Prt 2: The Hunt

June 17

A low chuckle escaped me as she fled through the door.

My little menace couldn’t help herself. As much as she enjoyed pleasing, every inch of her loved poking the bear even more. Every lesson seemed to turn into an invitation to test me.

I took my time pulling on the sweats and black cotton shirt folded over the vacant chair.

A smile tugged at my lips.

Right about now, she should be running into the bolted front door. It was a new addition she wouldn’t be expecting.

A few small items disappeared into my pockets before I settled a length of rope across my chest. Satisfied, I made my way out of the room.

Halfway to the first-floor landing, a commotion erupted to my left. Floorboards creaked, something toppled, and then came another thud.

A disappointed sigh escaped me. The bold little thing wasn’t even trying to be quiet. We're going to have to work on that.

Making my way past the foyer, I pushed open the door leading into the dining room.

It resisted.

I gave another shove and the door held.

A grin slowly spread across my face. It seemed I owed the vixen an apology.

Bracing myself, I threw my weight against the door. A yelp rang out as the chair skittered and clattered across the floor. It was a valiant effort, but life wasn't like a movie. A chair could only do so much to slow down a pursuer.

My eyes furiously scanned the room. There she was—perched on the open windowsill. Her eyes widened, her escape momentarily forgotten.

Of course a locked door wouldn’t be enough to keep her contained.

My feet pounded against the ground as I bolted for the window, my calm facade gone for now. With a huff, she jumped off the windowsill and took off across the lawn.

It took only a moment to open the window wider before vaulting through, legs first. I sped after her, intent on catching her before she reached the forest line. The thought of her flimsy slippers catching on a root bothered me far more than the stones digging into my own feet.

The poor little thing pumped her legs with everything she had, but the distance between us closed with every step. I wrapped my fist around her ponytail, yanking her back as I tackled her, rolling to take the brunt of the fall.

She kicked and flailed, cursing me throughout. I rolled us, using my weight to pin her arms and free up my own. Squeezing her cheeks to *** her mouth open, I stuffed the handkerchief from my pocket into her mouth to cut off her incessant cursing.

A muffled screech followed as she tried to buck me off. I chuckled, one hand pressing down between her shoulder blades as I ground my hard length against her ass.

Leaning in to whisper in her ear, “If you keep squirming like this, I might have to fuck you right here where the neighbors could see.”

“Mmf— y’ ffuhkin’ ahhhole…,” she struggled to spit out the garbled words—but her body went still, the heaving of her breaths the only resistance.

I l nipped at her ear, my teeth lightly tugging on the lobe. She tried pulling her head away, but the action only exposed the length of her neck. Inhaling, I grazed my nose along the tanned skin before sinking my teeth into the smooth expanse.

She tensed beneath me with a garbled protest. I wedged my arm beneath her, taking the opportunity to sc*** a thumb across her hardened nipples.

My teeth left her skin.

“I’m your fucking asshole,” I rasped, running my tongue over the reddening mark. “Now behave.”

One arm slipped free as I flipped her onto her back.

My hand closed around her wrist before her fist could land.

With my other hand, I undid the rope hanging across my chest and began to make quick work of restraining her arms in a double column tie.

Gathering the excess rope in one hand, I used the lead to pull her to her feet. She thrashed and tugged, attempting to lean all her weight away from where I held her. In one fluid motion, I tugged and threw her off balance before tossing her over my shoulder.

Her legs kicked and flailed. I banded one arm across them to keep her in place, and with the other, gave her ass a smack.

“Eyy, settle down.” When the squirming continued, I turned to sink my teeth into her round bottom. The fabric of her leggings didn't allow for good purchase, but I followed the action with another sharp slap and the squirming ceased with a soft cry.

When we neared the front door, I reached for the key hidden above the frame and opened the lock. There was a key placed similarly inside that I knew she could neither see nor reach under normal circumstances.

Instead of heading back towards the basement, I carried us towards the dining room.

At the unexpected turn, her head lifted, a question threaded through her muffled protests.

I simply patted her bottom and strode to the chairless spot on the moderately sized table that was normally set for 6. I heaved her onto the wood, quickly rounding the table to secure the rope to one of the legs.

A knife slid free from my waistband and I made quick work of the excess rope. The little hellion scrambled across the table in an attempt to run.

Kicking a chair aside, I dove for her ankle.

With a yank, I pulled her off her knees, sliding her down the table until the rope pulled her arms tight over her head. Legs dangling over the edge, the little hellion thrashed and writhed.

My palm cracked across her ass. Her back arched at the impact, the sudden sting stilling her movements.

Leaning over her, I brought the knife into view, “Watch yourself now. I wouldn’t want to accidentally nick you.”

Edited June 17 by PoisonTonic
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