Page 57 of What Blooms in Barren Lands

“Now ask for it very nicely. Like the good girl I know you can be.”

My blood roared with raging need, all the stronger for fear that he would make me beg very hard for its fulfilment.

“Please Sir?” I probed cautiously.

It was darker in the woodland cover, and I could no longer see Einar’s expression. I only saw his silhouette shake its head slowly, its hair lifting and shifting with the motion.

“I know you can do better than that.” His voice drifted towards me from the darkness.

I didn’t share his confidence. My mind devoid of any alluring ideas, I did the only thing I could think of. I set my bow aside. And I knelt. And once I did, I finally understood what it was he wanted from me. Groping in the dark, my hands found his hips, and I scuttled closer to him on my knees, my fingers already struggling with the zipper of his trousers. Above, I heard him sigh with satisfaction at my willingness.

As I traced the tip of his erection with my tongue, the faintest hint of musk seared the inside of my nose. I closed my eyes as I took him in my mouth tentatively, the tight ligaments in my lower face stretching. Einar moaned, and his hands sought my head. I stiffened in a mute protest. But he didn’t force my movements, letting me carry on at my own pace. Instead, he only ran fingers through my hair, tantalisingly, like a ruler pardoning a disobedient servant.

Still, the size of him was like a wedge threatening to pry my jaw away from my skull. Were it not for his sounds of intense pleasure, I would have doubted I was of much service to him since I couldn’t prevent my teeth from occasionally grazing against the intimacy of his skin. If it hurt him, then he did not seem to mind. Sensing that I could not carry on for much longer due to my own discomfort, I cupped his sack in an effort to hasten him, sliding the two smooth plums between my fingers in their rough pouch.

Einar moaned louder with a creeping tone of helplessness in his voice. I whimpered slightly as well, feeling as if the flesh around my chin were getting torn off, but not willing to quit. Not until I was told.

Instead, I took him in deeper and deeper until I nearly gagged as he hit the back of my throat. My eyes watered, but I refused to relent, encouraged by his sounds of pleasure.

“That’s enough, babydoll.” His hands pulled me away a bit later, just as his erection had hardened to a rock and was beginning to pulsate slightly in my mouth. “The rest is for you.”

Panting and sliding my jaw from left to right gingerly to relieve its ache, I blinked and a solitary tear rolled down my cheek. Einar helped me up and then turned me around so that I faced a pine tree trunk, straight and branchless. I inhaled deeply, the fresh smell of resin sharp in my nostrils. Embracing me from behind, Einar pushed me roughly against the trunk, the wood coarse underneath my palms. Then he unzipped my trousers, pulling them down, taking them away as I stepped out of them. He bit each of my cheeks, hard but without inflicting pain, before straightening back up.

“You know how you grabbed me on the field earlier today? Can you do that again?” I rasped and, learning from my previous mistakes, added a perfectly demure, “Please, Sir.”

I felt Einar stiffen behind me for a split second, processing what I had just said. The owl hooted again nearby, but otherwise all was quiet apart from the soft, peaceful rustling of the pine branches.

Large palms enveloped my shoulders, fingers pressing firmly into my collarbone.

“Like that?”

“Harder. Much, much harder.”

He didn’t make me beg this time. Instead, his right hand tightened into a fanged jaw on my shoulder whilst the left buried itself in my hair and pulled on it as if meaning to rip it off my scalp. I breathed hard through my clenched teeth, feeling as if I had drunk strong mulled wine very fast, its warm intoxication accumulating in my core first and then spreading to my extremities. Before he even entered me, quickly and forcefully, sensing my own ravenous readiness, I was already battling an irrepressible desire to weep and laugh at the same time.

Waves of pleasure rippled through me with each of his thrusts, and I moaned loudly, adjusting the centre of my gravity so that I leaned into him, pressing into his hips, not wanting to be robbed of a single fraction of an inch of his reach within.

“A bit quieter, babydoll,” he told me in the strangled voice of a man engaged in a merciless battle with his own pleasure.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood but managed to stifle the ecstatic roar that seemed to originate much deeper within me than where my vocal cords were.

“I’m so close,” I mewled, eyes squeezed shut, ecstasy coiling through my body.

“Do you want to come for me?” Einar asked hoarsely.

“Yes!”

His hand left my hair and, wrapping his arm around my hip, he reached for my clit.

“Do you want to come all over my cock and my hand?”

“God yes!”

I hummed, anticipating the bliss of additional friction. But instead of rubbing it the way I had expected, Einar pinched the bud between his fingers.

Hard.

Pain overshadowed my pleasure and destroyed my building climax. I hissed and then wailed mutinously, too frustrated to form words.