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Chapter Eighteen

MAVERICK

I knew what she was planning the second she left to go pee, and she didn’t come back for nearly fifteen minutes. She never takes that long, even when she’s secretly taking a shit. The look in her eyes solidified her plan when she came back to the clearing and said she was going to bed. It took everything in me to not barge after her and tie her up in that tent. If she wants to run, I’ll gladly chase her bratty ass. I sit on the log until the fire burns out, and the only thing left is the low glow of the final embers trying to stay alive. Before I head to the tent, I grab a length of rope from my pack by my feet, tying several knots strategically and shimmying various lengths of the rope under the log. Once I’m satisfied with my work, I zip up my pack and leave it by the log, not even bothering to bring it into the tent with me because I won’t be in there for very long anyway. I grab the hunting knife from the side pocket of my pack and tuck it into the back of my cargo pants. My sweet pet has another thing coming if she thinks she can get away from me this easily. I’ll show her just how ruthless I really can be, and I guarantee that when I’m done with her, she’ll never want to run from me again.

Reaching the tent, I unzip it, crawl inside, and zip it up after myself. I shuffle around by the door, pretending to take my boots off, then crawl inside my sleeping bag. As I lie on my back, I cross one arm over my chest and throw the other one behind my head. I feel her tense beside me, a soft gasp leaving her lips. She sucks at being incognito and pretending to sleep. Honestly, if there was an award for the worst escape artist, she would win it, but I let her have her few minutes of fame anyway. I let out a few fake snores, just waiting for her to make her move. She finally slips out from the sleeping bag. She shuffles through the tent like a damn elephant in a china shop. The hiss of the tent zipper is loud as it permeates through the air; I hear her hesitate at the door of the tent for a few moments before she bolts from the tent. Her boots pound against the ground; she’s not even bothering to hide the fact that she’s running at this point. I count to twenty before I push myself out of the sleeping bag, and calmly make my way out of the tent.

I can hear the deafening pound of her boots through the forest, and the pink shimmer on them is like a beacon beckoning me forward. I take a deep breath and begin the chase, my boots pounding in the same rhythm as hers. She’s in such a panic to escape she doesn’t even take notice that I’m gaining on her. Her blonde hair whipping behind her like a white flag of surrender that I don’t intend to obey. The rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins is like a drug; God, I have missed this feeling. It’s been far too long since I’ve gotten to hunt like this. My muscles throb under the strain of unused breath punching out of me in fast succession, but in the end it still doesn’t faze me. Mallory stumbles over her feet and almost goes tumbling down, but she catches herself at the last minute. Peeking behind her she finally makes contact with me, her eyes frightened and vulnerable. She’s like an open book, spouting out all of her emotions right there, and damn does it make my dick hard.

A scream pierces the air, and she scampers off, but doesn’t get too far before I tackle her to the ground. Her small body wriggles beneath mine on the hard ground, trying desperately to get away. I flip her over like she weighs nothing, straddle her hips, and use one hand to grab both of her flailing arms to hold over her head. The other hand grabs the hunting knife from the back of my pants and holds it to her throat. Her struggling immediately ceases when she feels the hard steel under her chin. Her hair is a mess, scattered across the ground and her face, heaving breaths fanning it back and forth. I do her a kindness by pushing her wild hair back from her face and place the knife below her chin again. Her expression is as close to seething as you could possibly get. I have yet to see her this pissed off, and I hate to say that I like it.

“What you running for, baby?” I taunt her and press the knife harder against her neck, making a small nick, a drop of blood trickles down her snow-white skin. “I really thought that we had hit it off. I’m offended that you would try to leave without even telling me goodbye.”

“Fuck you!” She says through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing with determination.

“So much anger in such a little girl.” The taunt rolls off my tongue, and I relish in the look of outrage that paints her pretty face.

“I’m not a little girl, you fucking psycho!” Her struggles resume, with her slender wrists tugging at my hands and her hips bucking up against my pelvis, which makes my cock painfully hard. “Get the hell off of me!”

“If you act like a little girl, then you’ll be treated like a little girl. You think I’m a psycho? I’ll show you just how fucking psycho I can be, my pet.” I say as I lean down and bite her lower lip, eliciting a gasp from her. I grab her by the hands before she can respond, pulling her to her knees in front of me with my hand knotted in her hair. She’s fuming and tries to get back up to her feet, but I push her down with a hand on her shoulder, and the knife pointed at her face. “Ah ah ah, bad little pets get punished, and I dare say you’ve been very bad. You’re going to walk back to camp naked. If you want to show your ass so badly with that attitude of yours, then you might as well do it for real.” I motion to her clothes for her to strip, but she just stares up at me with that defiant gaze. “Strip, Pet, you won’t like the consequences if I have to say it again.” She rolls her eyes before pulling her shirt over her head and shrugging out of her pants and boots. It’s not long before she’s kneeling before me in all her naked glory.

“Well, now what? It’s fucking cold out here, Maverick.” Her taut nipples and the goosebumps erupting over her skin echo her words. I step away from her and point back towards camp, my eyes beckons her forward. “You aren’t serious. I thought you were joking. I can’t walk back like this!” I shrug my shoulders, pick up her clothes, and walk over to her pack that was discarded during our struggle. I swing it over my shoulder and start walking back to camp, knowing that she will follow me because she really has no other choice.

Eventually her annoyed footsteps follow after me, crunching through the dead leaves. Her lily-white ass pushes past me as she power walks back towards camp, my chuckle floating after her. Once we break through the trees, she darts towards the tent, but I grab her arm and tug her to the log instead. As soon as she sees the ropes tied to the log, all hell breaks loose.

“No! You can’t!” She digs her heels into the ground, her nails claw at my arm, drawing beads of blood. I wrestle her into my arms, pinning her arms to her side with my own. “Mav, please!” Her small feet kick back at my shins, and I grit my teeth at the sharp pain. Dragging her over to the log, I push her face down onto it, the bark digging into her delicate skin, marring her flesh before I even get a hold of it. Straddling her back, I manage to get her arms tied into place to lessen her flailing. “What the fuck are you doing!” I’m silent as I continue to strap her down to the log while dodging her kicking feet. Once she’s tied in place, I walk away and start the fire again, the flames immediately ignite, casting a warm glow on her body. Stepping back, I admire the beautiful sight before me. Her back heaving with every breath she forces from her lungs, arms and legs tugging at the binds around her limbs. She looks over at me, tears swimming in her eyes. I twirl the knife between my fingers and step back up to her. Running the sharp blade of the knife down her back, she jolts, and a sniffle drifts out of her. “Please don’t do this, Mav, I’ll be good!” Her whimpers continue as I trail the knife down to her ass and nick her left cheek, drawing blood to the surface. “I’ll be a good pet. I’ll be a good pet!” Her pitiful chanting repeats over and over like a broken record.

“I know you’ll be a good pet for me after this, Mallory.” I toss the knife aside and rip my belt from its loops; the crack of the wearing leather startles her. Tears start to cascade down her pink cheeks; her cries grow louder and make shivers of pleasure roll through me. “We’re going to start with fifteen lashes, Pet. I want you to count every single one, if you miss one, then we will start all over again.” I run my hand down her cheek, wiping her tears away with my thumb, tilting her chin up so our eyes meet. “If you’re really good for me, then we will stop at ten. How's that sound?” Her head bobbles up and down in a frantic yes; little does she know I’ll be stopping at ten whether she’s good or not, because even through my ruthlessness, I don’t want to hurt her more than necessary. Just enough to fully drive home this lesson, to solidify it into her skin.

Pulling my arm back, I let the belt fly across her ass; the sharp crack zips through the trees. The pain doesn’t register with her at first, but when it does, she lets out a scream, and a red welt already forms on her skin in its wake. I grip the belt tighter in my hand, waiting for her to count, but she’s silent besides her sniffling. I bring the belt down again, this time across her upper thigh, and she screeches out, “Two!”

“That was one Mallory. You didn’t count the first one. Try to get it right this time, okay?” I swing the belt again, relishing the cries that the belt pulls out of her.

“T-two!” She says with a strangled wail, three red welts now lie across her skin.

“There we go. I was concerned that you forgot how to count for a moment there.” I let the belt fly again, this time harder than the last, and the three that she screams out in pain is almost enough to make me pause, but pets don’t learn their lessons if they’re always getting their way.