The Cave Ch. 02

Letting his lips fall back into place, I wondered what else he might let me examine. I stared into his eyes, gauging him, his mood, how open he was. I got a surge of courage and wriggled to get down.

Pratt lifted his head in sharp interest, as if to measure what need I might need tending to and glanced across the room to the water bucket.

I shook my head.

With both my feet on the floor, I squeezed his hand in both of mine and tugged. I hardly moved him, but he stood on his own, towering over me, staring down, bemused. I stepped back in the direction of the bed and heaved again on his hand. Squinting, analyzing me, he took one step out of mere curiosity. Then another. I saw his nostrils flare a little as he sniffed. Then grimacing one of his half smiles, he followed me up to the bed.

He allowed me to puppeteer him, manipulating him around the bedding, to the wall, positioning him between the chains. His tender eyes never left me as he acquiesced to my unspoken demands, observing with keen enjoyment as I tried to fit the cuff to his wrist. I didn't have the key—and I didn't want him to know I knew where he kept it—but I only wanted to give him the illusion of being chained up. Not that it mattered anyway. The cuffs didn't come close to fitting. So, I improvised, curling his fingers around the chains.

After, I showed him my palm: stay. I had no way of making him stay, but I had a feeling he would on his own accord. He liked games.

I stopped to think for a moment, to determine exactly what it was I wanted him to do. I grabbed him firmly around his waist and tried to turn him. Admittedly, it was like trying to twist a tree trunk, but he got the hint in a moment and lifted his arms as he spun around to avoid getting tangled. I circled around to guide him into the position I wanted, stretching my arms up to place his hands on the wall, mostly flat, with the chain still running underneath his palm.

Returning to his backside, I got down on one knee and pressed both hands on the side of his thick, bony hock to get him to spread his legs. I felt like a cop, preparing to frisk a giant.

After all the work it took to make him assume the position, I lost my nerve and could only stand there behind him and stare. It made me nervous to be in the power position, but I was incredibly touched he would allow me as his slave some illusion of control.

Eventually Pratt glanced back. When he was sure I hadn't tricked him and run off, he faced the wall again and adjusted his stance minimally to get more comfortable. I took this to mean he would stand there all night if that's how I wanted it. He was so disciplined. Or patient. I couldn't tell which.

Carefully approaching from behind, I reached for the straps of his loincloth with trembling hands, parting them, holding them back like drapes.

It surprised me, how his rear end looked like a man's. I wasn't sure what else I expected. It was hairy, of course, but no hairier than any excessively hairy man would be, except it was softer, browner, like the rest of him. I slid a hand down each buttock and felt his muscles clench and relax from my touch. He wasn't growling any warnings at me, at least.

Gently, I touched the crevice of his behind. Inserting my fingers, I parted the cheeks and discovered his anus was completely concealed with wiry dark hair. I prodded lightly, searchingly, until I found the warm hole and like everything else about him, it was bigger than mine and it startled me how easily my tiny finger fell inside. I could feel the ring of muscle there loosely constricting on my knuckle like it was milking me.

I removed my finger and continued between his legs until my hands felt the skin of his scrotum. They drooped low but he was tall enough I hardly had to bend to find the balls. They were alarmingly heavy and overflowed in my small hands.

I heard a deep grunt and looked up at the writhing muscles of Pratt's back. His head was gone, hanging down where I couldn't see and his fingers clawed in torment on the wall. I noticed his digitigrade legs looking very unsteady standing there.

Tugging on his immovable hips, I let Pratt know he could come away from the wall. He did, clutching the chains, and they rattled as he sat down with his back to the wall. His rigid penis was standing straight out from his loincloth, wavering in midair. I gave him a moment to situate himself. The muscles in his arms stood out as he heaved up on the chains to straighten out, exposing the bearded divots of his arm pits. He raised his knees and slouched so his erection angled to the ceiling. When he was ready, he looked up at me, his eyes bright, shining.

I squatted down in front of him and flipped back the strips of his loincloth so they lay against his belly. Even though I'd seen most of what was under it already, I had wanted to take a peek since my first day in the cave. The root of his penis was buried in a thicket of black, kinked hair and his massive scrotum was puddled on the blankets between his thighs.

Leaving him revealed I stepped over him so his hips were under my wide stance and his eyes were level with my breasts. His tongue boldly darted out to lick them but he had barely enough time to coat them before I was crouching down again.

I had to stand up half way, my legs bent at the knees at a 90 degree angle, in order to line myself up to him. I was still slick from my earlier climax but if I had ever thought he'd penetrated me fully at any time, I had been sorely mistaken. Little more than half his penis wedged inside me and my thighs trembled in fatigue at the notion of power lunging my way to orgasm. I think that's when I realized I should have thought this through more.

Hearing the jingle of one of the shackles, I felt Pratt's right arm brush my side. He cupped my left butt cheek and jerked me forward against his furry chest so that my knees jabbed into his hips. Sneering cheekily at me, his arm stretched back up to grasp the chain. It was one small adjustment, but it made all the difference and I had to forgive his brief defiance.

With my shins atop his hips, my toes dangling between his thighs, I took a moment to compose my bearings, pressed my palms on his ribcage for stability, and began to rock. Pratt watched me move, his eyes drowsy with desire. I felt his chest expand with each shallow pant. He appeared languorous but his size alone made him a boulder, unable to be jostled.

Pushing up on him to change my position, I altered his angle inside me, flirting with my own fill line and I saw Pratt's teeth as he grimaced in pleasure. I could feel the vibration of his low growls deep in his torso.

I was climbing again and I dug my knees into him, using the fulcrum to drive faster. This elicited a small whine from Pratt. Searching his face, I found his foggy eyes already on mine looking lost, imploring, and I think his hands were slipping. He glanced up at the chains to adjust his grip. His breathing had coarsened and I sensed panic in him. He was taking great measures to stave off his climax.

Time stopped as my body fractured into a thousand slivers, exploding outward. Almost instantly, Pratt roared, the chain cables clacking thunderously against the stone walls while he wrenched on them. His hips jumped off the floor as he jetted inside me. I could hardly keep upright in the commotion. I was aware of a light dusting of debris raining down on us.

I slumped against him, sleepy and relaxed, fighting to control my breathing. I could hear his strong heart racing through his ribs, fast double-clicks. As he let go of the chains, his whole body sagged. I felt his thumbs curl under my arms and drag me across his chest so that our noses met, eagerly stroking mine. I felt close to him, body and soul, as we entered a new phase of understanding, an appreciation for each other that wasn't there before. This role play was fun, but I realized I was partial to playing the slave's part. I didn't need the control. I had enough of that in my other life.

*

Convinced now that it was still extremely early, it was a relief to be tied up to my chains so that I might catch up on sleep. I watched Pratt through the weary slits of my eyes as he headed down to the fire to fuel it with a few extra logs to keep me warm and slid on his shoulder furs. He must have a lot of work to do, I realized, for him to be up at this hour. I was grateful he didn't light any candles so that it would remain darker.

Before leaving, he stopped in the archway of the tunnel to look back. He was closely considering me. Something made him change his mind and he dashed back to me. I sat up alertly as he leapt cheerfully onto the bed, dropping to his hands and knees. His face eased down to mine for one last nose snuggle. I smiled to know he might miss me during his daily chores. I might miss him too, if I wasn't about to expire from lethargy.

Finally, he wrenched himself away, glancing back every few steps as he left. It made my heart tug the way he lingered, facing me again at the mouth of the tunnel. I wiggled my fingers in farewell as he drifted into the darkness.

I think I was asleep before he had even reached the fur stretching room.

Later, I woke with a start. It seemed I had just closed my eyes, but the fire was completely burned out but for a few glowing red cinders.

I could hear Pratt moving around in one of the other rooms. My legs felt stiff and as I rolled my wrists to encourage the blood flow, my hands prickled like I'd put them in a bucket of angry scorpions. I stretched my neck side to side until I heard it release a satisfying crack.

Aware the apex of my thighs was wet and cold I waited vigilantly for Pratt to emerge.

After a few moments of listening to water dripping and the blood roaring through my ears, something echoed, bouncing off the walls, making its way into the main cavern. Something unfamiliar. Or, something too familiar, a sound I wasn't used to hearing in the caves, not anymore. I instantly bristled, because what I heard sounded vaguely like a human voice.

It occurred to me Pratt was gone. In fact, it was evident to me now from the fire, he'd left long ago.

How long had he smelled the other humans? Of course, running would be safer for him and I wondered how far he'd gotten. He could move faster without me and he knew I would be unharmed in the presence of my own kind. But I couldn't help feeling the sting of abandonment in the pit of my belly.

I heard the gritty footsteps of heavy boots, along with the low mutter of human dialogue, but they were too far away to understand. Elation speared through my core. Finally, a search party! I wanted to call out to them, but only a faint squeak came out of my throat.

What if it wasn't a search party? What if they were hunters, lured inside a dark cave by their sense of adventure?

Wait, was it even hunting season?

You'd think growing up in the northland I'd have a better grasp of these dates. But I had no desire for hunting and no reason to keep up with a hunting schedule.

If they weren't rescuers and if they weren't hunters, who would they be?

I absently struggled against the cuffs on my chains and the soft jangle seemed to cut through the darkness like a crash. Part of me wanted to be saved, but part of me was also terrified of being found like this, alone, naked and stinking of sex.

Now I was convinced they weren't hunters, but poachers. Hunters without conscience. Not the kind, handsome hunters with families like my father. I was petrified. One look at me and they wouldn't see a woman in need of rescue. They'd see an opportunity.

At the chamber opening, I saw flashes of moving light and as they got closer, I could tell they were beams, like flashlights. There were several of them, but there was something strange about their high angles. It wasn't until a large shadow emerged from the tunnel entrance that I realized the flashlights were on their heads, like mining hats.

"Hold up," said a man's voice and a channel of light began to pan across the walls like a lighthouse across a dark sea.

The light hit my body and I had to smash shut my eyes. I could still see the intense brightness through my eyelids. I think that's when I started to cry.

"Back here!" someone shouted, followed by an onslaught of clapping boots on stone.

I managed to squint for a moment, but the spotlights were blinding. Some of them had already reached the bed, their boots muffled by the furs, the crunch of dry straw underneath. I could smell the woods on them.

"Jesus," one man muttered. "Someone get a blanket."

I felt a quick yank on my chains.

"Grab those bolt cutters!" another one called back towards the tunnel.

I could sense them all around me and it was all confusion. I attempted to open my eyes again, and at first all I could see was little slits of blurry light. I blinked rapidly at the pairs of muddy boots standing all around me. Some of them wore faded jeans, some of them wore dark work trousers tucked into their boots. Squinting upwards, I tried to see my rescuers, but they were all faceless behind the darting LED headlights. I noticed with a flush that some of the lights zoomed across my body, limning various parts, my legs, my hips, and one circle of light was bouncing back and forth from one breast to the other.

Someone squatted down on my right side. I noticed the faded knees of his soft-looking jeans. I struggled to see his face. "You're going to be all right, honey," he said, and his voice sounded smooth and friendly. A rod of light from someone else's hat passed over his face. I glimpsed his boyishly round face, earnest green eyes and three or four days of shabby facial hair. "We're here to help."

I nodded. Already my tears were cooling and fat drops were merely lingering heavy and wet on my eyelashes.

"Sweetie, are you thirsty?" someone asked and I realized with great relief it was a woman.

"Yes," I croaked. I felt my body relax knowing there was at least one woman here and I didn't mind so much the saucers of white light dancing around the naked parts of me.

"Move aside," someone said. His voice was deep and down to business.

A new set of dirty boots made their way across the bed to my left side and I felt a nudge on my left chain. There was a sudden, sharp Pop! and my left arm dropped. The pain in my shoulder made me wince.

"Careful," someone said. "She's been up there a while."

"I got her." The man on my right with the green eyes gently held my arm as the other chain was cut and he lowered it slowly. I felt his other hand touch my shoulder and I realized he was curling my arm around his neck and the side of his hard hat brushed against my temple. In front of me, all the spotlights were coming closer, surrounding me, and I felt many hands on me at once, scooping me, lifting me, and they were all cold from the outdoors, but I was thankful for each one.

"One, two, three," someone counted.

I felt myself elevating off the bed, just a few inches. As I was being carried to another part of the bed, I was pressed up against the green eyed man and I could smell fresh air in his beard.

Instead of the soft furs on my back, I felt another blanket. It was a little scratchy, but warm and some of the hands left my body, but not all. Some remained to fuss over me, check me for injuries and whatnot. I felt the man with green eyes pull away, but I tightened my arm on his neck.

"Don't leave," I whispered into the collar of his soft denim shirt.

"We're not going anywhere, honey," he said. "We're here to help."

"Thank you," I murmured and lifted my face to the scruff on his cheek and kissed him chastely. His face felt soft with flesh and I imagined he might be slightly husky. A flash of fever came over his face, as if he were blushing, and I felt him recoiling slightly as he turned his face to me. His hat light shined in my eyes and I smashed my eyes shut again.

"Oh, damn, I'm sorry honey," he said and my eyelids darkened. I cracked open one eye and the headlight on his hat was floating up. I realized his hat was coming off and he tossed it aside.

The back of someone's cold hand accidentally brushed against my right breast and it made me gasp as I felt it all the way between my legs. I felt cool flannel fabric brushing against the inside of my thighs and I realized someone was kneeled there.

"There's vaginal tearing," mumbled another woman, maybe the same woman. Then, louder, she said, "Ask her if this hurts."

Without the glare of his hat lamp, I could more easily see the face of man helping me and his green eyes softened on my face. Some of his dark hair had fallen over his eyes. I stared at the hairlessness around his pink lips, noticed how they were slightly chapped and wind burned, and remembered just how long it had been since I'd kissed anyone who could kiss back. "Just let us know if this hurts, okay?"

I nodded, but part of me was a little shocked she would be doing this kind of examination on me right now, here, in front of all these men. I felt a frigid finger slide inside my vagina and I jumped and gave a sudden moan.

"Take it easy," someone said and I felt a sympathetic hand stroking the inside of my bent knee.

The man in front of me was frowning in apology and I felt his hand in my hair to comfort me. "It's okay," he said. "We're here to help."

"I know," I murmured and before I could stop myself, my arm tightened on his neck again so I could lift up to his face and give him a peck right on the lips. The bristles felt good on my skin and I could still feel them on my lips even after he shied away.

He gave a short, self-conscious laugh, and glanced around to see if anyone noticed. It didn't appear as if anyone had. "Honey..." he said, and peered down at me hesitantly, giving me that I-have-a-wife look I'd learned to spot while swimming in the deep end of a toyless pool.

I became aware of another hand blatantly rubbing my left breast and I glanced down hazily, but it seemed there were so many hands around me I couldn't tell whose hand belonged to whom. Somewhere, not far, I heard the slow, steady rip of a zipper.

I looked back up into the green eyes, but they were already closed and then I felt his warm lips on mine again, the exciting, tentative pressure of a stranger's kiss. His hair fell down and brushed against my face. I felt a large hand slide under one of my thighs to my knee and gently tug my leg to the side and I felt the folds of my sex opening up, becoming exposed to the air. The hand on my breast switched to the other one, and I felt a bold thumb playing with my nipple. Someone's face pressed against the inside of my thigh, planting dry, papery little kisses. More zippers rasped. Buttons snapped.

Someone took my left hand and squeezed it around a bare penis. It was smaller than what I was used to but still pleasantly soft and plump. A hot mouth covered my left breast, rubbing it raw with their whiskers. Firm hands spread back my knees and another face pushed against my groin to kiss my nether region.

Inhaling sharply, I opened my mouth and the man with green eyes smiled against my lips. He said, "We're here to help, honey."

He lowered me down to the bed and took my arm from around his neck and guided it to another rigid penis, but I didn't think it was his. This one was already sticky at the head and I felt it pumping in my hand the moment I took hold of it. I heard a mingling of sighs and low groans. As my head dropped back, I felt his mouth latch to my throat and another set of lips took over, kissing my vacant mouth. The new kisser did not have a beard and his smooth face felt leaner and his tongue tasted like spearmint.

There was movement between my legs again. People trading places. From the brushes on my inner thighs, I could sense someone bigger and hairier, kneeling into place. A cock plunged into me, filling me. Curious fingers took turns stroking the engorged bud of my clitoris.