Primal Reckoning
Under the title: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Shadows of the Forest
The Jeep’s tires crunched over gravel as it wound up the final stretch of that forgotten logging road in the Oregon backwoods. I’d lied to Alex, told him I was scouting locations for some indie film gig, nothing more. He bought it, kissing me goodbye that morning at the trailhead where he’d vanish into the mist-shrouded pines for his solo hike. God, the guilt twisted in my gut like a knife, but so did the heat pooling low in my belly. Victor’s messages had hooked me weeks ago—raw promises of cash for “private sessions,” his words dripping with that commanding edge that made my thighs clench.
Pine sap hung thick in the air, sharp and resinous, mixing with the damp earth smell after last night’s rain. The driver, some grizzled local Victor hired, cut the engine without a word. His eyes raked over my body—tight crop top clinging to my full C-cups, cutoff jeans riding high on my hips, exposing the curve of my ass. I’d splurged on the wax that afternoon in Portland: smooth as silk everywhere, nails painted blood red, skin spritzed with that musky vanilla he demanded. Twenty-three years old, curvy with freckles dusting my pale skin and wild auburn waves tumbling past my shoulders. I felt exposed already, primal instincts stirring like a beast waking in the underbrush.
“Out ya go, missy,” the driver grunted, leering. I slipped him a nod, grabbed my little crossbody bag, and stepped into the chill. The cabin loomed ahead—rugged logs stacked high, smoke curling lazy from the chimney, a chainsaw-sharpened axe buried in a stump out front. Chickens scratched in the yard, and somewhere deeper in the trees, a raven cawed. My heart hammered. What the hell was I doing?
The door swung open before I knocked. Victor filled the frame, a mountain of a man pushing sixty, broad shoulders straining his faded flannel, jeans slung low on hips thick with muscle under a layer of hard-earned gut. Beard like steel wool, eyes dark and predatory under bushy brows. Six-foot-four, easy, arms inked with faded tribal swirls and old eagles. He smelled of woodsmoke, sweat, and engine grease—raw, unfiltered man.
“Sophia,” he rumbled, voice gravel over thunder. That devious curl to his lips sent a shiver racing down my spine. “Right on time. Get in here.”
I crossed the threshold, the door thudding shut behind me like a cage locking. Dim light filtered through grimy windows, casting shadows on elk hides and mounted deer heads. The air inside was warmer, heavy with leather and faint whiskey. His massive paw clamped my wrist, yanking me close. I gasped as his mouth crashed onto mine, beard scraping my chin raw, tongue invading like he owned every inch.
“Sir,” I mumbled against his lips, tasting salt and tobacco. He chuckled low, palming my ass through denim, squeezing hard enough to bruise.
“Phone. Keys. Bag.” He jerked his chin toward a steel lockbox by the door. Trembling fingers complied, the click of the padlock echoing my sinking realization—no lifeline to Alex now. Victor pocketed the key, then gripped my throat—not choking, just holding, thumb pressing my pulse. “Strip, girl. Inspection time.”
Heat flushed my cheeks. I peeled off the crop top, bra following, my heavy tits bouncing free, nipples hardening in the draft. Shorts next, thong clinging wet already to my bare slit. Naked, vulnerable, skin prickling under his gaze. He circled me slow, like a wolf sizing prey. Rough fingers combed my hair, traced my collarbone, tweaked a nipple till I whimpered.
“Good girl. Fresh as a spring fawn.” His breath hot on my neck. Then, savage, he shredded the thong with one yank. Fabric tore like paper. I yelped, exposed fully—pink folds glistening, ass cheeks quivering.
Chapter 2: The Sting of Ownership
He didn’t waste time. Fingers delved between my thighs, parting slick lips, circling my clit with callused precision. I moaned, knees buckling, that primal ache uncoiling deep in my core. “Wet already? Hungry little slut.” Two digits plunged in, thick and invading, curling against my walls. I bucked, breath hitching at the squelch of my arousal coating him.
Up my belly his other hand roamed, pinching, slapping lightly my tits till they jiggled red. He spun me, bent me over the rough-hewn oak table scarred from years of use. Ass high, cheeks spread by his thumbs. I tensed as his tongue—wet, hot—lapped my crease, probing my virgin-tight back hole. Never let Alex near there. Felt dirty, wrong—but god, the spark it lit, illicit fire racing to my clit.
“Tight as sin,” he growled, spitting on my pucker, working a finger past the ring. Burn stretched me, tears pricking my eyes. I whimpered, clenching, but his free hand cracked down—smack—on my thigh. “Relax. Mine now.”
Pain bloomed into heat. He finger-fucked both holes slow, deliberate, my juices dripping down my legs. The room spun with scents—my musk sharp, his earthy sweat, wood polish under it all. Then he hauled me up, fireman-style over his shoulder, carrying me to the living room. Dumped on a thick sheepskin before the stone hearth, embers crackling soft.
“Knees. Hands behind head.” I obeyed, tits thrust out, back arched. He loomed, unzipping. His cock sprang free—veins bulging, nine inches thick as my wrist, uncut head leaking pre. Grizzled pubes framed it, balls heavy below. “Suck.”
I leaned in, lips stretching wide, tongue swirling the salty crown. He fisted my hair, feeding deeper, gagging me till drool spilled. Saliva slicked my chin, mixing with tears. But that fullness, the raw dominance—it awakened something feral in me, a primal hunger I’d buried under college degrees and safe boyfriend sex.
He pulled out, strings of spit connecting us. “Not yet. Over my knee.” On the leather couch, he dragged me across his lap, my belly on his thighs, his hardness prodding my hip. The first spank landed—crack—fire exploding across my cheek. I cried out, twisting.
“Still pimping pics online? Teasing strangers?” Crack, crack. Skin blazed, welts rising. Leather creaked under us, his cock twitching against me.
“N-no, Sir!” Lie, but the pain shredded it.
“Liar. You’re my whore now.” More blows rained, alternating cheeks, till I sobbed, ass a throbbing crimson. His fingers dipped into my sopping core mid-punish, pumping. “Say it.”
“I’m… your whore!” Tears soaked his jeans. Relief flooded as he stopped, rubbing the heat soothing, dipping to kiss the sting. “All mine. No more sites. No more Alex peeks.” His whisper slithered in my ear, breath beer-sweet. I nodded, shattered, owned.
Chapter 3: Edging into Madness 🔥
He bound me next—to the four-poster bed in his loft, ropes biting wrists and ankles, spread-eagle on flannel sheets stiff with old cum stains? No, fresh pine duvet, but the musk said otherwise. Naked, splayed, pussy on display, clit throbbing untouched. Victor stripped slow, revealing hairy chest silvered with age, gut firm from chopping wood. His cock raged, slapping his thigh.
“Beg for it,” he taunted, kneeling between my legs. Fingers teased my outer lips, feathersoft, then slapped my mound—sharp sting making me jolt. Tongue followed, broad laps up my slit, sucking my pearl till I arched, moans ripping free. Orgasm built fast, coiling tight…
Pulled away. “No.”
“Please!” Hips bucked air, empty. He laughed, that maniacal rumble, grabbing a buzzing wand from the nightstand. Pressed to my clit—vibrations shredding nerves, pleasure crashing. Fingers plunged, three now, stretching, hitting spots Alex never found. Spit-slick, he thumbed my ass again, syncing the assault.
Edge after edge. Sweat sheened my skin, tasting salt on my lips. Room reeked of sex—tangy arousal, his sweat dripping on my tits. “Sir, I can’t… primal need… let me cum!” First time I’d said it aloud, that word slipping like confession. My body thrummed animalistic, every nerve screaming for release.
“Anything?” Eyes gleamed devilish. Vibrator hummed relentless, my walls fluttering around nothing now—he’d withdrawn.
“Anything! Fuck!” Hysteria clawed me.
He unchained ankles only, flipping me so head hung off the mattress edge. Cock loomed, slapping my face. “Open wide, beast.” I did, throat yielding as he fed inches, balls to my chin. Gagging, choking, mucus bubbling. He face-fucked brutal, pubes grinding nose, scent overwhelming—musk, ballsweat. Tears streamed, makeup rivers black.
“Good primal slut,” he grunted, hips snapping. Balls tightened, hot spurts flooded my mouth—bitter, thick, forcing swallows. Excess drooled down my forehead, sticky. He softened, stroking my hair tender almost. Coughs wracked me, throat raw fire.
“More.” He straddled my face reverse, heavy ass descending. Cheeks smothered me, hairy crack grinding lips. “Tongue out.” Slapped my tit—smack—I obeyed, licking sweat-slick rim. Repulsion warred lust; tongue pierced, swirling inner texture. His moans fueled me, desperate for that denied peak. He jerked, came again on his belly, scooping to feed me. I lapped clean, tongue extended proof.
“Please… cum?” Voice wrecked.
“Day’s young, pet.” Collared me—thick leather biting neck—leash snapped. Dressed himself. Led naked outside, chill wind pebbling skin, pine needles stabbing bare feet. Hose blast—icy shock shrieking from me. Dogs bayed from runs. Dried ragged on burlap towel, then dragged to woodshed. Locked in dark, hour ticking eternal, body screaming.
Chapter 4: Bound in the Wild 💋
Dusk painted the trees bloody when he returned. Leash tugged me stumbling into twilight forest, undergrowth snagging skin. New scene—he’d prepared: massive oak, ropes coiled at base. “Up against it.” Heart pounded wild; primal fear mixed thrill. Tied wrists high, ankles spread wide, bark rough abrading my back, tits heaving.
Wind whispered leaves, owls hooting distant. His mouth claimed a nipple, sucking bruising, teeth grazing. Fingers everywhere—plucking clit, fisting hair. “Feel that? Forest watching your surrender.” Cock nudged my thigh, iron hot.
I did. Nature’s pulse synced mine, that ancient, primal rhythm urging fuck. “Take me, Victor. Raw. Animal.” Words tumbled, shocking me.
He growled approval, hiking my legs around waist somehow—ropes allowed. Slammed in—no prep, girth splitting me. Yelped, walls clamping his invasion. Pounded merciless, balls slapping ass, bark scraping with each thrust. Scent of crushed ferns, his sweat raining on me, taste of his kiss metallic.
“Mine,” he snarled mid-thrust, hand throttling light. Climax ripped him—seed flooding deep, triggering mine at last? No—pulled out, spraying tits. Denied again! Sobs shook me. “Not yet. Earn it.”
Untied, quivering. Back inside, he brewed stew—venison rich, steaming in iron pot. Fed me bites from fork, tender contrast. “Eat, regain strength. Night’s depravities await.” Warmth spread, but ache pulsed insistent.
Conflict gnawed: Alex’s texts unseen, loving. Victor’s grip tightening soul-deep. Wanted both? No—this raw ownership fit some missing piece.
Chapter 5: Depths of Submission
Bath next—clawfoot tub steaming lavender oil, candle flicker on walls. He lowered me in gentle, washing every inch: soapy hands massaging welts, probing folds anew. Fingers slipped inside, slow pumps building slow fire. I melted, head on his chest fur.
“Why me?” Whispered, vulnerable.
“Saw your fire online. Primal spark. Needed taming.” His cock hardened under water, poking belly. I stroked it languid, balls heavy in palm.
Rosewater rinsed, toweled plush. Basement now—new scene, stone walls dripping condensation, chains dangling. Padded bench, he bent me over, lubed my ass deliberate. “Time to claim all.”
Feared, craved. Head of him pressed pucker—slow breach, burning stretch. Inch by inch, till buried, balls kissing pussy. Motionless first, breath ragged shared. Then rocked—full, filthy glide. Hand snaked under, rubbing clit furious.
“Fuck… so deep,” I gasped. Primal fullness, body yielding beast to master. Pace built, slapping skin echoing, grunts animal. Came together—ass milking him, waves crashing me boneless.
Collapsed. Afterglow—his arms cradling, kisses soft beard-scratchy. “Good girl. Stay night?” Tempted. Alex waiting miles away, oblivious.
Chapter 6: Dawn’s Fractured Bond
Morning light pierced shutters, body sore delicious—bruises blooming purple, holes tender. Victor fucked slow missionary, eye-locked, whispering ownership. “Quit him. Be mine.”
Primal pull warred loyalty. Climaxed whispering yes, lies later. Dressed me in his flannel, too big, scent clinging. Drove back Jeep-trail silent. At motel, Alex grinned sun-burnt. “Missed you, babe.”
Hugged tight, Victor’s seed still leaking. Kissed Alex vanilla, tasting wilder ghosts. Phone buzzed—Victor’s deposit tripled. “Return soon.” Primal addiction born. For now, facade held, secrets festering like forest undergrowth.
We drove south, pines blurring, my reflection smirking sly: beast unleashed, chains invisible but binding.
