Constructive Criticism is appreciated.
***
“Contact.” Lieutenant Massey heard the whisper-scream come from somewhere down the line. “Contact. Contact.” Another voice repeated. He dove behind a nearby tree. There was a sharp whooshing sound. Scarcely a sound at all, followed by a gurgling scream and shouts for a medic.
Massey shrugged his waiting rifle off his shoulder, wrapped the sling taut around his knuckles, and pulled the buttstock to the pocket of his shoulder. His fingers tightening around the grip, and he took a calm deep breath. In the distance, he could hear the crack of small arms fire. The sound echoed off the trees. A sharp electric pop passed by his ear. He swore he could feel the heat of it as it passed. He took another deep breath and drove forward. His body only hung in the air moment, before his hip and knee, and elbows crashed hard into the dirt and stones below.
“Return fire!” the lieutenant roared.
As soon as Massey’s voice rang out the order, the forest rattled with the exchanging gunfire. His finger found the trigger on his rifle, and he felt the weapon kick as he sent a round downrange.
His ears rang, and everything else seemed to go quiet. Tiny blips of light flashed through smoke, dust, and falling leaves. His eyes scanned across the range of trees before him. It was impossible to tell for sure how many there were.
There was no clear path to their left or right. It was only trees and dense brush as far as the eye could see. *Forward.* He couldn’t be sure if he thought or shouted it. Still, he stood up to bound forward. His rifle in hand. The muzzle aimed towards the lightning-bug-blips in the smokey distance. He found another tree. His chest was tight. *Slow controlled breaths,* he reminded himself. They had to move forward and find another route. They were still far enough away.
The sound of crunching leaves echoed in his ears, followed by more screams rising from behind. The gunfire slowed. He peeked out from the cover of the tree and something punched his shoulder, followed by a familiar sting. A feathered stalk rose from the pocket of his shoulder. An arrow. He could feel the sharpened edges of it tear at his muscle every time he moved. His nerves were screaming, and the pain was spreading outward. *Fucking savages,* Massey cursed silently. He hung on to his rifle as best as he could. It was his life-line. If he knew if he dropped it, it was all over.
His lips were dry and cracked. “Pull-back!” The words left his lips in a lung-burning roar. He spun around. Heel to toe. Ready to run. There were only trees in front of him… and her. An angel he thought at first. She was beautiful and naked.
Her eyes held him still —if only for a moment— *beautiful eyes* he thought. Honey-brown eyes, deep-set and prominent, with the steely capacity for cold indifference. At a glance, she was fair-skinned, long-limbed, and as far as he could tell her skin was flawless. She was slender, her chest was waifish and streaked with blood-red handprints. Her breasts barely rose passed her collarbones, each capped with blushful bud-like nipples. Some knee-jerk courtesy demanded that he look away and he did, briefly. There on the ground, Staff Sergeant Sosa was crawling towards him, the sight of his wounded squad-mate jerked him back to reality. His squad was gone, somewhere wounded or worse, and scattered throughout the woods. Sosa was down, but for the moment he was alive. He could at least save him.
Lieutenant Massey raised his rifle and the horde rose from behind the trees. People draped in animal skins, and stolen gear. His heart suddenly ached. He realized he should have told them all to turn and run at the first sign of contact. This was an ambush. They were waiting for them. They were everywhere. *The liberation. Ideological fanatics, and traitors, all.*
Before he could squeeze off a single round, his angel-at-glance was on him. A thin knife grazed his temple and bit into his ear. Wet heat rushed to the side of his face. His hand slipped from the rifle, and he swung a fist towards his attacker. He missed, and her knife found his wrist. Massey screamed hurling wild blows towards the woman’s face. She was quicker than any man he had faced, her twists and spins were sporadic, every blow glanced or missed completely. His arrow wound ached, and it worsened with every swing. He screamed at her half in-rage but more in agony. She drove her shoulder into his chest, his feet came out from underneath him, and he fell on his back. He tried to scramble to his feet but the woman fell on him, straddling his waist, her thin blade in hand ready to strike. He bucked his hips and the woman shrieked in surprise, nearly sailing over his head. She steadied herself and grinned down at him. A charmingly impish grin. He reared his hips again and this time he was met with a thin elbow crashing down on his face, and then darkness.
He coughed himself awake. Flint was dreaming again. He felt his chest tighten, as he coughed. There was a slight metallic taste in his mouth. He flexed fingers, twisting his wrists back and forth in the leather binds. They were loose. A jolt of pain shot up his legs so intense that it would’ve dropped him to his knees if it weren’t for the leather collar and chain fastened to the ceiling. The restraints allowed him to move about four steps in near any direction, but it was so short that he could scarcely kneel without choking himself. His limbs ached, and the lack of a proper night’s sleep left him feeling more zombie than man.
His ‘dreams’ were brought on by exhaustion induced euphoria, doses of micro-sleep that kept from going completely insane. He felt an emptiness behind his eyes that travel back into an endless abyss of broken memories and wild-fantasies. He could barely remember where he was and what he was doing, but the worst of it was the painful nagging erection. The urge stayed constant. The neediness of it was in his core. In her cruelty she saw it fit to bind the base of his shaft and testicles in a semi-taut leather band, the blood flow wasn’t completely restrictive, but his captor ensured he had a near-constant erection, with all of her teasing and whispers.
When he wasn’t reflecting on his last moments of freedom, or dreaming of escape, he dreamed of *her.* Her lips on his balls and her dainty little fingers wrapped on around his cock. He often ‘woke’ to his cock throbbing insistently, and leaking pre-cum, sometimes accompanied with a cramp in his side and a dull ache in his testes.
He tried to think of something else, anything else. His prison was a long-since abandoned office building. His ‘cell’ was littered with paper and old-world office equipment. He tried to imagine what went on there, before *The Schism,* but he couldn’t. She had clouded his mind too much. *It was either submit or escape.*
She was on her way to him. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but she was coming. Either to give him another basin-and-rag-bath, or ‘walk’ him to the facilities, OR simply just taunt him. His cock throbbed, eagerly, a pearly droplet of cum oozed from the tip before lazily leaking down the bottom of his shaft. The sensation made his legs shake. He began to twist wrists again. The skin was rubbed raw, but he couldn’t stop, his bonds were loose. His left wrist had nearly slipped out several times before, but the pain had always forced him to stop. This time was different. He could feel the reinforcing metal poke through the leather and he kept twisting. Finally, he pulled hard, and the leather cuff slipped down to the joint of his thumb. He clenched his jaw and pulled again. His wrist popped. Pain shot up his arm, but the leather cuff slipped off. His arm was free. He gave his free wrist an experimental twist. It was tender but otherwise unimpaired. He quickly reached up and un-linked his collar, tucking the snap hook under the collar as to not alert his jailer.
His heart was pounding. He was free. Free to escape. He only just had to pick the right moment. Her image crept into his mind’s eye. Her skin lightly speckled with freckles on her nose, cheeks, and shoulders. Her large honey-brown eyes, admiring him with cold intensity. Her perfect pink lips curving into the slightest of grins. Her cute nose with its gentle upturn and her sloping cheekbones. She was achingly beautiful.
He could see her bare pallid chest still streaked with the same set of bloody palm prints as the day she caught him. Her ruddy-brown hair loosely plaited with silver beads, hanging in semi-sway over her shoulder, the sweeping ends matted down to her chest with a mess of sticky red and brown. There was a splattering grey-brown muck on her sturdy calves, and a slight shake in her broad thighs as she ran.
He wanted nothing more than to reach down and stroke his aching erection. Before he could even give in to the temptation the door creaked open, revealing a willowy silhouette, illuminated in invasive light until the door closed behind her. He heard an audible click as she flicked on the lights. The fluorescent bulbs blinked for a few seconds and gradually began their steady glow; bathing his cell in harsh white light. She was wearing a form-fitted burgundy sundress with an irregular hem, and sunflowers printed all across it. There was a large wooden bowl in her sitting in the crook of her arm.
“Hey Champ,” she greeted him in a sing-song voice, “you hungry?” She tilted the bowl towards him allowing him a teasing glance of its contents, which appeared to be several bunches of green and purple grapes and a heel of brown bread.
She took a few prowling steps towards him.
He couldn’t help but wonder what she had in mind for him this time. She had fed him grapes before. One at a time. Ever-so-often she would collect the seed spilling from cock and pop the sticky grape into her own mouth, humming happily to herself as she chewed.
He knew the routine by now. If he screamed or cursed she’d simply turn around and walk away. Any questions he asked were ignored, and she never really asked any of her own. She made statements. “You’re mine…” she’d repeat. She repeated that, and similar taunts so often he heard them in his ‘dreams.’ Sometimes she’d grab the base of his dick and speak into it like a fleshy microphone. “This is mine…” she’d claim. Going on to praise his size, and shape, all while gazing up at him, with her intense amber-golden eyes.
Sometimes it took him hours to fully process the things she said, and he never really could understand why she said them. During one of his “rag-baths,” she had once told him; “Your dick looks so wise, I think it can teach me to be a better person… but I’m not ready yet.” The woman was utterly insane. Even her threats seemed… wrong, she had once threatened; to eat his “babbies…”
She was an arms’ length away now. A deep-purple colored grape pressed between her fingers. “Come on, Champ, open up for mama,” she teased. The scent of intoxicating feminine warmth lanced his nose and spread through his lungs. He closed his eyes and took a deeper breath, letting it overwhelm him. His vision blurred, and for the first time in a long while, he felt truly afraid, heart-stoppingly afraid.
What happened next, he couldn’t be sure. It was as if he stepped outside himself and something else took control. His free hand was suddenly at her throat. Her eyes went wide, her intense uncaring look in her eyes dissolved into a look of genuine worry. The bowl of fruit and bread went tumbling over and fell with a hollow clatter, spilling its contents all over the dusty floor. She struck his jaw the same moment his fist landed in her gut, and she gasped. It was more than a gasp, all of the breath had been driven from her lungs and she doubled back nearly slipping from his grasp, completely deflated. Not letting up for a second, he drove her into the door of his cell. Chestnut-colored hair exploded with the impact and tumbled loosely over her face like a silken mask. His palm pressed her cheek into the metal door and his other fist wrenched her wrist behind her back. He pressed against her with all his weight, careful not to let her scramble away. It felt like trying to hang on to lightning, she wriggled and squirmed, and his fingers nearly slipped dangerously between her teeth. She groaned, coughed, sucked in another breath, and coughed some more.
There was a trembling in his chest, his breaths came out in shaking gasps. His jaw ached, every muscle in his body was screaming at him to rest and there was heavy pressure behind his eyes. Every part of him begged for sleep, except one. His cock. *Relief and then rest,* It had been his clearest thought in days, maybe weeks.
He released the girl’s face, his hand instinctively falling to her hip, his fingers clenching tightly at the bone, and he tugged her against his desperately-insistent erection. He could feel a painful shock of electricity radiating from where his over-sensitized cock met her fabric-cloaked skin.
She was shaking. Her thin frame trembling and shook as if she was sobbing. Heat flooded his cheeks, and he felt a lump in his throat. She exhaled, in short huffs, gasped, and then began to laugh. She gasped again, “So, I guess you’d rather some cake, huh?”
The taunt abated Flint’s more animalistic needs, to respond to a nobler demand, “W-where the fuck is my squad?” Lieutenant Massey snarled.
“Seriously?” she sounded exasperated, “whatcha gonna do, champ? There are, like two-hundred people in this building?”
His jaw clench so hard his teeth ached, “Yea, and you’re my leverage.”
“NOOOOOOOO-hoooooooo!” She wined sarcastically, ” —I feel so freakin’ helpless right now,” she replied flatly.
“You have nowhere to go,” Flint growled, tightening his grip on the girl’s wrist.
“Maybe,” she huffed, the wincing of pain was clear in her voice, “but who said I’m trying to go anywhere?”
He was breathing heavy. Breathing in her warmth. His arms felt like jello. “I could,” the cold biting tone in his voice thawed mid-sentence, “－kill you…”
“You think you could?” She chirped, “a pretty little thing, like me?” there was a stirring of excitement in her voice. She wriggled beneath his weight, in an attempt to free her hand and he torqued her wrist.
“It’s okay,” she replied calmly, and for once without any sass. Her dainty manicured fingers reached downward, “I’ll be good. I promise…”
He reluctantly released her wrist, only to forcefully grab a fistful of her silken hair in the same breath. The force stiffen her neck, and goosebumps broke out on every bit of exposed flesh Flint could see, “Thatta-boy…” her praise dripped with a hushed thrill.
She inched up the back edge of her burgundy sundress, revealing the lower half-moons of her ass. She slid her ass up and down curling up the dress in a bundle at her waist with each rock of her hips. The shaft of his bare cock slipping perfectly between the split of ample ass cheeks. Her muscles clenched and pulled as she pressed against him to make the sensation all the tighter. She swayed her hips insufficiently slow oscillatory movements, an educated rhythm that felt somewhere between a dance and a tremor.
The sensation was undeniably fantastic, but the sight of his cock peeking through the divide of her plush ass mounds was nearly orgasm-inducing. His hand fell from her hip and squeezed one of her rounded cheeks. His fingers bit into the firm, but supple flesh and he gave it a wobble. She giggled huskily. He felt his cock throb, and a heaviness traveled through the length of him. He was about to burst, and he wanted to, but he also wanted more.
He closed his eyes and clenched hard. Excess cum unwittingly poured out the tip of dick in viscous liquid dollops, and ran down his veined shaft, pooling between in the cleft of her meaty ass cheeks. He opened his eyes to see a widening stain soaking into the rose-colored thong hugging her hips. It was a pretty piece of lingerie, made up of intricately interwoven lace, vine-like embroidery, and accented with a glossy red material.
He ripped the lacy fabric to the side so roughly the material frayed at the edges. “JESUS,” she chided, “what are you frustrated or soomthin?”
Flint growled in equally sarcastic affirmation. He angled his cock inward, barely pulling himself away from her warmth. The meat of her ass sunk all around him. Waves of electric-warmth crept up his spine. The painful throbbing in the pit of his stomach was replaced with a steady pulse, not quite relief, but the feeling just before it. The cum-slippery head of his dick mashed against a taut cavity brimming with a furnace-like heat.
She held herself still, sucking in the sweetest gasp he had ever heard, “Are you trying to fuck me in the ass right now?”
It wasn’t his initial plan, only poor aim. Her hips rose and fell in a slower gyration. A slick fleshy-sputtering noise accompanied every rock of her hips. It was obvious she had no complaints. He bit his lower lip to keep himself from crying out in pleasure.
The puckered entrance sunk in around the tip of his steeled erection, smearing her hole with a dose tacky white ooze, to polish the head of needy-cock as she swayed. “It’s not even my birthday…” she teased.
The motion left him feeling dizzy. Flint slid his hips back meeting the sway of her hips and pressed himself inward encountering a pleasant sinking resistance, he steadied the base of his dick and pressed in until the sinfully tight ring gave way to a cauldron of searing heat. She exhaled sharply with a hushed curse, and her fist pounded against the door. Her whole body seemed to tremble and she grasped the air before she calmed herself. “You can do this,” she announced, seemingly for her own reassurance. She reached back for his hand. Her fingers interlaced his, her thumb restlessly exploring his calloused knuckle, as she eased back on to him, gingerly taking more and more of his length with one staggered stroke with nothing more than his cum for lube.
The untold hours upon hours of teasing and edging left an agonizing compounded pressure at the base of his spine. It felt as if his cock was holding up a mountain and every little sensation threatened to cause an avalanche. It wasn’t just the sticky tactile walls of her ass coaxing him to what was sure to be the most satisfying orgasm of his life, nor the wickedly tight ring of muscle kissing at the root of his cock. Every sensation seemed overwhelming, even the way her hair smelled warm and flowery, mere inches away from his nose, seemed to titillate his senses.
She took a breath, short and strained, “Good. FUC-KING. Boy…” each syllable of her words was accompanied by a teasing wriggle. The potent weight of her ass pressed against his groin, the bubbly mounds creasing against her hips, as she aspired to swallow up every last inch. It was too much. His knees shook and his cock throbbed incessantly, each twitch spitting sticky-white progeny into her filthy bowels. The binding around the base of cock and testes seemed to impede the sensation just enough for him to hold it back. He gasped and groaned, clenched and released and clenched again.
She chuckled hoarsely, “it’s okay, go-on cum, she rasped.
“Wait,” he groaned in response. His cock felt bloated as if the pending orgasm was trapped mid-burst. He swung back his hips and pressed inward, her mashing her ass against his groin. His jailer swayed a little, her asshole clenching him tightly with a needy pulse. The need in him came surging back with greater intensity, and he could feel the life leaking out him, creaming her sticky insides. “Wait,” he repeated.
“Isn’t this what you’ve been fantasizing about?” She murmured, squeezing his fingers tightly as she hallowed her back, “Fuck it, HARD, and drown me from the inside,” she goaded playfully.
Flint grunted, she wasn’t exactly right, he fantasized about nearly everything, but this exact scenario seemed absolutely impossible. Still the agonizing pressure in his testes, were so beyond what he could bear. He pumped his hips, nearly hoisting the girl off the ground, a wet warmth leaked out from her and on to his tightening balls. The girl yelped in shock, a high pitch, ‘ahh,’ sound before she steadied herself, “There he is,” she moaned.
He built the pace, not thrusting, but grinding his hips against her captivating rump, each push perfectly in rhythm with his convulsing cock. Each motion a vicious attempt to bottom out inside her, but the dense meat of her ass refused the last half-inch of him. She mewed along with every motion, her glutes tensing and relaxing, to offer a variety of pressure.
He wrung his fist through another length of her hair, and pulled her back, working the tresses of her chestnut-colored mane like the reins of an unruly mare. She cried out through her gritted teeth. He could feel her pull away from him, but his grip kept her in place, her hair wrapped around his knuckles so tightly it ached his fingers.
Escape was a distant afterthought, lustful need consumed all of his mental energy. His existence was centered on the devouring heat that enveloped his cock, the velvety clinging pressure, and the slight grittiness that seemed drag along with every pull and push into her amazing ass.
He was lost in the feeling. Her torturous teasing left his edges marred and sensitive, each twitch felt incredible, but the sensation was still climbing. He was teetering on the brink of something life-altering. His hips suddenly swung back, and then clapped against her ass they came crashing forward. “Yes,” she cried. The single thrust culminated untold weeks of libidinous toil. His body tensed up, he trembled, his cock twitched and then erupted. It felt like the sudden unraveling of a coil of rope in guts, every knot and bend pulled from him at once and exploded out from the bloated tip of his dick. His head swung back and he howled, in an expression of what could only be described as an agonizingly intense pleasure.
Midway through the thrills of his orgasm, the girl’s nose wrinkled up, her mouth fell agape, her lips pouted outward like a platform her staccato gasping. Leaning over her he could taste the sweat dripped from her brows. She was trembling so much she could barely stay upright. “Oh. My. Fucking. God. I’m cumming.” She had just barely managed to get the words out in between her quick fretful breaths before the trembling began to rattle her teeth. Her whole body tensed up, her asshole contracted so tightly around his cock it briefly staggered his stream of cum, and then it began to spasm wildly, hungrily sucking up every spurt as it poured out of him. She fell forward, her weight pulling him with her. Her body twitched, and her eyelids fluttered as the intense contractions echoed through her.
His orgasm left him feeling faint as he collapsed on his captor’s lissome shoulders. Intense waves of incredible relief were still pouring out him and deep inside her with weakening spurts. She gasped, still trembling, “That was… Oh my FUCKING stars… way to power through,” her voice weak and breathy.
Flint was exhausted, but his head was clearer than it had been in weeks, “I want out,” he answered gruffly.
His captor grasped his hand again and squeezed his fingers, shimming her hips, so his cock stirred her insides. “Yeah, of course, of course,” she cleared her throat, “—Oh… I am single, by the way…”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/jbwoqg/captive_mfanalsome_minor_worldbuilding