Page 69 of Lost to the Woods

I hear his zipper opening again, then I feel his hard cock pressing between my legs—hot and heavy and slick with precum.

Ghost grips my thighs hard, his fingers bruising as they dig in, spreading me open like a feast. He folds my knees to my chest with no effort, completely exposing me, pinning me to the dirt with my hips lifted high. I’m wide open. Helpless. Every vulnerable inch on display.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice husky with satisfaction. “All spread out for me. Perfect little fucktoy.”

The pet name stings, makes me burn with shame. But my body writhes below him, mindless, aching for him.

Then he slams his hips forward, a brutal snap of flesh against flesh. My body jolts with the impact, air torn from my lungs, and I choke on a cry—too overwhelmed to even scream.

He drives into me like a weapon—thick, merciless, tearing through the tight walls. I feel every inch force its way inside, too big, too rough, stretching me wide around him. It’s too much—too fucking much—and yet I can’t stop the way my back arches, the way my pussy sucks him in deeper.

I try to twist away, instinct screaming—but Ghost pins me like prey, his weight locking me in place, grinding deeper with a hungry groan like he wants to crawl inside and never leave.

“You feel that, Bunny?” His voice is low, gravelly, something almost inhuman creeping into his tone. “So tight, so wet… Even when you hate me, your cunt still begs for me.”

I whimper, eyes squeezed shut, nails digging into the dirt.

He’s too deep. Too brutal. Every stroke burns and pulses as his piercings drag across every nerve ending in my body.

I try to arch away, but his grip on the back of my thighs clamps down harder.

He leans over me. “You fucking love this,” he pants, voice shaking. “Being forced. Being used. Beingowned.”

I shake my head. Tears streak hot down my cheeks. But my cunt is drenched, clenching down on him a sick pulse of pleasure I didn’t ask for. Begging for more with every shameful squeeze.

He feels it—and he laughs, breathless, cruel, triumphant.

“Eyes open,” he orders. “Look at them.”

I don’t want to. I can still feel them—lurking, shifting, watching. They are breathing heavily like wild dogs just held back by an invisible leash, humping away the air.

He squeezes my jaw in an iron grip and turns my head toward the shadows. “I said—look.”

My lashes flutter open, my vision swimming. But I see them in the dark—huge, hunched figures. They’re so much closer now. Half in shadow, half in moonlight. Not human. Not even trying to pretend. And their noises are the worst…

My lungs clench. And my blood turns to ice.

They don’t just want to see me ruined.

They want to join in.

Ghost groans loudly as he slams into me harder, making me shudder. My scream bursts free—raw and choked.

It’s too much. Terror. Pain. Pleasure.

All of it rolls through me in waves I can’t make sense of. My body betrays me, overwhelmed by sensation, and guilt floods me because of my responses. But I can’t stop. I can feel myself getting tighter, hotter, wetter.

His fingers dig painfully into the soft flesh of my trembling thighs, marking me. Branding me.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” he whispers. “Knowing they are watching you being fucked in front of them. That they all lust after you, dying to take turns and make you their cumslut…”

I whimper, barely able to breathe. My body bucks against him even as my mind screams no. He’s relentless now, his rhythm grows savage, less man and more beast. He’s not fucking me—he’s claiming me. His stiff, throbbing cock spears into me over and over, faster, harder, wet slaps filling the forest like thunder. Pain and pleasure blur into something filthy and electric.

I can’t escape it.

I can’t escape him.

All I can do is feel it—every inch stretching me out, every feral thrust, every monster waiting in the dark, licking their lips and hungrily watching him wreck me.

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