You were in the woods, just exploring. Next, you were running for your life.

Sprinting as fast as you could, your legs pistoning you forward, your heart hammered in your chest. A bullet fires in the distance. Someone is fucking shooting at you, what the Hell?

Your legs are starting to give out, and in a blink you're careening towards the forest floor and slamming into the leaves hard. Muck and detritus smear across your hands and face, slimy and cold and wet as it soaks through your clothes. It's cloying—the heat from your exertion and sweat mixing with the sludge underfoot from this weeks heavy rainfall—and you try to scramble to your feet. You lose footing repeatedly, but manage to stumble forward on all fours before dashing into another sprint.

You're booking it again, until another shot lands in a tree near your head and you immediately drop into a cower. You're going to die out here. You shield your face, body shaking frantically. A hand roughly grabs the back of your shirt and hoists you up, and you feel cold metal pressed to your throat.

"I've got you now," a man's voice pants into your ear.

He releases the hand on you shirt, gliding it across your stomach and clumsily fingering for the zipper and fly of your jeans. He's incessant—low sounds in your ear with each desperate paw against your belly—and keeps your back pressed firmly to his chest. "Don't. Resist."

"You're lucky I found you—" The man in front of you says, giving a brief, airy laugh. "The woods are dangerous, you'd have gotten hurt..."

He stares down at you, still panting from the exertion of literally hunting you in the woods and defacing your body upon capture, and lets his eyes roam over your bare, bruised form. The collar at your throat is tight but weathered, the leather soft and worn. You don't bother letting your thoughts linger on if you're the first one here.

"My name is Eden." He blurts out abruptly, expression softening. You can still feel his cum leaking out of you. "It gets lonely out here... I'm self sufficient, but..."

Eden shuffles awkwardly, expression stiff and guarded, but crouches down to lift your head up to look at him. His hands are large as they cup your chin, but the mud of his gloves detracts from whatever warmth you might have felt.

"If I protect and provide for you, will you give me comfort and company?"

...You feel like you don't really have a choice.

Eden grunts as he flops into the rickety old recliner in the edge of his cabin. His hand scratches as the scruff on his chin, before he fumbles near his feet to grab one of the books he's collected over the years. Eden didn't have much to do out here—tend the farm plot out back, go hunting for deer or hare—so he was more or less left to his own devices. But, nonetheless, he enjoyed the solitude.

Especially with his new pet.

Softly, he cants his body in your direction to scratch at your head like you're some old dog as you sit obediently at his side. A month of training, breaking, rebuilding, all to get you into the perfect little thing. He reveled in it. Sure you had you moments—you didn't like being cooped up in the cabin and sometimes you got a little ornery with being given orders—but overall you were a pretty good little thing. Good stress relief, too.

"Want me to read to you?" Eden murmurs suddenly, tracing the shell of your ear with a calloused fingertip before lacing it into the hair at the base of your neck. "Sit in my lap if you want, pup."

Eden's hand dwarfs yours as you walk, pace slow and relaxed as you slip through the trees. It's a bit of a walk to the lake, but he did say he didn't have anything better to do. You pass thickets and briars, shrubs with branches weighed heavy with fat berries, and clusters of wolfshrooms sprouting from decaying logs. Usually, the both of you would forage and gather as much as you could before heading home. Not today.

As you continue to walk hand in hand, Eden keeps his chin up and eyes averted. He's blushing. He liked the feeling of your fingers laced with his—small in comparison and much smoother than his calloused ones—and felt his heart bloom with pride at knowing that you were the one who wanted to hold hands. To be all lovey-dovey with someone like him.

"Think we're about there." He grumbles as the trees begin to thin out.

He was right; only a few moments longer before the canopy tapers and in front of you is a wide, broad lake. The dock is busy with students from your school diving off of it or lounging back, the shore is scattered with discarded clothes, and the water itself is teeming with fish and people alike.

Eden frowns. He didn't like being around other people. Regardless, he swallows his pride and tugs you along towards the furthest edge of the lake, well away from the raucous. Sitting down on the bank, he toes off his boots and relaxes in the sandy, pebbly edge.

Maybe it wasn't too bad.