a-certainwrongness

[a-certainwrongness]

you can always write disgusting pornography btw. if you forgot

[a-certainwrongness]

This is a ritual, a prayer, a plea.

This is a sacrifice, a bloodletting, a need.

This is a transformation of flesh, one stitch at a time. This is meat from a stone, warm and pulsating. From one mouth to another, this is the passing of a story with far too many limbs, slick and scaly. -

Mouth to Mouth to Mouth is a collection of transmasc horror erotica, made up of 7 short stories featuring insects, elves, fairies, and more -- all mired in the grotesque and profane. I cannot be happier with how this turned out, and I hope you find it sickening.

[out now] // goodreads // storygraph

[a-certainwrongness]

A Cabin In The Woods Chapter IV Part I

“Some light, perhaps.”

A match flared, candlelight trickling over the walls behind it. Hans shook his hand and left the smoking match to die in the curved base of the candleholder. Then he stepped back to loom behind the cowboy, hands falling in slow motion to land on his shoulders. When they made contact, the smaller man stilled.

content warning read at own peril

This arrangement didn’t last, and the right hand left his shoulder to clutch the back of his skull, yanking his head up. The cowboy’s bronze cheek was swollen, a mixture of overripe cherry red and a myriad of deep purples, complete with a dark little gash and dried smears of blood that mingled with his beard scruff. His arms were pulled behind him in the same manner mine had been. The whites of his dark eyes flashed at me, but I thought I caught only fear there. I sat down on the bed, leaning towards him without really thinking of doing it.

“Erhm. Horse James?” I whispered. Hans leaned forward, cocked his head. I nervously cleared my throat, tried again. “James Cavenaugh?” My heart leapt a little at the white gleam of teeth that cracked out over James’ face. The mountain man let go of his head and came around next to me. The expression was gone from the cowboy behind the curtain of his hair again.

“You do know each other, then.” Hans spoke again.

“Yes,” I started to volunteer.

“Let him speak.”

“You’re awful wise, ain’t ya? Course’ we know each other.” James shook his head a little again. I imagined it may even still be ringing from that blow.

Hans nodded, just a bit, then he was gazing down at me. “I figured you’d wriggled out of your old life. Foolish assumption.”

“Well… So had I.” I said.

“So, you come looking for him?” Hans jerked his chin provocatively.

“Him?” James blinked a little blearily. “Err... Lillian? Yeah.” He seemed to find some focus and fixed it on me. “Just up and left. Gone a long time.”

A snort from my right startled me. Hans had crossed his arms, now looking at him.

“Ah, one of those small minded American cowboys. I’m sorry that is the best you could do.” The dim light glittered off his eyes, a quick glance directing that latter part at me.

I felt my heart crackle as it hardened. “We didn’t do anything. Why are you here James?”

“Said… Gone, no word. But no one saw you at the station. Had to ask after my damn shirt. It was all right strange-“

“I didn’t want followed. You were coming to blow my cover.”

“Cover? Did you do something bad back in Town? I’da covered for ya, n’ you know it!” He was leaning all the way forward on the crate now, straining at his binds.

I shook my head, fury building at the self satisfied smirk growing under the sharp teeth of Hans’ hat. “No. I wanted out of town. Fuck, what a mess.”

“I didn’t come to drag you home or nothin, now! I come to talk to ya at the most, but like I said, it were strange! Come here, no one knew where you’d went either! Disappeared off the job one day. And now I can figure why.” He glowered at Hans beside me. My heart was pounding.

“Y-you’re wrong. I’m here to stay, alright now? You go home. Hans, let him go.” The tremor in my voice was apparent, palms pricking with sweat.

“Mm, nice try, my sweet thing.” One giant hand swept around to cup my head, pressing my cheek to him. “He doesn’t look convinced. The whole village will be on the doorstep if you cut him loose now…”

James’ eyes were darting between our faces. “How’d she get here then?” The hand caressing me stilled.

“Simple. I offered him something he couldn’t deny.” Hans’ voice simmered with rage. Now my eyes travelled between theirs. Dark brown, clouded with confusion, and deep grey, fixed on me, burning. I looked down at my hands.

“That’s… Right.”

Wood groaned as the mountain man settled himself beside me. His hand was on my waist, tugging at me insistently enough that I was seated in his lap before having figured out what game he was playing. His right came to my knee and pulled with force. I could only resist briefly before he overpowered me, embarrassment flooding over as I was spread upon his lap. I covered my mouth with my hands. No doubt, my cheeks were red enough to see even in this light.

“Perhaps a demonstration is in order.” Skilled as ever, he tugged my shirt out from my waist with his left, and popped the belt with his right. His fingertips drew swirls on the slice of my belly he exposed. James eyes were fixed just over my shoulder, and their contact with his was blistering even me.

“S-stop.” I wheezed behind my hands. “Please. You don’t have to.”

“Oh? I don’t think our guest understands. And I’ve been meaning to show you something.” His chin left my shoulder. Then he was no longer addressing me, even as his hands traveled over my skin. “Were you really hoping he’d come back with you? Some empty promises, or perhaps even a few strong words, and he’d be all yours?” A deep chuckle vibrated against me. “I see your fury. You’ve lost. And you don’t even know where you stepped wrong in the first place. I’ll enlighten you.” He stood, lifting me to my feet. “You want him, hm?” James was silent, eyes flitting over me, cleared of confusion now instead wary, watchful.

My pants and undergarments were swept down to my ankles, hand on my chest preventing me from leaning down to pull at them. I felt his scrape against my bare thighs. He seated himself again, but I was made to stand with his hands pressing against my tailbone, hips and ass. In reaching down to cover myself, he plucked up my wrists, trapping them against my sternum. I twisted a bit, burning with exposure from the waist down, but he would not let me free myself.

“Stop this.” James’ eyes cast to the floor, his lip curled. “I won’t watch.”

“Pity,” Hans tsked, “You might learn something.”

He guided me back down to his lap, pulling until our bodies were flush together and I was kneeling on the bed. I clung to whatever I could find purchase on. Despite his protest, James stared up at me through his hair. Then his eyes dropped down. A hand floated over my thigh and plunged. It pulled a massive cock from underneath us, lazily pumping as it rose to attention. Though he seemed to bore of this quickly. He made sure I was pressed tightly against him before he brought his fingers to caress my lips.

“Open up. Drool for me, you’re so good at it.” Eyes closed, I did as I was told, tried to forget what was going on around me. Texture of finger pad and knuckle thrust against my inner cheek and my tongue, crushed to the roof of my mouth.

“Open your eyes, Lillian dear.” I was wrenched out of my little world of sensation when his hand gripped my jaw. “I want you looking down. He’s easy enough.” I flicked my eyes up to see James breath heaving his body again. He had recovered from being manhandled enough to sit up straight, head down like a bull, fuming.

A strand hung suspended for a moment before snapping when Hans drew his fingers from my mouth. “Spit.” Again, I complied. He tilted his hand, let the drool spill down over his cock. I saw James looking over my shoulder again, something in his expression shifted. It was certain that were I close enough to see it, I would know that his pupils had consumed his irises. He was leaning forward. Hans gave his cock a few more slow pumps. I blinked a little when he unceremoniously wiped his hand on his hairy thigh.

“Now, for you, my dear.” A palm met my right wrist, slid to the back of my hand. Slowly he guided me between our thighs. “Grab your cock.” I gasped, small and sharp. Whatever had run through me with that had kicked every sense up a few notches. He folded my hand around his length. My skin crawled a little when I came into contact with the slick texture of my own spit on his hard flesh, but my crotch responded with such enthusiasm that my hips bucked. “And, then, just like this, ahh… Yes. There you go.”

“Oh. Ohhhh.” I moaned. My thoughts spun out as he tightened the pressure around me, us, and then I was fixated upon the motion of my wrist. Strangely elegant the bend of my flesh under his demonstration, sending my palm up and down, up and down. I continued even when he drifted away, lesson apparently having been a great success.

“Do you like that? Doesn’t that feel good? You look so pretty, so big, so hard like that…” His voice didn’t rise above a murmur. The bears teeth plunging past my eye sent a rush of fear down my throat that yet wasn’t able to dispel the arousal building in my stomach. He pattered a few kisses down my shoulder.

I had no hope of wrenching my eyes away from the scene between my thighs now, hand with a mind of its own. It was at present pulling with long strokes that twisted at the top, stilled, pre cum dribbling out to pool in the dish at the base of my thumb. There was shock, utter shock at Hans’ strange, strange bets that always seemed to pay off. Because gouts of pleasure rolled through my mind with each tug. My movements only grew more enthusiastic. My unoccupied hand wandered, finally secured with what was probably a painful grip on his forearm.

“Haha, there we are, now the truth comes out, isn’t that a relief?” So focused on the incredible situation, it took a long moment to realize he wasn’t speaking to me, even as his hand smoothed my brow, rubbed along my thigh. “Ah, there we are, you’re enjoying it. You’ve been getting hard for boys all along, huh? It can be difficult to admit. I’ve only one note, if I may. Don’t drag Lillian into your shame.” James looked miserable. He had tucked his chin to his chest, but was unable to cross his legs, being so bound. I could easily see what Hans was talking about. Our awkward date drifted back over my mind. Not for long.

He was in my ear again, low voice rumbling, “That’s good, you’re close. A little faster. You look so gorgeous getting yourself off like that. Excellent.” More tingles, even in my hand now, the heat between my thighs was feverish, thick and alive with rushing blood.

His satisfaction sounded beautiful, and he came hard, painting the shirt over my stomach and chest. My brain unfurled like I had never felt it do so before, the proof of release on me increasing the heights of my pleasure tenfold. I looked down to realize I could feel my hand still gripping my cock. Something trembled, close to shattering when the sensation faded after a few mesmerized strokes. I stopped moving my hand.

“Holy shit.” Owl eyed, I slowly looked up at the man across from us. He had tossed his head back, throat glistening with sweat.

“Ok…” He said. It sounded like his teeth were gritted. “Do you always make your points like that?”

“Oh yes.” Hans responded. He pushed me to my feet. “And it’s good, no? To know where we stand.” James’ eyes were closed.

“Lillian. How did you get here?” He smacked his mouth a little after this and I could tell he was parched. I pointedly kept my back to Hans, wiped my hand off and fetched the water flask. Propped in my elbow to keep my shuddering hands from betraying my hold, I took a swig before bringing it to James’ lips. When he was done, the lid proved a struggle, and I sank to my knees so that I could secure it, spine curved, my head leaned against his bound leg.

“I’m sorry you’ve gotten involved in this. I think it’s best if you leave, and keep your lips sealed. You can see that I’m… Uh, doing well here. For my sake, imagine just what would people think if they found out… If you told them…” I simply didn’t have words to finish my thought. “What would you tell them?” My brow furrowed. When I picked my head up to look at him, our eyes locked together.

“Well, that was kinda a funny way of not answerin’ my question, but I don’t spose’ I quite know what I’d say, at the moment.” His response was low, I strained to hear it. Hans stood up from the bed. He took an easy step over to us, and placed his left hand on James’ head. He laughed a little, but it was a sound wrung completely dry of mirth.

“Oh no, not so fast now you two. This is quite the conundrum we’ve gotten ourselves into.” I shot a glare up towards him, then took a deep breath to settle myself. He continued, “Let’s discuss what we’ll do later, after we’ve eaten.” He retrieved his lower garments from the floor and stepped around us to the door. The bolt slid down, then we could hear him climbing the stairs, moving around above. James let loose a long groan.

“My arms are killin’ me, Silly.”

“I’d imagine.” I sighed and stood up to retrieve my pants. I could feel his eyes burning into me while I pulled them back on. My shirt sent my heart a flutter painted in cum as it was, so I took it off and left it on the desk. Upon turning back to him we both spoke at the same time.

“What in the hell were you thinking-“ “What the hell is happening here-“

“I’m sorry.” He said.

I rubbed my hand down over my face, hoping to collect myself, buy time to make some calculations. Should we conspire to escape? Should I continue on my path of the-less-you-know-the-better, perhaps lean into it with even more fervor? Tell him I was part of Hans’ plan all along, or even that I sought him out? Do I really believe Hans will just let him go if I’m good? I don’t know! Just, keeping stalling, then. I cleared my throat.

“What the hell were you thinking, coming after me?” I tried to sound as angry as I could manage.

“I were thinking, that you disappeared under mistreus cir-cumstance. I hope it don’t sound too cheap but I think I get it now, and I woulda left ya alone if you’d wanted me to. I weren’t asking after no girl anyway, just my shirt and your cap, which I found tossed in the ditch, after the ranch you’s supposed to be workin for says you’s legged out, abandoned a wagon, without even yer kit to your name? Now how the hells that supposed to sit right with me?” He’d probably stomp a boot if he could.

“Well how’d you find all that out?”

“I’s asked around, shit. The shopkeeper mostly? He’s the one who tried to warn me about-“ He glanced up, “That sonofa bitch.”

“Warn you?”

“Yea, he says something long the lines a ‘If anyones missin, you’re probably gonna get told about the bear man up in them woods, he visits about once a month, everyone’s scared shitless of ‘im- even though half of em don’t know what they’re taking about, I’m the only one who’s seen ‘im, he’s huge-’ You know how their like talk.”

“Shopkeepers?” I raised my brow and crossed my arms. I’ll admit I was starting to have a little fun with this. I hadn’t talked to anyone but Hans in some time, after all, and I hadn’t talked to James especially.

“Well- I- You ain’t really no shopkeeper, more of a craftspeople- I didn’t mean all that- I always enjoyed talkin to you…” He trailed off, squirming. The floor creaked above us.

“Alright, I’m just pullin’ your leg, don’t get too fussed up now.” I gestured in question with the flask and he nodded, so I lifted it to his lips again.

“Untie me?”

“Not worth trying. Had to have mine cut.” Wait. Shit.

“I knew it. I knew it. C’mon, find somethin! We can take him easy, you n me!“ James hissed. But I shook my head, firmly.

“James, nah, no. I- It’s not worth riskin. I… Don’t think I could…” I whispered back. James stared up at me, silent, incredulous. “I think it’s better, if we just try to get you out.” I closed my eyes to collect myself before I went on. “He doesn’t strike me as a- human killer. He might even be getting pretty nervous over what to do with you about now. He didn’t plan for this, he expected me to have done a better job getting out from under my old life like he says or- no one to come looking, I spose.” I rubbed my chin, eyes still shut. “Certainly not someone with your detective skills.” I finally cracked my eyes back open, even shot a little grin at him.

“Well, ain’t you bout as plumb pleased as a newborn colt in the sunshine?”

My expression fell but on examination there wasn’t any real malice behind his reply, just desperate frustration. I started again, “Look, I’ll handle myself. It might not a come about in the best of ways, but I’m doin ok.”

He kicked back against the floor, causing the crate to protest for him against the stone. “The hell did he do to you? You’re sayin you’re worse off out there, with your freedom!?” The anger crackled through the air, contagious.

“Ha! Yea, all that freedom. I suppose it’s easy enough for you to prefer my cage being the one without the bars you can see.” I growled back at him.

“What?” He looked genuinely taken aback, as though I’d slapped him.

“What would you have me do, back out there? Really.” He was silent. “Back to my attic, carefully keeping myself apart from the other cowboys? Or admit what can’t be done by my hand, be a good girl and come back to sewing clothes? Become your wife?” This seemed to have had completely sobered him. It felt like all the air had left the room. “At least here…”

“Couldn’t ya? I mean, I’ll know better, right? And, and… No? But- Sorry. I… Understand. I’m tryin a make off with the whole pie and done none of the work. I just… It ain’t right what he done and-“ He broke off as the footsteps strode over us and came down the stairs.

Hans deposited three trays on the desk and took my soiled shirt out before he returned. When the door was closed behind him, he loomed over James shoulder, and drew the knife from his belt.

“Gentleman. I’ve come to a decision. No one has to get hurt. I value Lillian’s peace of mind, so I shall honor his request to release you. And I would loathe anyone’s, but especially such a handsome and courageous young man’s blood on my hands. So, I am only asking that you be civil, for the time being. We still have much to discuss.” He began to pop the knots along James’ arms. Once they were free, Hans sheathed his knife. “Please wash the ropes lines for him, Lillian.” He stepped out of the room and returned without his knife belt.

I wet a cloth and gently wiped along the angry red patterning James’ warm, well defined forearms. He winced and circled the shoulder of the arm not occupying my attentions. When I had treated both arms I mumbled, “Better?” To which he gave a curt nod.

Hans seated himself cross legged on the floor facing us before the stove, I fell back to the bed, James remained seated on his crate, legs still bound. We each balanced a tray on our knees, uneasy silence broken only by the occasional sound as we ate, salad greens and bread with salami and lard. I could sympathize with James, who looked like he was struggling to get anything down, but I was hungry, curious and wanted the meal over quickly. Finally Hans began. He still looked menacing beneath his ursine mantle.

“Mr. Cavenaugh, I still don’t trust you. I think, that the moment you breach that door,” he paused to gesture, “you’ll be off to round up every townsperson willing to do violence you lay eyes on. What’s more, you’ll have them back up here within a day, whether or not I put that sack over your head. Determination, what fine things it may help one to perform.” He breathed calmly, deeply, made eye contact with each of us.

“I hope you will appreciate the heavy dose of risk I am willing to take on in this… Compromise. I simply can’t care for both of you forever, anyway I doubt you’d let me. You will be allowed to stay here with Lillian, for a few days, while I move our supplies and the functions of this home elsewhere. And then, you may go.”

James balanced his plate in his right grip and used the other to lean over and swing his tray at the mountain man, who quickly ducked. The wood did not even graze the round ears atop his head, and clattered to the floor as he backhanded James’ arm at the end of the swing.

“Leave me with him? What, do you think I’m some kind of monster, like you!?” Fury trembled in his voice.

I finally shot up to intervene, snatching James’ plate out of his hand before the food went all over the rug. “Stop.” To my astonishment, they both fell silent. I quickly set aside the plate. “Thank you. Um…” I hadn’t exactly prepared a speech.

“Let’s… All be friends for a few days, sound alright to you boys?” Indeed, I suppressed a snicker even as I kicked myself a little for resorting to humor. James looked like someone had stuffed something sour in his mouth and Hans’ face was completely blank.

“If it makes you feel better, Mr. Cavenaugh,” I said, stressing the ‘Mr’. That formality on him had me close to loosing my composure again. “I’ll never forgive the man for what he’s done-“ here I leaned forward, wagged my finger for emphasis, “-initially. The thing is, I am here now, and I’m telling you to your face that you can go, I’ll be fine. And my feelings are a little hurt, that you don’t want to spend a few more days with me.” Horror immediately sprang into his face.

“No! No, that’s not at all-“

“Alright then, we’ll all agree to be peaceable.” I dipped my head once to Hans. My stomach turned a bit at this gesture, thanking him for his kindness, the blood he wouldn’t be shedding. He rose and disappeared upstairs after he had collected our plates, all without a word. James looked baffled.

“You’re asking me to cozy up with…” He glanced up, then tucked his chin and ran his right hand through his thick, shoulder length black hair, a gesture I was familiar with. Even his arms being free was setting me at ease. I crossed mine.

“You know, he’d probably say something like, ‘come now, enjoy yourself’.” I cracked a grin down at him. His face was aghast.

“It ain’t no laughing matter… Lillian, I’m sorry I didn’t make it sooner.” I waved him off, but it did manage to get under my skin. Had I lost it? Maybe… I knelt down to take his hands.

“But I mean it. I won’t be mad if you enjoy yourself. I’d like for you to enjoy yourself.” We listened to the man above us cross the floor for the final time that night. I withdrew. He appeared in only his deer wrap. James very obviously turned his face away, but Hans came down beside me. He began a complicated process of untying James’ legs.

“You can rest beside Lillian tonight, if he’ll have you. Otherwise, I offer the floor. Either way, take note that I sleep very lightly.” He yanked the ropes away and stored them outside the door as well.

“Come on.” I helped James to his feet and with massaging some of the blood back into his legs, then started on his shirt. He grabbed my wrist.

“Wait.”

“He won’t allow it, you’re filthy. Speaking of, I’ll wash your face.” I leaned over for the cloth again, but he still had me by my wrist.

“Wait! I don’t want the first time we lay together to-“

“We’re just sleeping.”

“All the same, with all due respect, er…”

“Oh, I see. I’ll give you my pillow, then.” I finally got the rag and started to dab his face. There really wasn’t a great deal of blood, only dark bruising, and his eye had begun to swell some as well.

“I’m not shy, round him.” His jaw was set.

“Oh, no? Well, whatever your reason-“

“That’s the very thing that makes you too good for him.” He gave me a hard look, but I disliked what he was trying to do.

“I don’t need you to tell me what’s happening here.” I said, voice tinged with frost.

I tossed the cloth to the desk over his shoulder, spun and crawled across the bed. I couldn’t say I was that surprised to see him strip his garments and follow, but it was arresting all the same when he hovered over me, hand beside each cheek. Under some possession, I reached up and caressed his temple. He quickly slipped over me and lay rigid on his back when the door sounded.

Hans blew out the candle and drew me into his chest, just as was his habit. In the indigo darkness of that evening, something new, I felt the pad of a calloused thumb running over my fingers, again, and again, and again.

The very first thing I saw was white, flecked with ever so delicate red wisps, and then, black, glazed with a honeyed sunlight. There I slipped into a warm ocean of tawny waves, under-toned with a deep and dark chocolate, frothed with russet and gold. For a funny moment, I thought perhaps I had summoned some strange waking dream after that night at the hotel. Surely, I didn’t invite him back. I wake early to open shop, every day. But he was watching me sleep.

Another few seconds suspended in the warmth of his gaze before I remembered. A hand out behind me, but the bed cloth was cold. Hans is already gone. Yes, I hear him above us.

“Hello.” My voice crackeled with sleep.

He looked sick with himself when he reached out, hand hovering over me. “May I?” I nodded. The rough pads of his fingers sent tickles down my spine when they met my cheek. He stopped breathing for a few beats when I nestled my face into his neck, inhaling his aroma and layering soft kisses over his throat.

“Say I, been meanin to ask you somethin,” I hardly caught his whisper, and had to stop what I was doing. “Did you feel something for me, back then?”

“Of course,” I immediately replied. Tears suddenly pricked at my eyes.

“But… Did you leave, because of me? Were you afraid a me, of being made my wife?”

“Of you, no. Of being made a wife, yes. But… It wasn’t only that.” We both fell into quiet. I was almost asleep again with my head against the black fuzz on his chest when I heard Hans come in. I felt them exchange a nod. He made little noise and was gone again quickly. I sat up and grimaced at my awful tea. Wisps of steam carried off it into the morning light of the basement.

We ate together in silence while Hans made a great ruckus up above. It was sometime around noon when he left. I had pulled a pair of jeans back on, foregoing the shirt as it was one of those unbearably hot end of summer days. Our little room was even more sweltering for the two bodies, vented only by a single window.

I was pacing, as I had grown fond of during my tenure, while James seemed to drift in and out of a light sleep on his back atop the bed. Closing the gap with the wall underneath our window, I let myself fall the last few feet, catching myself and pressing back off of my fingertips. This time when I swiveled back around, his eyes were fixed on me. I studied the myriad of colors that littered his left cheek. At the very least, his eye wasn’t swollen shut. We stared at each other for a moment. Unable to stand it any longer, I strode forward to sit beside him on the bed.

“You’re awake again. Thirsty?” He nodded and began pulling his elbows under himself while I fetched the canteen. I passed it off, marveling at the droplets that slipped down his neck while he drew deeply from it. His lips came away from the opening with a slight pop, and he sighed in satisfaction. He set the canteen back on the bed to rescrew the cap. Then he looked lazily back up at me, his head titled back and to the side ever so slightly while he propped himself on his left elbow.

“Thank you.”

I could only nod, feeling my cheeks heat but not really understanding it.

“So, I done a little thinkin.” He sniffed and then swiped at his nose before he continued. “I figure… That, well. I still ain’t really got a good way of sayin this. But here it is: I don’t regret comin up after you here. Not for one second. And I figure I shoulda told ya that.”

“Oh.” I certainly wasn’t expecting that, right now.

“Even if we only get to spend a few days like you’s sayin, I’m just grateful for that. And- No matter what he does to me, I’ll keeping comin back, I’ll keep lookin for ya-“ I held up my hand.

“No.”

“No? What?”

“No. What stupid thing are you going to say next? That you should give your life for mine?”

“Well. I would, if that’s what you’re-“

“Of course not! That’s my damn point you fool! Nobody has to die.”

Now he sat up, put the canteen aside and came to his knees beside me. “Lillian. I swear. I will kill him for you.” My heart skipped a beat.

“Nobody means him neither.”

I realized I was trembling. James was a bit taller than me like this on the bed, and he seemed to loom over me.

“Fine, leave him for now, but I’ll be back.” He said.

“Not ‘for now’. Listen to me. What I want, is for you to walk straight back to that train station, and forget I ever existed.”

A genuinely grief stricken expression seized him. His hands came to my arms and he grasped them with probably more force than he intended.

“How can you say that to me?”

My heart twisted. I was quite taken aback by the intensity of his response. He shook his head and continued, “You were my- How am I supposed to forget? How can I leave you here, to the mercy of his will?”

I swallowed.

“Because… I am asking you to. And he has been… Decent to me.” His expression darkened and his grip grew more painful.

“I saw- It ain’t that he- to you- that’s bad enough! It’s that- that he was willing to use you to make a damn point!”

“Once again, I do not need you to tell me what’s going on! I’m aware of it.”

“You say that but- Christ! This is like pullin on one rein.”

“Maybe you should quit pullin. I want you to be safe. Think what you may about him and his actions, but I don’t need the likes of you to tell me what’s what and- and- What? Save me from myself? Ha!” I knocked his hands away and stood to cross my arms.

“That ain’t what I’m tryin to say! It ain’t your fault!”

“No. How could it be? But it is the situation. And, you’ll certainly be loathe to hear this, but he does care for me. It ain’t always the right way, his way…”

He groaned and dragged his hand down his face.

“Alright. I don’t wanna fight like this no more right now.” His voice had softened considerably.

“No, me neither.” I seated myself beside him again and tucked one leg underneath myself to better face him. “How… Was things? In town, after I left?”

His dark eyes flickered down, and a shadow passed over him. “Alright.”

“What’s- Did something happen?”

“No, no. Nothin happened, everyone’s fine. I’m sorry to have ya worried. No. I spose I mighta been thinkin of myself, my apologies. It was lonely, after you’s gone. That’s all.” Now he wouldn’t meet my eye at all. I felt my brow furrowed.

“I… Didn’t you get along with the boys at the ranch alright? You always seemed…”

“Well, alrights your word. Weren’t much there beyond ‘alright’. Always figured they felt something was off about me.”

“Oh. I’m… Really sorry, James. It was thoughtless of me…” To abandon you without a word. My chest ached.

He finally looked up from his hands. Tears shimmered on his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away and wiped his face with a forearm.

“S’alright, like I say I’m glad to see you again, regardless of how it come about... May I?”

He had leaned forward, the succulent soft flesh of his inner arms turned out, beckoning to me. I nodded and went forward into his embrace. My right hand rested on his hip and the other snaked around the back of his rib cage as he similarly encased me. I couldn’t tell which one of us it was humming in satisfaction. Something I hadn’t known was built up on my shoulders was now running off like spring snowmelt. His left hand stroked my long hair. Even after some time, it was too soon when he withdrew.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, shifting around so that he could rest on his back again. When he had settled, eyes closed, he let out one long sigh. “I apologize Silly, I’m still tired… But… Tell me a story, like you used to. One of them long ones, like when them boys was getting filled a lumber order or I come on my own…”

“Oh, and here I thought you was quite the gentleman! So graciously cartin everyone’s rags off to the mender.”

A smile every so slightly graced the pink lips so beautifully molded beneath the fuzz beginning to glaze his jaw and the bottoms of his cheeks. I drank in his still closed eyes and their long, soft black lashes.

I cleared my throat to continue.

“Very well. You know, I could even read to you, if you’d like. I, ha, always hoped I might be able to…” His smile deepened. “Although, It would’ve been rather improper to take you straight round to my room, I suppose.”

His airy chuckle lifted my heart as I stood to run my fingers over the spines on the shelves. “Would it be alright if I read something I haven’t read before?” He hummed in a manner which I took to be affirmative. “Strange Tales it is then…”

When I turned back to the bed his left palm was upturned beside him, so after a moment of hesitation, I came to sit, sliding my hand into his. I opened the book over my knees.

“‘Strange Tales’. There’s a subtitle. ‘To stir the soul, to puzzle, to confound.’ Various authorship.”

“Will there be a test?”

I twitched a brow at his sudden interjection, but his eyes remained closed so switched tactics to a light huff. “No. Why do you ask?”

“I’m already afright this won’t make much sense to me.”

His honesty struck a cord in my chest, drawing me once more to the days we used to spend in that other cramped little room, my work station at the side desk of the tailors… I gave his hand a little squeeze. “Don’t worry now, I don’t think they’re supposed to. They meant to astonish and afright, I mean to say.”

“That’s just fine, as long as you don’t come asking for my grand know how on the written arts.”

"No. I promise."

He nodded, almost dreamily, and settled himself back into the bed. But as I cleared my throat tension flashed through my chest. It had sounded a lot more nervous gesture than self assured preparation that time. But what had I to be embarrassed about in front of James, now? He had seen... A lot, after all. Now I even felt a bit nauseous. The pressure of his hand briefly squeezing mine brought me back out of my pit.

"This first story is entitled: The Tale of a Floating Man." I glanced once more at the creamy light dancing over the swell of his eyelids.

"The day was First of May, 1884. Edgar Phillips packed his one small travel case. He brought only a fold down easel, tin case of oil paint tubes, a jar of solvent, paper in two weights, and the cloth wrap containing his brushes. He was last seen, really seen, as in no rumors or spottings blurred with distance, boarding a coach set out for the foothills in the early morn. This would later come to be a point of great significance."

"Sig-nif-ih-gance?"

"Significance. A matter of importance." I shifted a little, even daring to run my thumb along his for a moment.

"The coachman never was able to be found, and as such, the rest of this account is cobbled together with reports which varied greatly in quality and detail. The most shocking of which was, of course, the report of Miss Abigail Evans, which we will come to, in short time. First is the report from the Innkeeper of Old Pine Lodge, who states he may have seen Mr. Phillips stride across the yard some time around late morning. It is, as a matter of course, a bit strange to see a man dressed such as Mr. Phillips, hardly ever without a dress shirt and tie, carrying his little case across the yard of an alpine lodge. Thus he was noticed, but hardly noted. Tourists, after all, often dress in a strange manner when foolishly headed for the mountain. On that fateful day, the trailhead was unoccupied, so none are ever to know when it was exactly that Mr. Edgar Phillips began his trek up the face. It is here that things take a truly curious turn." I paused to glance over at James' peaceful face again, and gave a little start when he cracked one eye open to glance at me. I coughed nervously, eyes raking over the page for purchase, finding none for a few harrowing heartbeats.

"Umm... Sorry... Here that things take a truly curious turn... It was nearly lunch that morning when one Miss Abigail Evans and her hiking party set out. The mountain is of course well known for its splendiferous vie-"

"What?"

"Its view, a lovely and impressive view, that looked out over the township. It was not an especially towering mountain, but one marvelously well situated at the very top of the valley. Thusly, Miss Evans and her party had just enough time to make the summit and return at a safe hour.”

“A well learned woman, Miss Evans was at study in the line of geology, and can be reasonably well depended upon to give a trustworthy account. Yet what she swore to have seen upon this day is scarcely, well... Just that. Scarcely believable. While the three other members examined a lichen growth on an outcrop over the path, Miss Evans glanced around the bend of the rock, toward the summit. She claims, To her shock, to have seen the figure of a man rise up from the rock underneath him, one arm extended above his head, as if in reach. In her stunned state, her mouth agape, she had not even the mind to call for the attention of her companions. Abigail Evans watched the figure continue, up up and up into the blue so pure and crisp it hurt the eye. Thinking herself perhaps addled with the height of the slope, she merely pushed the strange thing she had witnessed to the back, most cobweb covered corner of her mind. Until they reached the summit. And here, the party discovered a disturbing scene indeed."

"It was the easel of one Mr. Edgar Phillips. Fastened to it was a rough, yet attractive painting of the town ship below, fading into a wide expanse of rolling snow topped mountains. The township was lovely, but bathed in an unlikely mauve sunset for plein air at that hour."

"Hmm."

"Hm. Mauuuve. It's like... One of those little wild pink roses, touched with the evening light. Or even a red gooseberry..." I tilted my head, trying to remember the last time I had tasted fresh gooseberry. “Plein air is simply painting done outdoors." James nodded.

"Of further concern were the impossible mountains crowding the background. They seemed to go on forever, forever over the plains, forever, far past what the human eye could possibly see. But the greatest concern of all, was of course, the absence of Mr. Phillips. The trail to the summit led only to a cliff. There was no way for the man to have come back past the party, and even if he had there was still his abandoned equipment. At this time Miss Evans began to feel flush. She knew not whether to bring up what she had seen, or at the very least, thought she had seen. After lunching atop the mountain, the group came to the conclusion that the man was not coming back for his material, and so they packed his things back into his case and brought them down with them. Miss Abigail Evans took it upon herself to return the man's belonging to his family. She still had not found the appropriate opportunity to bring up what she had seen to her companions, if there even was one."

"It was at this moment the stage coach came into question. For Mr. Phillips had left but one clue to where he should have been. On the back of his impossible picture there was a short inscription, which began: 'For the eyes of Patrick Conner, who will must understand.' Huh."

"He left his will to a man?" James voice was low, a tone I couldn't parse.

"Evidently." He was quiet again so I went on.

"A smart woman indeed, Miss Abagail fetched the record of arrival and departure from the little mountain way station. With great luck the book keeping was thorough, and she noted one stage that very morning, which had come from the same town that lay below. Some days passed before she came into the town. When she had reached the station in that lovely little place, she gathered her skirts and her poise to question the ticket man. She has expressed great displeasure at the sum of bills the man insisted she provide before he would violate the privacy of travelers over whom he had watched."

"And that was it. He had to be one Mr. Edgar Phillips. He had been born in the town, in fact, it was awful funny she asked because he was missing, indeed. Indeed. But he was an eccentric, you see, he assured Miss Evans, and would surely return. Though his sister was worried. Though they knew not where he went. He had only seen him board a coach, could've been headed anywhere, he kept train logs, not coach logs. Come to think of it, the ticket master had only seen him leave the town a handful of times his whole entire life. Miss Evans thanked him and set off to the home of Mrs. Delila Phillips, wife of the disappeared."

"Mrs. Phillips would not invite her in. Evidently, she spoke through a crack in the door, her mouth set into a hard line when Miss Evans, sobbing quietly into her handkerchief, told her what she had seen.”

“'So, he jumped?'”

“'No, no, Mrs. Phillips. He floated away. Straight up. I swear it. I don't understand... It was the strangest thing...' The woman on the other side of the wood was quiet for a very long time.”

“'Then he's gone.' And she shut the door. It took some time before Miss Evans recovered herself, and set about politely knocking upon the door, three times every minute or so, until it cracked open once more.”

“'What?'”

“‘W-well. Would you care for his personal effects?' The sigh Mrs. Phillips uttered was one of defeat, bone tired defeat.”

“'No.'”

“Miss Evans stuck her shoe into the door with haste. 'Very well, very well, but please direct me to a one Mr. Conner.' Now the door came open about a foot to expose Mrs. Phillips wide eyes. Miss Evans cannot say what set her so a fright. 'There was a message...'”

“'Oh. Yes. Well. Of course. They were business partners. He captured reference from the wilds for some of Edgar's pieces.' She sighed, pinched her brow. 'I doubt he'll see you. He is always in the wilds. Leave Edgar's belongings with his sister at the Green Creek ranch.' And that, was that."

"Miss Evans traveled to the ranch and spoke to the kind, no nonsense woman running the house there. She grew more pale by the minute as Miss Evans spoke, until she drew out a chair, sat and buried her face in her hands.”

“'So, he's... Gone?'”

“'Well I just don't know Mrs. Phillips-John, I just don't know... It was... The strangest thing.'”

“Miss Evans was sent out though the back along a forested path until she arrived at a quaint stone cottage, with plastered interior, set into a little hillside. There she lay the case upon the table, as she had been instructed. She was almost out the door again before turning. Or rather, shifting back, inch by inch until she had come around again and found herself before the table. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she popped open the case and retrieved the strange painting once more. She flipped her hand to examine the inscription one final time, and when she left, she closed the door softly behind her."

"My Pat, it wasn't anything you've done, or haven't done. You are so good. I felt myself floating up off this Earth I do not understand. I heard the mountain calling me. Do not follow."

[a-certainwrongness]

A Cabin In The Woods Chapter III

It was late in the evening when my eyes cracked open, having heard the floorboards groan over me. I listened to the sound pause as the man above hung his beloved bear on its peg, resume while he shifted around stashing goods from his supply run.

I had nearly drifted back into my half-sleep when he pulled the oak bar and opened the heavy door before me. I pressed myself up and swung my legs over the bed to greet him upright. But his brow was in shadow and he did not speak a word to me while he pulled off his heavy cloak and traveling clothes, folding and storing them as meticulously as ever.

I too held my silence. Finally, he drew out of his discarded cloak a package made of two books and several sheaves of folded paper tied with fine twine. He appeared in every manner but his shape a sullen young boy as he extended it to me. I lifted my hand to accept it, brows knit together, trying to catch his eye. He wouldn't meet mine, appearing to simply ready the room for bed.

(fair warning for content ahead, this is a cnc erotica)

He startled me when he finally spoke. "You get your dinner ate?" I gave a little nod I couldn't be sure he would catch, still pre-occupied with anything but me.

"Good. Get ready for bed." He picked up the chamber pot in the corner and went out to empty it. I obediently removed the fancy, embroidered sky blue cowboy shirt and new jeans he had laid out for me that morning. When he returned I was standing before the bed, hands cupping my elbows. I ducked my head, lips still sealed.

This certainly wasn't his usual manner. It wasn't every night that he found his satisfaction touching and teasing me, but this particular lack of conversation between us was setting me on edge. The realization that I had grown used to his attentions fell into my lap as a snarled tangle of emotions. I scratched a bit at my bicep with one index.

He finally made his way over to me. In yet another uncharacteristically somber display, he brought both hands to rest on my shoulders, then bored his eyes into mine. And still, he said nothing. I felt madness coming on, saved only when he at last let loose a sigh. He brought his right hand up to cup my head, stroking my cheek and silken hair for a few heartbeats. I turned to graze his inner wrist with my lips in gratitude for finally allowing the tension to crest.

"What did you bring me?" I mumbled. I had let the package lie intact in its twine on the desk.

I followed his pressure cue upon my shoulder and turned to crawl into our bed. Out went the candle he had brought down with him. He threw one arm over me, nuzzling his huge head into the crook of my neck. His deep inhale stirred against my skin.

"Strange tales, and those informational booklets them corner boys are always trying to pass out." He started to suckle along the soft spot underneath my jaw.

"O-oh. Thank you..." I tilted my chin away to allow him better access, and received only a bit of frustration when, instead of continuing he seemed to be burrowing his forehead against me. His breath had changed, too long, too measured.

"What's the matter...?" I ventured. The answer? A sharp huff.

"It is not your concern."

His beard scraped over my chest as he unhinged his jaw to press his teeth into me, down, down, just brushing up along the edge of pain. Then, a flattened tongue to rasp over the hardly aching indentations he left. That semed to satisfy him for the night. I knew he would soon be lost to me for all the span of the darkness settled around us if his head met the pillow, arm even now turning to lead atop my chest.

“If I’m here, you may as well talk to me.” I surprised myself a bit there, but the effort was of no use. Even before he began I sensed a diversion, but I felt already there was no point in pressing him.

“Where did you come from?”

I blinked. “Where was I born?”

“Yes, begin there, tell it all to me.”

This to halt my serious inquiry, of all things? I exhaled sharply and brought my hand to his, dragged it over my chest into a good position for fiddling.

“There ain’t much. I suppose I was born just over yonder that plateau you’ve got this cabin backed up against.”

Soft kisses pattered down my shoulder. “Continue.”

“Lord. Well… The man who raised me happened to be the one who spotted my parents under the remains of their wagon and the family horse at the bottom of a gulch. He wasn’t unkind but I suppose many woulda told you he was an off-putting man. Maybe someone else woulda took me to the church but he ain’t one to do that, see he’d met my parents, knew where our little house was.” I hadn’t thought of that old clearing in years.

“So he probably thought since he’s seen a kid with them folk, knows I’ll starve to death in that house or get myself kilt in them woods, I’m his responsibility. Seems like to me anyway. Hard sayin, he almost never talked. Gave me a little moral instruction, I suppose.”

Now I turned to “look” at him, but there was no moon to provide feedback.

“You’re wrong about me not knowing about hunting, anyway. He taught me all his trade, he was a crazy old trapper, y’know, hence the name.”

“The name?”

Damn it, I had walked into that like a fool upon a cub in spring.

“What’s your name, my precious thing?” He sent a caress along my neck and shoulder. I felt my long sigh was multitudinously earned.

“Name’s… Lillian. Trapper. Now give yours too.”

Through the flesh of my shoulder, I felt him smile. “Hans Braun.”

“Ha! Brawn? Hilarious. And- You’re German?”

“And you’re French?”

“I… Am?”

“I’ve met not a few fine French lads named Lillian.”

“…Flatterer. So- Spill. What were you doing in France?”

“Mmm, my peasant family wandered there from our home country when I was a scrawny half starved young man. Somehow… I lost track of them. Loss, always so nonsensical, non?”

“Ah. Well put. I’m… Sorry.”

“Aah, if anything, should I not apologize to you, mon amour? I’m sorry for the way I’ve had to treat you.”

“‘Sorry’ and ‘had to’ don’t go together, Hans. But never mind, how did you get here? It must have been a long time off, you hardly have an accent.”

“I worked as a stable boy, eventually for a very rich man. He sold some fine stock to some of his business partners here, in the South, and I accompanied the animals for their exchange. I had no good reason to get back on an awful, stinking, forsaken ship when I was done. The mountains will do a man a sight better.”

“I’ll have to agree. I could never leave sight of them.”

“You say Trapper wasn’t much for conversation, who taught you to read?”

“Must you root around in every painful well of the past?” I tsked. “Seems like all my folks got a nasty habit of disappearing one day. He probably fell in a gulch too. Better watch out, you’re probably next, and I’ll really starve this time, locked in here.” I gasped a little when his hand cinched down on my arm.

“Don’t.”

“Alright! Alright.” I took a moment to catch my breath. “So I- So I walked down the hills to town, lucky I was still young enough for the school teacher to take me in for a few years. Ever since she didn’t wanna feed me no more I worked for the tailor. Ok, you go. You can certainly read.”

“Luck, entirely. Maid took a fancy to me, a fine lady had taken fancy to her mother. Taught myself up from there.”

“Impressive…” I had to admit.

A kiss landed on my temple. “Survival.” His breath billowed over me with the gush of his sigh. “Thank you… And… I regret that I am too tired to continue when you’ve finally decided to speak with me. Alas.” Rough pad of one thumb located my lips with a swipe. He landed a final peck on the corner of my mouth.

And just like that I was unable to escape, thoroughly in my place under his solidly unconscious mass. My mind didn’t give in so easily. I turned over every little piece of information again and again, looking for anything. Anything, to… To convince him to let me go? Or maybe even… To convince myself of something? No.

Sleep.

A definite chill hung over the forest in powder blue tinged with lilac just-dawn. Instead of dressing me as usual, he wrapped me in his half cloak, which came down to my calves. Woolen knit socks from the chest for my feet. He pulled on his long john bottoms and his pants. I followed him up the stairs and stood over his shoulder to watch him strike his kitchen flint into fresh kindling.

Fire leapt up eagerly over the little pile. It startled me just enough that a twinge of embarrassment seared along my cheeks. I suddenly felt I was taking up an engorged amount of space, in this room I now hardly saw, wrapped in his oversized clothing.

He spent an almost lavish amount of time preparing our fried greens and scrambling a huge mass of eggs. When the table was set, he grated cheese over the steaming mass on the plate. But I hardly had an appetite. There was something strange in the atmosphere, an itch that just wouldn’t go away. No matter how I picked at it, I could neither soothe nor ease the problem. I finished half my plate, and it took a moment to realize my mouth was silently wagging, starting to say and stopping, as I pushed bits of egg around the ceramic.

An idea suddenly solidified with all the weight of a boulder falling onto my head.

“Have you grown weary of your game with me? Are you nervous about the townsfolk…?” I asked.

He looked up with such sharpness I flinched.

“Why do you say that?”

This took me slightly aback. “Well… I… You didn’t touch me…” During or before our lovely conversation last night… Coming back in such a huff, no less.

Entire thunderheads seemed to lift from his brow. Then, the piercing gleam of his most wicked grin. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

My heart leapt into the back of my throat, a slimy, wet, thrashing frog. “Uh, um- No. Well I, um. That’s not. You know I meant- well…” What was I trying to say? Did it matter, now that I had stumbled into this hole?

I sucked in a deep breath and slid my plate across to him, then I drew the cloak around my shoulders and stood. He hadn’t wanted to tell me last night, and this attempt was already veering even further off track. “I’m sorry. I won’t needle you.” I left it at that and shuffled over to let the fire warm me.

A hand came to my right shoulder, and then another to my cheek. His fingers grazed the underside of my jaw as they floated, landing only to press their very ends into my bone. I tilted my head as directed. His strong mouth, the hard little points of his teeth, briefly, as he worked up my neck for a quiet moment filled only with the sound of breath and body.

His lips brushed my ear while he spoke. “No, I’ve not grown weary of you. Far be I from it.”

He drew himself to his full height, his left coming to squeeze my shoulder, once. I turned said shoulder to the fire so that I may try and get a read on his expression. No need, he knelt before me, bring us to eye level, more or less. The teasing veneer still glittered, but a deeper heat burned in his eyes now. And that smile. Hands on my waist.

“Say, have you started to miss me when I’m gone, Lillian?”

This seemed to be just as effective as if he had reached down my throat and scooped out my guts with his own hand. Yet the new queasy, hollow pit within had my dancing heart hanging above it, jittering in thrall with fear and… Giddy anticipation.

He brushed one side of the cloak aside, and brought his lips to the flat center of my chest. He worked down, then up again, a bit to each side, something slightly the shape of a cross blazing over my skin with his soft pecking.

“What have you been up to on your own…? Hmm?” I felt rather than saw the smile pressed to my belly. “Were you expecting something when I returned home?”

Some last, hysteric corner of my mind screamed and screamed, pulling on my mental limbs, begging me to shove him away. But I had been expecting something, hadn’t I? And, oh god, how badly I wanted him to just stop teasing. Make it end. My head swam. I couldn’t reply with more than a little whine.

“Mmmmm, you’re so cute.”

A gasp flew up towards the roof when the wet warmth of his mouth closed over one nipple, lingered, agonizing, then abandoned it to provide the other with the same treatment. I couldn’t help but to bring my hands up for purchase in his thick hair, swearing I might actually go down at any moment.

“Tell me what you want.” His breath on my skin.

I shook my head, fast and stubborn, like a child. My traitorous arms cinched even more tightly, crushing his forehead to my chest. “I don’t know…”

“Oh? That’s a shame, for a moment there, I thought you might.” He steadied me at my hips and pulled himself out of my grasp. His eyes locked to mine. The effect of meeting them was precisely that of staring into a pool so clear its depth is deceptive, deadly.

He sighed. “In that case, there’s nothing I can do for you.” Alarm shot through me as he began to stand. I yanked him back. Confusion swirled into opaque desire, my head still spinning, spinning, what was I doing? When I tried to form a sentence inside, it broke in half, disintegrating in the whorl pool.

“M-mm. Please. Just... Just. More.”

His face lit up. A small, soft, single laugh bounced his chest. “More, he says. Alright. Come here.” He continued beaming as his gaze dropped. He slipped the loop of the strap that held the cloak closed before me. I shivered as the soft hair slithered down over my back. Goosebumps raced over my skin for a moment, but the delicious heat coming from the hearth kept their painful prickle at bay.

His hands encased my lightly clothed ass entirely, squeezing very nearly to the point of pain. My knees immediately filled with jelly. I uttered a broken cry and barely managed to keep supporting myself with my hands on his shoulders. Really, I was more draped on his right than keeping myself up. I looked down past my hair at the layers of muscle and skin covering his spine, his ribs. His voice came from underneath my arm.

“What would you like? My mouth again? My hands?”

“Your hands…?” It was the mumble of a drunk being questioned on the way home. Hands, surely they weren’t too dangerous. No matter, they went to work anyway. One invigorated its kneading, the other slowly slid into the front of my underwear.

“One more question, sweet. Have you really fucked yourself before?”

My air escaped in a rush of despair and I sagged further into his shoulder. “N-no. I uh, tried. Was ok.” I screwed my eyes shut tight against the blaze in my cheeks. I felt him kiss my side.

“Hh hm. You are green. You just get more fun all the time…” And he began to jack off my dick, arousal rapidly slickening his fingers. After some time spent at this task, he lengthened his caress, placing a careful extra dose of pressure where he passed over my greatest vulnerability. I knew I was babbling, something like oh god oh lord, my god, but there was nothing to be done for that with the focus it was taking to not keel off of him and into the fire.

“Mmmm. I know. I know. It’s ok, I’ve got you.” He shifted from my ass so that he could gain leverage on the dip of my waist, perhaps he felt me slipping. Soft hair, and bristling hair, his head leaned gently into me, ever so similar to the image of a Shepard carrying a lamb.

“Ready?”

Was I ready? For what-? “Aa haa aaa!” One finger worked its way into me. He was tall, broad, huge, of course even one felt impossibly large, surely I couldn’t take it, but I did, and the shock gripped at my tailbone. He let me writhe once he had reached its base, not even flinching when I drug my nails along him like a drowning rat trying to pull itself to shore. Finally he began to move, curling, stroking me, from the inside. It was starting to really sink in. But just as my desperate panting was leveling out, I felt a second intrusion, far more abrupt in its sensation due to the prior occupation.

“Mmph!” My pain was muffled and brief in the air. His hand pressed more tightly for a moment as he slid home.

“You’re doing so well. So beautiful.” It was a bit surreal to realize that he was rubbing my lower back.

Then both fingers began to thrust inside of me. My next utterance sounded more like I was gargling my own spit than being pleasured, but I couldn’t control it anymore. The stretch was almost too much to take, the sensation curling up my spine and driving out any other thought from my mind. And oh god, the ache of pain throbbed together with deep, sensual gratification until they were so intwined I couldn’t hope to disentangle them.

He continued to fuck me in this manner as a peculiar feeling pooled in my gut, which ground against his shoulder. It was far more severe than anything I had ever managed to summon up myself. It was deep and arching electricity, entirely under the control of his hand. Which became horrifically apparent as I felt him withdraw.

I let my displeasure show with a long whine. He gently allowed me to sink to my knees as well. I continued down, though, and found myself on my back on the rug. His huge hand was on my chest. Then I tasted myself in my mouth.

“Now, clean up.” He said, but made these directions extremely difficult to follow by shoving as far back as I could accept into my mouth. Perhaps, it’s a joke, I thought for a moment as the movement from before was continued. Indeed, he was teasing, again, and withdrew enough for me to desperately attempt to suck various fluids from his fingers. When he was satisfied with my work I lay untouched in a limp puddle on the floor, trying to recover some semblance of normal breath.

“Why… Why won’t you let me…?” I shook my head incredulously. He’d come to stand over me, my vision dancing with heat and firelight, all a blur. He bent down a bit.

“What’s that?” When I was silent he stooped even lower, then a knee came to each of my sides. A hand by each of my cheeks. “Did you want something?”

“Let me come.”

“Oh my, where did you learn such language.”

“…Please.”

He smiled down at me. “Will you take my cock?”

“No!” My mouth fell open with shock.

“Well, then. No.”

We stared one another down for a few beats. Eventually he brought a thumb to playfully graze my cheek, and rose. And then, to add further insult, he started to go about his business as if he had merely uttered a perfectly standard ultimatum.

I stubbornly stayed where I was, crossing and uncrossing my legs, unwilling to let him to have the satisfaction of seeing me touch myself.

He casually polished off my unfinished plate, cleaned the counters, sharpened a knife, prepared his gear for the day and set everything in its place.

When his face floated over me once more it was smiling peacefully.

“Alright now, do you want carried? Or will you walk?”

My nails dug into the rug and sudden fury bubbled in my chest. I sprang to my feet.

“You know, you have no right to treat me like this.”

I was surprised at the acid in my own tone. But it was more than deserved!

“You! Always talking down to me, and yet, pretending to care for me at the same time! But you’re the one who’s torturing me in the first place!” Hot tears stung at my eyes. My chest felt near to explosion. The rage I understood, but not everything else pushing out at my seams. It was my bodies agonizing response to the way he twisted the knife, saw my blood and whispered about intimacy, saw into my eyes and pulled out of them words, my unspeakable desire made form. He enjoyed it.

I whirled around to yank the cloak from the ground and hastily threw it over my shoulders, then stormed down the stairs and threw myself onto the bed. No tears came, and I was forced to suffice with deep, fuming breaths. In fact, I was beginning to calm down when the stairs creaked.

I heard him open the little stove and bank the fire for the day. When he spoke, it felt abrupt in the dense silence of the underground room.

“I will admit that I want something from you very, very badly. What’s more, I’m willing- I wish to perform for your benefit as well.” I was shaking my head under the cloak but he continued. “It is truth when I call you my prize, I thought it quite impossible to ever see one like you again, much less one I like so, very much. A little foolish, very lovely, literate young man.” His hand came to rest on my ankle, and I kicked him away despondently. “I apologize. You’re no fool, if a little wet behind the ears.”

“I’m twenty-two.” I snarled. He only laughed.

“Honestly, I don’t think it matters here, sweet, but for your record book, I’m much older. Anyway, I’d assumed you handle yourself well on the streets. But it’s my house you’re in now. And, I also assume it was alone you would retreat to your little room from the tailors every night.” My blood chilled at the accuracy of his shot, my door in the alleyway at dusk flashing in my mind.

He drew back the cloak from my head with the caution normally reserved for approaching feral animals. But his talk had hit me hard. I squeezed my eyes shut against one terrible night I had broken into tears after running my hands all along my own body, searching for some sense of intimate human comfort. Gently as a spring breeze, he lifted and began to stroke my hand.

“Sometimes I feel as though something saw our unhappy solitudes, and gave you to me. Of course I will care for you.”

He withdrew and I heard the door thud softly into its frame, the oak bar, the stairs again. The floor above me, the door.

Darkness had fallen again by the time he was back. He had forgotten to leave me with lunch, and my stomach twisted and growled at the odors that sank through the floorboards while he cooked.

Not to mention, the horrifying persistence of ache and wetness in my crotch. I had tried, in a rather pathetic attempt, to finish the job he had started, and received nothing more than an aching wrist and worse than half satisfactory finish. And the feeling had returned.

When he finally let me up for the meal I made a valiant effort not to move my hips, or wolf down my food like a starved mutt. He seemed a bit somber, but I sensed no great upset from him now. Although, he immediately sent me down while he closed up for the night with instructions to undress myself for bed.

Standing before the little stove by the desk, an odd thought began as a tickle in the back of my mind, and soon had my heart pounding in my ears. I slowly turned my right to the door, and sank to my knees on the rug he had added. I smoothed one shaking hand down it’s rather beautiful Persian pattern in an attempt to calm myself. The pause alone was worth it when he opened the door. I exhaled into the rug.

“I think that I would like for to fuck my thighs, again.” I mumbled. His belt and pants hit the floor before he spoke.

“Oh? And may I inquire over this sudden request?”

Still no tears, like earlier, but I was hiccuping a bit when I responded. “You’re right that this is my first- ok. I’ve never- I can’t stand this feeling.” He lowered himself to the rug behind me, running his palm down the back of my right thigh.

“Ah, yes. Desire.”

“It’s horrid.” I replied. At this he laughed a little.

He brought both palms to my ass and began to massage his way up my hips and lower back. Sliding around my rib cage, he encircled me and then brought one hand down to my cock again. Not yet free of his deer wrap but already approaching hardness, I felt his heat grind into my ass.

“Don’t say that. You know it’s not all-true.”

He coated his entire hand in my slick before his chest left my back. His cock was already slippery when he drove it between my thighs.

I jolted in my mistrust for him, but no pain came. He didn’t start slowly, no, mercilessly sawing away against my dick. It sent a trickle of fright down the back of my throat when I felt his fist ball into my hair. Even though he pulled, the angle was driving my chest into the floor, my whole body at the mercy of the force from his hips.

“Isn’t this what you were after?” I could easily envision his little smirk in the pause. “Even if you did try to deny it.” Here his rhythm grew agonizingly slow. It took everything in my power to try and not grind back against him already, and I failed. Shame twinged my heart with his appreciative moan. He released my head. Both hands gripped my hips tightly.

“Just say the words… More. Please.” Rough beard and soft lips met my shoulder blades. Warm and reassuring kisses he planted up my spine. Then his voice from behind me again. “I want to help you, help you feel good. Or don’t you want it?”

I could just about scream when he used his hold to push my ass higher and my cock away from the friction being provided by his. He of course pretended this was of no note to him, returning to his former brutal pace. My earlier plan was in shambles. I was aroused nearly to the point of agony, he was having his way, and the foolish goal of grinding on him at the last moment for release was clearly unattainable against his strength.

Yet I resolved to hold on a little longer.

“Please, please, your fingers, please.”

“Oh, now you’ve really grown bold. At last.”

I sobbed in exasperation, and he cooed above me, running his hand along the length of my back. Then it came down, lifting to dole out the lightest of touches to my ass. Rough knuckles trailed along my inner thigh.

“Are you trying to cheat me out of my game, hmm?” A jolt of that blinding sort of pleasure cleaved through me as his knuckles ground a circle on my cock. How I wished to grab onto his wrist, but I was left to curl my fists against the carpet. He flipped his hand to continue with the pads of his fingers.

“I think you’re a little scared a something still. But you want it bad. It’s alright now… Some things take a little getting used to.”

I bucked my hips as his fingers slid into me. The stretch was frightfully sudden and close to a burn and I yelped into the carpet. But almost immediately on its heels was a deep, throbbing pleasure that ached around his fingers. I beat my forehead lightly on the floor, thud thud thud.

“Is it ok?”

Funnily enough, it was his tone, one of genuine concern, that had my head swimming. “Y-yes.” I managed to respond. Even so, he seemed to take a long detour from fulfilling my request, still massaging reverently up and down my side with his free hand.

“You seem to enjoy my fingers filling you far more than you know what to do with that enjoyment.”

He gently curled, thrusting ever so slightly. My breathe was starting to get away from me, and I had to turn my left cheek to the floor so I could gulp in air that wasn’t carrying quite so much carpet dust. Oh, lord, there it was, I was getting close. I felt myself clench down, he squeezed me again and then to my agony, he was gone, buildup collapsing into the ether.

“Mmm, what a privileged view, indeed.” His hand still rested on my ass. He mused, “I think I’ll finish like this…”

I pressed myself up on shivering arms. “Fuck. Fuck.” I was acutely aware that I was nearly dripping on the floor, sure the fire in my limbs was reflected in the temperature of my skin.

“Come again?” He asked.

I threw a glance over my left before mustering all the force in my trembling form to place one hand on his thigh and rise up, and up, until I pressed into him and we were both kneeling. My right clutched his, and he dug his fingers into my chest when I brought him there, still slick, having moved that hand away from pumping himself. His cock slid against my ass. It was almost as if I could draw some of his great strength into me through the close contact of our skin. Enough strength to speak.

“I need to… You… Said you wish to care for me, well. Don’t hurt me. Please, take care of me. You’re withholding something. It’s cruel.”

His reply was immediate but mumbled. “I withhold nothing but your re-entry into a dreadful world, nothing you aren’t capable of getting yourself anyway, right?”

My head fell. “No, I can’t, and you know, you dog! God dammit. You feel good, and you know it but there’s no way-“

“I do know it.” I could hear his smile. “I think you’ll enjoy this too, you just take a little convincing. That’s ok. I can understand a little reluctance, and I’m tolerant, in fact I think you’re very cute just like this.”

His left took over the task of teasing, tracing along my hip bone, my thigh, slipping around and cupping me in the palm of his hand. A moan of true misery rose up past my sternum. I leaned forward and he was the only thing that prevented me from collapsing back down painfully. In fact, he cradled me in one arm even as I continued to sink. I gazed down at his hand now beneath us, supporting our melded form. My crotch ached with emptiness.

“Ok.” I felt close to shattering, and he was the only thing holding my body together.

“Hmm?”

“Fuck me.”

“Oh. I thought that’s what I’d been doing…”

But of course he wouldn’t be letting me off easily.

“You! Bastard.” Almost against my will a pathetic whimper rose from my lips, I tried to grind back against him and he pulled away with a little tsk. But a thrill ran up my spine when he thrusted along my ass. His simmering heat against me, the rocking of his hips, I felt I was melting into a delirious haze, but the aching twist inside hollowed me out so that I could scarcely draw breath.

“You seem a bit needy right now. You want more than my fingers? Tell me, sweet thing. You need filled, you need properly fucked? You know what I want. Say it.”

“Y-yes, please, please just… I’ll… Take it. Fuck me with your cock.”

His mood immediately shifted, chest humming in approval. Large hands ever so tender when they lowered me. The hot head of his cock slipped back in between my thighs, and he focused on grinding it in circles on mine. I had sunk far too deep into the sea of sensations to startle when he lifted my head by my hair once again.

“Here, up a little, brace yourself, there, that’s it.”

I lamely realized it was far easier to breathe when not melting completely into the floor, but I’d used up all my reserve energy on my last response.

“Alright, now. Relax, back here. Yes, that’s it. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you now, my handsome, precious boy.”

He rutted his length along the sloppy mess between my thighs, rubbing them, my ass, my back, even my neck. Every inch of my skin was zinging with sensation even though the treatment did indeed have an overall comforting effect.

“I won’t pull nothin fast on you neither, ok? Let’s take it real slow…” I felt the tip of his cock slide back along mine once more and come to rest, crushed against my entrance. It sank in ever so slightly due to the prior activity of his fingers, but before it could really hurt he slid back to my cock, and so began a rhythm like this. I silently admitted that this was nothing like I had feared. I could almost swear I was spinning, really, it felt incredible.

“What do you think, can you take the tip?”

I nodded slowly in response. A cry still slipped from my lips when he began to grind into me with real force, but he was still again shortly.

“Fuck, that’s a good boy. Tell me how it feels, I want to hear it.”

“Unfh, it’s- hh, new. You’re so big. Hh- hh it’s- its. A lot.”

“Something I hope you’ll come to appreciate in greater value over time… Haha… Mmm… You know, sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m the first to have you.” He thrusted forward ever so slightly, I realized he was deep enough to really pay attention to, and then he backed out to massage my cock against his head once more.

“Hard to believe I have the privilege of burying myself in your guts at all. Not that it didn’t take work. But.” He sank back into me, likely an inch or so further than before. “Fuck, it was worth it. You feel like heaven.”

I moaned shamelessly at his showering praise, panting, the sweat shimmering on my cheeks and back. The stretch was all consuming now. A tremble in my thighs had reached my guts, my body wracked with its own knowing. He could split me open on him in one movement, crack me down through my foundation with a casual thrust of his hips. And he was sinking deeper now, but with merciful care, inch by agonizing inch. He paused, I felt his fingertips graze my shoulder, then they met my skull, scraping my sweaty hair behind my ears, one side and then the other.

He seemed to be letting me adjust. Some of the fog was burning out of my brain and I was suddenly very aware of him, huge and hot and beating his way inside of me.

“-I can’t take any more!” It flew from my lips before I had even tasted the words upon my tongue. My heart wrenched with my own foolishness.

He didn’t immediately respond, shifted his right palm back to the floor and snaked the other arm around my chest again, sinking in a bit farther as some of his torso came flush with my back. I made a little sound. Distress muffled by gritted teeth. Then, little kisses, right on the soft flesh where my jaw and ear met.

“Don’t get scared. I think you can.”

“Oh fuck. How would you know. Hhgh, shit.”

“We’re almost there. And I can feel how wet you are. In fact,” in his little hmph I heard the curl of his lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this soaked over my cock before. Not to mention the way you’re panting. And you know, I’ve never had someone press their back into me like this either…”

His fingertips crushed against me, and he buried the rest of his thick shaft as far as it would go. My cry echoed off the walls of the little room. I was rigid, waiting for pain of new heights, but instead there was only that ache, that ache, tenfold! As soon as this realization brought relaxation sensation slithered along my spine, down, hot and liquid to turn my knees to jelly, tingling into my numb fingers. One of his rich, deep moans enveloped me, sending my feet out dangling over the infinite sky of ecstasy when he ground into me, balls smashed, rolling against my cock.

What fell from my jaws was nearly gibberish, it rather reminded me of the coyotes cackling in the night. But I didn’t have to speak any longer, he continued to mutter in my ear.

“There we are, haah yes, you’re fucking priceless my prize, you’re just what I yearned for. You look perfect all fucked out like this, flushed pretty pink for me with your eyes rolled back.” Teeth met my skin, and still no pain, he gently mouthed me as though he could just merrily chew along my neck for all his nourishment. When he had finally had his fill he readjusted a bit, brought both hands to hold me up by my chest, and ground his thick base into me again as he leaned back.

He drew back about halfway for his first drawn out thrust. That sheer white blanket able to so wonderfully drive off every coherent thought sailed across my mind as he split me back over him. It was the beginning of a rhythm slow enough to drive to madness that was at the same time very much all I could handle.

“I liked you when I very first saw you.” He said a little abruptly. I rather felt he was talking for his own benefit, but tried to make sense of his words as he went on all the same. “I was watching the store, needed supplies but didn’t wanna spook that damn kid and stir up trouble. And then you solved my little problem for me.” He relished grinding into me fully sheathed for a moment.

“You’re a right sight too for sure, but you were so damn kind. Even gave him advice. But I couldn’t believe my luck just yet. Even if I was getting lonely up here, not just any old boy is worth… Well, all that planning. The risk.” He was quiet and even still for a bit here, but began to lazily fuck into me again. “Fuuck, yes, mmm. Well, I needed to get a closer look. -Can you believe I used to spend nearly every cent of my wages in brothels? Sun up and sun down, shoveling shit, cleaning hooves, all I wanted at night was something to hold onto. But just something isn’t always going to be… Right. It wasn’t long before I was slipping away from the other house lads out prowling the streets. I think I told you about the maid? Where I went, see, these were rather, word of mouth establishments. I couldn’t have the other men in my life gossiping about both where I was going and the fact that I had eventually rejected her advances. If you take my meaning.” His hands tightened their grip as he began to quicken his pace. I was whimpering.

“Right, I’m sorry, I should make it simple, you’ve got more than one concern at the moment. I spent enough damn money, I should know what I was looking for from a distance, even after all the years. But fuck, what were my damn chances out here? I never thought I’d come across someone like you again, much less a quick, lovely little piece of work I could more’n stand to be around. I figured that I might make the effort just for your company, but I knew when I got close, and then I seen your eyes blown out like that. You weren’t just scared either. I knew you’d make for perfect game, a perfect toy for me. And that you’d drool for it too. I was right.”

He started slamming his hips into me. He buried himself deep again and again, balls slapping my dick and and making lewd sounds bounce off the walls. I was starting to weaken, limbs almost unable to successfully aid him in keeping me off the floor when he brought two fingers to jack me off in time with him.

“So I’ll never tire of you coming undone on my cock.”

One penultimate wail leaped from the crest of the wave that overtook me. Stars danced over my vision, I felt utterly untethered, falling like a missed step. Once the rush subsided, I could feel myself milking his cock, it was very much not up to my control. He continued to thrust with calm little strokes while these spasms coursed through me. And then, he buried himself, his own mewls of pleasure becoming a deep, loud groan of satisfaction while he twitched, pouring ropes of hot cum inside me.

He caught me, lowered me to my side on the rug. I felt the cum spill out over my thighs but couldn’t pay it a mind, gulping down air. My eyes were closed, every single muscle spent. Underneath the receding wave a bit of queasiness tickled at me, but the headline of: DEAR GOD, FINALLY! was plastered as the main feature in my minds forum. A few after shocks twinged through my nerves. Other than they, the horrible beast of want that so persisted earlier had at last been slated.

One of his handkerchiefs met my inner thigh. He quickly gathered the bulk of the mess he had made in its cloth and I could then hear him tinkering about in the alcove, some water trickling into a dish. He crossed the room and the porcelain clinked gently atop the stove. Finally that odd crushed-velvet sound of him kneeling before me. I cracked open my eyes.

His was one of the softest expressions I had ever run across. He ran a fresh handkerchief dipped in cool water over my glowing cheeks. I opened my eyes all the way to peer at him with deep focus. He wiped the sweat from my brow, some spittle from my chin, more sweat from my neck. Neatly, he folded the cloth up and encased it within his hands, rested them on his knees.

“How are you?” In asking, he tilted his head to peer at me like a young child. It affected innocence, curled into irony when he extended his hand to nearly envelop my thigh. Yet he was gentle as a feather, drifting up to coast along the ridge of my hip and along my waist, touching down, skidding along my arm. His plea bled through somehow in the exact pressure he applied, squeezing, once.

An emotion came over me so thickly my throat tried to seal shut, this only served to drive it into the bone of my ribs, threatening to splinter me outwards. I did not really direct my hand, nor did I restrain it when it reached out to him. He left the cloth on his thigh to take it. My eyes shot to his, wild, blown out.

“Kiss me?” My mouth shaped the request without asking my approval.

He didn’t seem moved by this proposal, and leaned down expression unchanging. He deeply kissed me anyway, my top lip once, my bottom lip once. He moved the hand on my arm to my face.

“Really. Are you ok?” Concern touched his eyes.

I swallowed. Was I ok? All that came to me was an image of myself, kneeling naked in a strange grey room, sifting through papers scattered all about me. My body felt… There was no troublesome pain, that was good. “I’m… It doesn’t hurt…” Yes, no pain, and still I could almost feel the air stinging my insides, a fresh steaming corpse. I looked down for reassurance. Of course I was whole after all. So this is what people did together, huh? A late trill danced up my back. It wasn’t an experience I could forget, of course, I knew. Even if I ran down the mountain right now, he may haunt me until the day I could strangle the thirst for the pleasure he had shown me, or find another to drive him from my mind. But… I didn’t need to find another.

Borrowing the aid of the floor and his grip on my hand, I peeled myself up ever so slightly. Unabashed, every ounce of my desperation I had I poured into the gaze brought to bore into his. I snaked a hand around his waist.

“Hold me, please.” And when he acquiesced, pulled me up to him, “Tighter, please, meld me back together. Just for a moment, oh please, please.” This demand stalled him, but he met it momentarily. “Ok.” I wheezed as he cinched down around me. He released the pressure, still held me to his chest. I sighed, nearly moaned my relief into the thick, musky hair of his chest. I was saved, something really had slotted back into place. I laughed a little. “I can’t believe you talked me into that- I can’t believe I enjoyed it.” The latter half was really a mumble.

When I looked back into his eyes, he brought a hand up to smooth my hair. I couldn’t read the neutral expression he was holding. A spark suddenly flared within me, brief, but enough. I shot out, curled my fist into the hair at the back of his neck for a change.

“Why did you have to grab me up like that? Why couldn’t you just be a gentleman! Why couldn’t you just have asked? Now I’ve got this fucking grudge going, it’s fucking me up.” I jostled his head, once. He was being nice, holding still. Even when I lunged my head forward, opened my mouth around his neck. I starting to sink my teeth in, but couldn’t force them any further when his breath hitched ever so slightly. I leaned back again. “This could’ve been really nice.” Tears were starting to well up. There was nothing left but to collapse back into his chest and let the sniffles consume me.

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “No. No. What do I do now?”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “You won’t be leaving.”

“Maybe it’s more, what do I think, now? What do I feel now?”

“I see.”

My tears ceased, a great desolate plain stretching out before me. An immaterial plane that tore like cobweb, revealing the screaming chasm of want it fluttered over. His utter solidity rose up out of the darkness, yanking me back to the heat and heft of his flesh. I sat up to kiss his Adam’s apple. My voice had grown raspy. “It’s horrible, what you’ve done. It’s a great evil. Even if you opened the door, could I go now? Where will I ever find something like this- or even the courage to pursue it- in a lifetime of searching? And you set out to ruin me, from the very start.” It was quiet while he considered.

At last he said, “This is quite rich, coming from me, and I am asking much from you in this, but please understand that I weighed the burden of this guilt. And what I could not bear in the end was the thought of not ever knowing what had become of you. Here…”

“My body may be safe, but how can you place a price on my mind?”

“I shouldn’t, I cannot, but what’s been done, been done. Let me carry the weight of the sin. Bite me hard, if that would place your pain in my flesh.”

Great exasperation escaped me in a rush. I freed myself and let my heavy limbs drag me back to the floor. “I’m tired.”

He stood to rinse his cloth in the warming water on the stove, returned and began to bathe the rest of my body. It was delightful bliss. He had me stand and seat myself back down on the bed, ever so thorough. The warmth released the last of the tensions I held. When he was finished, I was just about as content as a kitten sleeping in the sun.

I watched lazily as he briefly wiped himself down. My heart stirred watching him scrub the trail of fur on his stomach, and I guilty narrowed my eyes to run them over the landscape of his soft cock.

My dreams were of velvet and drool.

He urged me back to sleep when he left the bed in that mornings darkness. When I came up again, he was rubbing my shoulder, folding the blankets back step by step to keep the cool air from flooding over me. Still very groggy, I picked a bit of crust out from my eyes.

“Don’t get up just yet, are you sore? I’ll give you a rub down.” My mind didn’t pick up on what he was saying before his hands began to demonstrate, and fuck I was sore. He started with my back and went all the way to my toes, providing just enough strength from his hands to have me moaning into the pillow. He fetched the breakfast tray from the desk, situated me upright, made sure I could balance it on my lap.

His eye contact pierced into me as he placed a large steaming mug on the night table beneath the alcove. “Drink up, alright? I know it tastes awful, but just a few, in the coming mornings. I learned it from a medicine woman. I would never forgive myself if you were with child.” My eyebrows flew up, but I did my best to quickly cool my expression. Right. My schoolteacher guardian had tried to explain something like this to me. She had been very nervous.

“Thank you. Really. I wouldn’t have thought.” He only nodded solemnly in response, then stood and began to order the room, eyes avoiding my eyes.

“I am remiss to leave you, but there is… Business in the forest. Rest well.” I was still blinking and trying to take this in when he was already sliding the bolt over the door. I had honestly started to forget how strange he was being as of late. Though who would blame me for my distraction?

When my first meal was finished, I peeled myself from the bed and discarded my tray on the desk. Standing in the last of the heat coming off the stove, I fooled with a few experimental stretches. The massage had helped, but funny little aches still danced around my body. I felt strangely delicate, like a small boat composed of bark and leaves sailing down a little ditch.

Most of the day faded by in a blur while I sat in front of the stove, absently chewing on jerky and dried apples, sipping at the water canteen. Finally finding some curiosity in the fading light of the day, I had stood and begun to scan one of the pamphlets he had procured.

It proclaimed: CURE TO CABINET INTRUDERS

VERMIN INVADING, making off with your HARD EARNED cabinet stock?

GENERAL STORES RECOMMEND

Purchase of the following:

1 Canned Item of Your Choice

1 Sealed Tin of Excellent Smooth Peanut Butter

1 Small Roll of Twine

Directions for assembly:

Locate a Bucket and fill 1/4 with water. Assure it is without leakage.

Tie a tight length of twine and secure it across Bucket.

I paused my reading when shuffling outside began to tickle my ear, sheaves of paper quickly slipped back into the book case. Yes, footsteps. And heavy breathing, and something soft I couldn’t place. Someone was struggling with the door, and it cracked thunderously into the wall when it came open. The floor above me protested loudly, dust even trickling out between a few of the planks. It was taking a swaying path to the stairs, I heard scraping.

My body had flattened itself against the bookshelf, and I was frozen solid there as the heavy door swung open. A monster! A huge mass of limbs and height, with the head of- A bear. They stepped into the room.

The mountain man had someone a little larger than I flung over his shoulder, someone who was still squirming and thrashing, all limbs bound. A crate came crashing to the ground, and he unceremoniously rolled them onto it, really he let them drop from a height of few feet. They howled in pain when they landed, spine immediately curled, head between their knees. A sack billowed around their face from heavy breath.

His boots and shirt marked him as a cowboy. Not a wealthy one, the boots underneath the ropes binding his legs were rather scuffed, jeans worn. He had lost his hat. Strong, bulky shoulders strained against the fabric of his shirt, still he was near to my height and nowhere close to Hans’ tremendous build. Who, speaking of, reached forward to yank the sack away, wrenching the newcomers head to the side in the process. Long, shaggy black hair fell back over his face. He shook his head, then peered up at me, brow furrowed with a squint. I couldn’t contain the evident shock on display when a gasp ushered forth from me.

Even in the fading light, when Hans tilted his head the inclination was magnified by the bear. His stillness after the rush of movement flipped my stomach. I flinched when he started an exhale that lasted for five of the cowboy’s sharp pants.

“So, do tell, after all, you seem to know.” Frost blanketed the mountain man’s words. Even from utter darkness, I felt his gaze lock onto me.

“Now just who is this?”

[a-certainwrongness]

A Cabin In The Woods Chapter II

Without candlelight or a fire in the hearth, the cabin was very dark. Grim relief came with the realization that nothing smelled of rot. In fact, it was mostly dried herbs and dust. With me still thrown over his shoulder, the mountain man strode forward and took a sharp turn to sidle down a very steep staircase that came very near to my head. Another abrupt turn. We passed through a heavy doorway.

(tw ahead, read at your own peril! all strictly fantasy)

(tw dubcon/noncon, gaslighting? knives)

He set me down atop a beautiful kaleidoscopic spiral patterned quilt. A high barred window was letting in enough light to make most things out. I marveled at the wooden supports far enough over us that he did not have to stoop. Carefully whitewashed walls. A bookshelf, a desk, even a little stove.

The knife at his belt came out with a flash. “Shame about the length, but I wanted you trussed up right.”

He gestured a bit and I obediently rolled over. I shivered while he sawed at a single knot. After it was broken, the ropes fell away easily. Sitting up warily, I rubbed at my aching arms. He stood unnervingly near to me. My eyes fixed resolutely on the stones set into the packed dirt flooring.

I jolted upon feeling his hand meet my hair. He pulled my head forward and I was pinned, cheek pressed to the very top of one long thigh. In the dim room, the gleam along his blade stood out like a beacon. He seemed to be pondering it, tilting it from side to side to catch the light. I held utterly still as he slowly brought it just below my ear. It ran down my jawbone with a soft sound I might have been imagining. There was no breakage of the skin, just smooth, cold steel calling up a frightful prickle.

The tool finally reached the end of its path and spun into the air. He sheathed it with a snap, not inches from my nose.

“Behave, now.” Was all he said.

One by one he pulled out the remaining pins that held up some of my long, dark hair. Still trapped with one hand I could do nothing, as he ran his fingers through it for a moment. A shudder overcame me, but he seemed to take no notice.

Then I was released. He kneeled down while I clasped my hands together to keep from shaking. Despite their size, his hands were deft and precise undoing my work boots and neatly setting them to the side.

He rose and stepped back to retrieve a comb out of a large alcove. He gestured again, so I slowly pulled my legs onto the bed platform, turning my back to him. Nauseous butterflies exploded inside me. Gently as a falling feather, he combed the snarls out of my hair. His hand on my shoulder turned me to face him again.

He ran his knuckles over my cheek, staring at me like I were the first blessed calf of the season. Pain I couldn’t make sense of bloomed in my chest. Then his fingers fell to my shirt. My heart pounded madly, and I braced myself for the unknowable.

I possessed nothing a shirt couldn’t conceal, but that was now open to my waist. And deciphering the man’s original goals or personal opinions was currently beyond me.

I couldn’t keep my eyes down, and he was looking directly into them as soon as they lifted. I felt him soak in and savor the fear like it were the steam from a fresh meal.

“I’ll repeat myself… Perfect.” His grin was handsome and mischievous, still it curdled my blood.

“You knew?” I whimpered. Like that, my decency was gone.

He brushed the shirt off of my shoulders. In one movement he had also tugged it out of my belt and tossed it to the desk next to the door. Most everything he did was accomplished without breaking his gaze.

“I have seen your kind before… In Europe.” He tilted his head with a thoughtful little chuckle. “As I said. A prize.” Suddenly his brow darkened.

“I must have you.” His arm encircled my head for a moment to pull my hair off of my neck. He withdrew, slowly took his huge head piece off, then placed it next to me on the bed. The space he occupied was somehow hardly diminished, and his mane spilled down his shoulders, maintaining a wild effect.

I froze but for the barest quiver when he bent to gently kiss my shoulder, and then the smooth skin underneath my jawline. One hand settled about my waist as he leaned back to gaze at my expression, mere inches between us.

“I hope you may come… To forgive my transgressions.” He continued.

Now I couldn’t contain my trembling.

“Only a fool would let such an opportunity on by. I’ll do all I can to keep you well.” Having nothing to respond with, I closed my eyes and exhaled shakily. My chest hitched, threatening to release a sob.

He rose and went to the chest at the bottom of what really was a rather large sleeping platform. Out of it came a lovely purple shirt just like the cowboys back in my old life wore to fancy dances. The man shook it out and helped direct my tired arms into it. From the same alcove came a pitcher and dish he placed on a side table. He found also a cloth he made damp.

With frightening tenderness, he wiped away the grime accumulated during our brief struggle. He buttoned the shirt together and replaced his convenient tools in the alcove. Terrifying hat in one arm, he beckoned me to the door.

“Come. Keep me company while I make our dinner.” He waited until I brushed past him and took my aching limbs up the steep staircase.

Shifting and glancing, I avoided a huge rocking chair by the hearth. As he hung the bear on a large bone hat peg next to the door I primly situated myself on a crate. My elbows rested on a round table. For a moment the cabin was brightly defined when he opened the door.

Then I was alone.

My mind and heart leapt into action. The counter to my right was lined with jars against the single stone wall of the cabin. Tools also hung on the wall, knives included. I inched towards the wall. First my foot shifted, then my hand slid to grip onto the tables edge.

Horrific thought immediately overcame me, and I was swept into a flood of what it would take to really best him. Glints of the weak light on the blade, on my nails, right before I would plunge into his muscle. Leaning forward, all my weight driving the blade. No, no, sidling my back up against the wall beside the doorway, then a mad lunge borne of desperation, meant to viciously bleed him dry. Could I do that?

But rising even slightly only made my terrible aching tiredness more apparent. I fell back onto the crate. There was a sick and heavy certainty in my bones. I knew I would simply be too slow.

The man returned with hands scrubbed red and glistening with water. He hauled a bucket over near the fire, then pulled his hair back with a deerskin strap. His vest and even his woolen sweater came off to hang by the door. A strange mixture of curiosity and fear provoked me to study the rippling musculature in his back when he turned and began preparing ingredients.

“So.” I was startled out of my peeping. Whack whack whack of knife on board.

“Can you read?”

My eyes drifted up to the sloping ceiling of this floor. Down to what was evidently a two inch thick cross section of an ancient tree, now underneath my worrying fingers to serve as a table.

“Well enough.” He nodded and I was surprised he had understood the grumbled response.

“I’ll fetch any sort of tales you might desire. Or… Perhaps even these new informational booklets they’re passing out everywhere.” He glanced over an impressive shoulder at me. A bitter taste grew in my mouth.

“I take that to mean you’ll be leaving me trapped in your cave down there then, eh?” I glared at him.

He paused his chopping to set the knife aside with a sigh, then turned to face me.

“I’ll do what I must. You won’t make it back. Best make sure you don’t try.” He looked at me for a long time, and I met his strange dark eyes. He eventually turned back to his task, but neither of us uttered a word until the sky had started to loose its glow and our stew was well simmered over the fire. He ladled it into a massive bowl he slid onto the wood in front of me. Incredibly, he even produced a fluffy loaf of bread baked in the coals.

He situated himself across from me, clothed again in his sweater and vest. He ate at an utterly steady pace, as though this consumption were inevitable. Despite myself I greedily wolfed down what he presented to me even as my stomach turned over itself again and again. I could tell from the slight curl to his lip paired with a strange, wicked gleam in his eye how thoroughly he enjoyed watching me do the stuff of life. He sighed and caressed my head when he collected our bowls and left to scrub them off outside.

Fear tightened her grip on my heart as the cabin grew ever more illuminated with firelight alone. Night was rising up in a great heavy curtain I was too horrified to peak behind. With every passing moment my mind seemed to fray one thread more. I had refused to stir from the table, and was now watching him repair nets in the flickering light.

His head bent low over the weaving, back turned to me. Utterly silent I shot up, halting stock still. Nothing. I stepped carefully over the crate and rested my hand on the doors handle. To my relief such a well made, well fitted door could glide with hardly a sound.

Outside, the cool hands of nighttime darkness caressed my skin. I was across the little packed dirt yard in a flash.

But the woods immediately proved a problem. Looking behind me, I was able to see white rocky cliffs like the stone wall looming up out of the darkness. Some light from the cabin windows silhouetted leaves between us. But forward, the abyss. With one hand raised to guard my face from twigs and the other out to guide me, I advanced.

It wasn’t long before I had scraped my socked feet on several rocks and even stepped on a few sharp twigs. Finally I made the typical fumble over a root and came to my knees with a crash. A thump so slight I may have imagined it reached me on the ground and I grew as still as possible. Had it been? -don’t let it be the door. I almost swore I could feel the stars wheeling over head as the night drew out in a razor edged thread. The haunting call of a coyote caused me to writhe in the dirt, unable to repress a response to my tension. It was answered by a chorus of yips that in my state sounded like the cackling of the damned.

Then an eerie silence settled over the woods. Pure darkness. Blood pulsing in my ears rose up to deafen me. It came in time with my heart, which worked away against the painful cage of my ribs. I had to gasp for air.

Destruction of leaf litter and twigs in confident, rhythmic jolts.

I rolled to my knees and picked the opposite direction to crawl quietly as possible, for he had no lantern, but I somehow felt my heart had fallen from my chest. I’d already been heard. It was so fast, so close.

No amount of knowing would have suppressed the shriek that tore out of me when his hands clamped down onto my ankles, my own uselessly clawing at the ground as I slid backwards when he pulled. He roughly grabbed my collar and reached underneath me. My arms were pinned at my sides with but one of his. Then he had my legs. Even distant, the cabin light was easy for him to follow back.

He dumped me by the well and roughly scrubbed the grime from my hands. But when he gazed down at my pathetic, soiled socks he sighed. There was a moment of long quiet between us.

“Well-“ I hacked a bit to clear my throat. “At least I tried.”

Darkness cast from his brow as it slowly rose, and he stared for a second with somber eyes. But warm breath from his huff then blew across my chest.

“Mm… It’s… To be expected. You're a healthy young man.” Then he shook his head with a little laugh, but his gaze had dropped to his own hands.

When he guided me by my shoulder I sat on the bench by the door for him without resistance. He peeled away my useless footwear and gently set my feet into the bucket he had drawn. It was painfully chilled but I let the shock run through me. I even humbly kicked my feet to swirl the freezing water around.

His hand rested on my knee, eyes gazing deeply into mine for a long moment. The other hand came to cup my waist, then, to rake upwards, warming my rib cage. There was much temptation to lash out at his groin when he lifted me, but I found myself limp as I floated over dirt and landed on wooden plank flooring. Arms dangling at my sides, I watched him take off his own footing. Then he lit a candle, took my hand and led me back down the stairs.

In the lower room, he started a fire in the tiny iron stove next to the desk. With sweet leisure, he rubbed and warmed his palms before it.

When he shifted it was a sharp pivot and he was on his knees before me. Much more slowly, he undid my shirt. Then came my belt. He glanced into my eyes, hands still to hover at the singular button that stood between my undergarments and his intentions. With a soft sound, the little sliver of metal slipped out of its hold. He brought the fabric down around my legs and tugged at the backs of my knees so that I lifted each of my feet in turn.

I wrapped my hands around my elbows and shivered ever so slightly. A storm roiled in my chest, electric fear, the howling song of being desired, my sinking knowledge that I hadn’t been this vulnerable since I was a child. A painful chill crested over my skin.

Something flashed in his eyes so animalistic and full of greed that every drop of blood within me turned to ice. I felt my body try to hollow itself out, to cast away the burden of my torn conscious and just keep going on, an invulnerable shell. One of his huge hands raised, but it merely hovered over my waist. The other he used to make a sweeping gesture towards the bed.

Then he rose, meticulously stripping and folding his own clothing. My feet and sight line remained rooted to the floor. When he had finished he gently laid his hand on my shoulder. The longer I stood the heavier his hand grew. At last this did compel me to regain control of my limbs and edge forward.

I risked a glimpse backwards. His thick bulk rippled with muscle covered in a heavy, lucious coat of hair. Everything aside from a deer skin wrap had been shed. Underneath the supple leather, I saw the swell of him, soft yet still quite as large as I had feared. Trembling overcame me again.

I rounded on him in a whirl, stopping just as we reached the bed. He had allowed the turn and now his hand clamped down on my shoulder. My breathe came in pants and I brought my shaking fingers up to crush his wrist.

“Please, please don’t do this. I beg of you.” I broke into hiccuping sobs. “Please, let me be… Please…” In mad desperation I started to dig my nails into his soft flesh.

A sound came from low in his throat, and I could not tell where it landed between moan and growl. His other hand was on my cheek before I even noticed him lifting it, then it slid around the base of my skull. His fingers wove into my hair. Like that, he was now in complete control of my head. I froze, dropping my arms to my sides.

“What do you think I’m going to do to you?” He chuckled.

A smirk ghosted over his lips. His eyes gleamed while they peered into mine. His thumb swept down over my jaw, and his palm shifted to meet my throat, fingers curling around the back of my neck.

“Hmm? Tell me…” His expression flashed with a truly menacing grin which was slowly replaced with a somber weight in his eyes. “Alright, don’t like teasing?” He paused. “Will my assurance put you at ease?”

“I won’t break you.” Shivers ran over me like dew down window panes in the early morning.

Moving in much the same manner you would around a green colt, he leaned down. A tender kiss was placed on each of my cheeks, hand still fast on my throat. He pushed, ever so slightly. The backs of my knees met the bed and I sat to keep from keeling backwards. Finally I was freed, he crossed his arms over his bulging chest and took a step back to study me.

“You must be tired. Let’s rest.”

He leaned past me to sweep the bedding up, revealing a soft hide. Refusing to turn, I scooted backwards into the very corner, then brought my knees to my chest. I wrapped my arms around them for good measure.

But for him this wouldn’t do. The sigh that escaped him was stained like an old bandage, sadness, frustration. He came forward, one hand wrapped around the top of my shin, the other my bicep. He moved me like he was lifting a stubborn calf, wrenching me out of my curled position and sliding me easily across the hide.

My shins went under the blanket, and he lifted a trunk sized leg to trap my hips underneath it. The warmth of his soft inner thigh spread into my belly and I fought off a flush that rose along with a pang my crotch. His other hand pinned me roughly down.

His great head swung towards the side table, issuing forth an exhale. The candle sputtered for a half second before the contours of the room plunged into darkness.

I only half succeeded in stuffing a scream back down my throat and out came a strangled yelp instead.

“Shh…” He cupped my head, a thumb smoothed down my temple. My eyes ached to readjust and I squeezed them shut. Rushing blood rose from a pulse in my chest into pounding in my ears, and still it grew larger until the whole world seemed contained by my heart.

He dare enter even here, warm lips pressed against my neck, and I knew he felt my desperate rhythm through the layers of our delicate skin.

“It’s ok…” I felt his low mumble almost more than I could hear it.

His grasp on my arm loosened at last, but only for him to slide his own underneath me, drawing me to his chest. Though I wriggled, he merely continued to whisper soft platitudes every so often.

A wave of nauseous fatigue finally stilled my movements. Despite myself, one by one my muscles relaxed in the luscious heat wavering from his body. His chest rose and fell against my back, rolling against me like a gentle sea.

Slowly, my breaths deepened in time with his until I fell into a pure velvet darkness.

In fact, I would come to sleep a great deal of the time.

He rose with the first crack of dawn light, crossed the room and closed the great door behind him. Even with my groggy head barely lifted, I could hear him slide a sturdy oak bolt across it.

The next time it opened it would be for the breakfast tray he placed on the desk. This normally had some strange herbal mountain tea, eggs, salt cured ham, and perhaps some fried wild vegetables.

Then, I assumed from his movement upstairs, he gathered his hunting implements and vanished from the cabin with the first real light. I was glad for my chamber pot, for he usually did not return until high noon. If he sincerely planned to be gone for the day, I was left with a stash of dried meat and apples.

Sometimes I could read, but the churning in my heart and mind often had me simply sat on the bed, staring at the door. Or sleeping.

When he began our evening meal, he would bring me up too. I sat at the same round table, and would not be rewarded another post-supper opportunity as I had previously exploited.

My second night began directly after we ate that evening. He closed me within the lower room even as he cleaned our implements. When he returned, he had already removed his upper garments and gazed down at me with a curious expression.

“How are you feeling, tonight?”

My mouth fell open in pure bafflement.

“Terrible, thank you. I’m somewhere I would like to leave.” I had meant to come off as utterly sardonic, but couldn’t fully hammer out the warp in my voice. It had a rather pathetic effect.

“I know you say what you think you should. But…” He tilted his head. “Please, consider yourself. I bring you here to care for you. Consider what else… I can give to you.”

A traitorous heat rose between my legs, crawled up my spine and into my cheeks.

“M-myself!? I! I want out!” I threw out, then wrung my hands, desperately trying to disguise it when I clamped my thighs together.

“And I. Must. Have you. In my hands.” With that, he moved. One hand rested on my shoulder and he slowly stepped around me, our backs now to the bed. I felt his chest press up against the back of my head. His caress came up my neck, and he cupped my chin, then pulled. Back and back my head went, eyes forced up from the floor until they rolled past the roof and met his.

His other limb slithered underneath my armpit until his hand spread flat against my chest. My fist clenched in an aching knot. A helpless whimper fell from my lips. Pressure on my chest increased as he pawed at me, groping the flesh spread over my ribs underneath my thin shirt. The same blinding white light from before in the forest welled up in my mind and I gasped.

Stooping low, he pressed his bristly cheek against mine to mumble into my ear.

“You cannot deny, I alone would be able to show you things you have scarcely allowed yourself to dream of. I know what you are.”

Again his hand applied it’s great strength to me, crushing away my air. A curious sensation of ticklish, fevered heat seemed to radiate through my skin from his demanding caress. I couldn’t contain the broken moan that fell from my half parted lips.

“I already have you. What point still stands in your false modesty?”

I battled away the rising haze, rejecting the poison I felt flowing through those words into me.

“False…?” I managed to force out through my panting.

The terrifying sensations in my chest fell away, but his fingers splayed down my stomach, then began to plummet. Across the soft, innocent flesh there, even lower. I moved to intercept, encircling my hands around his wrist again. Whether my tugging made a difference, the hand mercifully ghosted over my pubic bone and landed just below the place where the inside of my thigh met the rest of me.

But such a small detail now seemed insignificant to my body, prickling with sensitivity. I couldn’t contain my writhing as his hand crushed the flesh of my leg again and again. A filthy, broken sound emanating from my throat must have vibrated against the palm still craning my head up at him. My eyes fluttered but I managed to catch the deep hunger written all across him.

“Mm… I do think… False.” His evil, ever so gentle smirk. I had almost forgotten we were speaking. He continued to knead me as he went on.

“As I’ve said, I know your kind. Your strength is dear to you, but you feel so, very, lonely.”

He kissed my upper lip, ever so softly. I heard the sound of our parting. “I invite you to let all that go.”

Our lips met again. He withdrew and stepped to my side. Putting that geometry to good use, he lowered my limp carcass to the bed and finally loosened his hands. The shock and heat roiling within me brought weakness to my limbs, I let them rest while he loomed over me.

“Why? You. Why?” I rasped.

Down he came, one hand crawled beneath me to press up on my shoulder blades. He slid me backwards from the edge of the cot, making room to kneel on the bed. First one knee quickly drew up between my legs, nudging them apart. The other was not far behind.

“I’m afraid only a fellow hunter could really understand.” It was a mellow-toned response that still oozed with a burnt singe of danger, and he sounded it off right next to me.

When he leaned back, the shadow cast off of his monolithic silhouette in the low light engulfed me. I caught a glimpse of my limbs lewdly spread around him and drew my hands to my face. I swore I could drown in the shame that followed whatever had coursed through me at this sight.

“Ohhh god, please.” My mouth moved under its own will. I felt closer than ever to understanding the gibbering of madness.

“Treasure, a rare beast, it all has a common thread. Possession at all costs.” Rough fabric of his pants meeting my own. Hot friction between us, his knee grinding between my legs in that most vulnerable of places. He drew my wrists into one hand, gently pulled them from my face.

A grunt of surprise issued forth from me, for he did not pin me in any way. He drew my knuckles up to the flesh and hair of his own stomach. Bewilderment and wonder had seized me instead. Taking leave of my senses entirely, I did not snatch myself back when he loosened his grip.

Somehow, I could only think of the softness of skin, my hands flipping to explore seemingly of their own volition. He draped himself down over me, spine curved, supported by his right forearm.

He’s so warm… It seemed slurred and overly large even in my mind. Musk flooded into my throat. So much life, sweat and blood and sunlight and man. But I couldn’t stop, suddenly gulping him down, drawing him in from all the air around me.

No longer could I gather my thinking into words. I craved something, deep in the pit of my stomach. Now it was I who brought myself across his landscape, clinging to his back, pulling away from his leg into a desperate one armed embrace. My other hand found purchase on his voluminous chest, some dim horror sparking with this reversal. At last, the tang of salt across my tongue, primal and satisfying. I suckled along the smooth curve of his shoulder.

He pressed a hand against my lower back to draw me up towards him. I felt his low moan of approval reverberate throughout both our bodies. He sounded so beautiful, tears pricked my eyes, even being so tightly shut. But when I had begun to travel down his arm, drew back for a breath, and opened those eyes, the icy hands of clarity and terror gripped my heart. I immediately loosened my grasp and fruitlessly attempted to wriggle back into the bed. He gazed down at me placidly, but his hand tightened on my waist.

“What is happening to me?” I whimpered.

For but a brief flash, a sneer appeared, quickly forgotten as he nuzzled into the crook of my neck. The course hair of his beard against my chest sent prickles all across my skin. Wet and hot, he sighed against me.

“Can’t you enjoy yourself?”

And at that his sizable tongue flattened and drew along me from the notch between my collarbones to the nape of my neck. His powerful mouth pressed to me, canines and pre molars making ever so slight an indentation.

I clung to his arm with the hand not trapped underneath him, suddenly so a fright I was with a terrible vision of being consumed. Keening welled up from deep within me. This got his attention, and he propped himself up over me once again.

He appeared to be deep in study for some time.

“I see. You haven’t done this, even though you’ve craved it, thirsted for it, every night.”

Despite the debasement, his hands operated with a gentlemanly politeness as they came to unbutton my shirt. My head still swam, struggling to metabolize his flowering speech. Truth and lies, growing in one garden.

“Ha! That’s… Not it.”

I leaned up on my elbows as he finished his task peeling my shirt back over my shoulders. He ran his hands along the fabric, knuckles grazing my nipples. I could only watch. His eyes smoldered with lust, gaze raking fire down on me.

“Hmmm…” It was a sound of consideration. He folded and set aside my shirt in silence. Once he had turned back, he tenderly drew the pads of two fingers down the middle of my chest. “I can respect certain sentiments. I only hope that you, too, understand my thoughts. My fear. A lifetime of remorse, having denied myself even a taste. In any case… I sense your need too.”

My heart was working furiously. Something seemed to hang in the balance here.

“But like this?” No. The open window in his eyes slammed shut.

“Like this.”

With a degree of roughness he hooked his fingers into my waistband and brought all of my lower garments to my knees. He swept my feet easily to one side and ground his clothed groin roughly down on the back of my exposed thighs.

I screeched with shock. This only caused him to increase the pressure of his hips, and my body started to fold off of the bed. I clung desperately, twisting blankets in my hands. Even through the barrier, I could feel him growing larger. And this new hardness he brought directly against me. Already I felt my arousal and knew the dampness was coloring his pants.

After what seemed an eternity of being immersed in the lapping waters of a fiery lake, he withdrew. My eyes I kept shut, pouring focus into drawing air into my lungs. Until I felt him shift. His mass left the bed. I shot up on one hip, clawing hair out of my face.

Just in time to take in the full measure of his glory as he rejoined me on the bed. A truly desperate sound came up from me indeed. In one gigantic hand his throbbing length glistened. His left returned to my chest and I was really pinned down this time, legs still to one side, tightly tangled in my jeans.

Now I dug my hands into his arm and really pushed, to absolutely no effect.

“No! No, no! Oh god, you're huge!” I tried to thrash, but my garments had my legs thoroughly secured and he was pushing me down hard enough that my chest began to ache. My glimpse at the head of his cock flooded my mind. I fought for enough air to scream.

“You'll kill me! Please! No! No!”

I felt his slick hand on my ass, twisting my spine. He shifted the other one too, heel of the hand now solid underneath my armpit. I craned my head over my shoulder and a wave of ecstatic fear pummeled me at the sight of him standing to attention.

It all gave out then, I started fully sobbing, buried my face into the fabric and braced for the worst. He brought me up his thighs. One hand draped over my knees to keep me oriented, the other slid to my hip.

His tsk barely registered to me. “Don’t worry.”

He pressed against me, and I felt his heat and throbbing pulse. My slick gathered on the head of his cock, and he dragged it up the tight seam of my thighs. Relief washed over me, quickly followed by a deep ache of pleasure from within that traveled down my legs with his motion.

If I had a mind left to care, the sound I made would have been mortifying. I felt him slip himself between my thighs, and begin to rock his hips softly.

“See? That’s alright, there now, isn’t it?”

I couldn’t bring myself to object over being cooed at like a damn horse.

Now he shifted, adjusted his hold and drove his cock down to grind into what I thought of as mine. I made another filthy sound and rolled to my back, hands upturned at my shoulders and chest exposed.

“There we are.” He pulled back to run his full length along me now. I tightened my thighs around his shaft, wiggling my ass pathetically against him.

“Mhm… That’s right.” The triumph was apparent. “Fuck…” His fingers dug into me with a brief, uncontrolled and painful grip. It was released into a caress before I could gasp. He continued, “You’re so good…”

I let him have full control over my hips and gave into the strange elation dancing in my limbs. Sometimes he pressed my legs down, refusing me the headiest friction and I tried to come back to myself, clear my head. Cease making sounds. Then he would tire of that pressure, or perhaps come down to gather up more of my wetness or grind his bulging sack against my hole.

When he quickened his pace I was refused even a graze against my soaking, throbbing little dick. My whole body bounced with his rhythm, sending shocks along my spine, but not that utter, deep pleasure of the moment before.

All at once he sank down, and I watched the head of his cock emerge from between my thighs, knees folded almost to my shoulder. It met my stomach, white cum spilling down over me, dripping to my ribs. His cock throbbed against my inner thighs and my pubic bone. Of course, this explosion was followed by a sound he uttered that almost sent me over the edge as well.

After one shaky exhale, airy laughter overcame me. Slowly, he leaned back and unfolded me.

I watched in a daze as he stood to fetch a handkerchief. So it was over.

He carefully wiped a truly impressive amount of cum from my stomach and my still aching crotch. Waves of exhaustion and unresolved arousal washed over me. But I couldn’t move my legs to rub my thighs together, or even lift a hand.

The man seemed deeply at peace. He cleaned me, freed my legs from the snarl of my pants and lifted me with great care. I felt the smooth fur of the hide against my exposed skin. He laid me on my side and was gone for a moment. Time shimmered around me with the heat of the fire and, I suppose, our activity.

When he returned he drew the blankets over us and enfolded me in his arms. It was an uncanny paradise I drifted within.

[a-certainwrongness]

A Cabin In The Woods Chapter I

The clothes weren’t nothing special. I mended them by the sputtering light of my work lamp. The owner took care of them to some extent. Holes I had sewn before, clean and not too worn out. That was exactly why I planned to take them. They would probably be somewhat missed, but he had after all dropped off two pairs of pants, and a few shirts. These would last a little while yet.

In the morning the clothes went on. Light blue, breathable fabric settled over my chest. It was shocking what a change they made, with the hair in a cap. I wouldn’t cut it, at least not yet, it could make a good disguise in a pinch anyway.

I lovingly packed a tight sewing kit with me, but left much of the thread and the patterns behind in the single room I would no longer occupy. The key I left upon the table. My case wasn’t heavy and the whole world seemed to be floating up for it. The rickety old door gave a final thunk behind me.

The shop I worked for was a lovely little stroll from my alleyway room. It even passed the general store, and the morning folk went about their business as usual. It were a nice town, and nice folks, and I didn’t mind the work.

For a long while I couldn’t see why I felt I ought to leave. I knew the boys from the ranches around our little back water outpost enjoyed a chat with me, my little curiosities and flatteries while my hands deftly worked. It wasn’t until after the very man who’s clothes I now wore began to also quietly leave his garments with me that I realized what I wanted.

He always looked at me in the eyes, and asked on my plans until I relented and told him I had none. But when he pulled the chair out for me at our hotel dinner, something came over me. The men at the bar cajoled loudly with one another while we made stilted remarks much unlike the usual banter he offered while I was working. The outdated and eccentric embroidered pantaloons I always wore suddenly seemed the height of foolishness and I wondered why I hadn’t perhaps borrowed some fine dress.

As we fell to silence the men at the bar crowded my mind and it suddenly struck me. I knew I could lean on that counter too, might even be less noticeable there. Even if it would mean this night was rather a collection of stolen touches and glances, no longer a table to ourselves in the corner. My companion had fallen into his own muddled silence, but I doubted he could bear to hear the conclusion I had come to. He’d probably known me till now to be some sort of glimmer of hope. Someone maybe a little strange, but finally “right”. Maybe he saw it in me still.

I left the cowboy’s parcel in the delivery box and boarded the next train.

(possibly triggering content within read at own risk)

(kidnapping tw)

It was in my favor that many of the ranches up in the mountains lacked man power. In the end, I only had to pay one week for boarding. My only real task was to loiter about the general store until someone willing to hire showed up.

After I had the lay of the land and an account with the teller at the railroad station I set up shop on the deck of the store with a newspaper and pack of cigarettes. I hadn’t smoked before and had not much tolerance for them, but they had already earned me a friend of the other young man looking for work there.

His skills lay in carpentry, and he even carried a well made axe with him which he sometimes polished on the steps. He was an equally well made lad with deep auburn hair, large calloused hands and broad shoulders. He woefully relayed to me his life being raised in logging camp after logging camp, an orphan who’s luck would seem to be that of being handed from man to man. He hated the smells of the fresh cut logs that sometimes passed by, making comments about working with clean cured wood.

“Well, my friend, do you care for the city or the hills more?”

He shrugged and I sighed a bit.

“If you can bear the city, and the danger, go work in a mill and start your life there. Otherwise, a wood carving hermit may suit, if you really can’t find a job at the lumber yard.” I said all while patting his arm, nodding. A light came up in his eyes and he gripped my wrist. I thought probably the boy had never been asked what he wanted before. By morning he was gone on the next lumber wagon. The day was long without anyone to listen to, I dared not talk too much or disturb the shopkeeper.

Evening seeped into the mountains, purple hues saturating the darkening rocks and trees. A cold breath was coming down the valley, just enough to cause a shiver. Little window lights were twinkling in and out, lulling me into an unfocused pre slumber. Soon the shop keeper would rouse me with his closing sounds and I would walk myself across the road to the hotel.

Instead the deck boards settling startled me, and I looked over abruptly. I was struck with such fear I could make no sound or movement. A huge creature was beside me. A massive snout and beady eyes bent down towards me.

It spoke.

“You’re awful kind to that boy earlier. But I’m glad you got rid of him.” It was articulate, but the rumbling baritone was raspy and unused.

I shook my head in mute amazement. The creature turned it’s face and I realized it was an already enormous mountain man only increased by wearing half a bear’s head atop his own. Glistening white teeth pointed down into shadows that occasionally revealed the last glimmering light caught in his eyes, but no shape or color of them.

“W-what?”

“Damn loggers a superstitious lot.” With that he stood and strode over the deck, which squealed underneath his bulk. The little bell of the general store tinkled. I found I could not budge an inch for several moments, and when I could move once more I scurried up to the little window.

The shop keeper was quickly stacking boxes into a net that he cinched together at the top. A pile of bags was also tied together and waited next to the net. A few bottles sat on the counter with a small purse. The shop keeper snatched it, emptied and counted the contents before giving a terse nod. He handed the purse back and the bottles disappeared underneath the counter.

As if it were nothing, both parcels went over the strange individual’s shoulders; my breath went out in a rush. I hurried to sit once more with my back to the clapboard wall. The door bell sounded again. Long strides carried the man back across the deck and down the stairs. He paused when he had taken a step into the road. His colossal head shifted back over his shoulder, sending a chill down my spine as I could tell his shadowy eyes were fixed upon me.

It lasted for a terrible moment, but no sound was uttered from either of us and soon he was gone in the ever deepening shadows.

Back in my room I stoked the fire for a long while before I lay restless in bed. I wondered over my decision to come to the mountains. It was not, of course, that I had never dealt with strange folk nor that I was ignorant of rural personalities before coming here. But something unfortunate coiled in my guts that it made me all the more nervous to ignore.

Alas, I had made my decision and going back to my previous life had become a last ditch option less likely to pan out with each passing day. I resolved to spend one last day here before trying my hand in some other mountain backwater and drifted into the abyss.

As luck had it, around noon the Lupine Ranch’s rickety buckboard wagon rolled into town. The driver met my eye as I stood to greet him and stuck out my hand.

Securing my employment as an “errand boy” was not hard either. As I had suspected, the ranch was short handed and more than happy to take on someone not only handy but slight of build, and not asking much pay at that.

After I had helped to load the wagon and bid the good shopkeeper goodbye, I offered to take the reins from my companion. The wagon was attached to a large and dependable draft that I could tell at a glance had been at this a long time. She wouldn’t soon try anything funny. The cowboy seemed bored to tears, as they often were when doing something they were told to. He tossed the reins off to me and immediately hauled himself into the wagon bed to shove himself down in the goods for a nap.

I was glad for the easy silence, fearing that it may not be quite so easy to maintain for long. At this point I was missing my conversations at the old job, but using my voice or attracting really any attention seemed profoundly unwise. It was a new and uncertain life I had catapulted into, but I felt a rush of satisfaction with myself.

A good old girl the draft was indeed. She brought us right home, though it would not have been hard to simply follow the little winding main mountain road until I spotted a ranch. To her credit, we passed by one I may have roused the cowboy for, but she nary flicked an ear at the gate.

At last we came to the place. It was a great relief, in many ways. Someone met us to help unload. The boss, though he had lost his wife to consumption, was a fair man. At times he was of course rather terse, but I couldn’t find it within me to dislike him. I explained my skills and he furnished me to set about executing them.

There seemed an endless supply of ripped cloth on the place, dependable as sunshine and wind. So too of course was the hauling. Buckets, buckets of water, of milk, of grain, of slop. Wood for the cooks perpetual fire, really I felt my hands were always full. I felt useful. After supper I retired to the attic. My quarters were frustratingly small, but I claimed I didn’t want my lamp to keep the other boys up. My reward for this sacrifice was a private room.

By the time I had set up a rhythm in the place, the boss pulled me aside after breakfast.

“Seems you’re settled in, and ya seem like you can handle things.”

I nodded, wary but warming up to his easy tone.

“Listen, I got most the boys up fixin fence before them daylight hours turn, think you’ll be alright to take the wagon to town? Shopkeep knows the usual.”

“Count on me, Boss.” I punctuated with a brisk nod.

Out in the barn one of the cowboys helped me to rig up the draft. We swung out beneath the old log archway just as the final touches of lilac dawn light left the hills and a pale frothy cream began to scrub out the true hue of things. Off we went down the road to town.

Noon hung over us as faint birdcall bounced through trunks dappled in ripples of sunshine and shade. The mare, wagon and I began to pass into a small draw created when the road had been flattened out of the hillside. High rocky dirt banks rose into the forest on either side of us and plunged us down out of the pleasant forest sounds.

The heavy, echoey hoof falls of the draft slowed and then she paused, twitching her ears around. She lifted her great head to glance up ahead. A shiver raced up my spine and a sea of goosebumps rose on my flesh. Weaving through the forest came a creak that must have stilled everything in the immediate area. My heart raced into action when great boom and chorus of snapping echoed out. The mare nickered to me nervously. Eerie silence settled over the landscape like a blanket.

“Shh, shh, that’s alright now, get up.” I crooned to her and snapped my reins a little. “Just a tree.”

We came out in a low park that looked liable to wash out in a serious rain storm. Across the smooth terrain, I saw a shadow laden tunnel of trunks, and the beginnings of more dirt banks further back.

“Whoahh.” I drew the mare up.

Across the tunnel, lying just in the first patch of darkness was a great hollow old log that had taken with it a boulder that now rested in the dry ditch. I clicked my teeth with disappointment, as of course I was carrying only basic wagon repair gear built into the sideboard, and no saw. Much less a saw big enough for that job. The mare began to advance again at the sound and I pulled her on around. We set back off the way we had come.

But it suddenly seemed to me that we were headed now into a canyon, something immovable swallowing up all the light. Despite this illusion I knew the canopy above remained unchanged. My dependable colleague continued her advance, pulling us far enough to see the upward pitch leading to the open fields that had covered most of the way to this point.

A rustle in the brush above had barely come to my senses when something slammed into the bed of the wagon with a massive thud, the wood shrieking and swaying. My heart shot into my throat and my stomach dropped to my knees.

“Ah!” A strangled cry wrenched out of my throat.

I yanked the reins up in my start and luckily the draft merely squealed and lifted both front hooves to bring them back down, announcing her displeasure against the ground.

I whirled around to a nonsensical wall of shapes and fur. My head snapped back, eyes zipping up and up the beast towering over me. I scarcely had a moment to register the bear from before, much more pale in the light, still topping off the giant that loomed before me.

In one fluid motion that seemed all of too quick for his mass, the mountain man had me about the chest and the reins in one huge hand. My hat tumbled into the road. In another set of smooth movements, the leather was wrapped around the rein hitch and I had been dragged up to stand on the seat.

In fact, I was on tiptoe and my right foot threatened to lift off of the bench entirely. The utter solidity of his forearm astounded me, it crushed against my sternum, his heat radiating against my back. Floating and calm for one moment, I vaguely pondered the mare, squealing low in her throat, hopping around with her hind end. I lashed out with my foot, but landed uselessly on what must’ve been fur on tanned hide. Air rapidly leaving my lungs and the impossibility of getting it back pooled agonizing pain in my shoulder blades, making my elbows useless.

Everything titled and blurred and a massive vertigo overcame me. I felt the pain in my wrists and shoulders before I could tell my position was changed. He had flung me to the bed of the wagon, and at the last second caught me with my arms. My ass landed on the wagon bed. He kicked my chest ever so gently, and honestly I was already going down.

A garbled wheeze came out of me with the compression of my chest when he rolled me to my belly. His hands ran down my arms, and I felt rope gathering not only my wrists, but both of my forearms together. My mind swam with the strange quality of my situation, the practiced ease with which he had done everything. A whimper escaped me as fear really began to gnaw at my hollowing stomach. I hadn’t had a shot. He had been waiting for me.

The tailgate latch sounded and I flinched when the wagon moaned and swayed as the man vaulted out onto the road. I heard him mumbling to the mare. I ever so slightly lifted my head from the wood when his shadow came over me, paining my eyes to catch a glimpse of my fate. With a tug on the rope, my body slid across the bed to the end of the platform. Thumbs as thick as the handles of a hammer dug into the soft flesh above my hips.

Another blur, the air coming out of me again as my torso draped over his shoulder. Mad panic conjured imagery of dying, desperate fish and rabbits as I trashed wildly in one last attempt. The mountain man held tight, merely pausing in his step for as long as my burst of strength lasted. The ground slid past underneath my lolling head as it filled with blood and the rising fog of futility.

He reached out and I heard leather sliding against itself, then back around metal, probably the rein hitch. His loud tongue click resounded and the wagon creaked into motion.

“No!” I wailed, kicking out again in pure misery, a sick sense of betrayal roiling and threatening to drown me. But I was played out, and a trembling had come over my limbs, even my palms and fingers so crushed together. A fiery retching washed over me as we moved alongside the wagon, which soon outpaced us. When we reached the end of the bank, I could no longer hear it. The burning condensed into a cold stone of horror as my captor stepped off of the path and into the forest.

I gulped for air like a hooked fish, and it took some focus to stop, gathering it all into me to scream with everything I had. I suppose I meant to cry for help, anyone else at all, but the sound I managed could have come from any dying animal in the woods. We rapidly disappeared from sight of the road and came around the small hill of an ancient rotting log. The mountain man crouched to dump me on the ground at the base of a bare tree not far behind. My scream jolted to a stop as I collided with the dirt. His hand captured my jaw in a grip I knew could break bones, and dragged me to sit upright. He tilted my head up and I finally caught my first real look at him.

“Stop. A gag will make you feel as though you are dying.” His raspy baritone rumbled in the air between us.

It was of course impossible not to look at the bear. The fur was dappled and marvelous. It made for enchanting camouflage, causing the size, movement, and shape of the man’s head to be difficult to discern. A very unsettling effect, underlined with gleams of sunlight reflecting from the blunt but polished teeth. The neck ruff was preserved in flaps that ran down the sides and back of his head, obscuring most of the man’s hair. What I could see of it there was still an enormous amount, writhing out around his neck and down his collarbones. It too was mottled, bundles of earthy brown, shot through with golden blonde and twinned about it all streaks of silvery grey. More of the bears fur had been fashioned into a beautiful half cape, lined in white rabbit. A deerskin vest covered his worn navy blue wool sweater.

His face was a heavy set square, all shadows and angles. Pale but weathered skin with a watershed of fine wrinkles, but there wasn’t much of it to see under his dirty blonde beard. This was long and thick, trimmed with surprising skill, and it too had glimmers of silver. When they lifted out of shadow, his eyes gleamed darkly, a strange colorless deep grey that pulled in all illumination.

A daze came over me while I studied these features. His head titled ever so slightly, then a twitch to his just visible lips. His thumb shifted against my chin, then its rough pad stroked my bottom lip, ever so slowly. It lifted away, hovering for a moment before he pressed it back against my lip, with a deal of pressure this time. It startled me enough I let out a small gasp, my teeth coming apart ever so slightly. Such a small opportunity was all he needed and with one flick he wedged my jaw open in much the same manner some are able to send the tops off of bottles.

The rest of his hand softened briefly, fingertips sliding down to brace my chin as he slid further into my mouth. His grip intensified again, the thumb crushed into my tongue. Something white hot roiled through my mind, making it impossible to hold onto or make sense of any thought. He stood, tilting my head up. His gaze was still locked onto my flushed face.

As he rose, bent, the base of his finger wedged my jaw open. Biting at last dimly occurred to me, but my teeth already dug into his skin on his own will and there was no torque for more. Bone of the knuckle crushed into the hard palette of my mouth when he curled his finger to then slide it back down towards my throat. Some deeply buried, unbidden impulse rose on a wave of ecstasy inside me. I dimly recalled a fantasy that always must burn away like mist in the morning, engaged only in darkness. A pathetic sound welled up my throat, vibrating against the hand around my jaw. I could feel my eyes start to roll in their sockets.

Sudden panic welled inside me and I jerked. My head slammed back into the tree, but his hand followed me. Pain ricocheted around my skull and the man let out a little chuckle. “Watch out...”

“What, don’t like?” His enormous thumb retreated to plunge into me once again.

“Hard to say…” He used his hold to tilt my face side to side. A full grin broke like dawn beneath his beard.

“It sounded like you did.” So much heat, of shame, of tears, it was all closing my throat and air was becoming astonishingly scarce. Fuzzy roaring threatened to overtake all of my perceptions as he continued to stroke, and to my dull horror drool began to spill from the corners of my mouth. Blessedly, he at last withdrew, thumb coming down over my lip and spilling spit down my chin with his caress.

I sucked in great lungfuls of air and he allowed my head to drop from his grasp to my chest. So this is how it was going to be. A dark spot dribbled onto my shirt, but I lacked the use of my hands to wipe it away. My mind swirled in the misery of defeat and fear, all taunt with a shameful arousal. When I could gaze up again, he was silently watching me. A very satisfied expression slowly assumed itself in his eyes and the set of his mouth.

“You’re perfect. Tough game. Rare prize.” The words landed like blows on an anvil.

He came to one knee in front of me, easily gathered me in his hands and then heaved me back onto his shoulder. I was limp now, my face swaying against the rough bear fur of his cloak as we climbed toward the high hills around the base of the plateau. Occasionally I made an attempt to glance up for land marks, but it was unfamiliar territory and I had begun to feel so so very tired. We certainly crossed a stream and still did some climbing. Finally we came out onto packed earth in a little clearing. We sounded closed in on at least one side by something, and there was clucking coming from somewhere.

We paused for a half second, he shifted me on his shoulder and then my head swung past a thick, hand carved door frame. My last glimpse of the dirt and scrub outside was sealed away with a heavy thud.

[a-certainwrongness]

It’s one of those days…

Clouds billow above, trees, streetlights, even power lines sway against a magnificent roiling backdrop. The wind stirs with the aroma of petrichor and a tenuous charge.

There is a plot of swaying grass singing in the gale. Pages rustle. One scrapes along the ground and flys away over and over…

Call me Fella, Certain, or something else you may like. I’ve left something here. Read the pages if you care to… But it is against my wishes that you are here if you are a minor.

Otherwise… Treat me and others with respect? Then you are welcome here. Eternally, I reserve my right to hide the field from anyone. In turn, if you are not interested block me, and let us continue as we tend to do, worlds upon worlds right next to one another, never making contact.

This is my erotica blog. It’s here for stories and musings and maybe some light art.

Read my original work on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_certainwrongness

I grew up alone in many ways, and became very close with the fields. Perhaps that’s why I often feel apart from others. An observer, a witness. A holding. A place. And maybe that’s why when I disappeared, I fell apart into a bunch of pages. But that’s not right, some of these pages are new, some have definitely been rained on. And where is this place?

I’m aware of my dramatics and here to reassure you I’m just here for some fun. Yes the blog can be a bit unconventional, I’ve figured that it’s already here to hold my deepest desires, I might as well practice my expression as I like. I honestly did have a little too much alone time and stories have always kept me company ever since.

Many would say I look like a man and I tend to walk through the world being perceived as one. I even have a beard I try to keep nicely trimmed these days. But it wasn’t always this way. I still keep my hair long. Men can seem nervous around me and women no longer see me as one of them. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel fully understood in this matter, or even be able to form a solid translation of it myself. But I am here too, as a person, and must carry my desires.

In the field you might find…

My stories, vignettes, yearnings, and perhaps a sketch…

A clipping that strikes a cord

If I create an in depth tag system I will update it here.

Leanings

Would you be surprised to find I can have a hard time doing things out in our world? As much as I love to ponder, I’m inexperienced and anything I tell you about myself is rather theoretical.

All this sexy business is fun to talk about in general, but coming down to the nitty gritty of reality, I don’t know if I could go through with it! At heart though, I’m flexible in many ways and just want to please those I care for <3

My tastes in reading on the other hand…

Can definitely be too much for some people! And that’s ok. Stay away if you don’t want to encounter:

some Bondage, cnc, Cum, Free Use, Knots, Magic (like wizards), Monsters, some kinds of Power Dynamics, Praise/Humiliation (circumstantial), Rough/Rough Housing, (mostly ancient) Royalty, Size Difference, Somno, Tentacles

Again, this is my blog and is tailored to me, this is not a complete and thorough list.

If you’re interested in speaking more in depth, we’ll discuss my limits. In general I’m down to talk but please inquire before assuming it’s ok to send me something. And I don’t always type/communicate like I have in this intro, haha