Chain Of Pleasure

Chapter 12

Marceline blinked slowly at Edward, who remained focused on her; like she expected him to do anything else. "Wh-What?"

He took a step closer and she jumped. "I said take your clothes off," he snapped. "Now!"

Marceline trembled once and swallowed, standing slowly; her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Edward stared at her in that intense way, something else in those green irises that made her stomach quake. She swallowed and crossed her arms, gripping the edges of the t shirt he had given her. It smells like him, deep and musky on the edges and she knows he finds amusement that her skin now smells like him. When she has the shirt over her head, she is startled to find him suddenly very much closer to her; how had she not heard him? She drops the shirt on the bed and her fingers hesitate around the elastic of the boy shorts she had been wearing beneath her pants.

"Drop. them," Edward hissed, his eyes darker now.

Marceline licked her lips, swallowed and figured this was what she had offered him. Her whole self, body and soul it seemed, so she had to do what he wanted her to do.

She hooked her thumbs into the waist band, looking pointedly at his chest as they fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them, which brought her closer to him somehow; she could smell the tang of blood somewhere on him. Her eyes flickered up to him, startled when he roughly grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. A hand clamped down on the back of her neck and pressed her chest into the mattress, forcing the stale scent of the blankets into her nose. She squirmed but didn't fight too hard, accepting whatever he was going to do to her. Her eyes squeezed tight, tears darkening the blanket beneath her.

"Inked up," he murmured and bumps broke out over her skin as he stroked a finger down her spine. "Cas was right. . ." He released her throat but she stayed down at his growl. "Who did this to you?"

Marceline quivered, fingers clenching at the blanket. "I don't know who they were," she whispered. "They didn't speak English and they held me down. . .killed my first group. They tattooed me and left."

He hummed and his hand went flat, running over the swollen, black ink. There was a long pillar that ran from the c***k of her ass and into her hair, several spouts and swirls branching out over the back of her ribs and shoulder blades. It looked like a tribal tattoo, but Edward could make out the demonic symbols and seals in the random patterns.

Good job, even though it was a tad bothersome.

But Cas had assured him she had no outer ties, that there were no powers linked to her body or anything like that.

Still, she was disease free so he felt confident in doing what he wanted now. She gasped and her entire body tensed when he stroked his fingers up through her s*x. His hot breath rustled through her hair and over her right shoulder when he groaned, appreciative of the wetness already stirring. Marceline whimpered, feeling slightly smothered by his weight pressing down and over her back, his hand still around her throat and flexing in tightness. He was so f*****g big, eclipsing her tiny form easily; he didn't have to try to intimidate someone, she was sure it just came natural to him. Marceline bit down hard on her lip as his fingers probed her, bringing arousal to pool deep in her belly. She had figured he would just throw her down, f**k her and run. . .but he was taking his time with this kind of shame.

He nipped at her throat, pulling another gasp from her lips. "You're one fine piece of ass, I gotta say," her back arched when his tongue trailed down her spine. "And if you're any good in the sack, I don't know, I might not let you out this bedroom," she shivered as he nipped at the right globe of her ass. "Ever."

Marceline let out a sharp cry when his tongue invaded her, the thumb of his right hand searching for her clit. Her legs trembled, trying to stay up where all she wanted to do was collapse. His teeth scraped against her lips heavily, giving her nerves mixed signals, dancing between pleasure, shock and distress. His thumb teased her clit from its hood, his tongue finding it immediately afterwards and lavishing it. He groaned into her p***y, which made her moan for some reason; she squeaked when he eased a long finger into her, hooking it downwards and finding her g-spot immediately.

Marceline never thought she would derive pleasure from anything like this, giving herself to someone she didn't love, didn't know. But he was kind of washing that concept and fear down the drain with the expert flick of his tongue. Very rarely had she ever had someone go down on her without some begging or coaxing. But he groaned and swiveled, making sure not a single part of her p***y was left untouched.

"Unhfft," she panted, rocking back against his hand and his mouth when he introduced a second finger. "Ah!"

His tongue pulled from her wet s*x, to which she whined at, but then yelped when he delivered a harsh smack to her ass. The flesh jiggled and his fingers continued to stroke in and out of her, banging harshly against her g-spot. She trembled and rocked back against his hand again but received another slap that echoed around the room and made her eyes sting with tears.

"You don't get to move," he snapped. "You don't f*****g move and I'm gonna eat your p***y so perfectly you'll let the whole camp know who you belong to."

Marceline trembled and held herself still, moaning loudly when his teeth returned to her clit, pulling it between his lips and suckling. She had to tighten her hands in the blanket to ground herself, keep from bucking back into his mouth. She didn't want him to hit her again, her ass was still stinging but the way his tongue moved and his fingers stroked into her. . .

"Ah!" She cried out, pent up frustration bursting in her belly.

Edward groaned against her, inhaling the musk of her, tasting soft spurts of slick on his tongue. He hadn't had a clean p***y in awhile, one that wasn't nearly passed around the entire camp; this b***h was tight as f**k, she had to be nearly a virgin. The thought stirred his c**k against the zipper of his jeans, he had to reach back with his free hand to adjust himself while he licked his fingers clean. Her eyes were hooded as she looked back at him, eyes slightly widening when he loudly sucked her juices off of his fingers.

"Roll over," he ordered, pushing himself up onto his feet instead of one knee-ing it anymore.

Her fingers flexed against the blanket again but she didn't hesitate, her brow furrowed in worry as she rolled over. Edward grabbed her hips, pushing her further up the bed with a squeak from her lips; her skin trembled beneath his touch. Her eyes focused on him as he unclasped his thigh holster, setting it and the gun on the nightstand. He shrugged out of his jacket and then pulled his shirt over his head, surprising her by being on her immediately. His skin was hot against hers, delightfully pliable under her hands, which ran down his chest and stomach, trembling as she found his belt buckle; could she do that?

He answered for her, flicking off the end with one hand and jerking the belt off. It clattered somewhere onto the floor and Marceline jumped, eyes rolling around the ceiling as he left heated, red teeth marks under her jaw and down her throat. There was pleasure and there was pain, but there was also so much hesitation, so much want for this not to happen. Marceline was always a proud woman and was very conservative but. . .but she couldn't go out there again. So, she snaked a hand past the waist band of his jeans, their breath hitching at the same time when her shaking fingers wrapped around his hard shaft.

"God damn," he groaned, his teeth digging into her shoulder. "Let go," he growled.

She did, jerking back with relief, her shoulders rising up to her ears when he raised above her. His eyes were hooded this time, chest heaving with anticipation as he kicked off his jeans, his briefs. Her face took a look of fear but he didn't stop, didn't hesitate, he crowded her again, finally attaching his lips to hers. His tongue danced against her bottom lip and she parted, groaning when his tongue massaged hers, brushing briefly against her teeth. He reached up to palm one of her breasts, teeth tugging at her bottom lip; she cringed and arched into his hand.

He pulled away from her again, moving his hand down to grab her hips, angling them however he wanted to. Marceline gripped the sheets when he rocked against her, the tip of him spreading her open on contact; she was scared. She wasn't a virgin, but she wasn't necessarily experienced and he was the biggest she had ever been with.

"A-Ah!" She closed her eyes and arched up in his hand, lips forming a perfect O as he filled her in one stroke.

His fingers dug into her hip and he rolled his head on his shoulders, moving his hand from her hip to her leg. He dug into the back of her knee and hooked her leg around his hip, making her grunt with the stretch in her thigh.

Marceline gasped and rolled her eyes, lips popping as he started to thrust into her harshly. His hips slammed into hers, surely bruising the skin he abused by the action. He shadowed her, leaning over her and grabbing her right hand, his fingers threading around hers. Her brain registered it enough to look up at him, be slightly confused why he would do something so. . .intimate with her, but then a new o****m reared its head and she could care less. Her hand gripped his tightly and she bucked up against him, making him grin smugly.

"Say my name baby girl," he panted, his hips never faltering; in fact, his thrusts seemed to become stronger. "Come on - say it!"

She shook her head once, biting her bottom lip before another moan burst from her lips. "Edward!" She cried as another o****m began to stir in her belly. "Edward! Edward!"

He wanted them to hear, know that this tight, sweet little piece was his. She had his bite marks, the bruises and the raw throat in case they didn't hear her, but he seriously doubted not one soul didn't hear the set of lungs on that woman.

Her p***y clenched around him, drawing out a loud groan from his lips, tingles shooting up his spine. He was close to cumming and this was what, her third? She wasn't really this s*x goddess but she was tight and smelt heavenly, was willing to do just what he wanted - a keeper. And her o****m has her squeezing his c**k like a vice, he wouldn't give this up.

His hand tightened painfully in her as he hunched over her, his hips becoming sporadic, his grunts drawing into long moans. He stroked his other hand up her side, fingers trembling around her protruding ribs. She'd fill out so beautifully, he'd make sure of that. . .after he f****d her brains out. She cried out again and her chest arched, his name flying through her lips among a myriad of curses and babblings. It stroked his ego, drew him closer and closer to the edge until he tipped at her walls clenching him. She milked his c**k as he came inside of her, sending warmth up through her pelvis and making her wiggle her hips.

She panted and moaned softly in his ear, tilting her head away from his as he buried his face into her hair. Her hand slackened around his and she curled her lips inwards, her chest rubbing against his as she took her breaths.

"Well, you weren't wrong," he chuckled into her ear.

"A-About what, sir," she cringed at her stutter.

He twisted his head towards her and she locked eyes with him, feeling that feeling again, the one that was far too intimate for the situation, the look on his eyes.

"You're good."

Before?. . .before, Marceline would wake up outside on cold grass, or stuffed against cold soil under a broken down car, tucked away in a trunk - anywhere to keep from being seen. Anywhere the Croats or men didn't find her, couldn't. She had gotten so used to that, so used to waking up with startled breath or a racing heart.

And yet, she's never been as scared on waking as when she wakes up in Edward's arms.

To anyone else, it'd be picturesque.

The sun is barely up and a mist has settled outside the windows, birds are chirping and fluttering just outside the window, signaling their leave South for Winter. The room smells faintly of s*x still, but she can also smell the pine from the trees outside, the distinct smell of the groaning wood around them. To anyone else, feeling those strong arms around them, lying on a warm, sticky chest and listening to a lovers heart beat - it might be romantic.

But Edward isn't a simple lover, she belongs to him now, he is inside of her because she sold out for comfort, for protection.

She wakes up before he does, sprawled over his chest and her skin sticking to his. His hold around her is a strange comfort, because she doesn't want to be here, but the way he made her feel last night. . .maybe giving herself up to him wouldn't be too bad. He hadn't just f****d her like she expected, he had given her, her own pleasure. Of course, he had s*****d her when she did what he didn't like - and she didn't like that. She wiggled her hips a little, biting her lip at the discomfort in her groin and the stinging of what had to be bruises on her ass.

"Don't do that," he grumbled in a sleep-thick voice.

Marceline jumped and then squeaked when he let her go, her limp little body rolling off to the side while he stumbled out of bed. She pushed herself up on one elbow, hair falling in her face as she watched him walk off into the bathroom; she arched an eyebrow, okay, so he had a nice ass too. She shook her head and wiggled out of bed, groaning and hunching over slightly at her sore muscles.

Everything was sticky and sore, she had scratches and bruises all across where she could see; she could feel them on her neck, reached up and found raw skin where his teeth had sunk in on her shoulder. He'd made sure to mark her up, made sure she screamed his name, made sure -

Oh God, how could she ever show her face to these people if Edward ever let her out?

"Good," she jumped and looked back at Edward over her shoulder, saw him smirking. "Knew I'd left some good marks. . .sorry about your ass though, I wanted to chew on that a little more."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Oh no no," he crossed the room where she stayed still, the urge to go slack against him strong when he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "It was my pleasure," he began to pick at her throat again with his teeth. "I'll be easier next time. . but I won't smack ya again until those bruises are all healed up."

"Th-Thank you," she murmured, biting her lip as she leans back into him.

He sways a little, which further confuses her but she kind of enjoys it. Until there's a knock at the door, which pulls a growl from him and makes her tense up. He lets her go and Marceline is startled when he tosses the black t shirt she had been wearing last night at her. She tugs it on while he buttons his pants, shrugging down the steps with Marceline behind him. She brushed her dark hair back roughly with her fingers while he opened the door, revealing a small man with a full beard flustering over a clipboard, a heavy looking duffel draped over one shoulder.

"I uh, I got the stuff you wanted," the man looked past Edward to Marceline, who felt extremely self conscious but her face read annoyance. "Well, not all of it. We don't have another gun to spare yet."

"Fine," Edward grumbled as he snatched the bag off of the man, looking back abruptly, startling Marceline. "Meet Chuck, Prophet of God and supply manager."

Marceline let her eyes flicker back to this Chuck, who looks like he's begging her to acknowledge him. She's never had someone look at her like that, it makes her queasy. Marceline looks away, which makes Edward chuckle and Chuck deflates a little. She waits for the door to shut before she looks up again, watching Edward pass her and toss the duffel bag onto the table. It creaks under the new wait and shakes on its legs, but stills after a moment. She watches Edward unzip it and almost moans at the sight of clothes, all for a woman. He tosses them to the side of the back and pulls out a thigh holster, a big trench knife and other things she doesn't pay attention to.

"Can I. . ." Marceline cleared her throat. "Can I change?"

He shook his head and held up a pistol, checking the full clip before setting it to the side. "Gonna shower with me first," his eyes flickered to her from under his brow. "Cold waters a b***h. . .mine as well use a little body heat and I wanna f**k you before the others and I go out on our run today."

She nodded slowly, rubbing her throat. "And I stay in here. . ."

He slammed a hand down on the table and Marceline yelped, jumping back a few steps. "No f*****g s**t," Edward snarled, stalking towards her until she was pressed against the wall. "You are mine, you stay where I tell you to, you don't get to leave this f*****g cabin until every single person and the birds in the f*****g trees know you're mine."

Marceline whimpered as he braces both hands on either side of her, successfully pinning her quivering frame against the wall. He was so much bigger than she was, so much more intimidating and he knew it, knew how to use it to where it sent so many different sensations through her body.

"So, here's what's gonna happen now," he said lowly, leaning his face closer to hers. "You're gonna let me me f**k you in the shower," he stroked a hand through her hair, let it tickle down her spine. "And when that's over, you're gonna sit that pretty ass of yours in this house," she bucked into him, trying to escape the firm hand that pawed at bruises that didn't appreciate the attention. "You're not gonna wear any clothes. . .not gonna wear a sheet. . .just sit here naked, and wait for me to get back."

"B-But," Marceline tried and then bit her lip. "Yes sir," she mumbled at last.

She squeaked when he smacked her ass, making her bite her lip again but this time in minor pain.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Now come on, I'm running late."