The Cave Ch. 01

His face moved across my body to the other pit and slathered it with his tongue, flattening it to taste me more fully, to make contact with all his taste-buds. I found the wet sound of licking highly erotic and heat began to build up quickly between my legs. I felt the sticky end of his penis as it touched my leg for a moment, leaving a glossy smear of discharge on my goose pimpled flesh.

Pratt's tongue retreated back into his mouth as he lifted his head and gazed sidelong to Amy's bed. He seemed torn as his eyes clouded over with thoughts. Huffing in decision, he dropped his face. Before I was aware of what was happening, he pushed his nose against my pubic bone and took two deep breaths.

I situated my limbs to accommodate him and his tongue was out before I knew it, tasting me. His tongue flattened out, licking several passes from the entrance of my vagina to the edge of my pubic hair. The barbs on his tongue snagged and I winced, but tried not to make any noise. After, he worked into the creases of my pubic lips and every time he nudged against my clitoris, my hips bucked uncontrollably. I may have wanted badly to go home, change into my old pajamas and crawl into my own bed, but I also wanted relief from this carnal agony and right now it ranked so high, I couldn't think of anything else.

As his tongue slithered deep inside me, my vaginal walls clenched around it to control its strange, alien squirm and the sudden pressure I felt on my cervix. I couldn't help cringing and gasping out of pure panic, but I found myself thrusting to his rhythm. The tinny spines on the top of his tongue felt queer on the ceiling of my vagina, but my heels were digging into the floor as I felt my long awaiting orgasm approaching. I elevated my hips, swaying from the softly clinking manacles, and I thought my shoulder might come out of its socket. His hair brushed my thighs, back writhing from his effort as he crouched on his haunches, nails clawing at the stone floor. My head hung back, mouth open in silent scream as my climax flushed over my entire body in waves of frenzied relief.

He stayed long enough to lap up the remaining nectars as they seeped out of me, and then neatly cleaned up my inner thighs, both of which I was hardly aware of as I descended from my peak. He left me still panting and heavy-eyed and I hardly had the energy to care when he immediately entered Amy's bed and rolled her awake.

*

I dozed a little more that morning, drifting off to the quick pulse of Pratt's release, the fur blankets on Amy's bed undulating frantically in the corner of my sleepy eye.

Pratt roused me gently for breakfast. I discovered him kneeling beside me, smoothing my hair, and I think I actually grinned at him. To my defense, my vision was blurred with lethargy.

He showed me the red raspberries in his other hand and helped me to my feet by my waist. His fingers were cold on my hip and I could smell fresh air in his piligerous clothes. My knees felt stiff, my shoulders tight, but I faced the wall and ate my berries quickly, cheerfully.

So that my guilt didn't ruin my good spirits, I held off looking at Amy for as long as I could. I found her standing, her shoulder blades pressed against the wall, the heel of her foot digging into a crack in the wall, picking at her own plate of berries, tossing out the stems. Staring at me.

I jolted and looked away, propping my right shoulder on the wall so my backside faced her. When I finished my breakfast, I set my plate on the stone ledge over my head and waited for our bathroom breaks.

I didn't know how to act anymore. I felt like I should tell her but I wasn't sure what that would accomplish. Clearly, we were not in alliance with each other. These last four days, there had been no attempt to organize an escape, despite Amy's long hours of complete freedom.

But I wasn't in alliance with Pratt, either. Staying on his good side was beneficial for me—in more ways than I had initially realized—and it surprised me how much I enjoyed it, given he wasn't completely human. I suspected the ambiguousness of his species was part of the appeal.

I still couldn't decide what got his attention in the first place; I had been in various degrees of dampness since that first night in the cave. Maybe it had something to do with my menstrual cycle, although I didn't know what he could detect with my birth control muddying up my hormones. My only conclusion was that I had somehow "ripened," creating a new scent that captivated him.

After Pratt brought Amy back from her break, he released my cuffs and led me into the tunnel. He was different this morning, I noticed. He looked at me eagerly with bright blonde eyes and strode with devoted alacrity. In the tunnel, he gently took my hand in his fist. His grip was huge, like a cast; only my fingers and thumb were showing. There was no hair on his palms, just tough, dry flesh.

In the next cavern, I immediately noticed the white bucket near the wall, right under the candle. It was buried in the dirt and just the beveled lip was showing. When I saw what was already inside, I knew what to do and assumed the position, the sound of my urine hitting the plastic was embarrassingly noisy but I had to go too badly to care. I noticed Pratt was in another part of the room, scooping a bit of dirt in the floor and I realized I was expected now to separate my evacuations.

I didn't question it. It seemed too trivial to query and it was routine now. I didn't even mind him watching anymore. He always stood at my front and the light was always on my back, so I felt there was little to see and I'd conveniently forget my theory he had excellent night vision. I always got a sense of triumph when his erection emerged, but I still looked away from it and blushed. Everything was typical, until we started to leave.

I started to step ahead of him the way he preferred, but today he held me back by the elbow. Under the candle was a mound of smooth rock that Pratt used as a seat. With him sitting, we were at eye level and I promptly looked down. My gaze lingered on the shine at the end of his penis for a beat before casting my eyes to the floor and began to mentally prepare myself for his penetration. I realized I had been craving this, but it was the indignity of performing in front of Amy that I feared. I wondered how keen Pratt was to my modesty, if he had taken all this into consideration.

With a tug on my hand, he guided me to the side of his lap and made a gesture for me to lie across him. He allowed me to brace myself on his arm as I did, face down. At first, my breasts swayed weightily down between his legs, but he situated me differently so his erection was bumping the crook of my hip. My hair puddled on the floor and my hands came down instinctively to touch the dirt. In front of my eyes was his peculiarly double jointed calf. Around it, the skin was thin and there was very little muscle, but it appeared quite powerful.

I clenched, expecting an old-fashioned spanking, but what he started to do made me wish it was that sort of punishment.

With one large hand on the small of my back, the other clamping down the back of my thighs, I felt his breath on the crack of my ass. I began writhing in objection, grabbing on the hock closest to me so I could slip away, but he was too strong. I felt him lick the flesh there, leaving a cold trail of saliva.

"No, please," I whispered, beseeching him.

He answered with a low throaty noise, cautioning me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I began to cry from the humiliation of what he was going to do, not just because I thought I might hate it, but also because I thought I might not. I never thought I was the type of person who would ever find out.

When my bottom cheeks had been meticulously bathed, his tongue entered, fully licking my entire trench with one long taste, from the back of my sex to the small of my back. While I trembled and wept at the invasion, Pratt did this several times, slowly, methodically thorough, and when he was done, he angled his head and did it again, the other way, from the top of my butt towards my thighs. Eventually his licks began to localize to just my anus, rubbing over the top of the crater again and again. The barbs on his tongue massaged a deep itch I never had until now. Tears continued to run down my face and plop into the dirt. I sobbed and whimpered, not so much protesting it, but the idea of it.

His tongue wormed its way through the ring of muscle, licking my anal walls. I cried out and kicked my legs, but Pratt only held me down and pushed further in. I found the ordeal less traumatizing if I kept still and took deep breaths. Pratt removed his tongue, followed by the gulp of his swallow, and I gave a low moan, feeling intense relief. I was aware of his cock below me, an iron rod pressed across my loins. As he shoved his tongue in again, I gave in to it, letting my limbs hang down. The pain was minor, but I continued to weep, simply because I couldn't stop.

My scrubbing left me exhausted. Pratt made me lie still a few moments longer while he rubbed by buttocks with his large, scratchy hands until I calmed down. Setting me on my feet just out of reach of his erection, Pratt gave a jovial huff, his eyes gleaming at me like brown topaz. Licking the corners of his mouth, he wiped the tears off my cheeks with thumbs as large as black-tipped magic markers. The close up glimpses of his fangs both startled and excited me.

Before he got to his feet, Pratt glanced down at my arms, folded over my breasts. He held up a bony finger for me to look at and slowly moved it towards me, sliding the black claw down into the top of my cleavage and pulling my arms away from my body. He looked at me with a mischievous glint and got to his feet.

Twice on the way back to the main cave I caught myself covering up again and as we reentered, Amy sat up straight and frowned in concern, looking back and forth at the two of us for answers. I'm sure my face was still red and streaked with tears. I was definitely sore from behind and when Pratt clamped the manacles around my arms, I continued to stand. Sitting just didn't sound comfortable at the moment.

But as I turned to face the wall, I felt Pratt touch my shoulder. He coaxed me to face him and cupped his massive hands on my shoulders, as if to steady me. My first instinct was to cover myself, but I stopped myself, keeping them at my sides. I understood now he wanted to see me. He wanted to see me like he saw Amy.

It was more difficult than I thought. Watching the wall had been easy for me. Although my backside was exposed, I felt hidden so long as I didn't have to participate. Now I was expected to contribute. And not just for Pratt's amusement. Amy's long glances often caught my attention and then she would immediately scowl at me, as if I had been the one staring. My face burned with unease and I couldn't do it more than a couple hours before hot tears began dropping on my breasts. Finally, I had to sit and cross my legs.

At first, it didn't seem like Pratt had noticed my changed position, he was so busily reorganizing his trinkets. A little while later, he brought us water, letting Amy drink first. He caressed her hair while she sipped and when she was done he put the cup in his other hand and stroked her left nipple. All my weeping had left me incredibly parched and I guzzled the cup he held at my lips, hardly aware as he touched my hair. I was breathless when I finished the water and he dabbed the excess off my chin. While he was at it, he also swept the back of his finger over the tops of my breasts to remove the wet tears still drying there. I was vaguely disappointed he hadn't touched either of my sensitive nipples, but before he left me, he patted the top of my thigh until I uncrossed them. He pushed my legs apart smoothly.

Soon after that, Pratt left to collect our supper.

Amy and I sat in silence.

I should have said something to release the tension but it was impossible to think of the right thing to say. I decided I didn't have to say anything. I was tied up; I shouldn't have to apologize for anything Pratt did to me. Yet guilt still nagged.

We had rabbit for dinner again and I gobbled up my ration, even the fatty parts, and sucked my fingers clean. I spent the later part of the evening watching Amy's grooming, how flushed her creamy skin got when he cleaned her private parts. Despite Pratt's efficient style, the fire was out when he mounted her and I fell asleep to the sound of slapping water, the noise his balls made when they battered her inner thighs.

I woke to pitch blackness. Pratt's mane of hair was sweeping over the top of my legs, his scratchy tongue lapping at my pubic lips. I had awakened gradually enough to pretend I was still asleep, but he was paying such special attention to my passion spot, I knew I couldn't keep up the rouse for long. Because we were so deep into the cave, there was no light for my eyes to adjust to. It was such a peculiar feeling to be blind like this, like nothing else in the world existed, not even myself. Only his tongue and my sex existed in the void, rubbing together, all sensation.

I understood I had to be quiet, so that Amy didn't hear, but everything below my waist was quivering now and my sighs gave me away. Pratt curled his tongue and eased it inside me to partake from my pool of juices. The drinking, sucking and gulping was so lasciviously vulgar, all the blood rushed to my nether region, and I became aware of the rest of my body in a silent explosion, starting from my clitoris, blossoming outwards in a big bang of existence. Pratt was still just a tongue, bathing the inside of my thighs, but I was whole again, and basking in my release.

The way he came to me, without prelude and without expecting reciprocation, it felt like Pratt was simply fulfilling another basic need. Food, water, shelter...and orgasm. After all, that was all he needed to survive.

Two goodbye licks, one on each nipple, and then I was alone again, cold as the saliva dried on my skin, but sated for the meantime.

*

This went on for days. Those midnight visits. Special backside washings in his lap during my breaks. Private glances. Secret touches while he served me water. Familiarizing himself.

Amy's silence told me she knew everything. She wasn't stupid. She could see how friendly Pratt had become towards me. How my fear of him had simply drained away. I think she was afraid to lose her ranking in our demented household. It had taken her three days before she could urinate in front of him, and I wondered if she had been tentative about other things, too. Maybe I was adapting faster than she and Pratt was taking notice of it, rewarding me appropriately. But she still got the better bed, the nighttime freedoms, groomings. And Pratt. Every night, she got him, in the connubial way.

And it made me sick, because I wanted him that way, too. I loathed how all his erections went to her, even if I had been the one to arouse him.

One night, after we had eaten our dinner and Pratt licked our plates clean and put them away, he extinguished the torches before giving us our water. Amy first, then me—no hanky-panky. He disappeared into the other room with Amy for a few minutes, but when he brought her back, he sat her down on the bed without attaching her to the shackles, which I found strange. He took me next for my break and I was dripping wet with the anticipation of my routine scouring. After relieving myself, I started to walk over to the rock he favored to sit on, but he grasped my hand and took me back to the main cavern instead. I was disappointed. It crossed my mind I had done something to displease him, but his eyes were shining with happy eagerness.

When we returned, Amy was sitting in a pile of furs with her legs out and crossed at the ankles. She was looking carelessly down at the front of her nude self. I headed back to my chains, but Pratt tugged my arm the opposite way and led me through the fire pit area towards Amy's bed. Amy and I locked gazes. Her blue eyes were shooting icy daggers at me, but the agenda change was making my heart pound.

At the edge of the bed, Pratt let me go and nodded towards it. It was my first time in their bed. I could feel the straw crunching under the soft furs as I walked across them and sat down in the opposite corner as Amy. I ran my hands indulgently through the silky furs around me. The smaller rabbit pelts had been sewn together to make larger blankets and they seemed softer than the larger hides.

Amy glanced my way, but only for a moment, leaning back on her hands as she sat, and I got my first inkling of her age. My age for sure, maybe a couple years older—early to mid-thirties. Up close, her face was hard and angular. I imagine she would look quite severe without her long hair to soften her, but blonde wasn't her natural color and I was curious how she would look as the brunette I suspected she was. Her delicate breasts hung obliquely from her chest and I could see the outline of her breast bone between them. I glanced down at the black fleece between her lean thighs and felt the heat rising to my face. She gazed down her body to her wiggling toes. I could see her toe nails had been painted magenta red once. The wide clear cuticle suggested they'd had some time to grow and the remaining enamel was worn and peeled away. Amy reached across to her left breast to remove something invisible, a strand of hair or a piece of fuzz and disposed of it with a quick rub of her fingers. She was wearing a ring that I hadn't noticed before, with a strange, textured band.

The rest of the room's outskirts were cloaked in shadow, including the adjacent wall where my chains dangled empty. It seemed so cold, so abandoned over there, with the thin sprinkling of old straw on the floor. I wondered how I had tolerated it there for so long, but I had a feeling I would be returning there eventually.

Pratt considered us both, one after the other for a few long moments and I could sense his excitement had marginally dimmed, but he knelt down and motioned for Amy to come closer. She was smirking as she crawled forward and lay down in front of him the way she did for groomings.

This was a bathing, I realized as Pratt got started on her foot, cradling one of her calves in his large bony hand. He wanted me to see it up close. Admittedly, it was different watching from afar. Now, everything was heightened. Immediately, my pubic lips engorged and my legs felt buttery, like I'd just done twenty jumping jacks. I took everything in: how ticklish her feet became, the wiggle of her flesh, the shine of her pert breasts when he finished with them. Leaning sideways for a better vantage, I watched in fascination how her nether lips indecently separated when his tongue combed over her black pubic hair. My own genitals thudded relentlessly while he soaked her private parts.

Never once did Amy look at me, not even when she turned over on her belly, and I surmised she was trying to forget I was there. This was their ritual site and I was a trespasser.

When Pratt's tongue wormed between her smooth, rounded butt cheeks, I sharply inhaled, mesmerized by how far he was able to penetrate her, and with only minimal discomfort from Amy. Although her expression for pleasure and pain was remarkably similar and her low groan was vaguely feral. I wondered if he expected to be able to do that with me at some point. I wasn't optimistic. During my private cleansings in the other cavern, I got skittish if he entered me too deeply.

Squeaky clean, Amy retreated to her corner of the bed. Pratt's head turned to me and his gaze glued to mine, a dark and dangerous gleam in his eyes, and I nearly yelped in surprise. His head tipped to the space in front of him. Limbs shaking, I rolled forward on my knees and crept to him, his eyes never leaving mine. I realized he didn't extend the gratuity of eye contact to Amy. This was just for me.