The Joy of the Hunt Ch. 03byLotheriel©
A/N: As per requests and constructive criticism, here is a much longer chapter. Should you be one of the people that voted 4 or less because of length, well - we're really close to the 4.5 average needed for the "H" mark, so maybe you could do something about that? (hint hint, nudge nudge, know what I mean?)
A huge apology goes out regarding the fact that I posted the wrong version of ch.1 and ch.2 - both un-betad, and our leading man even had the wrong name. Its only been mentioned a handful of times, so I hope it will not annoy anyone too much to switch it. Little One's captor is named Adrian, nothing else.
LO (Little One, as Adrian calls her) struggles in this chapter, both with what is done to her and with her own reactions.
Finally: In my initial outline there is one more chapter before the prequel/flashback that tells the story of how LO ended up with Adrian, but I will let your votes guide me. I will have chapter 4 (continuing the story where we are) and chapter 5 (prequel) both ready to go as this gets published. Whichever one had the most requests after 24 hours is the first to get posted. Fair?
Now, on with the story!
She opens and closes her eyes a few times in rapid succession, wishing with every blink that he will be gone the next time her eyelids open. It never happens. He is right there. Not only that, he is completely present and overpowering, like the sun on a hot day. He leans forward and extends his hand to her with the intention of helping her get back on her feet.
"Are you alright there, Little One? No whiplash from the crash?" His self-assured smile infuriates her.
"No!" she grumbles between gritted teeth. "I will be though. Now you have to make good on your promise to take me home!"
"Excuse me? Whatever caused this new delusion of yours? Was I not clear when I described the rules?" He looks delightfully confused and self-assured at the same time. It infuriates her.
She is still on the ground, having refused his offer of help. She is beginning to reconsider this decision as she realizes it puts her at a decided disadvantage. Ah well, too late now.
"Yes you were clear. I reached the forest without being caught, now take me home!" She knows she is bending the truth with her claim, still it is one she needs to make. She is furious, strong, and ready to argue. What she is not ready for is his laughter.
"But, my Pet, you did not reach the forest! Perhaps, had you not wasted your first 15 seconds you would have reached your goal? It was a fair deal; I gave you enough time to have a small but realistic chance to get away. Instead of reaching the forest you ran straight into me. I must say the feel of your body pressing into me with such force was..." He pauses for a moment, as if to search for the correct word.
"... Inspiring.' He finally concludes, and giver her a mirthless smile, one void of humor but full of unspeakable threats. Or is it promises? Just how and to what the impact of her body may have inspired him she truly does not want to know.
"That's not true, I..." she begins, ready to argue, but Adrian has had enough. Much as he hates to repeat himself he finds the situation requires it. Thus he places his finger against her soft lips yet again, along with the same words;
"Shhhh. Quiet, Little One."
For some unknown reason she immediately falls into silence and stares at him with wide, frightened eyes; unaware and uncertain of what he will do next. He cocks his head inquisitively to one side and studies her. Dealing with these emotional humans is always such a learning experience; he tries to make the most of it when he can. Now, however, it is beginning to bore him. He has other priorities when it comes to this little human. He has humored her long enough, he decides.
He is completely aware that the right time and place is not now nor her, but a little taste... What is the harm in that? He moves closer into her personal space, causing her to back up involuntarily and completely unaware that this is the reaction he's looking for. He guides her ungraceful backwards motions with his body, leaning this way and that, until he has maneuvered her into the exact place where he wants her to be. Her eyes widen in fear as she takes another step back, only to feel her back pressed up against the wide stem of an old oak, the thickness of which effectively stops her from moving further in any direction but forwards. But, forwards is occupied by an ancient, devastatingly handsome, mortally dangerous, increasingly aroused....
Well, for lack of a better term she will go with "Man". He certainly looks manly enough to warrant the epithet.
Adrian, meanwhile, is thoroughly enjoying himself. Yes, he could have grabbed her and just placed her there. However, he finds there is sweet satisfaction to be gained from simply maneuvering her right to the point he wants her to go. There is pleasure in studying her face as she realizes the fact that she has put herself, by her own actions, exactly where he wants her to be. The monster in him revels in the feeling.
Arousal and fear. Fear and arousal.
He tastes the new word on his tongue for a moment and finds that he enjoys its' flavor.
This truly is the combination of emotions that smells and tastes the best, absolutely delicious. Exquisite. The scent of it fills his nostrils now. She produces pheromones at a mad rate, his Little One.
She is terrified of him.
She wants him.
She wants to run from him.
She wants to give herself to him.
He feels every scent clearly and he knows that, no matter what she will say or do from now on, she is getting ready for him. Perhaps she doesn't even know it herself, but he has brought her to the brink of carnal insanity. In a crazy way there is probably even a part of her that wanted him to catch her.
He gave her five minutes to get away, yet she wasted almost a tenth of that time simply staring at him before taking off. He had not been lying when he told her that she had been offered a fair chance. Had she focused on getting away from the very beginning, the way she had begun to focus once she reached the locked front door, she would have reached the forest and he would have been honor bound to let her go. Not that he is complaining about the outcome. Not when his whole being is being consumed by the delicious scent of her fearousal.
So now, here she is, backed up against a tree, inches away from him.
Or maybe just one inch.
In fact, maybe no distance at all.
He doesn't quite know at which point he stops thinking. She doesn't quite know the point where she stops fleeing. It simply happens happens.
Suddenly; his hand is digging into her hair, fisting it, angling her head "just so" as he leans in to claim her mouth - a willing target where parted lips allow his tongue entrance.
Suddenly; she is not fighting it but finds her hands locked around the nape of his neck, moaning into his kiss and lifting one leg to wrap it around his waist.
Suddenly; the sensation of his throbbing erection poking at her through their clothes triggers a geyser to well and wake deep inside her, flooding her with enough natural lubricant to prepare her to take his girth and love it rather than be hurt by it. Mother Nature really has it down pat.
Her hands are back above her head, pinned there by his strong grip. This time she arches her back by her own accord, pushing her lace clad breasts into his chest, leaning her head back against the bark exposing her throbbing pulse point and every inch of the desire she feels for him.
His hand, dexterous as a viper, slips inside the hem of her jeans, inside the edge of her laced (he can feel the lace against the back of his hand) panties. Without warning he has two fingers inside her red hot heat, feeling his way around and finding that ridged spot that makes her shiver and shake. One of her hands is released from his grip and guided to the right place in front of him, in-between the two of them, rubbing against the intense hardness of his desire.
He feels ready to take her then and there. In fact, he wants nothing more. But, he has to remind himself; there was (is?) a purpose to this. That purpose was not to give her what she wants. There is still a lesson to be learned here. With twenty-plus centuries of experience, he does not doubt his ability to bring her pleasure in whichever way he sees fit, still it does not have to be in the way she is asking for. No, there is a lesson to be learned and going along with what she is begging for will not do the trick, no matter how much he wants it too.
Finally he manages to curb his desires and, after one final passionate kiss, tears his lips from hers and removes his fingers from her velvet, and very wet, folds. He licks her fluids off his fingers, tasting her, before he picks her up in his arms and returns to the estate as fast as he can. She is left confused and quite unbalanced from the sudden change in scenery and his unexpected shift in priorities.
Even as she struggles to clear her mind of the dizziness she becomes aware that he is carrying her to a different wing of the house than she was in before, an area she has never previously been allowed into. The decor of the place, from the paintings on the wall to the few pieces of furniture present in the hallway, makes it look and feel older than the fairly modern wing she currently occupies. 19th century furnishings can only be considered 'fairly modern' when viewed in contrast to where he is taking her now.
Finally he stops outside a particular door, his brow furrowing as he clearly debates with himself whether or not this is the place, before coming to a decision. He relaxes notably, reaching out to open the heavy door as he does so. She finds the clarity to marvel, ever so briefly, about the complete lack of effort on his part involved in shifting her entire weight only one arm to grab the door handle.
This new room she finds herself in is an entirely different place compared to the parts of the mansion she has already acquainted herself with. It is a huge, open plan bedroom/en suite, with the bath tub in clear view from the center of the room. This center deserves a separate mention, as it hosts a ridiculously over-sized four-post bed, where the posts and headboard are in finely detailed cast iron, painted a dull black with brass -- no, that's too yellow -- gold? -- details.
All this aside, what truly sets it apart from the areas of the house she has been allowed to previously explore are the little details. Like the steel hook in the ceiling above the tub, hosting a sturdy but light double chain ending in two padded leather wrist-cuffs. Or the four posts of the bed decked out with similar chains and cuffs. She notices the smooth, black, 100% Chinese silk sheets covering the bed before her eyes are drawn to the smooth, black, 100% Chinese silk blindfold, carelessly dropped on a pillow.
Then, of course, there is the wall opposite the large French window. She glances at it and immediately wishes that she hadn't. That wall, within fairly easy reach from the bed, has hooks and holders that could be found in a carpenter's workshop, holding his tools of the trade. Here they hold an assortment of tools, but the trade they belong to is not carpentry. She sees several whips, paddles, ropes, gags, and a multitude of things she does not recognize and really don't want to know what use they might be designed for.
He feels her whole being stiffen as her gaze falls on the wall and chuckles deep in his throat.
"Don't worry Little One. None of those will be used today; this idea does not call for them." She relaxes slightly before the full meaning of his words hit her. 'Today?', 'This idea?'. The chosen phrasing sharply indicates the possibility of another day, another idea, which does call for them.
Before she can duly process this new, frightening information, she is non-ceremonially dropped from his grasp to land, bouncing, in the middle of the bed. He watches her bounce up and down on the black silk for a split second before swiftly turning her over. As he uses every ounce of his abilities that so surpass hers, before she has time to take more than another breath she is face down on the bed, spread eagle with her wrists and ankles secured tightly in dark brown leather cuffs and the chains tightened just enough to immobilize her without hurting her joints.
He has clearly done this before. The thought strikes her unbidden and she wishes that she never allowed it into her head. Still, why would you have a room set up like this otherwise? How many women have experienced his touch and wants on this very same bed? Why is there a part of her that feels jealous about that? While she ponders this, a hand is inserted below her pelvis, sharply arching her back and angling her hips forward. A couple of soft but firm pillows are inserted below her, keeping her in this position and making sure her ass stays pushed up into the air.
It does not take a genius to figure out just how vulnerable she is in this position. Funny as it sounds, she really has not allowed herself to completely take in, to process, what it is Adrian wants from her in until this moment. Spread out and tied up on a huge bed, with her ass propped invitingly high by silk cushions, there really is no denying what the goal of this exercise is. At least she is still wearing her clothes, well, minus her shirt. She guesses he may have forgotten how to take off a pair of jeans when he chose to cuff her up. She is still contemplating just how to take advantage of the moment of relative freedom she will be given when her ankles are released to enable him to remove her jeans when...
Strong, soft but calloused hands dig into her skin, burrowing under the waistline of her jeans to either side of her body. Then apparently he performs a feat of magic, she does not have another explanation for it. One moment she is dressed in sturdy but tight fitting Levis, the next moment her jeans are nothing but torn rags on the floor by the bed and the only thing separating her most private parts from his gaze are her pink and grey lace boy-short panties, perfectly matching her bra that has been visible since his first inhumanly fast actions.
He hums under his breath, actually HUMS, while ravaging her body with his eyes.
"Even better than what I imagined..." he says, apparently to himself before slowly drawing a line with his right index finger under her buttocks, on that perfect spot where they meld into her thighs. In that over-sensitive area his touch stirs te fire she did not ever expect to feel around him into a slow, steady burn. She can feel the heat spread and reach the center between her loins. How can he have this effect on her? He is a monster. He is an abductor. He is a would-be rapist.
She hates him with all her heart, almost as much as she hates herself.
Because; she wants him, with all her body.
She can feel the liquid pooling between her thighs and her breath growing shallower at the touch of his fingers and the caress of his gaze, taking a small amount of comfort in the fact that a woman in this situation will lubricate weather she wants to or not as a defence mechanism to prevent her body from ripping. The brief reprieve from responsibility that this thought allows her does not last long. When he reaches out and places his palm against one of her soft buttocks, she cannot help but try to push her body backwards into his hold, yearning for more. That is certainly not a defence mechanism...
She hears his content, chesty purr at her actions followed by him slipping a finger under the edge of her panties, briefly pulling them to the side. She manages to turn her head far enough to catch his content smirk as what he sees confirms what his other senses have already told him. His deep chuckle at the discovery vibrates through her body.
"Well, well. Someone is just aching for it, no" He leans forward then; she can feel the buttons of his dress shirt dig into the skin of her bare back as he places his body on top of hers to reach her ears with his lips.
He speaks softly. So softly that she would not have been able to make out the words if they had not been so close. Also, he uses too much air with his words so that his breath hits the sensitive parts of her ear and causes goose bumps to form all over her body; as if his words would not have been enough.
"It is a good thing you already want it, Little One, despite not wanting to want it. Because I will bring you to peaks higher than you ever thought existed. I will plunge you into depths deeper than the Mariner Grave. Your body and your soul belong to me now, and I will blow your mind."
He chuckles a bit to himself before continuing;
"Not before you blow me, of course." She can feel his self satisfied smirk against the back of her neck.
"You don't even know how completely you belong to me yet. But you will, my lovely, you will. I don't mind the merry chase. You know better than most by now what the hunt does to me."
With these words he brings his hips forward, grinding his still clothed erection against her bared cheeks, allowing her a good guess at just how important it is for her to be "ready", before being impaled by *that*.
"Does he have to be out of this world in every sense?" she thinks to herself before catching her thought in anger at feeling anything but disgust for this creature behind her.
"Now, I do believe you are overdressed for this occasion," he laughs in her ear before raising his body back up. "Why don't we rectify that?" With these words he unclasps her bra and moves the shoulder straps down her biceps, better equipped to withstand the strain than the soft flesh of her neck. The next moment she feels a sharp pain across her arms as straps digs into them immediately followed by the muted snap of high class fabric ripping. Then, what is left of her bra joins her jeans on the floor in the corner.
"There," she barely hears his murmur.
"It's a pity though; this was a really nice set. I appreciate you wearing it very much. Don't worry, my lovely, I will replace anything you want replaced, as long as I want to replace it."
He leans back and seems to sit still for a moment, until the movements and slight sounds make her realize he is unbutton his dress shirt and slipping it over his shoulders. A few seconds later there is a new garment, this one still in perfect condition, added to the pile in the corner.
"Shhhhhhh. I thought we already established this? No talking, Little One. I did not bring you here for your conversation." He smiles and seems to contemplate something. "Actually, I did not plan to bring you here at all, but I must admit at this point that your delectable body is an added bonus."
"Then why did you bring me he...." She cuts her question short when she feels his body stiffen in anger and returns her face to the pillow. Her survival instinct takes over and causes her to continue with an apology, whispering under her breath "I'm sorry, I did not think" knowing that he would hear her. How many times has he told her to be quiet now? Yet, that is the one thing she seems incapable of being. Furious at herself, her need and willingness to act like this, she is still flooded by a great sense of relief when she feels his body relax from its angry stance in response to her words.
"Good. You can be taught to obey after all."
He shakes his head slightly, seemingly to clear it.
"Right, sweet thing, I believe we had some corrective measures to execute? Let's see if this night will appease me. If not, there are still a fair few ideas to try out." He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound exiting his presence.