Sacrificed to the Sea: mermaids .. monsters .. men Read online

  He slid it deeper, and she hid her face, hid the sounds she made.

  “That, halfway in you… Damn. I’ll have to clean it now.” More blushing occurred, and she wriggled, bleated – which only made the gun move inside her. “Stay still.”

  The gun was removed, though, and she relaxed.

  Her wrists were unlocked and he began to do something with rope – tying first one wrist to its nearest ankle and making her rise on her knees.

  She could have objected. Could have tried to jump him. He’d made her curious with his devotion to violating her. This wasn’t vengeance anymore.

  Both of them were changing, delving into something profoundly sexual – a depravity she’d never thought existed.

  The way he pleasured her, feeling her, holding her hair in his lock-fingered grip, gathering it with delicious pain while he kissed her, everywhere. She pretended it was not her doing the moaning.

  An ex-whore knew of things. There were men who liked taboo ass play. Men who liked spanking. But tying girls up in intricate knots? After so long being lonely and only taking prey when it was demanded of her by the Ravening, this was interesting.

  More than interesting. It was spellbinding.

  It distracted her, to be so expertly handled. He knew how to tie a woman, and that was not something one learned on the spot. Aware that his threats might hold some truth, she allowed everything to happen.

  He had a gun, but her female parts were fairly singing at her in chorus.

  She searched her mind, backtracking through the swirl of her responses, and came to a revelation. She could sense his ardency like a shark tasting blood on the water, miles from the violence.

  Siren. We are siren, her mind whispered. Yes. That’s it. He was right to fear her. Her true strength was not her teeth.

  She ended up with each wrist tied to its equivalent ankle but separated from the other wrist and ankle. He stood and patted her head, fisted her hair, and craned back her neck so they must meet, eye to eye.

  “There. Now my pretty girl…” he murmured to her ear, with brushes of soft lips – a beguiling contrast to the pains in her scalp from his twining fingers.

  She wanted to squeeze her thighs together but couldn’t.

  Girl though? Oh, she liked that. A lot. It said she was more than monster

  “We’ll watch some TV and see how long I can keep you turned on, while you sit on my lap on the sofa.”

  He swiveled her, rearranging her as if she were a doll kneeling on a mantlepiece, and pointed at two padded seats. They were long and formed into a deep U-shape due to being pushed close to each other. Both were rich brown in color.

  He left her alone for a moment, padding away.

  This room, one entire wall of this room, was the glass of her tank. Sun streamed through the water.

  Green, the sun turned it into a perfect clarified green, with the sand lined up and snuggled against the glass.

  Water was her element. Her rightful place. Then what was she doing here?

  Being his little doll toy. Mmm.

  His idea for making her human was to make her shift due to pleasure. If he’d asked, she could have told him it would wear off.

  However, what was a TV? Left on her knees on the floor rug, she followed him, brow wrinkling, as he picked up a small black rectangle and pressed on it. The gun lay discarded on a low, shiny metal table beside the sofas.

  Everything was shiny.

  On the wall adjacent to the pool wall, a rectangle of black became a talking, moving picture.

  TV.

  She chewed on the gag.

  Oh. Oh yes. She’d seen these through the huge windows of establishments that were thronging with rowdy people. Or in the windows of shops. The years had flicked by, one after another, and she would walk in the towns. Each year the TVs grew bigger, brighter, until they seemed a cut-out part of life, made loud and flat.

  Television they had called them, once. TV now.

  Wolfgang tossed the rectangle aside, strode to her then kissed her. He surely loved kissing. Her mouth hurt after all this time wrenched apart, and she winced.

  “Huh.” He examined her, his fingers exploring along her gumline. “Human teeth. Good. But I bet you can still crush my dick with these.” His mouth twisted at the corner. “I bet.”

  Somehow that sounded… Wistful.

  “You are so… You make me want to touch you.”

  His hands ran over her, traveling skin on skin, murmuring thrills, summoning passion.

  These fleeting touches conjured frissons, a trail of his fingers that made her shiver and gasp, tantalizing her at neck, ears, and breasts, tickling over her stomach. He seemed to marvel at what he found at times, and he bent and kissed her lightly like a supplicant priest.

  Slowly he straightened. Wolfgang stepped away, breathing as hard as she.

  He hesitated before he spoke, his hands curling up, closing.

  “I’m going to take off the gag. You’re not to bite me.” That was said as if he wasn’t sure it would happen like he wanted but was past caring. “I want to hear you speak, the sounds you make—”

  He glowered at her with his head tilted low.

  Eyebrows raised, she found herself trembling. Stuck on her knees, tied up, and he was acting as if she had made him do this. She was something no one had catalogued or studied or, thankfully, dissected. Siren. Maybe, this was my doing? The thought sang to her and she smiled to herself. And what siren would refuse such mad devotion?

  None.

  She wasn’t sure if she would bite him under any circumstances. Not now.

  Her need to mutilate him horrendously had been obliterated.

  She needed him to touch her again. Needed, not wanted. Compulsion.

  Even so. People bit too. Raffaela traced her tongue around the inside of the gag metal. She could’ve done it as a human girl. Dicks were not made of rock, no matter that men boasted of such. Some of her patrons in the streets of London had liked her biting them as they fucked her mouth.

  “So. No biting. Okay?”

  She nodded. Anything to get this thing off.

  The gag was removed and placed beside the gun, then he stepped away and undressed. His hands were trembling, but his cock was fully erect.

  So soon. That was not normal for a man.

  She’d never tested her siren powers on land or when the Ravening was not on her.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  He leaned in and thumbed her neck on her beating pulse.

  “You will see. Be good.” Desperation in that tone, passion in his hold. He pushed up her head, angled his own, and kissed her, this one hard and somehow grim. Determined kissing. Lips roved on lips, tugging, nipping, breathing each other’s air and delicate moans, and his tongue ventured into her mouth.

  It was a torrid possession, a physical love with a care to arouse her that she’d not had before. Not ever. Her human life had been short, horrible, and minus love, once her mother died, unless you counted whoring.

  No longer in charge of anyone’s death, unfettered from her cyclical compulsions, she let herself unravel and simply…

  Be.

  The kiss evolved, roamed, his mouth tasting at her lower, lower, at breast and underside, turning her nipples into small jutting rocks. His hands were on her, in her, delving into mouth and sliding over her, finding her cunt. She felt used and he’d barely done more than…

  Well.

  Well, he had come inside her asshole.

  Not the same. Not enough. She shuddered as he bit the inside of her thigh and licked her there.

  “Your clit is up and ready, like my cock.

  “Clit?” She was confused. The words he used—

  “This.” Lightly he bit her beside the button where her arousal centered. It brought a yelp from her, a flinch, and he laughed against her skin.

  “More,” she croaked, groaning at the wet, soft heat of tongue and lips.

  On her private parts. Raffaela arched. O
h. My. God.

  His tongue wormed along the forepart of her slit.

  Arching made her hands hurt at the wrists. Rope had her. He had her, and she moaned again, compelled by this attention.

  Men did not do this, did not lick at her until she shook with desire.

  “Want me?” he asked, teasing her again. “Inside you. Fucking you.”

  Her pussy spasmed in at the thought of him fucking her.

  She peered at him and made a strangled sound that said yes, or she thought it should.

  “Come.” He stood then picked her up, carefully balancing her body in his arms, and he kissed her as he walked.

  They ended up before the sofa, the TV on but ignored. Wolfgang lowered himself to the sofa and seated her over him. She had no choice in how he positioned her, her arms were at her sides and bound to ankles, her legs resting on the sofa and parted over him.

  Over his cock. She looked down, fascinated, her pussy throbbing, pulsing it seemed to her heartbeat.

  “See.” He wrapped his fist around it and eyed her. “You’re fucking turned on and still shifted to human. I might point out that shifting back right now would give your tail schizophrenia, but to hell with that. I want to spear you on my cock. Down.”

  His fist tightened on his erection, and he shuffled her forward on his lap, her lower legs sliding on the leather. Shiny leather that gave under their weight. She sucked at her lip as she felt his cock probing her entrance, pushing upward.

  And she threw back her head, feeling him enter her, his hands on her hips forcing her lower.

  “Fuck,” he blurted as she felt his fingers explore below, where his cock tunneled, and her aroused wetness made them slide. Laughing, he added, “Are all mermaids this fucking wet?” He shoved higher. The push and tightness made her shriek and grab her ankles with rigid fingers.

  “Fuck!” Said more softly, and Wolfgang jerked his hips and stuck himself inches deeper.

  Every fraction of him was tangible, every throb, every stretch of her walls. The tight fit of cock to cunt squeezed out liquids, dripping, from inside her onto her thighs.

  Up and down that slippery, violating cock. Grunting, Wolfgang showed his teeth when she dared to look at him, or at lower where they were joined. She was rocked, slammed at, made to gasp and squirm.

  Then, on a down thrust, half-out, he stopped, groaned, held her in place.

  “What?” she spluttered, catching up to breathing, striving to make him enter her fully. “Keep going.” At the twitch and swell of him, her eyelids shut.

  “Enough.” With a hip movement and a grasp to either side of her butt, he lifted her off him.

  Dismayed, she pouted as his cock sprang free between them.

  “Not yet. You are not allowed.” He sucked in a breath, eyed her. “Experiment, remember? Though—”

  With some difficulty he deposited her on her knees on the floor then edged forward on the sofa until his cock head nudged her shut mouth.

  Glowering she pouted again.

  “Oh, you will. Or else. I have so many things I can use on you. Open and suck on me.”

  Raffaela shook her head.

  “You’ll shift if I stop playing with you or let you come too soon. You will wait.” Hands either side of her face, he touched forehead to forehead and said quietly, “Experiment. What if you could walk about all day?”

  “But only if I’m horny as a goat?”

  He slipped a hand between her legs, swiped along her slit and his hand came up shiny. He showed her then went back to toying with her. “You’re dripping. I’m going to fuck you hard on every surface in this house. Is that such a chore?”

  The room swayed, and she inhaled sharply, picturing herself being fucked, bent over, on the rug, against a wall. She clutched at air, tensing her hands, closing them. “No?”

  “See.”

  He pushed her down again and swore when his cock unexpectedly touched her protruding tongue. Staring he watched as she licked partway around the edge of the cap then up to the very tip.

  “Holy…” Wolfgang shoved himself forward.

  He almost came in her mouth again but stopped and brought her up to sit over his lap again, only this time she faced the TV. With no warning, he penetrated her, pushing her body down. He seemed balls deep in an instant.

  Her head dropped forward. So good.

  With him rocking in and out of her, bouncing her up and down, she missed seeing whatever was on the TV, only to deliriously beg him to keep going when he inevitably stopped.

  “Oh. Oh no. Please?”

  Face red, sweat dribbling, Wolfgang twisted her to look at him and stared. His gaze was stern, ungiving. Which reminded her on the iron-hard cock shoved inside her. Her pussy lips seemed welded around his shaft.

  She moved infinitesimally and made a pitiful noise.

  “Hey. No. What if you come and then shift after?”

  “I don’t care. Please?” She was begging. Worth it, so worth it.

  He pulled out but hoisted her face down onto the sofa, then speared into her, fully, nailing her down over and over, bumping her face into a cushion, making her turn her head to breathe.

  Deafened by her own moans and mewling sounds, she gave a strangled gasp and felt him come, again, jerking into her, jammed up, molded to her, his last spurts a reminder he was done.

  She muttered threats as he withdrew.

  More, she needed, more. Whatever abilities she had to compel him were affecting her also. It was painful to need so direly. With the Ravening, she would climax in unison with the man, revel in his death, bask in the glow of life.

  This was different.

  He buried his face in her neck then collapsed to the sofa beside her. “I’ve never come so fast so many times… You’re making me want to screw you to infinity, and that movie reference should get me committed.”

  With his eyes shut, he didn’t see her wriggle closer and move in to lick at his ear, to whisper sweet encouragement. In her words and the rise and fall of her voice, she recognized a quiet rhythm. It was not song, or music. Too subtle for that.

  The needs of a siren were not to be denied. Even tied up, she had her ways.

  Wolfgang moaned. He edged forward his head, looked down at himself. “Ohhh, fuck.” His kinked eyebrow said he suspected her.

  It took five minutes or more, but he dragged himself upright and began to strip the ropes from her. Untied, she smiled up at him, straightened, unfolding her legs, not bothering to massage her wrists though they ached. Even standing, he was taller than her.

  Then she reached out for his cock and tried to steer him back to the sofa.

  “No. You think? Hell, no.”

  He pushed her down to the sofa, spread her legs with slaps to her inner thighs, then buried his face in her pussy and finger pumped her cunt. Two fingers, three? Four?

  She came, arching, fingers tearing at the upholstery and cushion for he’d slapped her hands from his hair. She came with her ass lifted off the sofa, wrenching in air. He had a mouth to remember.

  Then he spun her, facedown again. “You made this, and so…”

  Parting her ass cheeks, pinning her down, he wet his cock on her arousal and slowly worked it into her asshole. “This time,” he gasped. “It’s going in all the fucking way.”

  With her still gathering air for essentials like staying alive, with the rush of her last orgasm pounding at her and his hand slipping around to massage her clit, she woke to a new stir.

  Cock sliding into her ass. Squeezing in against the resistance of her body. Her mouth gaped.

  The stretch was unnatural and infernal even for her. It hurt and pleasured her by strange ways that threw all of the sensations together.

  And yet she wriggled back at him, encouraging him.

  With his fingers on her and with that slow-pumping cock reaming her, with her desire for raw male possession, she found herself loving this.

  Nothing mattered except that he was fucking her.

  She
clawed the sofa, crying out as another climax soared then blew apart her world. It blanked her mind and left her gasping with a wet cushion stuffed partway between her lips.

  He pulsed inside her, groaning as he pulled out. Then he had her lie on the sofa and climbed over her to spoon with his back wedged against the sofa.

  There would be come on the sofa and there was no ocean to wash everything clean. But it was his sofa. Not her concern. She wormed closer to his heated body, his muscles. The hard biceps draped over her neck made her feel safe and happy.

  The TV had not stopped talking all the time they were screwing, and she wrinkled her brow.

  How long did it talk for? Pictures of people killing each other seemed to take priority.

  “You haven’t shifted, yet.” Wolfgang whispered. “Wait. I have something.” He climbed over her and went to a room. His naked ass made her watch him walking. A door slammed then he returned.

  A heart-shaped pendant hung from his hand as he climbed back onto the sofa and snuggled.

  “Yours.” He connected it at the back of her neck in a tight circle. Too small to fall off when she swam.

  Then his hand moved down to wedge between her legs and fingers stroked her. She shut her eyes as sensations reawakened.

  Again?

  “Going to see if I can keep you edged. Stop your squirming.”

  Ahh. That. She wriggled but let him find her clit, sighing.

  “Where is this necklace from? Not the other? The pearls were pretty.”

  “That one was to track you. This is because I want to give it to you, miss mermaid.”

  “Oh.” She touched it as he touched her, then closed her eyes to feel how his fingers moved on her. She recalled the gold look to the necklace. “Do you keep many of these in your house?”

  “Eh.” He shrugged, breathed hard against her neck. “To be honest, it belonged to an old girlfriend. She returned it.”

  “You are a rich man to have such things. I was poor.”

  “Tell me,” he said. “About your past. You never did.”

  “No more fucking?” Those fingers… playing. Already she had ideas.

  “Uh. No. Hell shall freeze over first.”