Savage (PM if Interested)

[Blaanid]

(Send me a PM so that we can further discuss your role.)

Morgan didn't want to come to this horrible place, she wanted to be back in her comfortable London home where she could enjoy the life that she used to when her family was well liked. But life had turned upside down on her and her mother when her father died.

They had to make their way to the new American Colonies, there was nothing left for them in London. But now her mother had died as well, the small barely built town was now even struggling to live.

So now being on her own, Morgan made her way to the out edge of the village, looking for supplies to bring back to the home that her mother's friend's had built for them, but instead of only venturing out a little bit, she unknowingly ventured out way too much and by the time she knew it, she was too far from her home that she would never be able to find her way back.

 

[patrick1]

savage

.....

 

[patrick1]

Lariat

The pretty woman moved stiffly. Why so far? Why so far from the village?

Lariat, hidden in the heavens above her, watched silently.

She had made no memento-marks along her trail. She had passed the same crooked elm three times but now, the third time, she seemed to remember it. She leant her head against it. Water leaked from her eyes.

She wasn't dressed for the woodland. But she was brave. She looked up sharply when Lariat shifted on the rope bridge that he'd disguised as tree creepers. She couldn't see him, though, in the muddle of bright light and shadows.

How pretty she was. Something in him stirred, of women he'd known from afar, a long time ago. There hadn't been one this close to him, so close he could smell the sweetness of artificial perfume, for – oh, how many moons?

Too many. Lariat made, quite suddenly, a plan. He took a polished stone from his pocket and hurled it left, to the south, where she should be running, where her home undoubtedly was. Instead it made a great clatter there and, startled, she cried out and turned north. Hurrying.

But not fast enough. In the space of three trees Lariat was quietly ahead of her, above, at his animal trap, the net of leaves that he could release -

Thus!

- with one cut of his knife. And there she was, screaming. Trapped beneath his net. His animal. His to do what he wanted with.

He dropped to the ground, to silence her, before her screams alerted anyone.

 

[Blaanid]

Morgan knew that she was in trouble when she realized that she was completely lost, but now being trapped in a large animal trap with a horrible beast of a man above her was too much clearly. She continued to scream even though his hand kept the sound of her howls and screams from escaping, ensuring that no one would be able to save her from this.

She had only a glimpse of him as he held her down, he barely wore any cloths at all, and what she did see was of a male of perfect body size and muscle. And to her own horror, she could feel that the trap had brought her skirts up, exposing her sex perfectly!

But knowing that there would be no getting away just yet, she relaxed knowing that struggling at the wrong time could cause her undo injury.

 

[patrick1]

Don't give anything away. To reveal yourself will be to expose weakness.

Lariat played the animal. He muttered nonsense, hoping it sounded savage to her untutored ears. 'Hbbbang a bash!' he cried, wrapping the net of leaves around her, just happening to touch her a great deal as he made the thing tighter and tighter, constricting her. 'Agrooo rivalli!'

She was light when he picked her up, like a bundle of soft stuff, ohh, wool perhaps he had once felt close to. He inhaled her as he flung her over his shoulder. 'IndooCunt!' he said, distinctly, carrying her north, north, away from her loved ones.

 

[Blaanid]

Before she knew it, she was in a dark place, she had been so bound tight that she had not been able to see where he had taken her. But it was clear to her as she looked around her surroundings in the limited lighting that this was a home, there was a hearth in the center and the makings of a decent sized bed that she was on even now.

Her skirts had been ruined from the trap that she had been caught in, not even her large breasts were well contained anymore, instead her breasts were deliciously spilling out of her top and somehow her bottoms had been removed to leave her sex open and completely unprotected now.

She knew her danger now, she knew that if this savage would rape her, she knew that he would make sure to get his child on her so that he could claim her as his so that neither the whites would be able to take her back or any of his own people would be able to take her away from him as a mate!

 

[patrick1]

She didn't scream or cry out, this one. Lariat was puzzled, but pleased. He saw patterns on her body, patterns that weren't there yet, patterns he would make. Her big breasts, he would make good patterns with cords around them, he touched the circumference of them and she cried out. He pressed his finger to her lips to tell her to be quiet, and she was quiet.

Perhaps there would be no trouble with this one. Perhaps he could keep her, and make patterns on her, and have her drink him.

That would be good. She was still half-bound by the remnants of the net but that wouldn't do for feeding-time. He cut away the remnants of her clothes and she yelped, he had to slap her cheeks this time and that quietened her: why wouldn't she understand that he wanted to care for her? He would explain, when they ate, in a language she perhaps didn't understand.

He pinned her, face down. He had seen a shape he wanted her in. With a length of hide he secured her wrists together, then up to her elbows, pulling them not quite together, but binding them to each other.

There. He turned her, she lay half on her side, he adjusted her until she was kneeling for him. Her skin was milky-pink. The way he'd tied her arms thrust out her breasts. His prick was big for her, he wanted her to drink him now.

No, after a meal perhaps. Like brandy, he remembered. 'Ilf faut manger,' he said to her. 'A comer?'

He would be safe, judging by her looks of incomprehension, in French or Spanish. Or gibberish. He made fire at the little wood stove. He would cook fish for them. He would touch her nipples with the palm of his hand whenever he felt like it. That would be good.

 

[Blaanid]

She had never felt so naked before in her life, and even though he was forcing her to remain silent, she could not help but quietly sob fearing that she would soon be horribly abused by this brute before her.

She could not understand him, she couldn't figure out what is going on, she being there naked and bound there with a very strong male and speaking to her in a language that she still did not understand. She didn't want to think about how large he was under his loin cloth, she didn't want to think about how he might feel as he took her virginity, but those thoughts began to cross her mind at a faster and faster rate to the point that her womanly scent began to fill the dwelling that they were in!

 

[patrick1]

He fed her chunks of fish speared on his knife. She flinched. He didn't shout or make any gesture; he simply crouched on his haunches beside her, holding the fish there, at her lips, until she looked at him, and opened her mouth, and ate.

It was good. He could tell she was surprised it was good. Fresh from the river this morning, with herbs from the forest.

Reward: he put down the knife, and circled her nipples with the palms of his hands.

'Tu t'amuse,' he said, smiling.

Feeding. Then touching. Then feeding, then touching the bound woman...

 

[Blaanid]

She didn't want him to touch her like he was, but her body seemed to like it just a little too much, for her nipples got really hard. Even to her own horror her sex was getting wet and needy for an unknown organ to fill it, for this savage before her to crawl over her, mount her and fill her.

But unknown to her, if Lariat fucked her, by his people's laws, she would become his bound mate. She would never again be free to leave him, she would be one of his people by the act of mating once he took her and she would be powerless to prevent it.

 

[Blaanid]

*bump*