The forest was your home, your territory. No hunter had the knowledge you did, and no trap could capture you.
At least that's what you believed.
As you dangled from the tree from this ridiculously thick rope. The more you thrashed, the more the rage and embarrassment burned in your chest.
As the sun started to set, you thought that you might have to tear your own leg off to be free.
It had been eerily quiet since you'd stopped fighting the rope around your ankle. Waiting for all the blood to pool in your brain.
All of a sudden the crunching of leaves could be heard in the distance.
Something was approaching, but as you dangled you couldn't turn your head enough to see what it was.
Your blood boiled with renewed adrenaline and you thrashed against the rope. You hoped to yank it out of the damned tree as you whipped your leg back and forth.
Whatever remained out of your view, picked up its pace. When it was just a foot away it rounded the tree to see your face.
It's a scruffy hunter, no doubt here to check his traps for his dinner. An annoyed look crosses his face to see his trap was wasted on you, and the possible fight you'd put up once he'd try to cut you down.
He hesitates at first. He could spot the sharp white canines as well as the hair raising up on the back of your neck. He was in no business to be bitten by some fae.
He finally gets close enough behind you to cut the rope at your ankle. It's such a waste of rope, and a waste of a perfectly good trap.
With the rope cut, you're down quickly. You even hit the floor with a nasty thud.
He watched you scramble to your feet, intending to run off. In that split second a terrible idea pops into his head and he raises the butt of his gun just as you're turning to face him.
The stock bashes into your forehead and you're down again like a sack of rocks. The crack of the wood bashing your skull echoed through the trees as you fell.
This wasn't going to be a total loss if Bucky had anything to do with it. While you lay there in the dirt, he gathered up the torn remnants of the rope to tie your hands and feet together.
He picked you up by your hips and flung your limp body over his good shoulder.
He's lucky you didn't wake up during the bumpy trip home. When you do come to, his bedroom blurs into focus. It's all a mass of wood and fabrics until it can mash together into one picture.
You try to push yourself up to regain your bearings, only to feel the cold metal tug at your skin. Your wrists had been clamped down to the wooden frame of the bed that held you.
He steps into view, poking, and dabbing at you with a small rag. He'd been wiping the blood from your forehead until you'd finally awoken. With his hands too close to your mouth, you have leverage to try and bite at his wrists. This behavior only results in a smack to the side of your ass.
Like the crack of a whip, the pain comes out of nowhere. You hadn't noticed his belt had been wadded up in his other hand. And such a bizarre looking appendage it was. Now without his coat, his left arm glimmered in the candle light like it was made from a polished jewel.
"Are you going to behave?" His voice was devoid of any fear. You were a force like no other, and yet he acted as if you were a naughty child.
You growled in response to his question and started yanking your wrists against the cuffs.
Another smack rings out in the room, and your Ill temperament is overshadowed by the howl of pain that left your throat.
"Not going anywhere anytime soon, are you?" Now he was just being smug. He climbs onto the bed behind you, feet on either side of your waist, and whips the belt against the skin of your ass.
He stands above you as your back twitches with each crack of the leather.
Each smack rings through your lower body, sending shock waves to pulse and throb around the welts and scratches. A lower humming goes almost completely ignored until he pauses from his barrage of slaps to run the warm leather over the marks he left behind.
The wadded belt moves around the globe of each cheek before slipping between your thighs to tickle your hidden flower.
He tapped the mound once, then twice, before he pushed the leather into the slickness pooling at your core to coat each of your lower lips.
"Well, this is interesting." His voice was a deep purr of satisfaction, but not of surprise. Awful creatures like you tend to find unknown pleasure in this sort of pain. The leather slipped so easily between your folds. The way you bit your lip to fight off a little whimper, was almost too perfect.
He pulls the belt away from your flower as it starts to twitch against the leather. He pulled his leg away from one side of you and hopped off the bed. He rounded the thick wooden frame with slow and heavy steps, making the floorboards creak with each press of his boot.
He grabbed something off of the nightstand before finally making his way in front of your slightly raised head. In one hand was still his belt, but in the other was a simple wooden steak. Something small that he'd been whittling when he got bored.
"open your fucking mouth" He grunts, palming a wooden steak in his flesh hand. You stifle a frustrated growl, knowing full well if you didn't cooperate you'd get another round with his belt.
You open up your maw to the steak as he slips it in long ways to sit between your teeth. He applied some pressure so the wood pressed against the sides of your mouth.
"Now bite" the order came out just as deep as the last one, and again you follow.
Your sharper Canines sink into the wood with a small splintering crack. You both can hear it as each tooth presses into it. He was going to have you snap the wood in half by the end of the night.
Your hands were still held down by the big iron cuffs, but your feet were free to thrash and kick as he circled back around the bed. Each pass back and forth has him undoing the ties on his clothes, opening up to show off more of his skin and scars.
He presses a knee to the mattress and lets himself dip with the give of the plush surface.
You brace your body weight into your shoulder, swinging both legs at him. All in the hope of smashing his rib cage with the might of your solid calves.
Sadly, it was with futile effort, as one ankle was caught by his flesh hand and the other by his metal prosthetic, the edges of each finger joint digging into my skin.
Your teeth clench harder into the thick wood, and little splintered pieces fall along with dribbles of drool.
He aligns as quickly as he can. His uncharacteristically soft head of his hard shaft pressing into the dewy petals of your hidden flower.
It all happened in a second as he pressed himself in at the hilt without much warning. That head was now pushing and prodding at the back of your cunt. It almost felt as if all your organs were being forced farther up your body with the press of his cock.
The wood steak snaps from the clench of your jaw closing in shock. The walls of your cunt twist and twitch in protest, squeezing around his cock like a vice trap.
He matches that grip with his metal hand at the base of your neck as he pushes your head farther into the plush bedding.
He rocks his hips forwards as you fruitlessly kick with your one free leg, only spurning him faster.
His movement should burn as he tears through your throbbing walls, but it doesn't. Your flower has swollen with nectar to ease his passage, as of it new more than you how bad you wanted to be fucked by this man.
His pace never slowed as he shook both your bed and the bed. The slap of his hips slapping against your sore ass cheeks was accompanied by a symphony of grunts coming from both his chest and yours as your face twisted from the mattress for air.
You couldn't help it as you had stopped kicking, and instead met his thrusts with what little momentum you could muster as he'd had your thighs pinned below him. He just continued to twist apart your inner walls, working a hard knot in the bottom of your belly.
He doesn't even falter as his metal hand reaches the bar at the bottom of the bed, and to your surprise he unclicks the iron shackles clasped around each of your wrists.
No more restraint, no fear of the way it would pull against your skin. Yet you didn't move to flee, and his thrusts never wavered. The bed continued to shake as vigorously as before, filling the room with the mingled sound of the wood meeting wall and cock meeting cunt.
You nearly missed his flesh hand snaking around your hips to weave his fingers into your folds. They wiggled about to find his little pearly prize.
Your little bud is assaulted by the pattern rubbed into it with his thick fingers.
"Aren't you gonna run?" The words vibrated against your back. Yet, the question barely registers in your fuzzy haze of thoughts. "Run?" One of the few words you'd spoken all evening, and it was done so as a desperate whine.
"The cuffs are off, doll. You could run away; you could turn right around and kill me, bitch. You're gonna do something or what?" His last sentence is punctuated with his flesh hand slipping away to make contact with your ass cheek.
The slap echoes off the wooden walls of his cabin. His fingers stay there, clenching around the red cuts and bruises left on your skin from his belt.
His thrusts slow to nothing but the absurdly gentle slip of his cock through the wet channel of your opened blossom. Slick was sent gushing and dribbling down the apex of your thighs as he pushed and pulled. You growled and rocked back harder on his cock, growing angry with this tease, even after the aggressive slashing you took.
Your ass smacks back against his thighs as you thrust your hips towards him. The sound of skin on skin is almost deafening, and this time it was all you.
You're reeling with each delicious sting that shoots through every scratch on your behind as it grazes his fuzzy leg hair.
"Aah, that's it." It was almost more of a moan as he pressed his hands into your hips as his thrusts picked back up.
He leans over and wraps himself around you as he meets your pace. "You fucking love it, don't you?" His body is pressing yours harder into the mattress, his chest and arms engulfing the wriggling mess he's made of you.
"Do you love the way you're getting fucked, or are you too senseless to talk?!" Another slap rings in your ears as his hand meets the side of your hip.
You mumble incoherently into the pile of blankets as you catch the cloth between your teeth.
You could hear the wood of the bed frame creaking as it was violently shaken. He fucked you deeper into the plush of his bed, making your face bounce into the soft suffocating fabric of his bedding. You couldn't speak, you could barely breathe, but your whole body was alive.
You swear your brains would melt out of your ears if it were possible. The coil in your core tightened and twisted as his cock stirred you like heavy cream.
You unraveled around him, causing your blossom to squeeze down on him. Your cunt sucks him in almost faster than he can pull out, and with one last shallow thrust he pours himself into you. In your fuck drunk haze you could feel the cum gushing as he pushes himself farther inside. His hips give a few hard pumps to bump his cock against your cervix as the last of his spendings fill you up. With each one your whimper and simp into the wadded blankets.
Eventually his cock softens, and when he finally pulls away his spendings are left to dribble out of your core and down between your thighs. To him the sight was like sweet cream dripping out of a fluffy pastry.
He sat back on his haunches as you were left clawing and panting into his blankets, trying desperately to regain your bearings.
Eventually the afterglow will wear off, but would you still have enough strength to run? Could you twist your body and crack your foot against the side of his face? Or will you continue to lay there like a fucked out little lump, waiting to be filled again.