Captive Heroes (11 page)

Yes. This feels good.

She hated that she loved it. Loved how he made her feel.

He began a soft massage on her engorged clit and her legs went wobbly. Her pussy was wet, hot, weeping.

She spread her legs wider and leaned back against his hard muscular frame as she panted. The musical clinking of the chains melted more of her resolve. She moaned in protest as his fingers slid away from her clit. More fingers claimed each side of her labia. He pulled and massaged and she became wrapped in a world of need, of want, of denial.

On one cunt lip came a pinch—hot—like the one earlier on her nipple. He was clamping her labia. The other lip got pinched. A slow burn followed.

Her body hummed.

He soothingly tugged the chain. The clamps jerked gently on her labia and the chain dipped between her legs, brushed against her tender clit. Then a hand came from behind, between her legs, the chains singing their musical song as they tinkled in his fingers. He yanked the chain up behind her and she gasped as it slid through her ass crack. Suddenly her labia were pulled tight and so were the clamps on her nipples.

Erotic shivers burst through her pussy and breasts, bringing her to the dark edge of need. Once again she almost gave in to the urge to tell him to fuck her, but she struggled to breathe that idea away.

No, she couldn’t let him see the effect he had on her. She had to have some sort of pride. She’d been so deep in thought, in denial, wrapped in her sensuality, she didn’t even realize he’d moved away from her.

She almost fell.

“Replace your garment. We must leave now,” he muttered. His voice was unmistakably drenched in lust.

While she quickly pulled up her skirt his high arousal caught the corner of her eye. Scorching appreciation slid like wildfire through her veins. Touching her had made him just as heated as she’d become. Disappointment rocked her as he covered his bulging erection beneath his loincloth, and she wondered who would be the first to break down and beg.

Her?

Or him?

If she were a betting woman, she’d say whoever broke first, they’d do so sooner rather than later.

A brisk yank on the chain pulled everything tight, making her gasp in surprise at the exquisite tremors shimmering through her. The tug was his indication to follow him.

And so she did.

* * * * *

Blackie’s cock screamed for release. He had expected this overwhelming reaction to touching her. He just hadn’t entertained the thought she would bring him so easily to his knees.

In the past several years in Death Valley, he had instructed many females as sex chattel for the males. Had learned to treat them with tenderness, with strength and firmness as one would train a horse. He’d even taught a few females to become addicted to ménages. He’d enjoyed sharing these women. Enjoyed the pleasure on their faces.

But this female he did not wish to share. This female he did not wish to train or take against her will. He did not wish to break her spirit.

He just wanted her the way she was.

Fiery. Angry. Confused. That’s how she’d looked at him when he began to lead her on her leash. She looked needy…for him. Just as he was needy for her.

Goddess of Freedom! Had she put a spell on him? Did she know how she affected him? That scorching flames of lust branded his flesh every time he gazed upon her?

She must know. He’d seen her spying on him as he had re-clothed himself. Her eyes had widened as appreciation tensed her body. Her cheeks had blushed with anticipation and the tip of her pink tongue darted from between her slightly parted lips.

Perhaps she thought him too big for her? His cock too long and too thick? That he would hurt her upon entering her vagina? He had tricks to make a female wet and this one had been very wet as he’d massaged her clit. Her warm cream had splashed against his hand. She was aroused even while she was bound.

He had quickly brought her in touch with her sexuality and she had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it. A zing of frustration laced through him at the thought of returning to Death Valley. As per their new rules, she would belong to the Boys—as all the other females did.

She would go to any male or males who wished to fuck her. Unless, of course, he wished to fight for her. He suspected he would have to fight for her every day for the rest of his life if he went back to Death Valley. He grimaced. If he fought the males, then he wouldn’t have the strength to fight her.

Thunder groaned somewhere on the darkening horizon. They would need to take cover. Fast.

The stormy season would be here soon. They would need to find shelter on higher ground. A new sense of urgency made him pull harder on the leash. He ignored her yelp of surprise as he led her toward the nearby cliffs. The cliffs contained the caves. There they could find shelter and rest, and there they could fuck.

Chapter Six

A sensual drowsiness embraced Kinley as she followed the man who’d captured and collared her. The terrain was rough and flat on the plateau they were walking along. They’d left the jungle quite awhile ago and he was heading toward the dark, rocky outcropping that appeared closer than it was in reality.

They would need some form of shelter before the looming storm hit, because far in the distance behind them, ominous, rolling black clouds were drawing closer. Thunder cracked and she cringed as every forked, white flash of lightning arrowed to the ground. But that lightning was nothing compared to the electrical jolts shifting through her body with every step.

The journey had started out easily enough. She’d been able to handle the humiliation of this man leading her around by the collar. It almost seemed as though she were used to the collar. Used to being bound. But that was crazy, because she could remember nothing.

She was able to grit her teeth as the pleasure-pain sparkled through her nipples and labia, compliments of the clamps and the way he’d bound her with thin silvery chains. She could even handle the chain he’d slipped between her labia. It seemed oddly soft as it rubbed and caressed and tugged at her highly aroused clit, not to mention it sensually rubbed the crack between her ass cheeks.

If he chose to push that arousal button on the box he continued to hold in his hand, she would likely lose her mind in the biggest orgasm of her life.

While walking, she’d become highly sensitized to every part of her sex. Had become, she was sure, addicted to the wicked shivers zipping through her heated body. She found it odd that she was able to tolerate the clamps. Something deep at the back of her mind told her the clamps weren’t supposed to be worn for this long a period due to the dangers of pinched nerve endings and cutting off blood supply. But hey, instead of hurting, she was being pleasured.

Since he had access to the electronic device, he must have access to other state-of-the-art devices such as harmless clamps, which certainly was a good thing.

She’d also discovered he was a magnet—her gaze stayed riveted to the backside of him. Mostly everything was covered by the huge burlap knapsack he wore, but she found herself concentrating on his exposed parts. On his powerful legs. On the bunch of muscles that bulged in his upper thighs as he walked…as well as his rock-hard ass—all of which were darkly tanned from the sun.

From what she could see, there were no tan lines for this hunk. No siree. Just pure skin and muscle, which flexed magnificently with his every move. Those electrical sparks of arousal amplified at the thought of spending the oncoming night with him—embers of excitement she should not be having for her captor. Yet she was having them and, since she had no memory of who in the world she was, she may as well just go with it.

He moved them faster now. Urgently tugging on her collar, making the carnal sensations shimmering through her increase as they finally reached and began to climb the rocky incline. The rubbing of her clit, the pulling of her labia and nipples reminded her of his hands touching her.

If she had the chance, she’d be writhing, bucking her hips and finger-fucking herself into sensual oblivion.

Damn him!
She needed to get herself off or she’d go mad!

In order to keep her mind from totally falling into a sexual haze, she counted the cracks of thunder to determine the distance of the storm.

One steamboat, two steamboats, three steamboats….crash. One steamboat, two steamboats….crash.

“Move faster. We are almost there!” he shouted as the roar of the wind began to pummel them. It was getting dark really fast and the first real flickers of fear grabbed hold of her.

If I go any faster, I’ll be a useless, orgasming ball of flesh, you son of a bitch!

She wanted to shout at him, but she kept her thoughts geared to counting and observing the storm. The clouds were bruised with purple and black. They looked incredible.

“It is an acid storm! Hurry!” he growled, and then suddenly he stopped. His fingers went to her cuffs and he released her hands.
Yes! Free!

Quickly, he grabbed her right wrist. “Do not try to run. You will die. You must follow me!”

In that brief instant, she caught his gaze. Fear shone in his eyes and it seared straight through her too. The son of a bitch was telling her the truth.

He yanked at her and literally had her flying over the boulders. Had he said acid? As in burning acid? Like, she must have heard wrong.
Right?

Something hot and painful seared her upper right arm. She yelped in disbelief as a quarter-size part of her flesh bubbled and became red.
Oh my God!
He was serious.

She picked up speed, her sexual haze now forgotten.

A couple more shots of hot pain sliced into her arms. One on her upper thigh. Burning flesh assaulted her nostrils. She swore when a blue spark snapped off his knapsack.

Oh shit!

Then another blue spark…and another.

Holy crap!

The wind screamed all around them, its fingers tangling in her hair. Her scalp burned as the wind painfully pulled on the strands. The odor of burning hair permeated the air and she fought the rise of panic.

She needed to stay strong, force herself to remain as cool as a cucumber. And she needed to follow his instructions.

He’d stopped again and was shouting something at her, but damned if she could hear above the roaring wind. A couple of hot blasts of steamy air almost knocked her over, but thankfully he grabbed hold of her and steadied her. Then he let go and struggled to get something out of his knapsack. When he drew out a large, very thin, fur blanket—similar to the one she’d stolen from his sack—and draped it around her shoulders, she understood. Her hair had the possibility of catching fire. Not good.

“Over your head! Follow me!” he shouted.

“What about you?” she screamed and thrust the blanket toward his hand. But he’d already turned around and slung the sack over his back again. He started moving them up the hill.

Damned male!
They never listened anyway.

Pulling the blanket over her head, she followed him.

More blue sparks snapped off his knapsack. More odors of burning hair. Parts of the sack started smoldering.

She yelped as pain bit her ankle, but the rest of her was well-protected as she held the amazingly light fur blanket over her head and shoulders.

Thunder cracked overhead and sparks of white lightning zipped off a nearby boulder. Well, so much for her cucumber coolness. It disintegrated and panic began to grab a firm hold.

What if they burned to death? Dear God, what a hell of a way to die! And she meant hell quite literally.

Oh stop with the bad joke, Kinley.

Hot air seesawed painfully through her nose and into her lungs. Darkness and lightning wrangled for control. Blue sparks fought with white sparks.

It seemed as if they were climbing forever. Her legs grew tired, her hand clutching the fur loosened and she almost lost the blanket a couple of times. But thankfully, sometime along their way up the rocks, he’d grabbed hold of her other hand. It was a reassuring gesture. Her lifeline to another human being. Someone who might actually give a shit if she died here.

Suddenly he stopped, turned and cursed at the sky. The anger in his dark eyes frightened her. His hot hands slipped around her waist, and then her feet flew off the ground as he swept her into in his strong arms and began walking again.

Her weight would slow them down and she struggled to get out of his arms.

“Hold still!” he growled with anger.

“I can walk!” she insisted.

“The rocks grow hot. You have no footwear. I do.”

Okay, she got the message. Charbroiled feet were not on the menu tonight. Thank goodness, he did care!

White and blue sparks zinged off the rocks like a display of fireworks had been set off right in front of them. It would have looked pretty had she not been so damned scared.

Then the rain came screaming along the rocks behind them.

Hot stabs of rain pelted her exposed feet and she bit back a scream as she envisioned her feet burning off. Then a cold flash of air swept away the humidity and the fierce winds stopped. The storm suddenly seemed far away as he carried her inside some sort of shelter.

“Where are we?” Her voice echoed as she gulped madly at the fresh air, inhaling it deeply into her tortured lungs.

“A cave,” he answered.

No shit.

In the damp darkness his breaths erupted, hard and heavy. His body heat wrapped around her curves. The safety of being in his arms disappeared as he set her down on a carpet of soft, cool moss.

Oh very nice, and her sore, tired feet totally appreciated the carpet.

“Do not move until I light a fire,” he said softly. “There are holes here to fall into and there may be dangerous animals that have also taken refuge.”

Holes? Animals! Yippee. Lovely vacation spot.

Her heart beat a mile a minute as she gazed at the yawning opening of the cave. Shivers of dread screamed along her frayed nerve endings as white lightning forks flashed just outside. As the thunder boomed, the moss trembled beneath her feet.

Was that acid rain on fire?
Streaks of orange zipped by in an almost sideways movement. Thankfully it didn’t enter the cave.

She held the fur blanket tighter around her body, looking for comfort as the cold dampness chased away her body heat. Somewhere deeper in the cave—from the blackness—came a shuffling. How the hell could he see anything?

Relief washed through her as a welcome orange glow erupted on the nearby ground. More flames rose, and then there was enough light. He’d lit a fire.

“You’ve been here before,” she said, understanding.

He nodded in the firelight.

“So you know exactly where we are?”

Again, he nodded. He shrugged out of the knapsack and reached into the nearby darkness where he produced more firewood. He piled the sticks onto the fire. The flames grew and crackled, giving off more light. Against a wall was quite a huge heap of wood as well as layers of bark.

“The wood is damp, but dry enough to stay lit. The smoke escapes out of a small crack in the rock above so we have fresh air. Come closer to the fire and warm yourself,” he ordered.

The male gruffness was back in his voice, the earlier softness gone from his features. As she moved to the fire, pain burst where the acid rain had hit a few spots on her arms and legs. But she welcomed the lovely heat from the fire as it splashed around her body.

“Here is salve for the burns.” He handed her a small, wooden container about the size of her palm. He’d removed the lid and inside was a light-colored cream.

“We keep cream here in case,” he explained.

The fire snapped and hissed as he tossed more wood onto it. The sparks, floating delicately upward, moved quickly to a two-inch-wide and about ten-inch-long crack in the otherwise solid ceiling.

“Put the healing cream on now as it works better and faster when you put it on right away,” he said and stood, towering over her.

Gosh, but the man was a giant.

“What about you?” In the soft glow of the firelight, blistered burn marks laced his legs and arms.

“I have experienced worse.”

Oh dear. Mr. Tough Guy, huh? Okay, Kinley girl, rein in your compassion for him. Rein it in. You aren’t wearing a collar and slave chain for nothing.

“While I am gone, do not venture out of the cave. You will not last long out there.”

That’s for sure.
Streaks of orange continued outside the opening.

Without another word, he disappeared into the dark cavity behind her.

Kinley did as he instructed and began dabbing the cream onto her fiery blisters. Who was she to argue with the guy, anyway? Defying him and not putting on the cream would only hurt her and anger him. Not that she wouldn’t want him angry as hell when he fucked her.

If
he fucked her.

If. If. If.

If she let him. No,
when
she let him. That is…when he begged. Yeah, he had to beg first and then she’d crack.

All too quickly, the man returned and with him so did her arousal. Okay, so he knew how to train a woman to crave pleasure. That didn’t mean she would crumble to her needs. At least not yet.

Outside the cave entrance, the wind was blowing so hard…like a freight train.

“We were lucky,” he said as he handed her a skin-type canteen. She took it and eyed the opening, wondering if he’d maybe dropped a drug in there.

She was dying of thirst, but was she willing to put her life on the line by trusting he hadn’t put a drug in her drink? Obviously he had done it before with the food she’d stolen from his knapsack. How else had she been so deeply asleep he’d been able to finger-fuck her into that mind-blasting orgasm without her even realizing he was real?