Chapter 2: The Belly Rub and the Oath
The mud pie was a cold, sweet sludge on his tongue, and Jack swallowed it without chewing, his throat working greedily. Greer’s fingers, slick with whipped cream, traced his lips before pushing another forkful past his teeth. His gut was a hard, warm dome under her other hand, throbbing with each full-mouthed gulp he took.
“That’s my good boy,” she murmured, her voice a low hum that vibrated through his chest. “Such a hungry little piglet. You want the rest, don’t you?”
He nodded, a wordless, desperate jerk of his chin. Speech felt too complex, a distant notion. The only truths were the pressure in his stomach and the heat of her palm through his thin shirt.
“Use your words, Jack.”
“Yes,” he grunted, the sound thick. “Please.”
She smiled, feeding him the final bites with slow, deliberate ceremony. When the plate was clean, she set it aside with a clatter and turned fully to him in the booth. Her knee pressed against his thigh, a firm, unmistakable pressure. The dim light caught the platinum strands of her hair, framing a face that was all stern kindness and absolute authority.
“You’re bursting, sweet thing,” she said, her hand moving from his stomach down to the strained fly of his trousers. He jerked at the contact, a spark of his old self flashing behind his eyes—a flutter of shame, of shock. It died as soon as it was born, smothered by the heavy, complacent warmth she’d cultivated in him. Her fingers found the button, the zipper. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”
The denim peeled away from his swollen hips with a sigh. His cock, thick and ruddy, sprung free, lying against the pale curve of his newly soft belly. The air in the bar was cool, raising goosebumps, but her hand was furnace-hot as she wrapped her fingers around him.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his head falling back against the vinyl with a thud.
“Shhh,” she soothed, but her stroking was anything but gentle. It was a firm, possessive tug, her thumb smearing the bead of moisture at his tip. “This is what you needed, isn’t it? All that eating, all that growing. It’s just to make you feel good. To make you mine.”
He could only pant, his hips pushing up weakly into her fist. His own hands, clumsy and soft, gripped the edge of the sticky table. The world narrowed to the rhythm of her stroke and the deep, resonant tone of her voice.
“You saw my other boys leaving tonight,” she said, leaning close. Her breath smelled of mint and something earthy. “They were so happy. So complete. You’re going to be happier. You’re special, Jack. My new breeding boar. You understand that?”
He didn’t, not really, but the words seeped into him, warming him more than the liquor ever had. Breeding boar. Hers.
Her hand left his cock, and he whimpered at the loss. But she was just moving, shifting her weight with effortless grace. One strong hand pushed his shoulder down until he was half-lying across the booth seat. She hiked up her skirt, revealing powerful thighs and the simple, stark fact of her: no underwear, just the neat blonde curl of hair between her legs, glistening.
She straddled him, her knees pinning his hips to the seat. He stared up, mesmerized by the sheer scale of her, a goddess carved from muscle and intent. She reached between her own legs, guiding him, the blunt head of his cock nudging against her slick heat.
“This is your purpose now,” she said, and her ice-blue eyes held his, refusing to let him look away. “To be fed. To be kept. To fuck when I tell you to. To make more for the island. Can you do that for me, piggy?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, Greer.”
She sank down onto him in one slow, inexorable slide.
The feeling was devastating. Tight, molten wetness sheathed him utterly, a pressure that stole the air from his lungs. She was so deep, taking every inch of him, her internal muscles clamping down in a rhythmic, milking pulse. He cried out, a raw, animal sound that echoed in the nearly empty bar.
“That’s it,” she grunted, beginning to move. Her hips rolled with a powerful, undulating motion, each rise and fall measured and devastatingly effective. She used him like a toy, her hands braced on his soft chest, her breasts swaying above him. The slap of skin on skin, the wet, sucking sounds of their joining, filled the booth. “You feel that? That’s where you belong. Buried in me. Feeding me with that eager little cock.”
His hands fluttered up, unsure, finally settling on the thick curve of her waist. He could feel the steel cord of muscle working beneath her skin as she rode him. His earlier pleasure was mutating, coiling into something sharper, more urgent, a frantic need at the base of his spine. The overfull ache in his gut churned in time with her movements, a grotesque counter-rhythm to the fucking.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” she taunted, her pace quickening, becoming brutal. Her expression was one of focused conquest. “You greedy thing. You want to spill your load inside me? You want to try and put a piglet in my belly?”
He was babbling, “Please, please, oh god, Greer—”
“Do it,” she commanded, her voice dropping to a guttural growl. “Fill me up, pig. Now.”
The orgasm tore through him like a visceral shock. His back arched, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh as his cock jerked violently inside her. A raw, broken sound was wrenched from his throat, a high-pitched, keening wail of total surrender.
HE SQUEALS WITH PLEASURE.
The sound was unmistakable—a piggish, ecstatic screech that broke into wet, sobbing grunts. He spasmed beneath her, pumping his seed deep into her in pulsing jets, his eyes rolled back in his head, his softened body convulsing.
She rode him through it, until he was spent and shuddering, a empty husk. Only then did she still, staying seated on him, keeping him inside her as she gently rubbed his heaving chest.
“Perfect,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss his sweaty forehead. “My perfect pig. You’re ready.”
From the kitchen doorway, the clink of metal on metal sounded again, approving and steady. The back door to the alley was already open, letting in a draft that smelled of rain and diesel. The black van was waiting, its engine purring.