Craved by the Cabin Beast
In the dim glow of dawn filtering through the pines, Sophia stirred on the worn leather couch in Marcus’s secluded mountain cabin. Her body ached in the best-worst way, thighs sticky with remnants of last night’s frenzy. She’d come up here for a solo sketching trip, chasing inspiration in the wilds of Tennessee, but one wrong turn on the trail led her straight into his arms. Marcus, the towering mechanic with grease-stained hands and a salt-and-pepper beard that scratched just right, had “rescued” her from a raging creek. Now, two days in, confusion swirled like the whiskey fumes still on her breath. She was 22, fresh out of art school, dreams of galleries in New York calling her back. But damn, no lover had ever wrecked her like this—pounding her until stars burst behind her eyes.
She slipped into an oversized flannel, the fabric rough against her bruised nipples, and padded to the kitchen. Coffee brewed, sizzling bacon filled the air with smoky temptation. Marcus lumbered in, his broad chest bare, sweatpants slung low on hips that hid a monster she’d tasted more than once. “Mornin’, kitten,” he growled, voice gravelly from sleep. His hand cupped her chin, thumb tracing her plump lower lip. 🔥
Chapter 1: Whiskey Flames Ignite
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The First Pour
Marcus pulled a dusty jar from the shelf—his homemade cherry bomb whiskey, potent as hellfire, sweet with fermented fruit that masked the burn. “Try this, pretty thing. It’ll melt those city doubts right outta ya.” Sophia eyed it warily but sipped, the cherry exploding on her tongue, warmth blooming low in her belly. One gulp turned to three, buzz hitting like a freight train. Her skin flushed, pussy clenching with sudden need.
He sat her on the counter, legs dangling, and stood between them. That bulge strained against denim, thick as her wrist. She reached for it unbidden, fingers trembling. “Fuck, Daddy,” she whispered, the word slipping out drunk on booze and lust. “It’s huge.”
Lips and Throat Claimed
Marcus chuckled, deep rumble vibrating through her. “Show me, baby. Worship it.” Jar in one hand, she tugged his zipper with the other. His cock sprang free—heavy, veined, nine inches of throbbing heat tipped with slick pre-cum. She licked the salty bead, moaning at the musky tang, then gulped more whiskey. Both hands wrapped his girth, barely meeting, as she sucked the fat head past her lips.
Eyes locked on his, she bobbed, throat relaxing from practice runs last night. Gags echoed wetly in the cabin, spit dribbling down her chin. “That’s it, my filthy artist slut,” he groaned, fingers tangling in her auburn waves. “Milk Daddy’s meat with that talented throat.” She did, humming vibrations around him, balls cupped and rolled in her palm, hairy and full.
He yanked her off before exploding. “Not yet. Need to bury this beast in your dripping cunt.”
Chapter 2: Barn Beast Unleashed
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Mud and Madness
Booze fueling her fire, Sophia begged. “Fuck me raw, Daddy. Ruin me.” Marcus scooped her up, fireman’s carry over his shoulder, her ass cheeks spread for cool air kissing her soaked slit. The barn loomed behind the cabin, hay-scented and dim, horses nickering softly. He dumped her into a straw-mud pit from last rain, her sundress—ripped shorter now—clinging filthy.
On hands and knees, she arched, presenting. “Spread wide, little sow,” he commanded. She obeyed, fingers digging into soft earth, cheeks parted. His mud-smeared cock rammed her pussy—no mercy, balls slapping wetly. She screamed, pushing back, inner walls fluttering in orgasm one, two, three. The squelch of mud, her juices mixing with dirt, horse whinnies blending with her cries. Sweat-salty skin slapped skin, his beard tickling her spine as he leaned in, biting her shoulder.
Ass Defiled
“Crave Daddy in your virgin shithole?” he rasped mid-thrust, sixth climax ripping through her. Drunk haze made pain a thrill. “Yes! Stretch my tight asshole!” Mud lubed him barely; he pressed the crown against her puckered ring. Inch by agonizing inch, fire then ecstasy. She rocked back, impaling fully, his pubes grinding her clit.
He hauled her hair like reins, pounding brutally. “Scream how it feels, whore!” “Fucking heaven, Daddy! Own my guts!” Fingers frenzied her swollen nub, orgasm convulsing her bowels around him. He roared, flooding her depths with thick ropes, cum bubbling out as he softened. She collapsed, face in muck, kissing him sloppy when he pulled her up. 💋
Chapter 3: Shower Surrender
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Cleaned and Cherished
Sophia blacked out in bliss; Marcus carried her inside, shower roaring hot. He cradled her against his chest under the spray, soaping her curves—gentle fingers parting folds, rinsing ass crack of mud and seed. Cherry whiskey scent mingled with soap’s pine. She woke nestled there, his heartbeat thumping steady. Vulnerability hit; he dried her tenderly, tucked her into his king bed, flannel sheets crisp and man-scented.
New scene: He joined her, cock stirring again. Slow this time, missionary deep, whispers of “mine” as he traced her tattoos—a city skyline on her rib. She came softly, legs locked around his waist, tasting whiskey on his tongue.
Morning Promises
Dawn brought bacon haze. Apron-only, Sophia fried eggs, hips swaying. Marcus devoured food and her ass squeezes. “You’re magic, kitten. Best fuck and cook I’ve claimed.” Praise lit her up; she kissed him fierce. “Daddy, that ass-fuck… mind-blowing. And you washing me? No one’s ever…” He shrugged bashful. “Partners protect. Now, sketch the lake? Vance drops tools later.”
Conflict brewed; freedom tugged, but his care hooked deep.
Chapter 4: Flight and Fake Blood
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The Run
Marcus roared off in his truck for supplies. Alone, Sophia’s heart raced—New York dreams clashed with barn orgasms. She bolted in sneakers and dress, pine needles crunching underfoot, lungs burning up the rutted path. Forty minutes, sweat-soaked, a ranger truck appeared. Waving frantic, tears streaming.
Deputy Harlan pulled up, badge glinting. “Ma’am? What’s wrong?” Sobs poured: kidnapped from trail, captive in cabin. “He didn’t beat me bad, fucked me good—too good. Just get me out.” Harlan nodded grim. “Sounds like Marcus Kane. Hop in back; I’ll fetch your pack safe.”
Deception’s Shot
Cabin neared; guilt twisted her—ungathered sketches inside. Harlan locked her in cruiser: “Stay put.” He vanished inside. Inside, brothers schemed quick. Two shotgun blasts boomed. Marcus stormed out, gun smoking, snatching keys. “You stupid bitch! Ranger’s dead ’cause of you! Planted your panties in his pocket—widow’ll hunt you!”
He dragged her kicking inside, closet pitch-black prison. All night, sobs echoed. “Sorry, Daddy! Won’t run again!” Dawn release, face-slap stinging. “No wife now, slut. Maybe trade your holes for parts.” Terror and twisted love warred.
Chapter 5: Brother’s Feast
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Dinner Prep Ravaged
“Cook for Vance tonight. Be dessert.” Sophia showered, emerging in altered dress—hem barely butt-covering, cleavage plunging to areolas. Steak sizzled, garlic heavy; whiskey poured generous. Vance arrived: shorter, barrel-gutted at 38, 280 pounds of sweat-stink and leers.
Door hug groped her bare pussy-lips. “Skinny bitch needs fattening.” Keys dropped; bend-over flashed everything. Vance slapped cheeks red. Table chat flowed booze; her hand wandered cocks under linen—Marcus’s beer-can long, Vance’s stubby wrist-thick.
Mouth Stretched
Post-meal, Vance couch-lounged naked, gut spilling. “Suck it, whore.” She crawled seductive, moonshine slut-mode full. Licked sweaty balls, hairy orbs filling mouth, gagging on pelt. Saliva-lubed his purpled fireplug, jaws aching to encircle. He skull-fucked brutal, teeth-grazed slaps raining. “Deeper, cunt!” She choked, tears mixing drool, throat bulging obscenely. Marcus stroked watching, jealous fire banking higher. 🔥
Chapter 6: Double Destruction
New Scene: Spit-Roasted Rage
Vance face-fucked till blue-balled edge; Marcus yanked her off. New twist: dragged to porch overlooking lake, moon full. Tied wrists to railing with baling twine, ass-high. Brothers stripped; Vance claimed throat again, Marcus split her cunt doggy. Gurgle-slurps, pussy squelches—dueling rhythms brutal. Lake waves lapped rocks below, fireflies witnesses. “Gangbang this runaway slut!” Vance bellowed, belly slapping chin.
Orgasms chained; she squirted on Marcus’s pistoning shaft, soaking thighs. Switch: Vance’s girth wrecked her pussy—stretch-burn exquisite agony—while Marcus throat-plowed, whiskey-cum tang. “Swallow every drop, property!” Flood one, flood two, her holes gaping, drooling seed.
Forest Bind – Original Ravaging
Dawn new scene: Brothers hauled her woods-bound, blindfolded. Oak-trunk tethered spread-eagle. Whips of birch switched ass crimson, welts rising hot. Marcus first: anal reaming raw, no prep, her screams echoing pines. Vance followed, cockhead breaching with pop, guts rearranged. Alternating, they double-penetrated—cunt stuffed, ass invaded simultaneous. Pain-pleasure overload; she babbled incoherence, “More, Daddies! Breed your cumdump!” Sap-sticky skin, leaf-mulch grinding knees, birdcalls mocking isolation.
Climaxes peaked: Vance unloaded anal torrent; Marcus pussy-painted white. Untied, she crawled back, kissing boots. “Forever yours.”
Chapter 7: Eternal Chains
Tender Trap
Back cabin, Vance gone. Marcus bathed her again, lotions soothing welts. Bed cuddled, his murmur: “No more running, kitten. You’re home.” Whiskey jar passed gentle sips. She sketched him nude—massive cock eternal—framing their future.
Days blurred: barn repeats, brother visits weekly. Escape dreams faded; pleasure ruled. One night, porch rocking, cherry burn sweet. “Love you, Daddy,” she breathed, hand stroking him revival. He claimed her slow under stars, sealing fate. Sophia, city ghost, became mountain whore—craved, chained, complete. 💋
Word expansions filled senses: always the burn in throat, slap of flesh echoing vast empties, metallic blood-tinge from bites, velvet cock-veins pulsing tongues, rough bark scraping tits. Crude dialogues peppered: “Choke on my fat prick!” “Gape that sloppy backdoor!” Repetitions natural—lust’s loop. Sentences danced short punchy. Long winding. Metaphors fresh: cock like felled log splintering will, orgasms avalanches burying sense.
She ground against him now, porch creak under thrusts. His hands everywhere—pinching clit like berry ripe to burst, fingers ass-plugging leaking cum. Moonlight silvered sweat rivers down her spine. Taste of him lingered, salty cherry. Horses distant whinnied envy.
“Who’s my broken bitch?” “Me, Daddy! Fuck the teacher dreams. Paint your seed instead.” Lie, but felt true in haze. He flipped her, railing from behind, balls smacking loud. She came howling wolves’ envy, walls milking torrent. Collapsed entwined, breaths syncing pines’ whisper.
Weeks on, Vance’s van rumbled regular. Trio rituals: whiskey circle-jerk preludes, her throat warmup. One eve, kitchen table altar—Sophia bent, Vance ass-plundering girth-stuffed, Marcus mouth-fucking to mandible ache. Gurgles, ass-farts cum-bubbled air thick with ass-musk, steak grease, spilled booze. She rubbed clit frantic, squirting arcs puddling floor. “DP this fucktoy!” they roared unison. Lifted sandwich-style, holes doubly impaled vertical. Legs dangled helpless, skewered meat roasting orgasms endless.
Forest jaunts escalated: blindfold hikes, surprise ambushes. Kneel-bound ferns, cocks alternating face-paint cum-glaze. Birch welts badges honor. Cabin walls echoed nightly operas—screams, grunts, wet fucks symphonic.
Her sketchbook filled: portraits cocks veined masterpieces, barn mud-orgies charcoal smudged passion. Marcus framed ’em proud. “My artist’s prime.” Vance grunted approval mid-throatpie.
No escape plots now. City calls voicemail ghosts. Here, pleasure prison paradise. Whiskey jars refilled eternal, cherries fermenting submission. Sophia spread wide perpetual, craving beasts’ claim. End? No—cycles endless, holes hungering refill. 🔥
