Captured (Demon's Mark 4)

By: Nora Ash


“Within my territory you are mine to protect”

On the run from Dr. Hershey, Selma finds herself in an unfamiliar city, surrounded by female demons determined to break her.

When the Lord Protector of the city she has fled to comes to her rescue, she is unsure if she can trust him to help her, or if he, too, is only out to trick her.

He is big and terrifying, but Selma finds herself unable to deny her body's craving for everything he has to offer.

Captured contains explicit sexual content, including demonic mating, obscenely large—and not entirely human—anatomy, and whatever other trouble a girl can get into in the hands of her demon captors. Only suitable for ages 18+.


The roar drowned out Selma’s pained sobs and vibrated through her bones, pulling her attention from the forced lust radiating through her body to the entrance to the small warehouse where she’d been trapped.

Someone was there—someone big and furious. That was all her hormone-addled mind could piece together before the room exploded in movement.

The fingers that had been tormenting the mark marring her forehead were snapped away, and something warm, wet and coppery-smelling splattered against her face. Angry screams and the sounds of fighting followed as the female demons launched themselves at the intruder.

Too distraught from the prolonged torture to look at the desecration happening around her, Selma stayed kneeling, her face pressed against the sawdust covered floor to cool her agitated mark. Her body pulsed and burned with need to be mounted, her hips angling desperately into the air to display her dripping and exposed pussy to whomever might take pity on her, despite the fear and repulsion she felt at what they had done to her. She had vague thoughts of needing to get up, to pull herself together so she could escape while they were preoccupied, but the empty and aching sensation from her core made the idea seem downright idiotic. Nothing could make her body stop the fitful spasms deep inside, apart from the release it was so desperately calling out for, and she was incapable of moving of her own accord before it had been granted.

She didn't even attempt to hold back the tears that had been flowing since early on in the torture. This was worse than when Dr. Hershey had teased her mark, because his touch had blitzed away her ability to think about what he was doing when she demanded his cock. Now … now she was fully aware of the humiliating display she was making of herself, fully aware that she had been begging and pleading for sex from the very beings that had captured and tortured her.

“Breeder,” a gruff voice broke through her low sobs. “Get up.”

The tone of it … It was a male. A man. Someone who could help her.

Ignoring the shame now nearly muted by the roar in her veins, she arched her back and twisted, displaying herself in the direction she'd heard him speak from with a pleading whimper.

If only he'd just take her, mount her …

“Oh god, please! Please, help me!” The words escaped her without her consent, but it didn't matter, as long as he complied.

His responding growl, low and rich, made more liquid trickle down her thighs, and her eyes rolled back in her head as it vibrated through her spine. The smell of musk made it through the coppery scent of blood and sawdust, and a high-pitched whine pressed through her dry throat in answer to his call. Something in the primitive part of her brain, triggered by the abused mark, recognized his body's pheromones, and knew that he was willing, knew that he was about to ….

Rough hands grabbed the pants around her ankles and pulled them up over her butt.

“Ugh!” Her undignified grunt was quickly followed by a squeal as she was lifted by her hips until she was forced to carry her own weight.

Staggering, the wet emptiness clenching in protest, she reached out for support and was met by hard arms wrapped in thick coils of muscle as the man steadied her.

He radiated heat along with the enticing scent of musk, she noticed when her fingers locked around his forearms.

A demon.

The thought was wrapped in hazy lust and desperation, but she knew she should be afraid even if her first instinct was to press closer to his massive body in search of relief. The throbbing that shook her frame would have had her doubling over if it wasn't for the strong arm supporting her by the grip he had around her back.

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