Unnatural Instinct: Amazon

11.

I don't know what to think. I don't know how to feel. All I know is that I can't look at you right now. And I certainly can't look at myself. How can I feel so physically satisfied and yet so ashamed and embarrassed both at once? It ties a sickening knot in my stomach. A swirl of nausea follows every throb in my balls.

Was I just raped? I'm not sure. I'm so confused.

You shift your hips and I wince at the spasm in my shaft. It makes you chuckle. 'Want to go again?'

I don't respond.

You smile. 'I think you might.'

You rock your hips again, your breasts hanging in my face. You try to kiss me but I refuse to meet your lips. So, you bend your face lower to lick my nipples. I gasp as you suck them in your mouth. There's no hope for me now as I feel myself respond inside you. You suck and suck as you tighten your powerful grip around my wrists. No matter how hard I try to control myself, I can feel myself lifting like a flagpole until I'm so hard I press up hard against the walls of your vagina.

You pull back with a grin and go right back to fucking me. It doesn't feel so good this time. My balls are sore and all the muscles in my pelvis are aching. But there's nothing I can do. I can't fight and I won't beg. You'll do what you want and there's nothing I can do to stop you.

Your breasts swing like pendulums as you gasp and grunt and roll your eyes. 'You're so deep,' you say. 'So hard. I can feel you.'

You change position, leaning further over me as you lift your pelvis, allowing my erection to slide out of you. It's a bit of a shock as it pops out into the air. I can see it. I can see it between your legs, between our heaving bodies. I can see how flushed and swollen it is. Then you lower yourself again, sliding all the way down its length until our groins meet. And there you twist and rotate. I groan, then gasp. The muscles in my abdomen spasm. My balls throb. And then I feel it—that liquid heat rushing up my shaft as I spurt into you.

You cry out as you slide up and down twice more, enjoying the feel of my hard throbbing before coming yourself. Closing your eyes, you thrust your head back. I'm all the way inside you as you buck your hips. I feel your vagina tighten, then clench hard around me. Tighten, then clench. Over and over again. Milking me dry. It kind of makes me feel like an animal. Like a cow. A stock animal that means nothing except what it can give to its farmer.

Then it's over for a second time.

You drop your head, panting. I can't move, your fingers wrapped firmly around my wrists. They're really hurting now. They make me grimace in pain.

Once you've caught your breath, you look at me with your glittering eyes. I turn my head away again. Releasing my left hand, you take my chin and force me to look at you. I glare back as a sudden boiling rage makes my heart pound and my throat swell. I yank out of your grip. Sliding out from between your legs, I scramble to the back of the hut.

You're kneeling in the pelts, staring at me, your eyes gleaming against the flickering torchlight. It's getting harder and harder to see, the torches slowly dying the further we drift into the depths of the night. It's almost silent now. No laughter. No baby wailing.

Only the crickets and the frogs.

I could almost imagine that we're the only two people in the world. But we're not. Outside is danger. Inside is worse.

You sit on your heels. Your breasts are shining with sweat. Your hair is damp with it. And in between your legs I see the glimmer of cum beading your pubic hair and the insides of your thighs. Either mine or yours, it's hard to tell.

My groin is aching. I can still feel the burn of my two orgasms bubbling in my pelvis. My balls are hurting worse than ever. Perhaps it's because I haven't had sex for so long, or perhaps it was from the rapa, or it could be because I've done it twice in such quick succession. I don't know.

'Talk to me,' you suddenly say. It's so loud, so unexpected in the quiet that it makes me jump. 'Tell me who you are. Where do you come from?'

'Why do you care?'

You tighten your mouth.

'My name is Christopher,' I abruptly answer before you can attempt to make me answer. 'I won't tell you where I come from because you won't believe me.'

'Are you of the tribes from the north?'

I raise my eyebrows. 'The north?' I shake my head. 'No.' I know of the northern tribes. Those that come from the snow and ice. Violent people. Intent on acquiring as much territory as possible to feed their ever-expanding population. I look nothing like them. Why would you think of it?

You fall silent, watching me hard, as though you're trying to read me.

'I'm not lying.'

You stare at me some more, your eyes narrowed. My heart begins to pound. If I can't convince you that I'm not the enemy, then you might kill me.

You frown. 'No, you're not.' You drop your eyes to my crotch and a small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth.

'What the hell are you looking at?' My still partial erection points at you between my legs, flushed and swollen and tired. I try to cover it with my hands but all it does is make you smile more. I can feel the wetness of your cum all over it. Your warmth. Your eyes. They won't stop raking me over.

I feel so vulnerable. So ... owned.

'So lovely,' you say.

Then you lie down in your blankets. I stare at you for several moments, wondering what your plan might be. But it seems you have none, except to sleep. It seems you're finished with me. Your breaths are long and slow already. No doubt you're still affected by the dwarflon drink. I feel a wave of relief but it is brief. I stay as I am, not sure what to do. If I try to leave, will you stop me? And even if I do leave, where will I go?

I suddenly realise—the men's hut.

Though I'm eager to go, I force myself to wait a little longer. I do not trust you. I'm sitting in a crouch and my legs and back are aching, but I don't dare move until it's safe.

The moment you start to snore, I creep along the edge of the hut, keeping as far away from you as possible. My feet tangle in the blankets; I fall to my knees. But I'm quiet about it and you do not wake.

When I reach the doorway, I take a moment to study the camp. Are there any women lurking about? Are there any hiding in the shadows? I can't help but remember how many women fought over me after the dance. I'll never forget all the screaming men dragged into their huts on my research footage. If I'm caught naked and vulnerable like this, I'm done for.

From what I can see, I'm alone except for the trees, the quiet huts and the glow from the last of the burning torches. I move quickly—and silently, though I swear the thud of my footsteps sounds like the beating of a loud drum.

Reaching the hut in one piece, I pause in the doorway. It's quiet within except for the gentle snoring of the men who have remained single tonight, either by happenstance or by choice.

Carefully, I creep between them before finding a spot to lie down. And there I stare up at the ceiling, rugged up in several blankets as though they can protect me against what happened and all the terrible things that are yet to happen.

Sleep takes a long time to find me.