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I have to be very careful not to hurt her, to use the agility of my tongue to pleasure her inside and out, slipping past the barrier of her hymen to penetrate her sex, tasting her innocent juices, then flickering out again to wrap around her engorged bud and even stroke there, up and down, tighter and then looser until she yells and wails with another one of those human climaxes which seem to overrule every sense in their limited bodies.
“I can’t…” she breaths. “I can’t take anymo……OOOORRE!”
Her voice rises to a new pitch as I suckle her puffy lower lips, clit and all, into my mouth and hum gently against her tender places until she writhes again, bucking like a wild thing. I love the smell of her, the wet mess of her sex, the red hair matted with her juices and my mouth, her thighs, belly, and breasts all slaked with salty sweat.
This is a beautiful madness I am perpetrating, entirely against regulations, but what hot blooded scythkin could resist a virginal maiden willing to wrap her legs around his head and ride his mouth as if her life depended on it? That is what she is now doing, grunting and rutting and using me for her wanton pleasure with no regard for life or consequence.
Tres
More. I need more. I can sense the weakening of my body, the pathetic stamina which is stopping me from fully enjoying everything this beast has to offer in one tryst. My time is so short. There will never be another moment like this.
“Please,” I whimper, my hands running over his strange body, jointed and ridged in ways no human form could ever take. “Please…. I need more…”
More comes in the form of a finger thrust inside me, a digit which slips past the thin barrier denoting my purity, and finds the eager depths of my wetness. Yes. This is what I have always craved, something hard and strong inside me, a rutting member which makes my female senses soar. I know he has more for me. The proper rod, the part which sits at the center of a man and makes all the decisions for him. I need that part of him inside me. I need…
“TRES?!”
I hear my name screeched in scandalized tones.
I look up to see that we are no longer alone. The sun is rising and the girls who come this way to go down to the sheltered bathing spot have caught me entwined in the arms of the monster.
He growls, his lips pulling back in a fearsome snarl to reveal the full length of his fangs, each one of them made to pierce bone. The girls scream and run for the safety of the village.
My monster lover picks me up in his arms and I panic. The cold light of day is making me realize what madness this has been. Hyrrm still rumbles beyond, sending fresh clouds of thick smoke and ash into the air. Whatever this monster is, it is not Hyrrm. I have been seduced by something demonic, unnatural. I have displeased our mountain guardian… the enormity of it all makes me scream with fear. What have I done? Flailing and wriggling, I cry for the beast to let me go. He does, and I run, fleeing in the direction of the only thing I have ever known, the village where I have lived my entire life, and the people to whom I owe mine.
I do not look back, even once. It isn’t until the eyes of the others come upon me that I am able to see what I was doing, catching a flash of myself through their gazes and realizing that I was being defiled beneath Hyrrm’s gaze, a faithless act from a traitorous woman. They will tell. They will tell, and then truly terrible things will befall me, I know it.
I must throw myself on the mercy of Trelok, and hope that he still allows this day to go as planned, though I know in my heart it is already too late. The dawn on which I was supposed to die has already broken. I should be in Hyrrm’s molten embrace at this very moment.
But the message has travelled far faster than I can. By the time I arrive, sweat laden, back at the place I have lived my entire life, it is all over.
Trelok is waiting, along with the elder wives and the rest of the village. They are almost all female. Trelok does not admit to producing male heirs. At least that is what is said. Every now and then, a woman labors and instead of a baby being born, there is a basket put into the river to float away. This tribe of flaxen haired souls stare at me as I return. I know they see the marks of the monster’s love upon me. I try to hide the blushing marks and the light scratches where his strange body encountered mine, but there are too many to hide. All night long I gave myself to him, let him play upon my body and draw lust from the core of me, the desire which should have belonged to Hyrrm.
