It had a working kitchen so I could cook for us during multi-day scenes. And…
At 8,000 square feet, it was big enough to set up scenes where he chased and stalked me through the dark until he caught me.
But no amount of hotel primal play could have prepared me for therealversion.
Not out here.
Not in the Canadian woods.
I’d known we were playing with fire.
Callum had been extolling the virtues of their roommate all morning.
The Mayor was great. The Mayor could put anyone at ease. In high school, the Mayor had been voted the hottest guy in their grade two years in a row.
He seemed to believe thatbecausethe Mayor was the Mayor, I’d have no problem adding him to the baby-making rotation. And when I offered a careful hedge about how rare it was for me to connect easily with other adults as I had with Callum, he waved it off.
“Don’t worry, you’ll love Rys. Everyone does. And remember what I told you about him putting everyone at ease.”
But Callum knew the Mayor. He didn’t know Mr. Good Time.
While we waited for Gideon to come back in something less likely to incite public indecency charges, I watched Rysak slide into his hometown-mayor persona. Crinkle-eyed smiles. Light arm pats just below the shoulder. That easy charm.
None of these people had met the version of him I’d scened with for three years. They would never believe the things he imagined for us. The filthy, dark things he whispered to me in hotel rooms.
Including—
“Run!” With a mad, twisted gleam in his eyes.
I ran. Like a sex doll wound up and set down. I ran until the gravel beneath my feet gave way to a narrow, flat hiking trail flanked by dense woods.
Behind me, his footsteps slowed. Paused.
Then his voice carried through the trees—resonant, sing-song, unmistakably Mr. Good Time’s.
“Come out and play, sweetiebird.”
That voice used to mean the scene was beginning.
But was this a scene? Were we just playing? Had he chosen the flattest part of the mountain on purpose?
Could I… could I end this with one Red Light?
Heart racing, I batted away branches as cum continued to pulse out of my pussy and drip down my thighs. Should I get off the path? Veer into the woods?
“I can smell their seed inside you, dirty girl,” he said from somewhere behind me. “Even if you leave the trail, I’ll find you by the scent of all that cum coating your pussy. Did you really think you were going to get away with fucking two guys right in front of me?”
Sometimes we played a catch-and-release version, where he’d spend all night pinning me to various surfaces and unloading inside me before telling me to run again after thirty minutes of recovery.
Primal play, as I understood it, was about me running in the dark—hiding as best I could—until Mr. Good Time inevitably tracked me down and ruthlessly fucked me while I pleaded with him to let me go.
Our old dynamic had been one man’s load dribbling into the panties he preferred to pull aside, while he stalked me around the suite like a big, silent animal. Striking a maximum of a pre-approved three times before we transitioned into aftercare and make-up sex.
