He was majestic. The shafts of light struck his back muscles as they flexed and moved beneath his perfect flesh. His t-shirt was hanging out the back of his low-slung woodcutters trousers. Harriet drank in the sight of his body twisting as he lifted the axe high above his head, hipbone jutting out above his waistband in that perfect still moment, the apex of the arc, before the action renewed and the head of the axe sliced the log in a beautiful clean split.
Again, Harriet reached for her phone to capture the next swing but her pockets were empty. This would have to be a private show, just for her. She’d have to pay extra attention to make sure she committed it fully to memory.
He really was a perfect specimen of manhood. Especially now in this moment where none of this was for an audience; it was simply a man in the forest, working with wood. Fucking magnificent. Harriet tried to recall a time when she’d ever seen physical labor like this—apart from building sites where they’d be clad in safety gear, boots, helmets, gloves, and hi-vis jackets. This was different. His fragrance wafted her way—musk and sweat. Earthy, yet with that delicious spicy undertone of a man who’d worked hard.
There was nothing quite like the scent of a man.
She couldn’t bear it any longer. “Archie,” she called, far too quietly.
“Archie,” she called again, checking her hair with the flat of her hand.
The axe fell, striking the log at an awkward angle, causing Archie’s shoulder to twist and he stumbled forward.
“What the fuck?” He sounded angry and spun around. “I might have kent it’d be you.” His eyes stared at hers with a ferocious intensity and Harriet couldn’t decide whether she was afraid or excited.
Her cunt decided for her. Heat and moisture coursed through her and her nipples hardened. Trembling turned to shaking and the thrill bubbled from her chest to her throat, causing a squeal to leap out.
“Were you expecting me?” she said, and smiled as he marched over to her.
He swooped and picked her up and carried her to the center of the clearing. “I should get the police on to you; stalking’s illegal, you know.”
Harriet tipped her head into his chest where the sound of his words growled and rumbled. “Yes, I do know.” She inhaled, her face touching against the taut skin on his pec. A dusting of hair held in droplets of sweat and Harriet smeared her cheek in it, gathering as much of him on her flesh as she could before he dumped her roughly onto the forest floor.
“What is it you want from me?” His eyes were hard as his gaze raked across her body settling on her chest.
She couldn’t help but arch her back and tip up her breasts, which were straining against her top.
“Ach, dinnae answer that,” he said, picking up the axe and turning away from Harriet to start chopping up the logs again.
Harriet was stunned. Here she was practically throwing herself at him and he was ignoring her. Well, it was her own fault, she reasoned; what would she do if someone had followed her to her place of work and simpered about looking horny and pathetic in equal measure?
“Hey, turn around and look at me,” Harriet said, her voice faltering a little.
He lowered the tool and turned slowly, his expression showing genuine puzzlement and confusion.
Harriet pushed up onto her elbows and decided to communicate like an adult. “Listen, I enjoyed what we,” she paused, “what you did to me last night. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything for anyone before and I know I don’t even know you but—”
“That’s right, you dinnae know me. You dinnae know me at all. And you’re not going to either.”
Archie turned, a thunderous look passing his face.
“I’m not a good man,” he muttered and went back to work with extra vigor, which did nothing to quell the lust emanating from every part of Harriet’s body. Her mother always warned her off bad boys but actually, she had seen no evidence of his bad boy nature. Apart from a bit of banter in the bar; oh, and sexually pleasuring her in her hotel room; oh, and spanking her ass in the forest, she didn’t understand what he was talking about. Yes, there were rumors of him allegedly assaulting a reporter, but surely there would have been more coverage if it had been serious… or even true.
“Listen, we’re both adults here. I don’t care if you ‘like the ladies’ as I’ve been told. We can just, you know, have a bit of a fling. Why not?” Harriet decided to ignore the reporter thing for now.
He dropped his axe and flew at her, knocking her back with his body pressing into hers. His breathing was ragged and hard as his stubbled jaw raked up into her neck below her ear.
“Listen, ya wee London lassie, I’m not your fucking plaything.”
His body was tense on hers and Harriet’s pulse raced. He was furious, she could smell it, mixed with all the other heady scents. It was like a shot of pure lust to her cunt and the tickle of his rough beard on her neck made her head fall back and she groaned, letting her pelvis tip up and her legs relax, opening her thighs to him. “Maybe not,” she whispered. “But I could be yours…”
His body sagged down onto hers and his mouth was on her flesh, kissing and suckling at her shoulder, biting and nibbling her. His hand wriggled up under her top, thick urgent fingers dragging at her bra and pulling it down to expose her taut nipple.
Harriet squirmed, heat and excitement swelling in her pussy.
“Oh, yeah,” she said in a sighing groan that he mirrored, leaving her neck and clasping his mouth around her nipple through the t-shirt fabric. The material was rough on her sensitive nub and when his teeth grazed it, she thought she might come there and then.
“You want to be my plaything, lassie?” His voice was thick and muffled as he was still latched on to her breast with his teeth, bringing tears to her eyes but still her cunt tightened and clenched.
She nodded and made a sound of acquiescence.
“Well, this is your first and final warning. I play rough.” And with that he pushed himself to standing and pulled her up by her forearm, managing to somehow flip her up and over his shoulder.
Blood rushed to Harriet’s head as she swayed in his firm grasp, one arm hooked over her thigh, the other pressing into her buttock as he walked.
She couldn’t quite see where they were headed but he suddenly stopped and she felt the jerking motion of him kicking something over. The chopping block.
“I think you’re ready to find out who’s the boss here in this situation. You need to learn your place.”
Harriet held her breath and clutched his t-shirt tight as he bent over and deposited her on the ground next to the fallen block. Their eyes met as he untangled her nails from his clothing and he paused.
“If ye dinnae like anything, just say ‘Glayva.’ You got it?”
Harriet exhaled and nodded meekly, excitement rushing through her. Every hair, every sinew, every cell was on high alert as to what was to come next. Had she just been given a ‘safe word’? She knew what it meant; things were about to get deep. Did she trust this man?
“I need to hear ye say the word.” Archie prompted, placing her hands on her lap.
“Glayva,” she whispered, trembling now.
“Dinnae worry, you’ll love this.” Archie’s voice was firm yet somehow tender and Harriet decided that she would trust him.
They locked gazes for another brief moment then Archie nodded, dragging her up once again like a rag doll and placed her over a log that was now on its side.
“What the?” she began to say but he silenced her with a sharp slap to her thigh.
“It’s no yer place to ask questions, lassie. Yer about to be punished properly for coming here and stalking me.” The words were so hard and gravelly that Harriet’s body sagged and molded over the huge wooden log. It tilted slightly and Archie’s fist grabbed at it, holding it fast while he kicked earth into crook of the log, wedging it fast to the ground. He tested it by pressing his palm onto Harriet’s lower back and pushing but she only rocked slightly.
The wood was broad yet rough and her hips dug into the bark. Her breasts fell up her chest and with every breath, heaved from the safety of her bra. It was exquisitely exciting to be here, helpless. Everything came into sharp focus, the scent of the mossy earth filled her soul as she inhaled deeply, time slowing for her to take notice of every tiny thing around her. The heat and imprint of Archie’s hand, still on her lower back. The vibration of sound emanating from the forest flooded her ears. It was almost as if each second stretched to infinity.
As Archie lifted his hand from her back, she almost felt a piece of her slip out with it, a vision of herself, a spec in the woods with the whole world focusing in on this space around her suddenly took her over. Like an out-of-body experience she watched from afar as Archie raised his magnificent arm.
Harriet heard it first and wondered for a moment if she’d imagined everything again and Archie was chopping logs while she watched in a lustful hallucinatory haze. Then suddenly her buttocks clenched hard as heat and pain seared through them. Her whole body was alight and her instinct to reach back and shield her painful ass was met with another ferocious spanking before her hand could make it.
“Just steady yerself, lass,” Archie said, pausing for a second to take her arm and place it gently back in front of her next to the other.
Her nails dug into the ground as she nodded and braced herself, determined to let go and see where this took her. Memories of Kiss, Cuddle, and Torture during school playtimes flashed through her mind and it was a thrill and a comfort to recognize that she liked this sort of thing.
Stillness, silence then, thwack, a bolt of pain shot through her once more and she tensed, resisting the urge to yelp. Her clothes now felt hot and restrictive and she was furious that she was wearing jeans. It was sore enough through the thick denim but part of her wished to feel flesh on flesh. Archie must have been reading her thoughts as at that moment he lifted her by the hips with both hands and reached round underneath her body to her flies.
She released a groan as his thick fingers fumbled with the button and zipper. Harriet wriggled as the seam of her crotch rode up into her lips as he tugged and pulled. He began to do it more deliberately, rhythmically and she squirmed deeper, spreading her thighs as he dipped his face behind her ear and growled.
“So ye do like it. You want me to drag yer knickers off right here and spank ye, splayed open for all the world to see.”
Harriet had never felt an actual gush of arousal leave her body before but a wave of pleasure so intense at the thought of Archie doing what he had just said caused her knickers to be drenched in her excitement.
“I’m asking you something.” He finally released the fastening of her jeans and was about to drag them off but he stopped. “Is that what you want? You want me to punish you for your wanton ways?”
Harriet nodded and earned herself a sharp slap to the back of her thigh.
“I cannae hear you.”
“Yes, yes, of course I fucking do. Just get on with it. I want you to spank me and fuck me whichever way you please.”
“That’s mair like it,” said Archie then yanked off her jeans, paying no mind to her squeal as they got caught on her sore ankle.
He’d left her knickers on and stood behind her, kicking her legs apart and she managed to peek through her hair to see him surveying the scene, staring at her ass with a deliciously lustful expression.
Harriet wriggled in invitation to him.
“Yer knickers are soaked, ye dirty wee trollop.”
Harriet spread her thighs even wider at the thought of him staring at her wet cunt through her panties.
He returned to her side and dipped his knees. Harriet trembled and dug her nails into the dirt. It was by far the most exquisitely humiliating thing that had happened to her and she loved it.
“You deserve ten good hard spanks for the disrespect you’ve shown. And you must count every single one. Any errors will earn you another.”
He didn’t wait for a reply this time. He struck Harriet’s buttocks with a brisk slap. She’d been expecting more talk and cajoling so it caught her unawares and she flinched forward and yelped as the sting set in.
Another harder hit came this time and Harriet clenched her teeth, savoring the heat spreading through her flesh and the way her hips grazed and dug into the rough bark of the log.
“Did ye no hear what I said, lassie?” he said and smacked her again. “Yer supposed to be counting. Now begin.”
Harriet was caught in a daze and stuttered, “Oh. Three, um, four.” Another landed smartly.
“Since when did counting to ten begin with a three?” His voice was low and menacing and Harriet wriggled, knowing full well he was being quite gentle with her. Even so, her bare ass was raging with heat and while she craved the sting, she wasn’t sure she wanted to make any more mistakes. She was already in line for more than they’d agreed on, and something made her think it was always planned this way.
Thwack. Harriet let her head slump forward and managed to squeak out, “One.”
His callused palm made contact again and Harriet counted. As he continued, she wished she could just let go and not think. Keeping focused on the numbers was tethering her to the physical when she wanted to soar on the wave of pain and arousal.
“Five,” she managed to say and three more came in quick succession, making her wriggle and squirm as the blows came harder. “Six, seven, eight.”
There was a pause. Enough of a pause for Harriet to melt a little into the log and just hang. Her backside was aflame and it spread through her bloodstream and ignited her cells with lust. Even so, the thought of two more brought tears to her eyes and she clenched everything in anticipation.
“Relax, lassie,” his commanding voice soothed and he placed his hand over her heated flesh. “You can do this.”
No sooner had Harriet exhaled when the ninth blow came, harder than the others and his hand stayed fixed on her ass.
“Nine,” she said, her voice fractured and strained as she closed her eyes and imagined his finger straying to the crevice of her pussy.
“Ten.” Her body slumped and he kept his hand on her again. Strong and still. He knelt beside her and placed his left hand on her back between her shoulder blades, a calming and gorgeous feeling.
“There, ye did well, lassie.”
He let her rest for a few moments longer then helped her up off the log and carried her to a mossy patch of ground and laid her down.
She melted deep into the forest floor and her head fell back. She arched her back, forcing her breasts up in invitation to him but he rose to his full height, silhouetted in the dappled sun.
“Rest now,” he said, looking at her for a moment.
As the waves of sensations subsided, Harriet’s peripheral vision began to dim and she hazily watched Archie in shadow form turn, his huge bulk blotting out everything else for a second before he walked away.
“Hey, don’t you want to…” she called, feebly lifting a trembling hand and letting it drop as she closed her eyes fully and settled back into the earth, her body buzzing. She felt like a bit of her soul had left her, or rather, was hovering above her physical self. What the hell had just happened to her? As the crack-thunk of logs being chopped by her mighty lover recommenced, Harriet slipped into an exhausted doze.
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