Breeding Call: Virgin Initiations (BDSM Erotic Romance) (Bred in Underfalls) by Arthur Mitchell
Authors: Arthur Mitchell
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Male and Female, Face to Face
Jordan Whiteshore's eyes strained to see through the darkness, her ears attuned to every snap of leaves and twigs beneath her sandals. At any moment, a wild man might leap out and drag her into the brush. She was in hunter territory, heeding a call that could only be heard in flesh.
She knew what men were like, though she had never seen one in his prime in all of her twenty one years. The older women who had been through the woods told her that they were all hair and muscles, overflowing with an energy as mysterious as it was irresistible.
Some of the older matrons never talked about their experiences. Not surprisingly, they were the ones who had only borne one child, rather than a small flock, returning with their daughters bundled in their arms after months in the forest.
Now, Jordan understood a small piece of their fear. Many yards away, she heard the Great Lake's waves slapping the shore, the very same ground that carried her namesake.
“ Steady, steady. It gets warmer the deeper you go,” she muttered to herself. It was just one of the few psychological tricks her elders had taught her. This one, however, was true. Closeness to the waters at this time of year brought a cold chill that caused her skin to sting.
She shoved a hard lump down her throat, tasting dryness on her tongue, and forced herself off the main path. Her heart throttled up to her neckline a second later as something thrashed behind two large boulders.
Jordan scuttled forward and saw the tracks. Just a hare, she thought, feeling for the rabbit's foot attached to her necklace.
I can't believe women used to wear all hare skins, and nothing else.
Stroking the soft, grayish fur soothed her. It didn't bother her that the petrified foot used to belong to a living animal. Such concerns were unheard of in the Land of Underfalls, where Nature reigned as sovereign over each man, woman, and child.
Father Skarr reinforced the point in his last sermon, before she headed into the woods. It was the service during her birthday blessing, an event Jordan had waited for with an adrenaline-charged mix of anxiety and wonder in her veins.
“ You, my daughters, are ready to mate. Though men and women live separately, remember that we are one people. When a man calls you, whether with a harsh roar or a soft whisper, give into his needs. You will face many trials in the forest, but submission is always the answer,” he said, his voice rising above the huge fire pit before him with throaty feeling. “You, my daughters, were given life by Nature, and it is Her will that you receive new blessings, incubating life for others.”
The Father stepped forward, his limp arm dragging at his side. She tried not to focus too much on the grisly sight. He had become a priest at an early age, slightly grayed and just past his best breeding years due to his crippled limb. There were rumors for years that the old man had bedded some of the women in town, but none had fallen pregnant – if they had, the Father would have suffered severely.
No one was above the laws of Nature approved by the Elder Council. No man or woman could mate anywhere outside the woods, where natural selection took its course. The supplest females were released to whatever strong man found them for good reason.
When he came to Jordan's side, he looked her up and down. His eyes were watery with sadness – or was it longing?
Regardless, Father Skarr covered her forehead in his soot coated palm, pressing it against her skin and shaking a little. It was hard enough to leave the deep, manly grooves from his callouses deeply imprinted on her flesh.
They had vanished as the ash wore away, but Jordan felt them now, and smiled. The comfort drew her in, until the foamy music of the Great Lake became distant. She must have walked for hours, deeper and deeper into the cool darkness, losing her way home.
At first, her heart raced. Dead twigs snapped underfoot, jarring
Jordan Whiteshore's eyes strained to see through the darkness, her ears attuned to every snap of leaves and twigs beneath her sandals. At any moment, a wild man might leap out and drag her into the brush. She was in hunter territory, heeding a call that could only be heard in flesh.
She knew what men were like, though she had never seen one in his prime in all of her twenty one years. The older women who had been through the woods told her that they were all hair and muscles, overflowing with an energy as mysterious as it was irresistible.
Some of the older matrons never talked about their experiences. Not surprisingly, they were the ones who had only borne one child, rather than a small flock, returning with their daughters bundled in their arms after months in the forest.
Now, Jordan understood a small piece of their fear. Many yards away, she heard the Great Lake's waves slapping the shore, the very same ground that carried her namesake.
“ Steady, steady. It gets warmer the deeper you go,” she muttered to herself. It was just one of the few psychological tricks her elders had taught her. This one, however, was true. Closeness to the waters at this time of year brought a cold chill that caused her skin to sting.
She shoved a hard lump down her throat, tasting dryness on her tongue, and forced herself off the main path. Her heart throttled up to her neckline a second later as something thrashed behind two large boulders.
Jordan scuttled forward and saw the tracks. Just a hare, she thought, feeling for the rabbit's foot attached to her necklace.
I can't believe women used to wear all hare skins, and nothing else.
Stroking the soft, grayish fur soothed her. It didn't bother her that the petrified foot used to belong to a living animal. Such concerns were unheard of in the Land of Underfalls, where Nature reigned as sovereign over each man, woman, and child.
Father Skarr reinforced the point in his last sermon, before she headed into the woods. It was the service during her birthday blessing, an event Jordan had waited for with an adrenaline-charged mix of anxiety and wonder in her veins.
“ You, my daughters, are ready to mate. Though men and women live separately, remember that we are one people. When a man calls you, whether with a harsh roar or a soft whisper, give into his needs. You will face many trials in the forest, but submission is always the answer,” he said, his voice rising above the huge fire pit before him with throaty feeling. “You, my daughters, were given life by Nature, and it is Her will that you receive new blessings, incubating life for others.”
The Father stepped forward, his limp arm dragging at his side. She tried not to focus too much on the grisly sight. He had become a priest at an early age, slightly grayed and just past his best breeding years due to his crippled limb. There were rumors for years that the old man had bedded some of the women in town, but none had fallen pregnant – if they had, the Father would have suffered severely.
No one was above the laws of Nature approved by the Elder Council. No man or woman could mate anywhere outside the woods, where natural selection took its course. The supplest females were released to whatever strong man found them for good reason.
When he came to Jordan's side, he looked her up and down. His eyes were watery with sadness – or was it longing?
Regardless, Father Skarr covered her forehead in his soot coated palm, pressing it against her skin and shaking a little. It was hard enough to leave the deep, manly grooves from his callouses deeply imprinted on her flesh.
They had vanished as the ash wore away, but Jordan felt them now, and smiled. The comfort drew her in, until the foamy music of the Great Lake became distant. She must have walked for hours, deeper and deeper into the cool darkness, losing her way home.
At first, her heart raced. Dead twigs snapped underfoot, jarring
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