the appearance of clouds. All the furniture appeared hand carved and fit perfectly together in a display of opulence. The bed she resided in was four poster, little metal bands around various heights that when she looked more closely concealed rings that could be pulled up. They reminded her of the bands on her wrists and she surveyed them closely, the metal flickering in the light.

She sighed, pushing the blankets off her form. She wasn't terribly surprised to find herself naked beneath, but she didn't know how she had come to be... here. The last thing she remembered was him telling her to sleep. Hands ran up and down her arms and the moment her feet touched the ground, a door she had not noticed across from her slid open. She yelped in surprise, hand whipping backwards to snatch the soft over blanket from the bed and hastily wrap it around herself.

Large chocolate eyes peered at her from behind the door and there was a brief silence before the slight body of a woman followed. Long cinnamon coloured hair was in plaits and she was wearing what looked like some sort of toga, the middle sash made of leather. Briar immediately noticed she had cuffs on each wrist and a matching collar, though the metal was a burnished copper colour that closely matched her hair. She aimed a soft smile at Briar, carrying a tray with an assortment of what looked like bowls and plates upon it.

"I thought you were never going to get up!" She said with a sigh, placing the tray on the bedside table and turning to glance over Briar, who still held the blanket wrapped around her, "What on earth are you doing? Don't you know it's ceremony day? How lucky you are to have Peter choose you." Her voice lingered on 'Peter' as though he were some great prize. After another look, the woman clucked her tongue and set to pulling an overturned silver bowl off the tray by the little handle on top.

It revealed steaming porridge piled with little flecks of brown, plump berries and drizzles of honey. The woman pushed the bowl into her hands, then a spoon, "Hurry and eat, then. We need to prepare you!"

Briar sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, slowly dipping the spoon into the food as she eyed the other woman. She was short, the very definition of petite, but she was like a pretty china doll. The other woman watched her lift the spoon to her lips, smiling happily when she let out a murmur of surprise at the taste, "Do you like it? I made it myself! Sir said if I was going to be helping you, I ought to let you taste my cooking."

A soft nod answered as Briar settled into eating her porridge. She got halfway through the bowl before her eyes lifted guiltily and she murmured, "Ah.. thank you. What did you say your name..?"

The other woman widened those liquid eyes of hers before gently slapping herself in the temple, "I am so sorry! My name is Rose. Sir calls me Rosie, though."

"Sir?"

"Mhm, my Sir. Just like Peter is your Sir. Master works too. Though... don't tell him I used his name, okay? He wouldn't like that. We're not supposed to use their names."

Peter. That was the name of her captor. Rose had mentioned it before but she had been too distracted. The spoon swirled in the leftover dredges of berry juice and sticky honey before she lifted her gaze again, speaking carefully, "Rose... how did you come here? Is there a way... out?" Maybe she would be able to figure out some way out of this. Master? Sir? What on earth was wrong with them? She had thought she was alone with her captor but now this was getting all tangled. A ceremony, Rose, others she hadn't met yet.

There was a distinct silence from her companion and when Bria looked up, she saw the infinitely gentle look on the woman's dainty features. She lifted her hand, tucking a strand of gold behind her ear, "There is no way out. We've all tried, failed, been punished. The sooner that you accept your fate here, the better it will be."

"We?"

"Yes, there's other girls. You'll meet them after the ceremony. You aren't the... first that he's stolen. We've all been brought here. He's the only one who can leave this place. Sir says the island has magic, old magic that no one quite understands. But there used to only be the boys here. Oh-" She flushed, shaking her head, "Don't call them boys, they don't like it. But they use the name the Lost Ones because they were stolen too. A long time ago. No one remembers how the island came to be, but Peter was here first. I think that's why he doesn't have a problem taking women here. He didn't have a choice, so he takes ours from us."

Rose worried at her lip for a moment before gently taking the bowl from Briar, placing it back on the tray. She opened another bowl, dipping a soft cloth into still steaming water and using it to gently clean her fingers, "I'm sorry, I know it's a lot. I'm just trying to explain to you why there's no use in trying to escape. There is no escape. But you can find happiness here! Shh, stop crying," The cloth lifted to wipe beneath her eyes, Rose sighing softly.

Briar was led to a tub that was behind one of the draped cloths from the ceiling, bathed with scented waters and then toweled gently off. Briars face burned when she was guided to a low chair with a strange back so that when she was sitting, her hips were thrust up. Guiding her legs apart, Rose used a little dish with cream to rub over her mound and over her folds, massaging it in and making her wait. It was warm against her skin, a not altogether unpleasant sensation if it weren't for the other woman carefully assessing her. A soft cloth was brought out and she realized its purpose when it wiped away the soft curls that covered her sex. Her slit looked almost obscene with her puffy lips so on display.

Next Rose was careful in rubbing oils into her skin, an intoxicating scent she couldn't quite place. Guided to a chair, she sat still as the other woman dipped a fine brush into glittering silver dust, painting intricate whorls up her arms, over her stomach and down her legs. She flushed again when the whirls were painted over her nipples, the cheeky brush painting her mound too. Kohl lined her eyes, another brush painting her lips red as her golden curls were tousled and left loose to her waist. A shimmering cloth was brought to her and she was made to stand, clipping once at her shoulder and then wound around her breasts, tied at one side of her waist and clipped at the other. It could hardly be called coverage, as the pink of her nipples was still quite evident beneath. She shifted from foot to foot, Rose giving her a satisfied look over, "You're so pretty. No wonder he wants you all to himself."

Before Briar could ask her anything else, Rose was gone. There was a moment she was alone before the woman was back, a glittering silver chain in her hand. Looking almost apologetic, she gestured for Briar to bend and then pulled the ring loose from her collar to attach the chain to. A leash. She was wearing a leash.

"Your Masters orders," Came the soft explanation, though her exclamation that she had no master was ignored. She seemed more antsy now, the smile gone from her lips. Rose pulled the chain down gently, forcing Briar's head lower so she was staring into the woman's eyes. Her voice was low, urgent, "Listen to me, Briar. Everything is a part of the Ceremony once you leave this room. It's all planned out. Every detail. There is nothing you can do to change it, even if they let you think you can. Don't-"

Rose abruptly cut off when the door opened again, the end of the leash being pushed into Briar's hand so she was left holding onto her own lead. Her eyes slowly lifted to see a man and his shadow leaning in through the doorway. She blinked and her gaze focused on the fact there were in fact two men, but that they were absolutely identical. Her eyes narrowed, looking over one face then the other. Straight noses, hazel eyes, jet black hair that curled just beneath the lobes of their ears. Handsome, but in a cruel way. They were even dressed the same, all in black with leather belts that held little pouches and, she swallowed, a dagger each.

Rose had gone rigid beside her, hands clasped tightly in front of her while she stared at the ground. One of the men looked at her, saying softly, "Dismissed." His fingertips pushed the door open enough for her to scurry out and she didn't look back.

His attention turned back to Briar and he gave a slow smile while his brother walked into the room, brushing the back of his knuckles against her cheek, "What do you think, Marcel?" His voice was like silk over a blade, infinitely dangerous.

Marcel moved towards her, pulling the hand with the lead in it. He lifted her wrist to his nose, inhaling softly while looking up at her. Her flinch away only set her against the other, who caught her around the waist, "Careful, now." She could feel his hands angling at her hips, could taste fear on her tongue.

Marcel pried the lead out of her fingers, looping it around his wrist. Her hand curled around the chain and he used his fingers to lift her chin impossibly high, "He could have chosen worse, I suppose." His voice was deeper than his brothers, rougher. He looked over her shoulder and nodded slightly, then she felt the hands on her waist slip up to her breasts. She sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers idly began toying with her nipples, making them harden beneath the cloth, "So responsive. Tell me, are you wet already?" There was laughter in his voice and her face burned. Marcel brought his face so close to hers she could feel his breath play against her lips.

She could feel his hand descending down her thigh and she pushed them together, "Marcus." Her brows came together but Marcus understood and wedged his booted foot between her bare ones, "Shush now, I need to check." He gripped her chin in his fingers, the other hand dipping between her legs. Slowly, his finger ran along her slit and his dark eyes flashed in triumph. She tried to jerk her head from his grip but he simply forced his fingers into her and she cried out, trying to push him away.

Marcus laughed, catching her beneath her shoulders, "None of that." She was pinned between them, Marcel closely watching her face as he forced one more finger into her. He wasn't gentle when he started moving them, fucking her hard on his fingers, "Did you know," He told her quietly, as though he wasn't currently violating her intimately, "That I like my toys to scream? If Peter had given you to me, I would have made you shriek so prettily. A pity he wants you to himself." Despite herself, despite his words, she felt pressure building each time his fingers slammed into her and as her hips started arching, he pulled his hand away and left her panting, "Oh, sweet little slut, did you think you were going to come for me?"

His fingers lifted, grimacing as he looked over the wetness of his fingers. He squeezed on her jaw, forcing her mouth open as he slid his fingers into her mouth, "Clean the mess you've made." Her lips closed, cleaning his fingers and trying not the retch when he shoved his fingers farther down her throat. He withdrew his fingers, slapping her lightly on the cheek, "Better."

Without another word between them, Marcus abruptly let her go so that she nearly fell, forced to pad after Marcel who had already begun walking out the door into a similarly fashioned hallway. It seemed to rock a little as they walked, as though the ground itself were moving. They turned, Briar trying to recall the path but finding it hard to when she needed to keep herself upright. The third time she almost fell, Marcus bent and lifted her into his arms. She was crushed against him and she saw his smirk as he deliberately pulled the cloth up over her hips, exposing her still glistening sex and bottom as they walked. Her squirming earned her a glance down and a finger lightly tracing over her anus. She stilled immediately and the finger retreated, the threat clear.

They walked down a sharp incline and then, to her surprise, the next door that opened led outside. The cool air caressed her exposed flesh and she shuddered, glancing over Marcus' shoulder to see that the reason for the moving hallways was because the room she had been in was part of the trees, the hallways like swinging bridges that attached to each other. She sucked in a breath at the sheer size of them, larger than anything she had seen before.

"As delicious as that pretty ass looks, don't you think Peter might object to you exposing his pet to everyone?" There was another man before them with ginger hair and laughing eyes, gesturing pointedly at how the cloth was still hiked up over her hips.

"Oh, this?" Marcel turned, his fingertip lightly tracing over her folds and making her bury her face against Marcus in shame, "Maybe he would. Better set her down now. Poor thing was having trouble walking."

Briar found herself on her own feet once more and she quickly pulled down her shirt once more, though she knew it didn't make much difference. Not with the way the three were hungrily watching her.