Page 101 of Lost to the Woods

The wand flickers, sputters, then dies completely.

But Ghost doesn’t stop.

After tossing the toy on the table, he falls to his knees, pulling he rope to the side and baring me.

I shriek as his tongue swipes through my soaked folds, lapping every last drop—too long, too good to belong to a human. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open as he devours me, his piercing dragging against my swollen flesh. Over and over, he works me with the relentless, merciless rhythm.

I’m begging now, babbling around the gag, my hips jerking helplessly, my toes curling in impossible pleasure.

“That’s it. Give it to me,” he hums low in his chest against me, the vibration making me squirm.

Then, his lips seal around my clit, and I fall apart as soon as he starts sucking.

My orgasm is a tidal wave, violent and all-consuming, my body seizing as I squirt into his mouth. He drinks me down, his fingers digging into my skin, his tongue relentless until I’m limp in the ropes, only half-conscious, my vision swimming.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are glistening. “Good girl.” The words are a brand. And I hate how much I love them.

But before I can catch my breath, rough hands are on me—everywhere, all over my trembling body. I haven’t even noticed when the others came back, but they are clearly excited by the show.

Zhyra’s claws dig into my inner thighs, splitting skin. I gasp as blood wells up, hot and metallic.

Khalok growls, crouching low, his tongue lapping at the fresh wounds. The sting melts into something darker, pleasure threading through the pain.

Varekka’s teeth sink into my shoulder, sharp enough to bruise. I whimper, arching, my bound wrists straining against the ropes.

The sound of Doruun’s hooves scraping the floor sends a violent shiver through me.

“Fuck, I need to be inside her!” He shoves the others aside, his fingers working the clasps of the leg spreader. The metal clatters to the floor, and then he’s there, stepping between my thighs, his mammoth cock already hard and dripping.

When he slams into me, he’s too impatient, too aggressive, forcing his way in. A raw cry tears from my throat as he bottoms out, my walls clenching tight around him, unprepared. He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He’s in a rut.

His eyes glow red, his breath steaming from flared nostrils. Every deep, brutal thrust bruises my cervix, his hips pistoning, relentless. My pussy is so tiny because of the stretch in my ass, the friction burning, but he only groans, gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks. My eyelids fall heavy, myteeth chatter against the gag, and my awareness grows more questionable by the second.

“Damn it, she’s bleeding,” Varekka growls somewhere far away, his voice like coming from above the water.

“Stop.” Ghost’s voice cuts sharper.

A snarl.

Then Doruun is yanked off me, thrown back by an invisible force. Weirdly, the sudden emptiness makes me shudder.

The chain rattles, lowering me back to the floor in a slow, controlled descent. My legs buckle the moment I touch down, my thighs slick with blood and sweat, my pussy throbbing from the brutal stretch. My body is weak, aching, and I feel defeated.

Ghost doesn’t let me fall. His grip is firm as he grabs me, yanking me upright in his strong arms. His fingers work quickly at the crotch rope, loosening the cruel bite of it before sliding the anal hook free.

A broken sob rips from my raw throat as I sag against him, trembling. The relief is instant, but short-lived—my muscles are still clenched tight, my nerves alight with lingering pain.

He carries me toward a chair, where he lays me on my stomach over his lap. His hands slide down over my hips, parting my legs to check the damage. I twitch when I feel his fingers tracing across my raw pussy, though I can’t do much more than that, still being bound by ropes. But his touch is different now. Softer. Almost gentle compared to the others.

And I don’t know if that’s worse.

Doruun growls. I hear his hooves approaching, so I lift my head to look. His massive fists are clenched at his sides when he spits, “I wasn’t done.”

Ghost’s grip tightens possessively around my hip. “Youweredone.” His voice is low. Final.

“You’ve gotten soft.” Doruun isn’t letting go.

“She’s still just a mortal,” Varekka cuts in.

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