Page 30 of Primal Snow

And now, I’m at the mercy of the beast that killed her. Killed all of them.

My lips part, ready to speak, but I remember there’s no real way to communicate that I need him to help clean me of the filth. I reach out for the bucket, but he grunts, pushing my hand away gently. Then he rips a piece of fur from the bedding, the thick hide rough and raw. With a single swipe of his claws, he tears it into a large enough square to use as a cloth.

I’m horrified as he begins to soak the fur in the water, holding it up in front of me like it’s a simple task—one he’s done a thousand times before. I feel exposed and helpless as he lifts the cloth and starts to wipe it over my face and my neck, even cleaning the blood in my hair.

He moves slowly, his eyes focused on his task. The firelight flickers, casting shadows across his face as he works, and for the first time since everything changed, I feel the smallest flicker of something—maybe it’s care? No, it’s much more primal than that. He’s smart enough to realize I can only take a certain level of abuse before my body gives up on me. It’s just another form of his claimover me, but it seems different than the animalistic hunger from before.

He scrubs my shoulders, arms, then my chest, paying extra attention to my breasts, his movements controlled and deliberate. The water trickles down my stomach in rivulets, washing away the dried blood and the sticky remnants of our shared fluids.

The chill of the water soothes the burning of my skin, and it feels heavenly against the bruises and rawness of my body. My breaths come shallow and shaky, my body hypersensitive, every touch from him sending a shiver through me.

When the fur drags across my inner thighs, I flinch, and a sharp whimper escapes my lips. His massive hand steadies me, holding me in place as the damp fur ventures higher. My thighs tremble involuntarily as he moves to the most tender part of me, brushing against my swollen, oversensitive pussy. The fur’s texture is soft, but it feels unbearable against my raw flesh, each stroke making me wince and whimper.

“Please, not there…” I whisper, my voice shaky and pleading. “I can’t.”

But his hand holds my leg firmly, spreading me open as he continues his meticulous work. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, stay fixed on me, his lips parted as his breath deepens. A string of saliva drips from his mouth, and I glance down in alarm to see his monstrous shaft emerging, hardening with every pass of the fur over my body.

I squeeze my thighs together reflexively in a feeble attempt to shield myself. “No,” I cry softly, shaking my head as tears spill down my face.

His rumbling growl is low and guttural, vibrating through my chest like a warning. His grip tightens, claws digging lightly into my skin as he forces my legs far apart with ease, exposing me once more. The fur brushesover my entrance, and I cry out, my hips jerking away instinctively.

“Please stop,” I choke out, sobbing now, my hands weakly pushing at his massive arm.

His chest rumbles again, louder this time, and his unhappy grumble reverberates through the room. With a reluctant snarl, he pulls the fur away from between my legs, but not before his hand shifts lower, trailing between the cheeks of my ass in almost caress.

I shudder, unsure if his touch is meant to comfort me or remind me of his dominance. It feels strangely gentle, sensual even, as though he’s trying to soothe me in his own brutish way. Yet, the tension in his body speaks volumes—he’s holding himself back, and it’s taking every ounce of his control.

“Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely, though my voice wavers. My tears are still falling, streaking down my cheeks as I try to meet his gaze.

His only response is a deep, dissatisfied rumble—a sound that makes my heart lurch. He doesn’t understand my words, but he seems to grasp the meaning behind them. His displeasure is palpable, his frustration evident in the way his claws flex against my skin, his growls echoing softly as he continues to grumble under his breath.

Still, he finishes washing me, his touch lingering but no longer invasive. The fur glides over my back, my legs, and even my feet with care, as though he’s determined to cleanse every inch of me despite his simmering irritation.

I let out a shaky sigh as he sets the fur aside. Thewater in the bucket has turned brown with dirt, blood, and sweat. I’m dizzy from the cold, but I don’t feel as filthy as I did before. Physically, at least. I feel like a little bit of my humanity has been returned to me.

But I can’t relax. Not with the heat of his body so close, his cock throbbing, making his arousal obvious, and the lingering tension that crackles between us.

Then it dawns on me—two can play the same game. If he’s training me to be an obedient little girl, I can train him how to treat me better… or rather,try tomake him understand.

Reluctantly, my hand wraps around the base of his thick shaft, barely covering even half of the girth of his knot. How he managed to fit that monster inside me without tearing me in half, I’ll never know.

He groans at the contact, and I add my other hand, closing the tight circle before I begin to jerk him off. I move fast, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. He doesn’t seem to mind. The muscles in his thighs tense as he chases his climax, rocking his hips against my movements in the same hurried tempo.

“Thank you,” I whisper again, so he can connect the words with pleasure.

It’s not long before his cock flexes in my grip, the heated flesh swelling, engorged veins bulging, as both knots throb with pent-up need. He thrust harder into my pumping hands, the slickness of his leaking pre-cum making each stroke smoother. He grips the back of my neck, his claws scraping against my skin, nudging my head down. The pressure is insistent, and I know he’s about tocum, demanding to release in my mouth.

Unwillingly, I guide the flared, bulbous crown inside. The sheer size stretches my jaw uncomfortably, and I struggle to take him in. But I wasn’t raised a quitter. Sealing my lips around him, I suck on his head hard, hollowing my cheeks with determination. The moment my tongue flicks over the sensitive underside, his hips jerk, and a strained roar tears from his throat. His claws tighten their hold on me, pushing me down further, forcing me to take as much of his length as I can. I suppress a gag, my throat constricting around the intrusive girth, but I keep my rhythm steady, working him with all the skill I can muster.

With a final shuddering thrust, his cock throbs violently and his hot, thick cum floods my mouth, spilling past my lips in jolts that feel like they’ll never end. I swallow instinctively, my throat working around the sheer volume as he moans in approval.

Thank fuck he doesn’t have any funky taste or something. The minty aftertaste is actually quite… nice. The pleasant warmth in my belly is even better, spreading strange heat through me. A dark, bitter thought creeps in—maybe this is just another form of survival? But some extra protein never harmed anyone, right? God knows I need it. When was the last time I ate? No wonder I’m so weak and lightheaded.

Just the thought of food makes my stomach grumble. He hears it, too, retracting his hips as his cock slides out of my mouth. He takes a few more seconds to even out his ragged breathing before he moves out of the cage. Thedeer carcass is gone, but he’s left some cut-up chunks in the far corner, which he brings over to me.

A bloody slab of raw meat dangles in front of my face like some grotesque offering as Yeti growls low, forcing me to take it.

I recoil. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not eating that!”

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