Cimmerian Read online

  He rolled his eyes and grinned. “I am.”

  “A REALLY BIG CAT.”

  “That is accurate.”

  “WITH REALLY BIG . . .” She swept her sight up and down his figure. “Everything.” A part of her wanted to flee, yet her curiosity rooted her. Gathering herself, she hesitantly placed her hand in his large palm, the gesture abating her shock.

  Gently, he closed his large fingers around hers. “I’m Hull, by the way. May I inquire about the fire-haired mistress before me?”

  With a sharp breath, she swallowed and said, “Jirina.”

  “Ah,” Hull approved, “can’t trace the origins. Not versed in onomastics and all that, I’m afraid. Put your picture next to a wildfire and we’ll call it even.”

  She laughed a little at that, her eyes crinkling as he slowly pulled her into the room and released her. She followed him, took in his sinuous form. She couldn’t readily process the room she was in, and it took her a moment to orientate herself.

  This room was warmer in its lighting, the hanging lanterns as dying suns upon laminated maple. Looking to her right, there was a canopied bed, the leather top dipping down, shadowing the end-board, the hollows within it accommodating the restriction of the head and arms. She trembled a little. He was a professional. He had taken many.

  But had he given as well? There was no telling as he reclined within a chair of burgundy leather and gold rivets, his muscled thighs spreading as he rested his chin on a splayed hand, his eyes narrowing as the corners of his mouth quirked up. “So, what can I do for you today? Or for me, if we’re on the subject.”

  She couldn’t answer him yet. She looked to the left. Tools of his trade hung from a rack: canes, whips, paddles, bites, rope, tape (the nice kind that stuck to itself), and then in a discreet box in the corner were the additions: dildos of varying length and width, their sizes accommodating their nooks.

  Her polished, red nails dragged against her forearm. She had to assure herself that this wasn’t a dream, yet a small fear wished it was. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, forced her vision to meet his. Her voice shook, but she ignored it. “I’ve been to other dungeons, but this . . . and you. I’m not backing out; I’m just wondering if I’ll be any kind of match.”

  The laugh that came from Hull was in good humor, yet it relished her hesitance. “Sweetheart, I’ve done this too long to judge. I appreciate all kinds, ‘cause it takes that many to make this world of ours a little more interesting. You just tell ol’ Hull what he can do for you, and I will oblige.”

  Jirina gave him another once-over, his slightly padded sinew denoting strength that could kill her at a whim, yet she held power as a sub. She took a few steps forward and released her arm. “I’ve asked this before in other dungeons.” The words weren’t as strained. “I want to be dominated. I’m sure you’re familiar with that. But as a different kind of prey. I mean . . .” She laughed at herself and pinched her brow as she tried to explain. “Feral. That’s the word. Taken, not beaten. I don’t mind some abuse. Some biting, by something . . .” It was almost too surreal for her, yet he was listening, his body unmoving. His attention drew the rest of it out of her. “You’re pretty much the incarnation of that, presuming I didn’t trip and hit my head.”

  Hull leaned forward, eyebrows arching as he tossed his bang back. “You want to make sure? I need you to be in reality for a little while if we want to discuss the terms.”

  “Terms!” she yelped. She gave a little shake of her head. “Yes, terms.” She moved closer to him, her fingers grazing his muzzle. That little touch, the felt upon her fingertips, was an unknown comfort that loosened her muscles, the softness upon his hard figure intoxicating. Hull gave her a lopsided smile.

  She returned the expression. “Um, yes. Cans and cannots.”

  “Nicely abridged,” Hull said.

  She almost snorted at that. “Well . . . specifics.” She cleared her throat and continued. “Bondage, mainly. I like to be versatile. In particular, the Prayer Tie.”

  Hull cocked his head at her. “Easily done, and appropriate. I can do more if you’d like.”

  Her cheeks reddened. “Like I said: versatility.”

  “Implying that there will be acts of a carnal nature?” He bobbed his eyebrows at her.

  Her laughter came naturally. “Yes. Under conditions.”

  “Such as?”

  She bit her lower lip as she thought. “Protection, unless you’re clean.”

  Hull tapped a claw against his defined cheekbone. He opened the drawer of the small side-table next to him and took out a sheaf of papers. He waved them and handed them to her. “Your call, sweetheart.”

  She took the papers, her eyes boring into them. She flipped through them, her brow creasing as the dates traced back to a decade ago. “This isn’t possible.”

  Hull shrugged a shoulder. “You can call ‘em up if you want. Let’s just say that, because of our unique makeup, we’re not exactly compatible with humans in that regard, reproductively or the unsavory like.”

  She handed the papers back to him, her lips parting. “Completely clean?”

  “Yup,” Hull said with a stretch and groan before he placed them back in the side-table. “Can’t say I’m complaining. Wouldn’t be no fun: ruttin’ with Reynolds Wrap. So, what’s your decision?”

  She chewed on her lip for a bit. She had seen papers like those before, and unless they were expertly forged, they were legit. There was still one question that perturbed her. “One more thing.” Her eyes traced down to middle of his thighs. The adherence of his clothing did little in hiding. “It’s . . . not . . .”

  “Barbed?” Hull answered. He chuckled softly. “It is not, fortunately and unfortunately, depending on the person. But before we start, I got just one question for you: safe word?”

  Jirina was glad he asked. She’d had to use it before. She asked herself if he could keep her balanced on that scale of pain and pleasure. She was going to find out. “Rose.”

  Hull canted his head at her. “Rose it is. I’ll be sure that flower doesn’t wilt. Now . . .” He leaned toward her, the leather of the chair creaking. “If I am to make sure I am correct: Prayer Tie, a lil’ abuse, and as for other activities . . .” He gave her another crooked smile. “Well, I’ll need to reveal a little more before you can make that call.” Hull grabbed the bottom of his leather top and peeled it off, exposed a hardened, tapered torso beneath soft, snowy fur. Three long, deep scars had been dug into his chest, his nipples pierced with silver hoops.

  He leaned back in his chair, his arms upon the rests. “If you want me to dominate, then my first command is that you recognize and acknowledge.” He tossed the leather top aside. He beckoned her to him, lightly scratched the bottom of her chin. “You’re lookin’ a lil’ incredulous. Let’s put that aside.” He took a light hold of her hands and pulled them to his waist band. “I want you to be informed as to what you’re dealing with.”

  She wondered for a moment if she could even pull his pants off; his thighs could have shamed many a tree trunk. She reached behind him and started from his flank, and judging by the spread of it, she imagined he could be a more than ample sub as well. With a strong tug, she slipped off the upper portion, and with rising eagerness, she jerked them to his knees.

  She clenched up and forgot to retrieve her jaw from the floor. As he had said, it wasn’t barbed. If it had been, she would have run out of the room in terror. To say he was generous would have been an understatement, and the inclination to flee was still whispering in her ear.

  Hull chuckled and petted her crimson hair. “Like I said, it ain’t barbed, but it is a bit disproportionate for you. But don’t you worry.” He ran his thumb down her cheek, his fingers gingerly rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m not greedy. However, . . .” He leaned forward, his voice deepening upon wet crags. “You will taste me. You will touch. You will breathe. You will see, and you will know, intimately, this beast before you, and I assure you, it will not leave
your memory for years to come.”

  His words etched into her, commanded her, her hand traveling up his shaft. Even with Hull’s slight arousal, she could barely grasp him. She fought the hesitation, gripping tighter as she took him in her mouth, savored him. She was surprised by his cleanliness, the taste of thickening flesh pleasantly musky. She squeezed her eyes tighter as she passed the tip, tried to bring him to her throat as she brought both hands to care for the rest of his length.

  Her desire intensified. This beast, despite her submission, was hers, and she savored him, his erection slicker, harder as her tongue caressed. There was no way she could take him fully, but she didn’t care as her hands gently wrung his hardening thickness.

  A rumble came from within him. He purred, the resonation traveling throughout his body. She splayed her hand on his lean abdomen, moaning as she pleasured him, his vibrations traveling through her hands. She took him out of her mouth and licked along the side, her eyes meeting his fanged aspect. Hull said in a guttural whisper, “Good girl.”

  She shivered at the words as she took him in, hastening her strokes upon him, her inhibitions dwindling. Despite his strength and size, his gentle dominance comforted her, and her yearning grew as she tasted what was to come.

  She pulled her lips off him, her hands twisting around his width. With an impatience driven by need, she pulled her top off and undid her bra, the beast grinning at her naked flesh. She wiggled a little as she pulled down her bottoms and underwear, the exposure and vulnerability moistening her. She returned to his needs with newfound hunger, hands clasping his cock, eyes watering as she put him as far down her throat as she could. Hull sucked his teeth, his hand to her head as he pushed her down. She obeyed, jaws stretching against his size. After a moment, she broke free and gasped, saliva stretching from his erection. She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Bind me.”

  Hull cradled her chin in his hand. “You sure?”

  “I am.”

  “Then let’s proceed.” He rose from his chair, still hardened by her tasting, her eyes tracing his muscled form as he walked to the rack and took a coil of black nylon rope from it. He returned and knelt before her, the muscles in his chest knotting as he bound her hands, crossed pairs of lengths around her wrists and through her fingers. Once finished, he jerked the knot and put his hands on her shoulders. “My turn.”

  He grabbed her from beneath her arms and raised her above him, and she cried out a little at his strength. He shushed her and said, “Now what do you think this is?” Her surprise lessened as she dangled above him, the beast smiling up at her. “For this hour, or more as deemed, you are mine at your consent, and as such, I’m a lil’ hungry myself.”

  She forced herself not to resist, helpless as she was suspended above him, her breaths quickening as he lowered her onto his shoulders. The fangs unnerved her, and the feline tongue, from what she had learned, was made for scraping flesh. Yet as he kissed her below, the sides of his tongue curled, gave only slick, long warmth that reached within her. She gave a drawn sigh as she caressed his silken mane with what freedom she had in her binds. His tasting was sweet, alternated between her depths, made curves upon her lips, painted his lust upon her, the curves of his tongue intoxicating.

  She thrust her hips into him, and he took the invitation as he tasted deeper, the smooth, strong muscle spreading her, taking in every inch as he gripped her flank. Her hands clawed his hair, her body rolling against him.

  The long, tremulous breath that came from her was the catalyst. Time could no longer be measured. She ignored her hubris. She was ready for him. “Hull?”

  He took his muzzle from her. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “I think I’m ready.”

  “Is that right?”

  Gripping him tighter, she turned her head to the bed. “Arch my back. Own me.”

  Hull grinned wryly. “Tread carefully, sweetheart. I don’t want to break the warranty.”

  Her cheeks dimpled, her elbows resting on his head. “That’s a good way of putting it,” she admitted. Hardening her voice, she said, “On the bed. From behind.”

  Hull lifted her off him, suspended her as he carried her to the bed. He laid her down and effortlessly flipped her, spread her upon the sanguine mattress, his palm pressing against her lower back. “Your words, as a friendly reminder.” She winced as his claws lightly pricked her skin. “And as another friendly reminder . . .” She gasped as his hot tumescence thudded upon her back. “You choose the entry.”

  She teared a little at the thought of him entering her normally one-way orifice. She enjoyed that stimulation, but judging from the heft and the fact that he was past her lower back, she decided on a safer route. “No there, please? I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  “Oh?” Hull antagonized. “It’s just a matter of practice. Who says I need to give you the hilt?”

  She nearly whimpered at the thought. “I’d rather not be impaled there.”

  Hull tossed his head back and guffawed, his clawed hands squeezing her hindquarter. “Just pullin’ your chain, an option if you see fit.” He splayed his hands down her back. “Damn. Could set time on that hourglass.” Slowly, he eased himself into her chosen entry. “Besides, I didn’t taste you just to send you to the ER, did I?”

  She bit down on the pillow. There was no doubt he was being gentle, that he was listening to her, but his girth was unlike anything she had ever had. He took her incrementally: slow, gentle rocks as his claws lightly ran down her back and squeezed the spread of her backside. She almost came as he made his way deeper, her teeth gritting as she grasped the soft cloth of the bed, the muscles of her back bracing for him.

  He made her teeter between pain and euphoria, savored her from within. He wasn’t greedy or impatient. He took his time with her. She buried her head and gasped as he went further, his hand pressing down harder upon her. “Arch it,” he growled. “You’re a strong vixen. I won’t give you more than you can take.”

  “I am,” she said with a tremor in her voice. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  “Not my intention,” he said, relishing her stifled cries as he gradually pushed himself further. She was trembling again, his fingers running down the line of her back as he hushed her. “Keep it perked. I still have a ways to go.”

  Her head shot up at that. “A ways?”

  “Mm hm,” Hull said as his hips striated. “Almost past the halfway mark.”

  “Halfway?”

  “I’m just a big kitty,” Hull admitted. “You can throw some yarn at me later if it’ll make you feel better.”

  She would have chuckled, but she didn’t want to constrict him any more than she already was. She nestled her head against the soft pillow. She arched her back further, pressed herself against him. He slowed himself for a moment. “Don’t get greedy,” he warned. “You might knock something loose.”

  She nodded and rested her temple upon her clasped hands as he continued to fill her, his thrusts easing. She almost told him to stop until her insides clung as he pulled out, his ebb the precursor to a gradual flow. The pain dwindled as she loosened, the slow waves overcoming her. Her cries weren’t as strident as he balanced her upon pangs both sweet yet piercing. She looked back at him, and another shudder went through her as his body rippled and undulated, the muscle tight beneath sleek fur.

  She curled her fingers as he hastened his strokes, and she gasped as a sharp smack cracked against the side of her posterior. His voice deepened as his thrusts became hungrier. “You’d better start biting down.” He gripped her hips tighter, and a stifled cry came from her as his claws pierced the skin, his palm connecting with another stinging slap.

  She realized then that he had been preparing her. While he was still leashing himself, the rising pace and force had her screaming through the mattress, the discomfort and pleasure no longer distinct, her teeth gnawing on the ropes of the Prayer Tie. She found herself pushing against him one moment and forgetting that she couldn�
�t claw away from him the next. Yet she wanted to meet his rhythm, her back and flank gyrating against him.

  Something guttural came from Hull. The beast was submerging within his own red as well, his strong hands running up and down her sides, gave touches both gentle and commanding as she met his motions, the occasional smack upon her flank sending spasms throughout her body.

  A firm hand upon her lumbar flattened her belly onto the bed, his body smoothly adjusting to the new positon as he wrapped his thick arms around her, encompassed her in his heat as he dug and stretched her threshold from behind. She moaned stridently as he rolled his hips, his sweltering breaths on the back of her neck, and she yowled as fangs found purchase beneath her skin, reduced to her whimpering as he ravaged. His teeth went deeper, and she was nearly sobbing as he pushed her tolerance, the icy jolt in her nape counterbalanced by the torrid flow through her depths. She almost uttered the word, yet her desire to share his red overwhelmed her.

  She turned her head to him, and he took his bloodied fangs from her flesh. Tilting her head up, she met his lips, her tongue sliding along his teeth, the taste of her own blood giving her a newly found vice. She gave him a small, airy laugh as she licked off the rest. “You’re not going to eat me, are you?”

  Hull returned her humor. “I already did, didn’t I?”

  She laughed again, and her mouth tightened as she relished the deep swaying within her. “Take me another way.”

  “If you insist.” He rose and turned her onto her side, his splayed hand running along her thick thigh. Hull’s fangs glimmered like sanguine ivory before the light of the room. She contracted again at the sight of him, his powerful body exotic yet supple as he worked.

  He took a hold of her right leg and hugged it against his hardened chest. Another shudder went through her as the shadows upon Hull streaked across the indentations of his musculature, his thinned eyes nearly black against the dim illumination.

  He kept the quicker rhythm, her leg tight against him. She could barely form words, lost as she was in turbid depths, her own voice distant as her pale body blushed. She pressed her bound hands against the middle of her breasts, back arching and mouth gaping. She was drunk on the spectrum of polar sensations, the stretch and pull, his every thrust swaying her to either end. Just as he was readying to plunge, she brought her leg out from underneath his thighs.