Sacrificed to the Sea: mermaids .. monsters .. men Page 6

  She favored him with a glimpse of her teeth.

  These ideas made her nervous. But if she did not agree, what would he do? Fillet her after all? She needed time, and if she could get into the house below, she might escape through another door.

  Houses had many doors, from memory. She hadn’t been inside a building for more than a century. The noises coming from pubs and cafés and whatever else she had walked by on her day on land, those frightened her. The yelling, the singing, and the banging, even the loud talking, it hurt her ears, made her heartbeat pound.

  Which made her wonder why she wanted to become human again. It would be nice, in small bits. Maybe? If it were her choice as to when and where.

  “And so. This.” He raised the gun. “And these. Submit to the restraints and we will talk, and experiments can be done on you to see about the walking.” He eyed her intently, smiling as if he knew a secret. “Then, if I think you’re safe, I will let you loose, more and more.”

  That sounded fair, if dangerous. Was he lying again? She remembered lies too. People loved those. He could easily kill her.

  He could do that here, in the pool. Not feed her. Poison her. Harpoon her. Those she’d seen used far too often. Her people, her ex-people, were good at making war and weapons.

  Which way to go? Staying in the pool would get her nowhere.

  “You can help me walk?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. How many mermaids do you think I’ve had in my hands?”

  The pump that fed water to the pool hummed in the background.

  “Perhaps this could be satisfactory.” Frowning, she thought some more. Experiments? She had heard of the Frankenstein experiment, and there had been stories of other things. Long ago, those tales were told, but were they true or fairy tales?

  “There will be a price to pay.”

  “What price?” Dread tingled through her. He didn’t mean to cut her up?

  “Pleasure in exchange for freedom.” He leaned forward. “You want to walk again?”

  Oh. She understood. What pleasures, might be a question an innocent would ask, but she knew the answer. The man had sexual inclinations.

  Was that so awful? Only if he planned to hook her through the tail to do it.

  The alternatives were starvation, boredom, and eventual death. Choice was lacking. The open ocean and the cycle of the Ravening now seemed a dream to her, not a nightmare.

  To make her walk, he would need to conjure up legs. To have legs, she had to be human.

  If she were human, she could have a life on land.

  Could she yearn for both sea and land, at once? To choose between them on a whimsy? Yes, yes. One was an achievable goal, the other a fantasy she would love to make come true.

  “If you are lying—”

  “I am not. It’s just that this will be a new, exciting, and unpredictable science. If it is science? If magic, I’m no expert on that.”

  Hmph.

  She nodded. “I will agree then. Yes.” A thought arrived. “No hooks?”

  No knives, her mind pushed at her, but she decided not to say it.

  “No. No hooks.” He smiled at her with that familiar flat-eyed smile.

  That had not changed. Somehow, she thought he was deceiving her, but how? Why even?

  “So, I have a yes. Good.”

  He threw a fish to her and she consumed it in seconds, gulping it down, ripping it apart, the blood cloud spreading. Then he tossed the gag at her. It hit the water a few feet away and sank.

  “Fasten that in your mouth, firmly, do not pretend and make it loose or I will be angry.” He flourished the gun, aiming it at her. “It will click shut at the back. After it’s on, swim to me.”

  What else could she do but dive and pick it up, fit it to herself, then swim to him?

  Wrong, so very wrong to trust him.

  But she had decided. This was a more open choice than swimming back and forth in the pool.

  He kept the gun aimed at her forehead as she swam closer. “Good little mermaid. Get up here.”

  That seemed to amuse him, and she glowered.

  He patted the tiles beside him and backed away. “Sit on the edge of the pool, facing the sea and put your hands at your back.”

  What? She hesitated.

  “You are, to put it lightly, a killing machine. Win my trust and we can do away with the handcuffs.”

  “I am not a kill—” She tried to say indignantly, through the gag. It came out garbled. He got the message. It would be obvious.

  “I saw what you did to Merrick. How am I supposed to know when this Ravening hits?”

  She would tell him… but he would not believe that. And truthfully, maybe she would not.

  And so, reluctantly, while glowering, she raised herself and sat on the edge of the pool and let him handcuff her.

  His large hand arrived on her shoulder and stayed there while she listened to his breathing, to the shuffling as he kneeled behind her, and she wondered why she was trusting him.

  Because, what else? A killing machine was not her norm, not until the Ravening came, and surely that was not due for some time? It was not predictable, but far more than a month separated her episodes of luring and drowning men. She shivered as his hand moved, and he murmured.

  “You are behaving for me, so well. I am impressed.”

  That seemed almost an insult.

  Then he leaned over and kissed her, even though the gag was partly in the way. The touch of a man was a rare thing in her life. Sometimes she forgot how nice it felt to have a mouth on hers. Pushing her around, moving her with the weight of him behind that mouth. She had shut her eyes at the first press and was simply enjoying the spread of heat.

  When he smoothed his hand all over her skin as he kissed, she felt herself softening, melting.

  Kissing was a form of love.

  She craved this and whimpered as he kept up the massage, summoning the restoration of lust, thrumming its way…

  Down her body…

  Then she knew.

  What he intended.

  The reasons for arousing her.

  The shift happened in a mindless chasm. In a blink. A tumult.

  One minute, mermaid…

  The next, she was sprawled on her back, legs still in the pool, with him over her, body up the other way so he seemed upside down for a second until she had herself oriented properly. He breathed as heavily as she did.

  “Well, now.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was easy, my little…” He inhaled again. “Fuck, you are something, even before you change. I swear my balls and dick do weird things.”

  Wide of eye, unblinking, she watched as he lowered himself to his elbows to kiss her again, upside-down kisses.

  Oh,” she whispered, into his mouth, as both his hands covered her breasts and played with her there. She tried to arch into his hold, even when he increased the pressure of his fingers and pushed her flat.

  How did this man send such a thrill through her when she was trapped and worried, and… whatever. She gave up on thinking.

  He shifted, pressing his kisses lower, lower, down and over the length of her, until he reached her pussy. Raffaela was much of the way to nirvana, fingers clasped at her back, writhing a little and wishing he would put himself into her mouth, because she wouldn’t bite his dick, would she?

  And then he took his weight from her, rolled away.

  He pulled her completely from the pool, flipped her onto her belly, and tied her legs together with the skinny bits of black plastic he’d once had on her wrists. Those cut. They hurt if she yanked at them.

  If she could have spoken properly, she’d have said something startled, a curse. Instead she only squealed when he bit her ass.

  Then… then, he pried apart her butt cheeks and probed her.

  Instinctively she tried to thrash her tail, and only knocked his foot. He pinned her down with a knee to her ass.

  No tail was there. Her jaws were strong, she was st
ronger than any mere human girl, but she had no tail, no sharp teeth, and he was doing things she did not approve of. His finger circled her bottom hole as if it fascinated him. No man had ever done this.

  Nor should he. She growled past the gag, disappointed that this new metal was far too tough for her to mash.

  CHAPTER 7

  Wolfgang laughed quietly. Those little growling noises she was making as he fingered her asshole were cute and only made his dick harder. Not surprising.

  He’d always had a thing for girls who struggled.

  He worked his fingertip into her. There was lube on his finger, so she really had no reason for complaint, considering.

  “You agreed. To exchanging my pleasure for a chance to see if I can give you legs, make you human. You know?”

  As he switched out his finger for the smallest of the butt plugs he’d fetched from the bag, revolving it as he slipped it inside her, he eyed the length of her newly formed legs. The pearlescent outlines where scales had been. The black ties around her ankles, doubled up because she could probably kick like a mu… like a girl who had recently possessed a tail that let her zip fifty yards in seconds.

  Already, his leg had a bruise.

  This was not normal.

  He widened his eyes, looked to where he had his hand over her butt, squeezed her there to get another squeak from her. The scale impressions or illusionary markings faded out just about where his hand was resting. The head of the butt plug showed.

  Hieronymus Bosch would go pffft and had likely painted madder than this while picking his teeth.

  But surreal was a completely inadequate description.

  She blew away his dreams, surpassed every other female who had ever occupied his bed, or his and Merrick’s, or his wall.

  And the way she took that plug said fucking her there would happen soon. Not a work-his-way-up-the-size-scale for days thing. He kissed the underside of one cheek, then bit, squeezing his hand under her to find her clit. Though he’d been fixed on her as if she were under his microscope, the shift had blurred his vision. One second, she was a mermaid with a tail, and then she was this.

  He bit her plump ass again, moved up her length kissing and biting. The smaller yelps, her sighs, the faint redness on her back, it told him she was at least enjoying what he was doing.

  Taking off that gag pulled at him. He could. Just, he had an aversion to having his life blood draining away onto the floor from a gap in his neck.

  When he reached her neck, he gave her nape a good firm bite, hung onto the muscle at the side, felt the shudder of her body.

  She likes.

  Too easy. He wanted more protesting. More fury. Getting the balance correct between turned on and seriously annoyed was going to be curious.

  “How are we doing?” He sprawled himself beside her on the pool tiles, on a level with her one eye that showed as she peeked sideways. She worked her lips on the gag. Wolfgang ran his knuckles along her chin, leaning in and turning her head then kissing the corner of her mouth.

  “Sorry. I am not going to take that off.” Not enough courage.

  But also, he kind of liked girls gagged, until he wanted to force a BJ from them. Or something else. Oh the habits Merrick had reinforced in him. Switching on each other, training girls. Together they’d made good use of all that kink gear.

  Shut up, he told his memory, feeling the happy drain away. Shut. Up.

  He ducked his head into her shoulder, smelling her, calming himself.

  No remembering, especially not now, when he had her all tied up.

  His vengeance seemed pettier than ever. His years of education, the hours he had spent learning the intricacies of evolution, cellular biology, reproduction, all blown away by her going from what she had been to this. This was a revolutionary discovery, and he…

  He wanted. To fuck around with her. Because she’d killed his lover.

  Torturing a mermaid? Petty as fuck.

  Accept it. Life had devolved to this. He was petty. He was too fascinated and pissed off to write this up to get accolades, or to display her as he lectured on the physiology of mermaids.

  He nudged her neck with his nose, bit her again, let go, nibbled up her jawline while he watched and listened. Her eyelids fluttered. Drool shone on the gag.

  “Our experiment is going well. You have legs.”

  Raffaela grunted at him, nose wrinkling.

  “Even better, I have a pussy I can fuck. A mermaid shifted so I can toy with her how I like.” He grinned. Messing with her, causing unease, all par for the course.

  Why would he want her entirely happy?

  A thought occurred. Arousal made her shift. If she lost that and shifted back when her legs were tied apart, it could be mayhem.

  Note to self. Keep that in mind.

  He flipped her over again, applied himself to eating out her pussy for a few minutes until she was looking close to coming. Cuteness personified, all that straining and squirming. Then he rose, wiped his mouth, and picked her up in his arms.

  Cuddling her to his chest, he adjusted his hold and headed for the door.

  What a nice bundle. His cock was throbbing at the thought of what he could do next.

  “Time to fuck a girl. Where will I start? In the ass? Hmmm?”

  She glared up at him.

  He tsked. “You killed someone I love. What did you expect? I get to mess with you, as well as give you legs. How long do you think we can keep this up for?”

  The flush on her chest was probably a giveaway.

  He maneuvered down the steps, turned and used his butt to push down the door handle, shoved the door fully open, and went through sideways.

  How in hell was he to take notes on her reactions while he edged her?

  He looked down at his mildly annoyed mermaid, and along her body, to her legs, her mons, her thighs, and the curves went everywhere they should, and more. He felt a surge of awe and his anticipation rise to mammoth heights, along with his cock pretending it could burst his zipper.

  “Christ!” He tried to wriggle as he walked toward the sofa, so as to rearrange things.

  Barely touched her and this? He wanted her badly. Could feel the slide of dick going in. Those big eyes watching him.

  Anything, he could do anything, and she was not an ordinary female. Not known to anyone else. She was his for as long as he could keep her a secret and alive.

  His. To do what he wanted with.

  Excruciating.

  He took the last few steps fast, laid her on the floor, unzipped, turned her to remove that ass plug, then managed to stick himself into her asshole for an inch. The shove to penetrate her was not fast but not super-slow either.

  He was going to explode already. What was it with mermaids?

  Siren. Remember? They have special… fucking goddam properties.

  Especially the fucking.

  Wolfgang grunted as he thrust into her in small increments, sweat on his brow, trickling. Squeezed in, forced in a smidgen further, held it, and…

  Jaw clamping, he came in a gush, in a rhythmic pump of cum that flooded mostly outside of her. His hands grasped either side of her hips, and he held on, feeling the downslide of ecstasy.

  Damn. He needed to train himself more than her.

  Though training her too would be awesome. All the chains and collars could get used again.

  His cock began to swell, and despite the brief mini-agony of gaining an erection so soon after a climax, it was hardening.

  Her? He looked down at his messy cum-splattered mermaid. She seemed very still, tongue licking out through the gag. If anything, the flush of red on her back had increased. Were the two of them in some sort of echoing empathic situation here?

  “Was that a turn-on?”

  He put two fingers together and slowly wormed them into her barely used hole, and saw her eyes slam shut, and a sigh come from those pretty lips.

  Well. Noteworthy. Very much so.

  CHAPTER 8

 
Raffaela gave an embarrassed whimper as he withdrew his fingers. Men had disgusting habits when it came to sex, but this was one she’d never had to cater for when human. That it felt… interesting only mildly improved this situation.

  The ass was surely a taboo place on anyone, yet the feel of his fingers inside her lingered.

  “I see you liked that.”

  Smug man. She glared, hating on him some more. Letting herself die had slipped to last on her list of things to do. Mutilating him should be first.

  When he walked away, she decided to stay where she lay. Rolling over would accomplish nothing.

  Somewhere in the house, water was running. Water, the subtle, forever caress and tickle of it as she swam, surrounding her, holding her. The sound had taken her back to her world.

  She was pining for the sea.

  When he returned, he turned her over, placed his mouth on her at the join of her legs and his palm on her just above, holding her in place. Arousal thrummed, a hard torrent of pleasure she could not resist – not while his tongue moved on her.

  When he raised his head, her moisture wet his face.

  How wet she’d become. Panting, she stared down at him, and tried to speak. The gag stopped her.

  Frustrating. She flopped back her head to the floor. Her breath rasped loudly through her open mouth.

  “Stay still and remember I have a gun.” He waved it.

  He was so afraid of her. Or did he merely love to make threats?

  Turned over and face-down, she closed her eyes, wondering what he was up to next. He untied her ankles and she tensed. Wolfgang stuck the muzzle of the gun into her butt, slowly letting it slide down until the gun was…

  Until he…

  Where was he going?

  He inserted it between her cheeks then found her entrance, worked the weapon up and down as he held her open with his fingers.

  “Fuck. That’s hot.”

  Raffaela twisted, gaped at him. The thought of him pulling the trigger was scary, daunting, but gods, yes, the danger also stirred her.

  Ridiculous that she reacted so.

  Death was not what it once had been. It was a known thing. A daily presence. Whereas this, being slowly fucked by a pistol, was new.