by Wes Havoc
If it was a werewolf interested in licking her to oblivion, it would be a win. If not, she’d just have to kill it off as she killed the rest of it. In truth, if it was a werewolf, she’d have to think of something to do with it after… After she’d been through with it.
She pressed her fingers around the rough stick in her hand. She pressed on, carefully trudging along the grass. The dark silhouette of the forest grew in her vision. She only heard the soft sound of her steps and the crackling of the fire atop the torch. The sheep, back in the shed, were in absolute silence, as if they waited. As if they knew one of them might die tonight.
The princess couldn’t even hear crickets and cicadas. There was no wind tonight, as well as no light. Though she was in an open field, it was so dark she could be in a low-ceiling dungeon, deep within an abandoned castle.
The utter silence made her heart beat faster.
The fingers around her sword’s hilt kept her focused as she approached the forest edge. The dim light of the torch bathed the low fence, just tall enough to keep the sheep in. But it certainly couldn’t keep beasts out.
Cleo’s plans did not include entering the forest blindly. She could get lost and spend the whole night wandering as the werewolf got into the farm, killed a sheep and ran away. No, she had to stay close.
She needed the light too, but she wasn’t willing to carry it and become easy prey. She wouldn’t want to catch any other beast’s attention.
Carefully, Cleo lifted a leg over the fence, then the other. The undergrowth here was high already, as if nobody, ever, cared to clean it up. Though softly, it crunched under her feet.
She walked no more than ten meters inside the woods. Looking back, though she had to squint, she could still see the fence among the trees. Here, she would put her plan in action.
Cleo did not count with that much undergrowth. She couldn’t just lay the torch as she initially hoped to. That would just set fire in the whole forest. Though it could kill the werewolf, it was the worst possible way for her to achieve it.
She kicked some of the undergrowth to a side, revealing dark, moist ground under it. She stopped, looking around herself and prying her ears to catch any sound.
There was none but her heart beating in her ears. No birds. Not even the rustling of a squirrel. It had to mean something.
Hastily, she kicked more leaves out of the way, moving her feet in circles, one at a time, to clean a large area around her. She couldn’t afford to slip or to trip on branches if she had to run back to the farm.
As soon as she was satisfied with that, she found an appropriate root sticking out from one of the trees. She crouched, digging a hole so she could lean the torch safely against the tree in such an angle it wouldn’t start a fire.
Luckily.
She crossed the small clearing she had produced and walked around the tree across of the torch. She would hide there, in the shadows, and wait. Either the werewolf would come to check the light of her torch, or it would pass that corridor - the space between the trees there was wider than in other parts.
All she had to do was wait.
And wait she did. Half an hour ticked by. Her heart beat slower, relaxing.
An hour passed. The torch dimmed considerably.
She’d give it some ten minutes. If nothing happened, she’d have to try and produce a fire. It would be hard to find dry sticks in all that moist ground… But she couldn’t hope, not in her wildest dreams, to fight whatever was killing those sheep in the dark.
Time dragged as the circle of light diminished. Inch by inch, the bright orange light illuminated less and less of the forest floor. Where Cleo started in dim shadows, she was now drenched in the darkness behind the large tree.
Frustrated, she readied herself to enter the clearing once more, fetch her dying-torch and look for dry sticks that could be used in a fire.
A branch creaked and broke somewhere, the loud sound echoing throughout the mute forest as if it had exploded.
Cleo froze in her crouch, not daring to move. Her heart galloped once more as she focused hard, seeking the source of the sound.
She heard another branch snapping. To her left, from the depths of the forest?
Or from behind her?
It may have come from anywhere. The silence made the sounds echo as if she was in a cave. Every breath of her came out labored and she covered her mouth, afraid she made too much noise.
With her other hand, she slowly went to the hilt of her sword. No sudden movements. Nothing that would turn the attention toward her. The torch was still the bait.
Where is it, where is it, where is it…
Half-crouching behind the tree, she pried her eyes open, seeking, searching for movements around her.
It was too silent again. She feared the werewolf noticed what she had been planning… But how could it? It was a beast. Everyone knew once transformed, a werewolf lost any human traits, any intelligence. It wasn’t capable of planning, of traps, even less of strategies. It responded to, and only to, instinct.
Cleo felt the presence behind her before anything else.
She turned her body, still in a half-crouch, in a heartbeat. The shadow behind her was larger than any human could be.
The hand around her mouth dropped quickly to the sword and she brought the blade up as she tried to get on her feet.
With a movement too quick for her to register, the beast slapped the blade out of her grasp. It flew to a side, her fingers not strong enough to keep it in her hands. She lost her balance and dropped down on her ass.
She gasped, her eyes following the blade flying away.
How could it know it was a weapon?
Her heart sunk.
She was going to die.
Lifting wide eyes, she watched with her heart on her throat as the creature approached, so very slowly. Step after step, the fading light bathed the features of a large werewolf. Too large indeed for a common wolf, though the traits were all there. The fur between its shoulders stood up and there was a characteristic smell of wet dog.
The bright yellow eyes stared straight at Cleo. She pulled herself back and away until her back touched the tree bark.
Her chest heaved. Fear made her skin prickle as she looked up from the nose to the long fangs.
Strangely, its face betrayed no signs of the usual aggressiveness. It didn’t growl or curled its nose. The yellow eyes still studied her.
Cleo frowned. The beast seemed too bright for what she expected.
She had set a trap and ended up catching herself in it.
How?
Pressing her hands against the roots, she readied herself to jump up and run. She definitely wouldn’t make it far, but she had to try.
Her eyes jolting from side to side, she wondered if it was better to run for the sword or away from it and around the trees to confuse the beast.
The werewolf took a step then lifted an enormous paw. She held her breath then forced her eyes shut, waiting for death to slash through her.
The paw pressed firmly but painlessly against one of her arms, pinning her to the tree.
She pulled. Pain shot through her, telling her to stand still.
What the fuck, thought Cleo. The beast had noticed she was about to run and stopped her.
Most importantly: it did not kill her right off the bat.
Cleo stopped, looking up at the werewolf.
The yellow eyes seemed to be trying to tell her something, the nostrils flaring as it seemed to take her smell in.
A minute seemed to take forever as nothing happened. One just stared at the other.
Cleo gulped, clutching the roots of the tree with her fingers. She was completely at the werewolf’s mercy. She had no escape.
She could only hope she’d get out of that alive.
Painstakingly slow the beast dropped its head to Cleo’s foot. The cold muzzle against her exposed skin made her toes curl. It sniffed her calf and
her knee. It snuffled all the way up her thigh to the hem of her skirt, leaving a wet trail.
It nudged the skirt up and drew its nose closer to her crotch. She felt the warm breath over her cunt.
Unlocking its huge jaw, the werewolf licked her. Its tongue spread her lower lips apart and ignited her clit on fire.
Pleasure shot through her veins. It reminded her of the precise reason she had come in the first place.
She had been looking for a feral fuck.
4
Cleo opened her legs a bit wider. She was heaving, but not out of fear anymore.
It was funny how fast feelings twisted and transformed inside of her.
The beast licked her thoroughly, saliva slickening the inside of her thighs and her labia. Her clit swelled with desire, with lust, becoming the center of a group of nerves that ignited her whole body aflame.
First they were long stripes up as the werewolf lazily licked her, slowly aroused her.
Moments later, Cleo knew her juices dripped from inside of her. The beast seemed to love them dearly, using short strokes to drink her arousal up. It curled its tongue and prodded at her entrance.
The moan that escaped Cleo’s lips was unabashed. She did not care. She couldn’t even pretend to care by then. Widening her legs further, she let her head drop, her mind hazy with lust.
A long, strong tongue dived inside of her, her legs trembling with the feeling.
“Yes,” she groaned, the tip of the werewolf’s nose touching her clit. She tried moving her hips and the beast didn’t seem to oppose so she rubbed herself against the wet muzzle as the tongue still slowly fucked her.
The teeth grazing against her labia could tear her apart. And yet here she was, her body warming up with the soft rubbing against her. She clutched the root of the tree, her eyes shut as her body neared orgasm.
She let it come. She let it cover her, suffocate her. She groaned longly. The werewolf did not stop. She bucked against its face more urgently.
The tongue inside of her dived in deeper. Her moans escaped her in a torrent as her delicious orgasm clawed its way up. Light threatened to explode behind her eyes at any moment, and she must have looked ridiculous bucking so desperately against the beast’s face. And yet… Yet she chased it, she chased her release with desperate need.
She rolled his hips, clutching her jaw until she exploded. Until she came undone. Bursts of light on the back of her lids, she knew she was screaming and moaning, bucking like a mad woman, and she didn’t care. The utter pleasure covering her was all she needed. It was all she ever needed. Cleo soared in the high of that orgasm for a long moment, her mind foggy as if she was about to sleep.
Aftershocks rocked through her body as the beast lapped slowly at her.
What brought her back was the emptiness the werewolf’s tongue had left. She opened her eyes in what seemed to be an immense effort, seeking for the creature in the semi-darkness. It still stood there, watching her.
Cleo cocked her head, panting. With her blond hair tousled behind her, her legs wide apart and her skirt thrown sideways, she certainly never looked less of a princess. She wondered if the beast considered killing her now.
She asked herself if the beast had some kind of strategy as the river monster. Making her cum to distract her, then eating her.
But it made no sense. It could’ve killed her right when it arrived.
No, she thought, looking at the werewolf as it seemed to consider their surroundings. It’s planning something.
Which was, of course, outrageous. Werewolves were irrational. They lost their human self once they transformed. One couldn’t reason with them.
The creature released her hand, though it never hurt her. Cleo massaged her wrist as she watched, hoping it wasn’t quite over yet.
Yellow eyes turned to glance at her once more, and there was a glint there, a glint Cleo couldn’t fully comprehend. But those didn’t seem to her beastly eyes. They almost had… feeling.
The paw against her thigh was gentle as it curled over it and pulled her. Cleo slid down, earth scraping against her bare bottom as the skirt rode up her hips. Her back pressed against the cold ground, she shivered, watching.
She laid completely under the werewolf now, its huge form covering her in shadows.
Her full breasts threatened to spill over her cleavage again. But this time she didn’t worry. She, in fact, took a deep breath, her tits heavy with lust pressing against the leather corset.
The wolf watched her movement with intense interest.
In a tortuously slow motion, it lifted a paw and it came to hover over her chest. A sharp nail touched the very first cord that kept her corset tied together.
The pure lust of the moment made Cleo’s face burn up. She heaved harder, looking up at the beast.
It pressed the nail just enough to make the first one snap. It went on to slash the second and third. Cleo could already feel her breasts relaxing from the corset’s tight fit.
It went on to cut the cords, one by one, slowly revealing more of her white flesh. The middle part, then the under part of her mounds, her ribcage, her lower stomach, until the corset was completely open. It fell to her sides, her tits bouncing with the sudden freedom.
Her nipples were rock hard, pink knots pointing up. How wouldn’t they? Everything Cleo knew now was she wanted to fuck this beast. She wanted that thick cock inside of her, stretching her, filling her.
The beast’s tongue stretched to lick over own nipple, then the other. Cleo groaned, a new wave of pleasure making more of her arousal spill from her.
She brought her tits together with her arms, the two full breasts pressing closer. The wolf had no trouble soaking her in saliva, its tongue running from one breast to the other easily. Cleo’s fingers closed over the hem of her skirt, pulling it up further. She stretched a hand down, running her fingers over her bare mound, her slick labia and over her still-swollen clit.
“God,” she cried, using the pads of her fingers to gently touch the pulsing knot. Her legs instinctively pulled up, and she closed her eyes with the sheer amount of pleasure covering her again.
She had never had such an experience. All she had up to this moment were stolen moments of pleasure.
Touching herself in bath while her maid was away. Letting a beast lick her from behind, taking in the forbidden, the wrong lust. Using the tentacle of a monster to get herself off.
It seemed so very different now.
A fucking werewolf made her feel more pleasure than the only man she had ever had. Cleo tried to look down to the beast’s cock, but it was too dark to discern it.
Would she do it? Would she let the beast stretch her to the max?
Would it fit? Or would it rip her open?
She trembled in excitement, sliding a finger inside of her. She was soaking wet. She had never been wetter. Her muscles clenched in need around her finger.
The werewolf stopped licking her breasts. Cleo looked up to meet a pair of yellow eyes staring at her in wonder. Her flustered face and half-opened mouth in pleasure must have told it what it needed to know.
A grave growl rumbled over her. Cleo trembled with its power. The sheer savagery of it made her skin prickle.
The werewolf paused a paw to each side of her face, then up to a root each. It climbed the tree, standing up, covering Cleo in shadows. She waited with bated breath.
Something nudged against her hand, over her cunt.
She gasped, pulling her hand quickly away.
It pressed again.
It was huge.
It would rip her open.
“Oh, God,” she cried, but her voice came out hoarse with lust.
Instead of pushing the beast away and closing her legs, she widened her stance. She distanced her knees the furthest she could.
Fuck, she wanted it. She wanted it so bad.
The werewolf growled again, the head of its thick cock pressing against her tight e
ntrance. Her juices made it sleek, its own precum mixing with her arousal, making them slide against one another.
It pressed harder. Cleo pressed her palms against the floor, closing her eyes in concentration. She tilted her hips to press back. The first inch slid inside of her, her muscles burning as they stretched.
Pain mingled with pleasure shot through her veins. Cleo’s head dropped back as she pressed her hips further up. The whole head slid inside, stretching her to a point she thought would not be possible.
The beast roared as her muscles strangled its cock. She knew she was tight. But she was also so aroused her eyes rolled to the back of her head as inch after inch, the huge cock entered her. Filled her completely. A long moan escaped her lips.
There was no feeling like that.
The pain of how stretched she was couldn’t compare with how good it felt. She was warm all over. Her toes curled as her hands closed in fists as she soaked in the sharp pleasure.
As soon as the beast entered her to the hilt, she came again.
She exploded violently, her legs stretching out as her gasp became a yell. Light exploded behind her eyes, her mind blanching. It was so potent she thought she would pass out.
The werewolf groaned above her, perhaps because of how tight her inner muscles were clenching around it. That thick cock slid out of her slowly, then it slammed back at her, almost plucking another orgasm from her.
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” Cleo cried, desperately, the slamming against her cunt pushing her quickly toward another orgasm.
The beast seemed to be panting too. It rammed into her, speeding up. Her tits bounced out of control. She stretched a hand to pinch one of her nipples, pleasure brimming on her.
All that left Cleo was a torrent of loud moans and desperate cries. Blindly, she lifted her ankles to try and offer more space to the werewolf. She paused her feet on its hind legs and congratulated herself for such a splendid idea. Somehow, the cock slid better inside of her, reaching some unknown point inside of Cleo that drove her into an orgasm in a heartbeat.
She yelped and yelled, pinching her nipple fiercely. She was stretched wonderfully, the ramming against her never stopping, never tiring, as she reached orgasm after orgasm. She exploded, again and again, her juices filling and escaping her, flowing down her thighs and bottom. Cleo bounced under the beast, almost unconscious as she drowned in pleasure, not having the time to relax after one orgasm before another came crashing over her.