He came home from his hunt, scratched and worn. He hunted with only a blade and his skills and had taken down a large buck. Never one to waste, he had insured a den of wolves took the remains of his kill while he took the choice cuts such as backstrap, loin and a large haunch.
The haunch of meat he had carried slung over his shoulder through the woods took an effort to skin and salt in the shelter behind his cabin. The salt would draw the meat’s natural juices to the surface, where the salt would dissolve into brine that would coat the surface and eventually be reabsorbed into the meat itself. Once salted, he hung the haunch up from a hook dangling from the overhead beams.
The loin and backstrap he carried into the main cabin, where he found his home well maintained, clean and precise. In the far corner, he saw her, kneeling with her eyes down, wearing only the light summer dress he had approved for the day. He knew she wore no other clothing.
He took a moment to walk into the kitchen, where he placed the backstrap and loin in the sink, wrapped in the leather he had brought them in. Returning to the large room, he walked to her, looking down upon her. Something was off. He felt her excitement, although nothing in her person gave away her mood. It was simply a feeling. A hunter knows.
Kneeling down, he pulled the anklet with bell from his pocket. He knew she smelled his sweat and the smell of his kill as well as the undertones of earth and nature. He always smelled strong after a hunt, and he knew it affected her. Attaching the chain to her ankle, he smiled, locking it in place. Once in place, he flicked the small bell, and the locking slave bell jingled with a high sweet tone.
“Now, I’ll know where you are always.” He laughed.
Standing, he turned walked heavily across the floor towards the shower, stripping as he went. He knew she would pick up his clothing and gather them for wash later. When he was done with his shower, he would need to release his desires in her, completely. The hunt always brought out the beast in him.
He had barely allowed the hot water to course over his head and shoulders when he felt the shift in air and pressure. He froze, listening. For a brief moment, he felt the air stir and knew the door had opened. He listened intently, his senses passing beyond the sound of water splashing down around his body. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Including the little bell that should have been ringing as she gathered his clothing.
He grinned. She had taken his challenge issued so many weeks ago. He was giving him a chase!
He moves through the house, not bothering to cloth himself or even shut off the shower. A massive grin across his face, he howls as he hurls the door open and steps into the wild.
Roaring to the night, he gives chase, padding across the earth in bare feet. He can see her small prints and follows: an overturned rock here, a snapped twig there, a scrap of torn summer dress. Her stride is long and even as she is racing full speed through the brush and trees. She is giving him a great chase.
In mid woods, her path suddenly shifts and her trail turns towards his boathouse. He followed, turning as her footprints continued to lead the way. Calling out in a deep roar, he announced her name and threatened what he would do to her.
Approaching the boathouse, he slows. The front door remained locked, yet he sees a chair near a window and realizes the screen has been pulled. Listening intently, he hears just the faint tingle of a bell, muffled. His savage grin broadens. Following to the window, he launches himself from the chair through the windowsill shattering the glass and rolls into the room, coming through a summersault to a crouched position, his eyes scanning the room.
Across the room, he saw the pile of sails and sniffed at the air. And then, just barely, a small hem of dress. He grinned, and stalked across the wooden floor of the boathouse. He felt his arousal, hard and ready to claim all of his prize.
