Falcon’s Captive (15 page)

Not just seeing, touching.

No! No! Not his finger there. Not pressing against tight, puckered flesh and invading a little.

“No!” the beast she’d become shrieked. “No!”

“I won’t hurt you, but by the time I’m done, you’re going to belong to me.”

At the thought of what he was both penetrating and studying, shame shook her. This was the private, most personal part of her body, or rather it had been before he’d claimed ownership of her. Maybe, if she fought hard enough, and he let her, she could regain some of what modesty belonged to her. But every muscle still hissed with the aftereffects of the climax he’d forced out of her.

Not only that, she longed to hold on to the sensation, to wrap herself in it, to climb onto it again and die in the middle.

Defeated and desperate at the same time, she stopped trying to sit up. Her focus closed down until there was nothing except his hands on her. His mastery.

“Not fighting anymore, Jola? Because you know it’s useless, or because you want this?” Pulling out of her asshole, he stroked the space between her two openings.

“I—hate you.”

“Emotions are extreme, Jola. Disbelief, self-hatred, horror: they can all be the same.”

What was he talking about? Any other time, she would have insisted on an explanation and if she could hold on to the question, maybe she’d draw the truth out of him. But this was now.

“There are other emotions, not all of them bad.”

Wondering whether he might be speaking more to himself than her, she lifted her head and turned it so when she again rested her cheek on the bed, there was less discomfort. The instant the strain let up, her focus shifted back to her ass. He was still caressing her, not invading, the potential and promise flowing between them.

“Our bodies are precious,” he all but whispered. “Their well-being vital to our survival. We’ll do whatever it takes to safeguard them, and when they’re filled with pain, nothing else matters.”

Once again she had the sense his words were designed more for him than her. He might be thinking of his grandparents’ deaths. If he was, she wished she knew how to hand him the compassion and understanding he needed. But maybe the only way she could was by telling him about Raci’s death, and she wasn’t strong enough for that.

Right now she had strength for only one thing: surviving his plans for her.

“A slave has no right to her body. It belongs to her master. He can do whatever he wants to it, reward or punish it. What do you want, Jola? To be punished or given pleasure?”

She wouldn’t respond, wouldn’t!

“Pleasure comes in many forms. Food, water, a place to sleep. Being touched by someone who knows everything he needs to about the other person. Answer me this. Do you believe I know what I’m doing?” Diving deeper between her legs, he stroked her labia once, twice.

“Yes! Yes!”

“Ah. And is this pleasurable?” A second finger joined the first, the two gliding over flesh still so sensitive and hot from her last climax she was desperate to escape him.

“Damn you!”

“No, no, my little captive.” Cupping his palm around her labia, he drew the loose flesh toward him. “No swearing. Only the truth. Do you like this?”

“Like” was a breeze on a hot day. His hand claiming her was the same as a raging winter storm.

“No!” She tried to lift her head. Failing, she stretched out her fingers. Finding his hand, she tried to scratch him, but her hands were already going numb. Either that or she didn’t want to hurt him after all. Needed him to continue.

“I don’t believe you.”

Don’t believe what? What were we talking about?

He was changing position, his body shifting, that all-knowing hand no longer between her legs. Terrified, maybe, she touched her labia with a single finger and then her entire hand. Everything quivered. Unnerved, she nevertheless touched a tentative finger to her clit. Alive, waiting! She swore she heard it sigh, and if she’d been alone, she’d already be curled on her side, everything focused on reaching the incredible edge once more and leaping out and over.

“What’s this?” He engulfed her fingers in his. “I’d think you’d be satisfied after what just happened. But you’re not, are you? You’d love to climax again.”

“You—don’t know anything about me.”

“Yes, I do. And as soon as you stop lying to yourself, you’ll admit it.”

H
e was right, damn him! Just the same, determined not to give her need anything to feed off, she curled her fingers so they pressed against her belly instead of her sex. She might not be able to stop him from playing her, but she wouldn’t help him, she wouldn’t!

Playing her? Yes, that’s exactly what he was doing. Feeding her fantasies and killing her vow to ignore his manipulations.

With his hands boldly roaming over her, her prominently displayed ass no longer embarrassed her. Neither did she feel compelled to try to resist anything he did to her. Instead, she felt a kind of disconnect from her body. Yes, she was acutely aware of every inch of her system, but it was no longer her responsibility. Her nerves and veins and muscles, mostly her pussy, belonged to a woman concerned with nothing except sex.

It was all his doing, his hands on her thighs, breasts, and pussy.

Then he concentrated on the one place she had the least amount of control over, and for long, aching moments she shivered and moaned as he stroked her loose, heated hole. Her head seemed to expand, lose form, swirl off into space. Instead of being frightened, she accepted; more than accept, she embraced. Whatever happened was good, all good.

Then, using her buttocks to brace himself, he got to his feet and walked around her. Confused, she tried to sit up.

“No!” He pressed down on the back of her neck. “Stay where you are. I want to study you like this.”

Resenting his arrogance, she nevertheless complied. From her position, she only occasionally spotted his feet and saw nothing of the rest of him. She, who’d always loved what she was, couldn’t pull up a single memory of being able to change form and take flight. Her family and clan members were little more than misty images in what remained of her mind. A man had taken their place, a man with ropes and knowing hands and a take-charge voice.

That wasn’t all, she acknowledged as he began his second circuit. Most of all, he was a stranger with a cock she’d willingly spend the rest of her life dancing on.

Only half caring that she keep her ultimate weakness from him, she closed her eyes. Her back ached as did her arms. Her buttocks and the backs of her thighs were becoming chilled. Other than that, she had no connection with her body.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “A female subdued and accepting her new lot in life. This is what my shaman and lord wanted you to become.”

“Keep them out of this.”

“How?” He trailed a knuckle from her neck to her tailbone, compelling her to arch her back and mewl. “You and I wouldn’t be here, doing this, if not for them.”

Hadn’t he already told her that? If he had, what, if anything, had she said in response? It might not have mattered then, and it certainly didn’t now.

“Even though we had to flee our homeland, the Ekewoko have survived because we know how to exploit those we come in contact with,” he continued, his knuckle retracing the just-finished journey. “I tell you this not because Tau and Sakima ordered me to, but because I believe I owe you that one thing. Do you understand what I mean by exploit?”

He expected her to answer? Maybe, if he stopped touching her the way he was, stopped standing over her and let her sit up. Maybe, if his cock had never completed her.

“It’s this.” He pressed down on the base of her spine, his knuckle grinding into her.

“Stop! Ah, stop!”

“I can’t. Don’t you realize that? As long as I live, I can’t.”

She wanted to ask why but then it didn’t matter because he’d again pulled her ass cheeks apart and was sliding his knuckle over hot, damp territory. By rocking her shoulders from side to side, she managed to remain on top of the sensations gathering and threatening to explode inside her. Her small victory might not last, but if she gave up this battle she’d be lost.

Lost. Ah, stepping off into space, flying without wings, soaring and floating.

“You’re relaxing,” she vaguely heard him say. “That’s good. Go inside yourself, Jola. Find the woman in you and celebrate her.”

His words were meant to distract and consume. Much as a night bird’s throaty song enchanted her, this man’s voice cradled her.

She didn’t care, didn’t want back what she’d once been. Needed his hands touching her ass as it had never been touched.

A firm yet gentle stroke centered on her cunt. Holding her breath, she waited.

“This is what I was talking about.” His voice still had that faraway quality. “The woman in you. No matter what else you are and do, at your core you are female.”

Just as you are male.

“Did you hear me, Jola? You can’t escape your sexuality.”

“What—do you want me to say?”

“That you agree.”

She couldn’t do anything else and remain true to herself, but admitting that to him was dangerous, maybe fatal.

“Is it so hard?” he continued, the pressure on her cunt increasing, heating. “What are you afraid of?”

You. And myself

“You might not want to hear this, but your silence is speaking for you. That and your body. You’re overflowing here.” His finger easily penetrated. “I’m swimming inside you. It’s not the same as having sex, but exciting for me nevertheless and maybe safer for both of us this way.”

Both of them? With so much power and control in his hands, she found it all but impossible to believe he had any hesitancy about what he was doing. Quite the opposite. Surely he was reveling in his mastery over her. Mewling again, she lowered her haunches. Just the same, he remained inside her. Disconcerted, she shook her ass. “Stop it. Damn you, how can you—”

“Give it up, Jola. It’ll take a lot more than that for me to relinquish ownership of you.”

“You don’t own me!”

“Look at yourself.” The hand not penetrating her pussy cupped her left ass cheek and squeezed, sending a series of shocks through her. “Be honest with yourself about what’s happening. Then tell me you’re still in control.”

She still couldn’t, and he knew it. Tears born of frustration, weakness, and something she couldn’t define burned her eyes. If she said anything, he’d hear her hunger.

“You’re uncomplicated. That’s what makes you such a pleasure to work with: your simple nature.”

His comment nearly forced a laugh past her clenched teeth. If she could, she’d change form this very moment. Then, swooping and soaring above him, she’d challenge him to repeat his lie. If he tried, and even if he didn’t, she’d dive and fasten her talons in his flesh. Watch him bleed and listen to him scream. But she was trapped in this woman-body and he understood it as well as she did, maybe more.

“How does it make you feel when I say that?” He punctuated his question by lightly slapping her ass while probing deeply with the finger she hadn’t been able to dislodge. “Do you like being uncomplicated? Maybe that frightens you.”

She was afraid, all right, but not because of what he’d just said. Rather, her sweating body was again crawling dangerously close to the cliff it fell over every time she climaxed. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could draw cool air deep into her lungs and fuel her muscles and veins with cold instead of the heat she couldn’t control. That would be her salvation.

Turning her head a little more, she inhaled. Her neck ached from the strain and his scent coated her nostrils. He repeatedly drummed his palm against her buttock, his finger dangerously deep inside her, teasing and claiming.

Again she tried to lower herself to the ground. He immediately stopped pummeling her ass and slid his arm under her belly. Muscles straining, he pulled her up once more. Even though he’d taught her the folly of resisting, she tried to shake free. Her pathetic rebellion resulted in him drawing her back toward him. She stopped with her ass and thighs pressing against his legs and the pussy invasion unending.

“I’m going to ride you,” he warned. “And when I can no longer stay astride you, I’ll herd you until you’re exhausted. If you can’t take it, tell me what we want to know, now. Otherwise, I’ll drive you into the ground and force everything from you.”

He’d already made that threat, hadn’t he? Already gone over this and said certain words. Before she could decide how to respond, he dropped to his knees. Her pussy was empty, free. Lonely. A moment passed. Shaking, she started to lift her head only to let it drop as his cock speared her. He ground deep and even deeper, burning past her drenched tissues, filling her to overflowing, pushing.

Of their own volition, her fingers unfolded and reached between her legs for him. Finding the union between cock and pelvis, she lightly scratched the sleek flesh. He growled. Sensing a subtle shift in their relationship, she scratched him again. His growl became a low howl that resonated throughout her. Her mouth sagged and she began to drool. Her cheeks all but caught fire, and her inner tissues closed down around him.

A new fire, this one centered on her spine, pulled her attention there. Using both hands, he raked her from the base of her neck to her buttocks, undoubtedly leaving fine white lines in her tanned flesh. The thought of those thin marks and how they came to be pulled a growl from her own throat. Then he abraded her again, long and slowly, so deliciously slowly, and she screamed, the sound lasting as long as his nails’ journey.

Even though he must be acutely aware of his bone-deep control over her, he said nothing.
Slave
, she silently spoke for him.
I’ve turned you into my slave.

Responding in the only way she could, she pushed around their joined bodies until she found his balls. Instead of scratching him, however, she painted his scrotum with gentle fingertips. Every time he pulled back, she lost contact with him, but then he’d drive forward and into her, and she’d meet him, teasing and tickling, breathing harshly and loudly.

Her spine burned from his continued assault on it, the heat running deep into her until she couldn’t distinguish between that and his pummeling cock. She rocked under him. Shoulders and neck and thighs throbbing, she rode the baser sensation. They were fucking, powerful male claiming helpless female and both of them screeching like winged predators.

Was it possible? He was becoming like her?

Before she could pull the question into her, he locked his fingers around her middle and pushed into her with all the strength in his warrior thighs. Half believing he’d reached her throat, she met him with every bit of strength she possessed.

She flew off into space again, lost command of her body. Heat collected and began rolling throughout her, taking her high and fast.

“Damn you, damn you,” he chanted. His body shuddered, froze, shuddered.

Hers did the same, following him on his journey and showing him the way to her own. Maybe she was wrong, but he seemed to reach his mountaintop the same moment she hit her own.

Then she was off. Gone. Soaring.

Muscles starting to shrink. Vision becoming keener. Legs disappearing and arms lengthening and sprouting feathers.

No!
Terrified, she fought herself.
No.

But it was too late.

Climax. Nothing else mattering. Nothing else possible.

There wasn’t any part of Jola’s body that didn’t ache and hum. Without the overriding sensations, she had no doubt she would still be asleep. Or unconscious.

Not moving, she took inventory of herself. Her spine burned from where Nakos had scratched her, but if she could touch herself there, she suspected she’d find no broken flesh. She couldn’t, of course, because her hands were bound in front. Because she was lying on her side, her arms were relatively comfortable, and she felt no compulsion to try to free herself. Although it was night and she was naked, thanks to his heat she wasn’t cold.

She’d never felt like this before, not disconnected from her body after all but overwhelmed by it. It hadn’t so much turned against her as it had become more than she could manage.

A memory tugged at her consciousness. When it remained misty, she started to shrug it off only to freeze and then concentrate. Somewhere in the midst of fucking and being fucked, she’d started to become a Falcon. She’d managed to end the transformation before she gave away everything, but the time might come when she couldn’t. Instinct would win out and when it did,
he
would know.

Was that so terrible? Even if Nakos learned the truth about her, he couldn’t control her nature. Instead, he’d be forced to admit he hadn’t dominated her after all and that by shifting from human to falcon, she could easily escape.

Not just escape, she allowed with a small smile. Her talons could do far more damage than his nails had. Even though as a human he was many times larger than her, her speed and killing nature would be far superior.

She could easily kill him.

Shocked, she quickly but silently sat up. After scooting away so she no longer touched him, she rubbed her eyes and then her breasts, thinking.

In Falcon form, human thoughts no longer existed. Instead, she embraced a predator’s nature. With wings instead of arms and a beak in the place of lips, she would become a deadly foe. She’d see Nakos as one thing and one thing only: a threat to her existence.

Despite the shudder washing over her, she stood and tiptoed to the far end of the cramped enclosure. Raptor’s Craig was the only place the change took place; at least she’d always believed that. But her body had never been under assault the way it had been when Nakos was pushing her to her sexual limits. In times of extreme threat, or excitement—

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered. “Maybe it shouldn’t matter. After what you’ve stolen from and done to me, I should want you dead?”

But she didn’t.

Earlier, taking deep breaths had helped her to at least delay her climax. But although she repeatedly inhaled, she remained tense. If she lay back down beside him, which she wanted to, he’d wake and continue his assault on her. And when he did—

“I can’t stay here. I can’t.”

Except for the sound of snoring from a nearby tent, the Ekewoko camp was silent. Dying coals from Lamuka’s cooking fire blended into a sky filled with stars and moon to illuminate her surroundings. Although she’d taken care to study the camp earlier, night and her desperate need for freedom conspired to confuse her. A breeze coming from her right reminded her of the lake’s location, but what was the best way to head to maximize her chance of escaping?