The Mountain

This chapter is twice as long as the last one and chapter three is already written and should be even longer. It was hard for me to tell how the page length would translate to Lit pages. Thanks for any and all comments as I am trying to improve the story as I go. I think this story might be classified as a slow build, but I have already written future scenes that are more erotic and also place the story firmly in non-con (I’m an avid reader of the category.) Thanks for reading!

—

The girl–Lucy–was waiting with her guard. As instructed, they had taken her inside the mountain to a look-out. He had wanted her to see the confrontation in the town. She had watched her people gather, watched him answer them. She would have seen the people disperse. He had known that they would not stay. He doubted they would risk a rescue attempt. If they did, they would scatter first, regroup. Their gathering places were far from the mountain, almost spilling into the sea on the other side of the island. Only the very poor still lived anywhere near the land that they occupied. They stayed only because they could not find a way to go.

She was crying. Quietly. She was struggling even now to gain control. But he was pleased to see the tears. It meant that she had seen and understood. And her mouth was still unbound. She had followed his command.

He dismissed his soldiers with a wave and they left the small lookout, disappearing into the tunnels. No doubt, they would be quickly assigned to guard duty elsewhere. The entire army had been mobilized to guard the perimeter for further signs of unrest.

He stepped into the doorway of the lookout, trapping the girl in the small space. Sunlight streamed through the thin slits of rock that allowed for a view, landing in thin strips over her face and body. He knew that she felt his presence, but her gaze was fixed on the wall across from her, unseeing.

“Come,” he said.

She startled. She took a shaky breath and wiped a hand over her face.

“You’ve been watching us,” she said, gesturing to the slits. “You can see everything.”

“Yes,” he said. “Now, come here. Do not make me tell you again.”

The girl’s breath hitched at the threat. She stood carefully, as if uncertain that her legs would hold. In two, slow steps, she crossed the small space–he would have had to kneel to occupy it–and stood before him.

It was pleasing to him that she was afraid. Her body knew him even if, as an islander, she was unaware what that meant.

He swept her into his arms without warning. He had intended that she should walk. But she was weak with shock and grief and he was impatient. He forced her to lean into his chest and covered her with his cloak. Every being inside the mountain knew already that she was here. But he did not wish to display her as he carried her to his room. There would be time, later. Now, with the mountain secured, he could turn his attention to the girl who would be his mate.

#

The longer she was close to him, the more her world fractured.

The scent of him, the feel of his arms around her. His eyes. They seemed to have the power to root her feet to the floor. As he carried her, she tried, in some small way to distance herself. She focused on the stone walls–shimmering here and there with mica and trickling with streams of water. Everyone wondered how the warriors lived inside the mountain. Some suspected that they managed to live beneath the island or even to leave it as the people below the mountain could not. It was nothing like she had imagined. It was cold and strange, like the people who lived in it. Even as she began to lose herself in her surroundings, the warrior tugged her closer and pulled his cloak over her face. Resigned, she closed her eyes, struggling not to lean her head too easily against his chest, and tried not to think at all.

After what seemed like hours–but was likely only minutes–he stopped and set her down. She stumbled away from him, falling against what turned out to be a bed. The room was dim, with curved walls. Besides the bed, there was a desk and pillows against one side of the curved wall formed a seating area. Suddenly, lights flickered on, recessed into the area above the curved wall. Lucy was grateful to be able to see better, but she still felt claustrophobic. That’s when she realized.

No windows.

They must be deep inside the mountain. Of course there could not be natural light. But the thought made her feel instantly buried. She began to breathe heavily. She tried to count the breaths as they came and went.

Five seconds.

That was how long she needed to take each breath in and let it back out to keep from panicking. But the technique failed her. She could barely breathe at all.

The warrior came back into view. He pulled her up off the bed. One of his massive hands circled her wrists and held her still. The other curled around her waist. He rubbed her back firmly, pressed his fingers into the tension at her shoulders.

“You’re all right,” he said. “Inside the mountain, your mind will play tricks on you. It feels like there isn’t any air because you can’t feel the outdoors, but there is plenty. Just breathe.”

It took some time for her to calm. Each time her breath seemed to return, she became aware again of the man who was holding her, and the cycle started over again. Finally, she closed her eyes and forced herself to forget everything that was happening. She promised herself that when she opened them again, she would maintain her calm, no matter what happened. When she was certain she could keep that promise, she opened her eyes.

When she did, he saw two things. He saw that her eyes were a startling shade of blue. And he saw that she had managed to summon an admirable calm despite her situation. He respected her for it. But he was also determined to challenge her instantly. Because he knew also that the calm, determined girl standing before him now had only gotten that way by shutting him out, ignoring him and managing the effect he had on her, even as he sought to soothe her. She needed to learn quickly that she would not be permitted anything without his leave.

He reached out and grasped her thin dress at the hem. The light blue fabric was stained with berries–she had gathered them in her skirt and fallen on them when he came upon her and her friend. Her gaze flew to his hand, but she didn’t push him away. In one, fluid motion, he pulled the dress up and over her head, yanking until it released her arms. He flung the garment away and looked at her plain underthings.

“Take them off,” he ordered.

“What?”

“The next time I tell you to do something and you ask me to repeat myself, I will make you regret it.”

Her control slipped for a moment, but she regained it. Her shoulders squared and she raised her head to l face him.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“I heard what you said,” she answered him. “But I am not going to do it.”

He let out a low growl and grasped her shoulder, hard enough to bruise. He tore the bra from her, snapping the straps and tossing it away, leaving an angry red burn across her chest.

“No!” she said. She tried to push his hands away, but he brushed off her attempts. He forced her towards the bed and when her knees hit the side, he pushed her backwards so that she fell onto it. Holding her wrists above her head in one hand, he used the other to pull her panties down her legs.

“Lie still,” he said. “That is a command.”

With great effort, she forced herself not to scream or kick. She couldn’t allow this brute to lie with her. She would fight him if it came to that. But now, he was only looking at her, taking in each curve and freckle. She had a small, moon-shaped scar on her wrist where she had burned herself on the stove. He brushed his fingers over it, considering. His hand splayed over her belly and she was afraid to breathe. He traced the curve of her hip with a thumb and she shivered.

“Too thin,” he said. “Maybe that is why you were picking berries.”

She nodded. In that moment, it occurred to her how lucky she was that she had managed to hide the evidence of what she and Sheera had really been doing on the mountain.

Meek, she reminded herself. You must appear to be no kind of threat.

The tools had been hidden in the pocket of her dress, but she had dropped to the ground when he appeared, feigning complete, frozen fear. She had managed to work the materials into a crevice in the rock, hiding evidence of her mission directly under his gaze. Being cornered so thoroughly, it had hardly seemed like a victory. But she allowed herself a small amount of comfort that she had reacted as she did. He would have found everything just now when he stripped her, before she had any chance to hide. With any luck, now, the would never know why she had really been on the mountain.

At least, not until she managed to escape and finish what she had started.

Her situation could, actually, be worse. The thought almost made her laugh.

“Hmm.” He made a considering kind of noise and she quickly smoothed out her features.

“I’m cold,” she said, trying to account for her distraction.

“I see.” He brought one large palm to her breast and teased her pointed nipples. When she shied away, he stopped and reached out to touch her hair, smoothing it away from her face.

He brought his hand back down. He splayed his fingers over her flat stomach. He began to caress her, kneading gently just above her mound.

She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it to be over. He was toying with her, she knew. Likely, he intended to force himself on her. In all her wildest imaginings of what could happen when she and Sheera set out for the mountain, she had never allowed herself to think of something as awful as this. Only hours ago, she had believed that they might accomplish their dangerous mission. That they would bring hope to the island at nearly the cost of an afternoon of berry picking. Now, she was trapped. Sheera gone, perhaps captured, too, or dead. And this man was towering over her, examining her naked body.

She felt his fingers caress the soft hair between her legs and she jumped, trying to move away. His grip on her arms became bruising as he held her still. He ran his free hand down her thigh and gently teased her thighs apart. When she fought to keep them closed, he rubbed her thigh again, as if to soothe her.

“I’m not planning to hurt you.” His voice seemed louder with her eyes shut. “If you struggle, I might.”

“Please–” she began. She would beg. She thought that it might please him. Suddenly, she was willing to please him, to placate him and convince him not to hurt her, not to force her.

She realized, in that moment, why all of her worst case scenarios had been wrong. She had never really believed they wouldn’t succeed. The monsters hidden in the mountain had been like a fairy tale. Even if she could see them, sometimes, from far below, moving like ants over the face of the stone, they were so distant and small as to be nearly pretend.

The hand on her leg was real. The man leaning over her, his scent overwhelming her, was real. It was cold inside the mountain but his body seemed to radiate warmth. There was a part of her that wanted to lean into him, burrow closer, despite her fear.

All the while her mind raced, he was touching her. Now, he pressed firmly at her legs again, urging them apart. She felt herself begin to shake and she was ashamed that he could see how afraid she was. There was nothing she could do now to hide it.

“It pleases me that you obey even though you are frightened,” he said quietly. “Don’t move, but breathe. In and out.”

She obeyed, taking one breath and then another, until she actually managed to take in air. He let go of her hands with a whispered “stay,” pressing them into the bed over her head. She was sprawled out now, open to him, without any restraint. Everything in her wanted to fight back, but despite how badly things had gone wrong, there was more than his command requiring her to obey. Her meek persona had been an act–at first–the easiest, fastest way to communicate that she and Sheera were harmless, careless girls who truly intended nothing but to pick berries on forbidden land.

He was caressing her stomach again, kneading his fingers into the skin stretched across each hip. His hand dipped lower and he found the sensitive nub between her legs. Slowly, he began to caress it with the rough pad of his thumb, alternating between hard, almost painful strokes and light, teasing circles.

“Open your eyes.”

She remembered what he had said. He would not repeat the command. Or, if he did, he would be angry. But it was not easy to obey. He seemed to sense this. He did not speak, but the caress between her legs became punishing again. He pinched her, scraping across her most sensitive part with his nail.

When she finally managed to open her eyes, he was looking into them.

“You will learn to be obey more quickly,” he said. “Now, you must stay still. If I have to tie you–”

Quickly, she shook her head, unwilling to be restrained. He raised an eyebrow, considered. Then, he caught her wrists in his hand again, holding her arms stretched above her head.

“It will be easier,” he said.

Without warning, he stopped caressing her and plunged one huge finger into her pussy. She whimpered and tried to buck away, but he growled and held her wrists more firmly, so that it felt as if her bones were grinding together.

“Be still,” he commanded.

In answer, she closed her eyes.

He let her.

What he had wanted was to see her face the very first time he entered her. She was so small. Despite her fear, his ministrations had made her wet. She responded to him. Not only to his touch, but to what he was, even if she did not yet fully know it. Still, he would be careful not to hurt her too much. He knew that she suspected he would rape her tonight. He was tempted to take her, but he would wait until she was willing–at least, until her body called to him.

Which, admittedly, was not exactly the same thing.

Tonight, he intended only to determine whether any other man–or woman, he reminded himself, thinking of the feisty blonde on the mountain–had been with his intended mate before him.

He eased another finger inside of her. She was so soft. Warm and wet and tight. She was still shaking and he felt her shudder with pain rather than pleasure as he stretched her further.

“Shh,” he murmured. He brought one leg over hers to keep her still.

“Please stop,” she said. “Please stop. Please–”

She said it over and over again and he wondered if she knew what she was asking for.

Gently, he probed and he found what he was looking for. A thin barrier, letting him know that she was untouched.

He would have had her either way, but this confirmed his decision, however frustrating, to wait. In close quarters, sleeping in his bed at night and subject to his command, it would not take long.

Slowly, he eased his fingers from her body, giving her clit a little pinch as he did. He ran both fingers down her body, from her neck to her belly. He wanted her to feel the wetness there, how she had begun to respond.

“Eyes open,” he said.

This time, the response was infinitesimally more quick. Her eyes were filled with tears and they began to fall as she was forced to accept his dominance, his body towering over her as she was forced to lie prone on the bed, unaware of what else he planned to do. Powerless to stop him. He reached out with the same hand he had used to enter her body and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“You made a mistake today,” he said. “On any other day, it might not have mattered very much. But today–”

“Today?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It mattered.”

#

Sheera paced the library basement that served as the town hall–once it had been a war room, before the islanders had given up. Today, it showed signs of becoming so again. Her own drawings were taped to the walls, showing everything she remembered of the warriors. She glared at the likeness of the larger man, the brute that had taken Lucy.

“You’re sure you didn’t see where they exited the mountain?”

Sheera whirled around to find John Litchfield watching her. The man was useless. He believed himself to be a leader for the islanders because he accepted food shipments from the invaders. He even spoke with them sometimes, reporting every word in breathless detail. Sheera wished she could tell him that he had only received the “honor” because he was expendable. Not strong enough to fight. Not wise enough to contribute with anything but his useless flesh.

“I’ve drawn everything I saw,” said Sheera shortly. Instantly, she felt sorry for him, cruel for deliberately speaking in a tone meant to shrivel his balls. “It wouldn’t matter if I had seen,” she said, her voice flat. “They won’t let us back up on the mountain now. They must have known the fence was down.”

“We were monitoring that breach for months and no one ever went near it,” said Miles Hoover.

“They knew,” said Sheera. “We are the fools if we continue to underestimate them even when we are their captives.”

“Why Lucy?” This from her father, Richard. He sat in a dark corner of the room, rocking back and forth and likely unaware that he was moving at all. Before anyone could answer, he dissolved into silent sobs, his shoulders heaving as he hid his face.

Why not Sheera?

Sheera heard the words that were left unspoken. It wasn’t a question she could answer. It wasn’t a possibility she had allowed herself to consider.

Sheera’s father came in from a patrol and gave John a perfunctory report. When the excitement died down, he motioned Sheera to him and led her away from the crowd, leaning in as if to comfort her. They stepped behind a shelf of old library supplies–files, plastic for covering books, open ink pads dried to nothing. Amidst the debris, Sheera spotted a dull knife, signs of the desperate ways in which the islanders were trying to turn a peaceful, isolated vacation destination into a survivor’s camp.

“You haven’t told anyone why you were really there?” asked Ioanni.

“Of course not,” said Sheera, her voice low.

“Good,” he said. “Perhaps Lucy–”

“She isn’t equipped to do it herself,” said Sheera. “I never should have allowed her to come in the first place.”

“I was the one who insisted,” he said. “Blame me.”

“I do,” said Sheera. This time, she felt no guilt at the way her words were intended to sting. She searched her father’s eyes for some sign that she had hit her target. That he was sorry. “We should have told her,” Sheera hissed. “She is unarmed, completely unaware. She won’t realize what he wants until–”

“If you care for her, you’ll thank god no one knows what she is. They’d tear her apart if they knew,” he gestured discretely to the room around them. “They’d tear you apart, my girl.”

“They are our friends–” said Sheera.

“As much as a mountain dweller,” said her father. “I’m sorry for what happened, daughter. But do not endanger yourself.”

Sheera intended to assure her father that she would find a way to rescue Lucy. Before she could, Miles called for him and he left the relative privacy of the corner where they had been talking.

“I think we should set a permanent, rotating guard near the gates,” said Miles. “In case they decide to release her.”

They wouldn’t, Sheera knew. But she would find a way to get Lucy out. Even if it meant taking her place.

Suddenly, Sheera couldn’t stand to be in the pathetic war room anymore. None of it mattered. None of it seemed real with Lucy gone.

She ascended the stairs to the main floor, stooping to enter the dusty old reading room. She breathed deep, trying to dispel the stench of helplessness and despair that permeated the downstairs. Coughed as she breathed in musty air. No one spent time in the main part of the library anymore. They were busy trying to survive,