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“Lift your bottom and shift forward. Don’t stop till you feel the leather against your lower back.”
Anxious and uncertain, I could only obey.
With his hand supporting my head, I shifted forward. I could then feel him place another leather strap under my neck. Completely suspended by the straps, I floated a few feet below a tangled web of horns and antlers…a trophy among trophies.
Dagr placed himself between my legs. My eyes widened as, in my increasingly agitated state, it looked as if he himself had turned into a beast. The horns from the chandelier appeared to crown his disarrayed locks and fierce brow.
“Please, I don’t like this. I’m scared.”
“Lass, you don’t know what fear is yet.”
Unable to take it a moment longer, I tried to sit up, but my movements were ungainly given my precarious perch. In this unstable seat, I watched as Dagr released the rope holding the chandelier. I could not suppress a cry of shock as the chandelier pitched downward, jarring me as it and I very nearly hit the floor before being hoisted higher. Straining my neck to the side, I watched in horror as the floor receded.
Higher and higher.
Finally, my ascent stopped. Dagr approached. My prone body was just about in line with his shoulders. At first, I tried to twist and turn but quickly learned the slightest movement caused my leather sling to sway and pitch to an alarming degree.
My fear and panic were replaced by alarm when I felt Dagr’s warm hand on my bottom. It hung at a humiliating angle, jutting out beneath me.
“Such a beautiful trophy,” murmured Dagr. “That is what you are, Snow. A hunting trophy to me.”
Gripping the horns above my head, I tried to lift my hips to move away from his touch.
There was the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh before a hot burst of pain radiated across my buttocks.
“Move away from me again and I will get a belt and tan your hide,” he growled.
I bit my lip to keep from sobbing. Never in my life had I felt more vulnerable or more at the mercy of another person’s whim.
His hands closed over the lower swell of my bottom cheeks, prying them open.
“Look at that untouched little hole.”
Remembering back to the night they stole me away and the other huntsmen’s comments about Dagr, I could no longer contain my sobs.
“I beg you! Don’t! I can’t! Please!”
“You can, and you will, Snow.”
“No! No! Please!”
I started to struggle. The antler chandelier swayed and rocked with my movements. It was all futile. I was trussed and tied as if I truly were the hunting prize Dagr claimed.
His strong hands pinched my bottom cheeks as he forced them open. Then I felt the whisper of a breath against my cunny, then my hidden hole. I moaned as the light hint of breath sent a shiver of awareness coursing through my body.
“You are so sensitive you shudder at my very breath.”
“No,” I groaned in protest.
I then felt his lips on my cunny. The tip of his tongue laved at the folds of my sex, seeking entrance. I moaned as he shifted his hands to place his thumbs between my legs and used them to open me…expose me…to his touch…his tongue. He laved again, this time brushing my sensitive nub. With the tip of his tongue, he circled and teased my center, sending wave after wave of heated, unwanted sensations through me. Swirling. Tasting. Pressing then receding only to press again. Each flick of his tongue a ruthless reminder of his power over me. My hips bucked. The leather belt dug into my lower back with the movement, surely marking me, but I didn’t care.
My toes curled as he continued to flick his tongue over my nub.
“Oh God! Oh God! You have to stop. Please! I can’t,” I begged to no avail.
The pressure began to build. I was floating free, yet restrained. I felt dizzy and numb, while at the same time sensitive and extraordinarily aware of every moment, every sigh, every single feeling.
The pressure continued to escalate. My release was upon me.
Then…then…
His tongue moved down. Applying pressure to the tip, he lapped at the puckered skin of my hidden entrance.
“No! Stop! Don’t!” I cried out.
He slowly pushed the tip in and out of my entrance. It was wrong. It was depraved.
Still he tortured me.
Swirling, laving, licking.
Knowing with each flick of his tongue, he increased my mortification. How? How could I possibly like the feel of his tongue, there? It defied reason. And yet…oh God.
“Your bottom hole is sensitive. I believe you would come from my very breath on it,” he growled against my skin.
The vibrations of his deep, dark words sent me over the edge. Losing my grip on the horns above me, my arms dangled helplessly at my sides as my head tilted all the way back. My mouth opened on a deep-throated moan as my inner thighs twitched against his jaw.
