Taking Flight (8 page)

“Now I’m going to fuck you.” He flipped her over, twisting her bindings and forcing her face into the ground.

Her breasts pressed into the earth, and she grinned so hard that she thought her jaw would seize. Gripping her firmly by the hips, he lifted her pelvis and opened her ass cheeks as she spread her thighs for him, scraping her knees into the ground. Her pussy was aching with anticipation and she clenched tight, waiting for the invasion. It came. He plunged his cock deep into her, stretching and shocking her surprised, twitching cunt. She felt his heat all the way up inside and he held there for a moment, letting her relax and soften, then he pulled out to the very tip and slid in again, jamming himself right into the fleshy pillows of her ass. His balls smacked gently against her open lips, brushing her clit, and she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth.

Again, harder, faster
, she implored, the words silent in her chest. He obliged, fucking her hard and fast, coaxing a rising deep within her womb. She was thrashing about on her restraints now as her sodden, spasming cunt gushed around him, shuddering in what felt like a thousand shattering orgasms. He kept pounding another then another wave of pleasure into her until, at last, the surge and spurt of his own climax slowed his pace. He held her still and high until they both stopped twitching and panting, then he flopped on top of her, reaching up to untie her. She rolled over into his embrace as their sweat and dreams mingled and they drifted off to sleep in their new home.

They were woken about half an hour later by the aroma of their dinner being cooked on the open fire. Familiar and unfamiliar scents filled their senses and Deborah’s stomach growled.

“I’m starving.” She snuggled into Marcus’s chest and entwined his fingers in her own. His hands felt slightly roughened and she smiled. “We’ll make a huntsman of you yet, my love,” she crooned quietly, and he ruffled her hair. She looked carefully at his newly scuffed flesh and winced when she found a large splinter embedded in one of his fingers. “That looks sore. We should get it out before it gets infected.”

“I hadn’t even noticed it.” He smiled affectionately at her as he sat up and looked at the wound. “See, that’s how manly I am.
Grrrrr
!” Flexing his muscles to show Deborah his prowess, he leaned in and kissed her nose before dragging on his clothes and leaving to get some food.

When Deborah was dressed and freshened up, she joined them at the fire. Birch was tending to Marcus’s splinter with a knife that looked far too big for the job and Deborah lurched to his aid.

“You’re blocking the light,” Birch chastised her, and she meekly moved behind him to watch the operation from there.

It was a really big splinter and Birch was having trouble releasing it. He put the knife down and raised Marcus’s hand to his mouth, sucking the foreign body, trying to soften the skin. Deborah blushed, shocked at how the sight turned her on. Imagining Birch suckling the finger as Marcus had just sucked her in their tent not an hour before, Deborah gave herself a mental slap as warmth filled her pussy again. She was turning into a sexually feral wild thing.

“There, that should do it.” Birch resumed picking at the splinter with his knife. At last, the long, dark invader slithered out and he lifted it into the light to show everyone. “Would you look at that? It’s the biggest one I’ve seen. You’re lucky we got that out, mate, could have gone septic quickly.” He passed it to Marcus and got up to stir the pot. “At least we’ll know what to call you now,” he said.

“What?”

“Well, it’s got to be Thorn, hasn’t it?”

Marcus and Deborah looked at each other, trying to stifle their laughter. “Thorn it is!” She giggled.

They all settled down on mossy rocks and logs around the fire to eat their very first meal together. Pride beamed over Marcus’s face as a charred squirrel on a stick was thrust his way. Deborah winced as he proudly passed it on to her. Under his excited stare, she tentatively nibbled at the meat, bracing herself. She was genuinely amazed as the rich, gamey flavor played happily on her taste buds and didn’t end with a need to retch.

“This is really good,” she said, suddenly aware of sounding far too surprised. “I mean, I know you’re a good cook and all, I just…”

Marcus gave her a stern look of warning; she didn’t want to cast aspersions on his manhood.

“Well, it’s— I’ve never eaten squirrel before.”

Marcus threw his head back in laughter and the older couple joined in. Deborah thought maybe the meat had been a joke and they were about to produce a chicken casserole or something, but his shoulders slowed their heaving and he took a great, ripping bite of his own squirrel kebab.

“Hey, it really isn’t that bad.” He smiled at her and ruffled her hair. She couldn’t help hoping it wasn’t the hand he’d been holding the squirrel with.

After cups of nettle tea sweetened with honey, the conversation slowing to murmurs, Deborah felt she could finally relax in the flickering glow of the campfire. She’d been worried someone might start singing or dancing, things that, when forced upon her, made her squirm, but happily they all stayed seated.

Eventually, she unfurled her numbing legs and beckoned Marcus to bed.

Chapter 9

Over the next few days, Deborah and Marcus began to learn the ways of forest survival. Birch showed them how to trap and kill rabbits, squirrels, and wood pigeons, and Hazel, who was still squeamish about hunting, showed them all the edible flowers and shrubs and how to use them. They all slipped into an easy friendship and Deborah began to feel at home in their foursome.

“We never hear you making love,” Deborah said to Hazel one day when they were taking their morning swim together while the men tidied the camp from breakfast.

“What made you say that?” Hazel stretched out her arm, gliding soap up its length while the sun glanced off her slippery skin.

Deborah instantly regretted blurting out the words. “Well, before we met you properly…” She dipped her head and blushed. She wasn’t sure if Birch had told his wife of the voyeuristic episode. Glancing up, she saw Hazel staring at her intently with mischief playing in her eyes.

“Before you met us,” she said slowly, drawing out her words. “Yes, what?”

“Well, we saw you and Birch, you know…”

“I know what?” Hazel smiled slyly and Deborah knew she wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

“I want Mar—I mean Thorn—to tie me up and fuck me like that.” Deborah blurted out her desires to Hazel when it should have been Marcus she told.

The sight of Hazel’s breasts bobbing in the cool water reminded her of the smell of dirt and come as Marcus had pressed her into the earth as they had watched Birch and Hazel fuck between the trees. Her pussy welled in the dark pool and she spread her feet apart to let the cool water rush in and soothe her. Every night since they’d arrived at the camp, they’d made love roughly but silently in their hut. Once they’d sneaked off and fucked hard against a tree, and Deborah had relished the sharp bark boring into her back, leaving marks. But still she wanted more.

“I want my shrieks of agonized ecstasy to be carried on the wings of the birds off through the forest. I want to soar with the bliss of that moment—that first strike.” She bowed her head in time to witness her submerged nipples harden to frozen little buds. She wanted a mouth upon her.

“Just tell him,” said Hazel simply as she lathered up the soap and moved toward Deborah, passing her the bar and placing a hand under each of her full breasts, lifting them out of the water. Deborah gasped but stayed still, allowing the other woman to explore her voluptuous mounds, kneading and squeezing, teasing her nipples with her thumbs, all the while staring at what she was doing.

Hazel was the only person other than Marcus who had felt up her tits. Her whole body was tingling with desperate excitement and she parted her legs further, fighting her guilt with desire. She closed her eyes and swayed to the rhythm of Hazel’s teasing caresses and the wash of water that undulated and steadily flowed around and past them.

“Just tell him that’s what you want,” Hazel cooed again, her voice like a silken asp winding its way into Deborah’s consciousness. Her fingers were kneading up into her armpits. It was a delicious new sensation; the flesh there, all but ignored usually, became deeply sensual and erogenous. The soapy hands worked this forgotten place around and around, and Deborah closed her eyes, feeling hypnotized by touch.

“I can’t. I don’t know how to tell him,” Deborah whispered as Hazel worked back toward her nipples then softly down to her belly and ass, pulling her in until their breasts touched. Deborah opened her eyes and felt shock flood through her. What had just happened? Hazel was now massaging her buttocks, slipping her slender fingers down underneath her and squeezing. The older woman’s eyes were closed and she leaned in, taking Deborah’s lips in hers. Deborah hesitated and Hazel suddenly pulled away.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hazel looked concerned. “I didn’t realize you were practisers.” Practiser was the term for those who lived in a monogamous relationship. “It’s so rare these days.” She smiled with genuine fascination, washing the soap from Deborah’s breasts in an efficient way that shattered the spell. Deborah was pleased and disappointed at the same time. She had felt like she was cheating, but it had also felt so good. Her pussy still burned with unused desire and her cheeks were hot.

“So how do I tell him?” Deborah was reaching out to Hazel now; she didn’t want their closeness to just evaporate. “I want what you’ve got.”

“Why can’t you tell him? Surely you’re not shy?”

“No, I’m not shy. It’s just...what if he doesn’t want to?”

Hazel smiled. “What happened when you were watching Birch and I? What did Thorn do?”

Deborah took up the smile as she remembered. “He threw me to the ground and fucked me ’til we soaked the earth.”

Hazel threw her head back and breathed in through her nose, her nipples stiffening in obvious response to Deborah’s statement. Suddenly, her head snapped forward and she searched Deborah’s face. “I think I have an idea. You’re a natural submissive, so you can’t even voice your needs. If you can trust me, I will try something that might work.”

Deborah looked around at the Eden surrounding her and then into the woman’s eyes. Her desire and need had been preoccupying her since she’d first set eyes on Hazel tied spread-eagle between the trees. She knew she needed it. It consumed her.

“I trust you.” Lowering her gaze, she assumed a calm, submissive pose even though her heart rammed out its beat in her ribcage and her blood raced through her skull.

“Good. Follow me.” Hazel waded to the water’s edge, then strode elegantly out.

Deborah followed, trembling and clumsy with apprehension and excitement. Hazel pulled her kaftan on and thrust the ball of Deborah’s clothing roughly into her arms, motioning her to follow without getting dressed. Deborah felt very exposed and huddled the soft bundle of fabric against her, trying to cover her nakedness while Hazel strode ahead, letting branches and twigs swing back into Deborah’s face and arms.

“Hurry up.” Hazel’s voice was hard and stern, and Deborah knew something had shifted. She also knew beyond any doubt that she was about to get what she wanted. This both terrified and exalted her, and she followed meekly, falling into her role quickly.

The forest they traveled through was getting thicker and unfamiliar. Deborah crept in the careful way she’d been taught but, more than once, a stick cracked beneath her bare feet. “Where are we going?” Deborah asked.

Hazel stopped suddenly and turned, her face dark with fury. “Shut up. You do not speak unless I command you to. You will follow me and not snap another twig. Is that understood?”

Deborah nodded her head once then let it fall. Hazel’s long, lean fingers grabbed at her jaw and thrust her face upward.

“I said, ‘Is that understood’?”

“Yes, ma’am,” whispered Deborah, and her jaw was released.

“Good.”

They traveled on through the woods. Deborah was now dry apart from her inner thighs, where her pussy was dripping desire from its swollen lips. She was shaking involuntarily, and every now and again a yelp of excitement bubbled into her chest, then throat. The sound always elicited a hard look from her leader which Deborah held on to in her mind. At last, they came to a clearing not unlike the one where the camp was, but smaller and more sheltered. Sun streamed in through the generous canopy of silver birch and cascaded onto the spongy floor.

“Pass me your clothes and drop to your knees.”

Deborah did as she was bid and watched through hooded lids as Hazel felt along the hem of her skirt and pulled it apart roughly. The tearing sound carried and bounced off the tree trunks as the garment was shredded into strips. Hazel chose two trees with branches just above head height. She knotted several of the strips and tied them around the branches. The fabric hung limply as Hazel came to Deborah and pulled her to her feet, dragging her to the gap between the mighty trunks. She clasped one wrist and held it high, tying it to one of the bindings, pulling tight but not uncomfortably. Then the other arm was secured. Deborah’s body rushed with adrenalin as she looked up at her bound wrists then down over her stretched-out body. She arched her back to see her breasts lift into the shafts of sunlight that slashed across them. It was like being in a surreal and heightened dream.

Hazel stood before her as if considering what to do next. “I think I’ll leave your feet free this time,” she said and cast a lascivious gaze over her subject.

Goose bumps rose over Deborah’s skin where Hazel’s gaze trailed. She could feel the tiny hairs on her flesh pucker and strain to meet the gaze of the mighty woman before her. Deborah didn’t know if she was glad or not about having her legs and feet free. She wanted to be restrained and spread, but she was feeling incredibly exposed and decided she was grateful for this gesture.

“I will be back,” Hazel whispered, leaning in to tip Deborah’s face up to hers with one hand. With the other, she cupped Deborah’s mound and parted her rudely, slipping a finger inside. It happened so quickly, Deborah had to wonder if it had happened at all. Then she was gone.