Solstice Sacrifice (Reluctant Virgin Beast Erotica)

by Solstice Sacrifice [MF] (epub)

  Klara thought she might die, it hurt so badly, but underneath the pain there was something else. As he filled her up in quick, sharp little thrusts, driving his enormous member deeper and deeper into her ass, something dark and pleasurable bloomed inside her belly. She could feel him moving within her bowels, probing her womb from the other side, and she moaned with sudden desire.

  Yes, she thought. Yes, that's good.

  His cock was so huge she thought she would split open, but he kept pushing, kept stuffing her full to the brim, until at last the rough pelt on his thighs and pelvis scraped over the sensitive flesh of her ass.

  She couldn't move, she was so full. If she twisted even a little bit she felt she would spill over. His cock nestled inside her ass as though she had been made to take it.

  The stagman ran his hands over her breasts, covering them with his hands, and began to thrust.

  Klara moaned, utterly abandoned by reason. Her body was his, completely and totally, and with each slap of his furred hips against her ass she slipped further and further under. She'd never felt so full, so complete, even though her virgin entrance still ached for him to fill her. This was the next best thing, she was sure of it, and every thrust sent her flying along the razor thin edge between pain and ecstasy.

  Her cries filled the chamber, echoing against the walls. The stagman's urgent grunts underpinned her squeals. His cock pushed up into her stomach, her insides moving around its delicious invasion, and Klara screamed.

  Behind her, the forest lord groaned and pounded into her harder and harder, until she could only hold onto the wall for dear life, until at last he let out another bellow, and deep in her belly she felt his burning seed spurt inside her.

  Warmth flooded her limbs as he filled her with his hot cum, his mating call reverberating against the inside of her skull. Hunger faded, thirst disappeared, and she was full of him, of his seed. Thick globs of it spilled out her ass, coating her ass cheeks, dripping over her thighs, and she wanted to scoop it up, lick her fingers, not waste a single precious drop—

  *

  When Klara awoke the next day, she was sore again all over, but again she did not thirst or hunger. The stagman had been as good as his word, keeping her from dying the terrible death Master Kazmer had planned for her. The fire smoldered under the weight of its own ashes, and Klara sat, staring at it. Her wounds—the scrapes on her wrists and the tender spots on her cheek and head from where Kazmer had struck her—had disappeared. Only the discomfort of sleeping sitting up in a stone cave seemed to cut through whatever magical healing the stagman's seed had worked on her.

  For a long time she studied the steadily dying fire, and she felt almost as if she were fading with it, disappearing into the wanton woman the stagman's touch had awoken. She couldn't bring herself to mourn her old self, however, because her new self had far more weapons at her disposal. When Master Kazmer came back, she would keep him until the night fell, and all the girls he had destroyed would have their revenge.

  And she would have her stag.

  Kazmer came late in the afternoon. A relief; less time to have to engage him before the night came on. When she heard his horse whinny outside the tunnel, Klara sagged back against the wall, endeavoring to look parched and starved, as weak as any person who'd gone three days without food or water. Parting her lips, she let her eyes slide to half-closed, unfocusing them and staring glassy-eyed at the wall. Only the barest of winter light reached her back here, and before her gaze it faded when Kazmer's spare frame blocked it out as he strode down the tunnel.

  He entered the chamber, again carrying wood. She felt his eyes surveying her before he grunted with satisfaction and threw the wood down on the fire. Briskly he stoked it until it blazed back into life again, and Klara realized that she didn't even feel cold.

  Not for the first time she wondered if she truly was dying. They said when you froze to death you felt warm. Perhaps if you were dying of hunger and thirst you stopped feeling such things.

  But she wasn't weak. She didn't feel as though she were dying. She felt strong. Alive.

  Faith, she thought. She had to have faith that her god would come back for her. She had to have faith that the fall of the night would bring an end to her agony and anger.

  Master Kazmer walked over and crouched in front of her. Even the touch of his shadow on her skin made her want to shrink away in disgust, but she forced herself to stay still, only moving her unfocused eyes to see him.

  Satisfaction was writ plain on his face. He clearly enjoyed her torment, feigned though it was. If she were truly dying, she knew it would make no difference to him. She did not know what the stagman had in store, but she knew it would be too good for him.

  She moaned a little for effect and turned her head toward him. "Master...?" she breathed. Her open mouth was dry and papery. She tried to look as though she were barely conscious.

  "I see another night may have changed your mind," Kazmer said. His oily voice oozed over her brain, making her stomach roil. To her everlasting relief, he didn't reach out to touch her, so she set her plan in motion.

  Reaching up, she let her fingers run along the top of her dress, dipping inside the fabric, barely touching the swell of her breasts. As though she had barely any strength, she let her hand drop, barely under her control, to her breast, and squeezed it as though offering it up.

  Master Kazmer's sudden inhalation told her she had struck gold with her plan, and inside she rejoiced. The chains clattered as she began to move her hands over her body, tracing her own curves as inexpertly as any woman who had never known the touch of a man, which she knew just made Master Kazmer more excited. She imagined his pitiful human cock swelling, wormlike, between his legs, and she had to swallow her distaste at the thought. The only thing she wanted was the forest lord's cock between her legs, strong and thick and full of his seed. She would take it all tonight, if she could only keep Master Kazmer in a state of anticipation long enough for night to fall. Actually seducing him was out of the question, but she could keep him interested.

  Closing her eyes, Klara let her languid hands move over her body. The ruse of weakness was an advantage. She didn't need to speak as her mouth would have been too parched after three days without water, and her slow movements would serve to draw her display out until nightfall.

  Head lolling, Klara moved her hands down her stomach to her lap, where she cupped them over her sex. She knew she had to give a good performance, but knowing that Master Kazmer was watching her made her want to throw up.

  Milord Szarvas, she prayed in her head, a strange prayer since she had been raised in the church, but a fervent one all the same, give me strength.

  The face of her stagman flashed across the darkness inside her eyelids, and Klara suddenly felt stronger, more certain. With slow, careful movements, she worked her heavy skirt up over her legs until it pooled over her hips, baring her virgin pussy to his depraved gaze.

  Look, she thought. Look, and know you will never be fulfilled.

  Slowly, hesitantly, as though she were still as virginal in her mind as she technically was in body, Klara smoothed her hands down, parting the lips of her sex, her fingertips seeking out her tight entrance and the little nub of flesh the forest lord had awakened. Bringing him to mind behind her closed eyes, she touched it.

  Her body responded, the pearl of her sex growing hard with need at the thought of her divine lover. Moisture pooled inside her slick channel, and she reached down with the tip of her finger, drawing it up and over her aching nub. Though she had never pleasured herself before, Klara remembered how the stagman had circled his nose over it, and she flattened her fingers and did the same.

  Little waves of pleasure lapped at her limbs, shivery and sweet. It wasn't the overwhelming storm of desire the forest lord inspired, but it was nice even so. She could get very used to pleasuring herself. Very used to it.

  Shifting, Klara began to pump her hand across her pussy in earnest, reaching up and cupping her brea
sts. Over the sound of the fire she heard Master Kazmer's breath pick up until he was panting with desire. The whisper of cloth against cloth reached her ears and she knew he was disrobing. A tiny sliver of fear lodged itself in her heart—if he tried to take her here she wouldn't be able to run away—but she pushed it down. What good was a god who could not rescue his destined mate at the last moment?

  In the back of her head, a little voice reminded her that there were many stories of gods who had lost their beloved women—far more beloved than a simple virgin sacrifice could ever be—through trickery or deceit or plain bad luck, but she shoved it away. She had felt the forest god's strength, had tasted his seed. A creature so magnificent would not let anything happen to her.

  Dragging moisture over her sweet, aching nub, Klara began to sigh. The memory of her lord's tongue on her virgin lips blotted out all other concerns. The feel of his horns digging into her, the way he loomed, so tall and strong, the deep booming bass of his voice—she wanted all of it, and all of it inspired a need in her she had to fulfill. With her eyes closed, it was easy to forget the man she hated watched her pleasure herself. Inside her head, there was only the god of the forest and his magnificent body.

  If he filled her with his seed tonight, would she become heavy with child? The thought did not repulse her. She wanted it. She wanted to be his.

  The thought spurred her desire, and Klara moaned and sighed with pleasure as her pussy tightened, then cried out as her body found its release, delicious and sweet, and the tension and fear drained from her, evaporating like puddles in the sunlight.

  A grunt pulled her from her bliss as she came down from the heights, and she slid her eyes open. She had almost forgotten that Kazmer was there, and the sight of him dampened her desire so thoroughly that she almost forgot to act as though she were on the brink of death. In front of her, Kazmer had opened his robes and unfastened his breeches, exposing his member to her. One thin, bony hand pumped his cock, purple-headed in the firelight, and so small and puny compared to the forest god's huge member that Klara almost laughed out loud. Only the knowledge that he wanted to touch her with that ridiculous little penis kept her amusement at bay. He could still rape her, and she knew she wouldn't enjoy it as she had the forest lord's rough seduction.

  "You are the only one of all the village girls to resist me," Kazmer said, his oily voice heavy with desire. "But now you cannot escape. I will take you in all ways a man may take a woman. You will moan like the whore I know you are."

  Bile rose in her throat, and she tried not to show it in her face. Letting her heavy-lidded gaze flick to the entrance of the cave, she saw the light darkening. Night would be here soon, but would it be soon enough?

  Bony fingers on her breast startled her, and Klara lost her tenuous grip on her desirous facade. With a squeak of revulsion, she twisted away from him, leaping to her feet though the chains on her wrists kept her trapped where she stood. The chains were maybe four feet long at the most—not nearly enough room for her to dodge and evade. Barely enough room for her to fight. She had to stay close to the wall to maintain any sort of mobility with her hands.

  Kazmer stared at her from where he knelt, clearly shocked that she still retained enough strength to stand, and Klara saw her opening as realization dawned on his face. She had one chance and she took it. Lashing out with her foot, Klara kicked him squarely in the jaw.

  With a terrible crack, his head jerked around and he pitched to the side, arms flailing. His silly little cock flopped against his trousers as he collapsed sideways, barely missing the fire by a mere hand's length. It had been too much to hope for that he might fall into the flames and be consumed, but she had stunned him at least. Unfortunately, now she could not run, and he would recover in moments.

  Think, she commanded herself. Think! The darkness was coming, but not fast enough, and if she couldn't hold him off, she would be defiled and helpless to do anything about it. What weapons did she have at hand? If she could kick him back, if she could tip him into the fire—

  "Bitch!" Kazmer spat, and he was on his feet, lunging at her. She threw her hands out, the chains jangling at then ends of her wrists, trying to ward him off, but though she was not weak with hunger and thirst she still was only a young woman next to a wiry old man, hard with years of work in the fields.

  His fingers found her throat and clamped down. Desperately she scrabbled at his wrists, her bonds ringing out her death-knell as the chamber magnified their clattering. Klara gasped for breath, kicking and thrashing. Kazmer's grip slipped for a moment and she dragged air into her lungs before he clamped down on her again. Her fingernails raked over his skin, drawing blood, but the harder he squeezed the weaker she became. Her chains were so heavy...

  Chains, Klara thought.

  Did she have enough strength? Could she battle him to a standstill? Who would fall first?

  It was her only chance. Leaning into Kazmer, she startled him by reaching out for him. Their faces drew near and she opened her mouth, hoping she looked just aroused enough to surprise him into loosening his grip. It worked. Even though she was disposable enough to kill, she was also easy to fuck. Klara threw her arms around his neck and clung to him.

  "Master," she called, rubbing her body over his, keeping her stagman in her mind's eye, and when she felt him respond to her she reached up, swung an arm around his head, and let the chain loop around his throat.

  Gripping the chain in her hands, Klara jerked back and yanked. The loop closed over Kazmer's neck, a heavy iron noose. His watery eyes bugged in his face and he grimaced as he plucked ineffectually at the links biting into his flesh. Klara put a foot up and pushed against him, trying to cut his air off, but his breath rasped in his throat even as his face turned red. She couldn't get it tight enough, and he twisted and thrashed, throwing her off balance. She stumbled, dragging him down, the chain biting into her fingers. For a few crowded moments they fought for dominance, and the cold iron links grew slippery with sweat and blood. Then with a twist he unwound the chain from his neck and slipped free.

  Despair filled her as he backed away, cold malice and pure hatred on his face. He was going to kill her, would beat her to death, or slice her stomach open. She would bleed out, break against the stone, and when the forest lord returned he would find his sacrifice already dead. The sun would never return. She would never know what he felt like inside her virgin passage.

  A sob welled up in her as Kazmer straightened. The night was falling outside, but it wasn't enough. She had failed.

  Kazmer's shadow fell across her as she sank to her knees, forcing her eyes to remain dry. She would not cry. She had heard he liked that. Instead she stared past him, into the fire. The flames danced, huge and bright, burning into her head. Brilliant as the sun.

  My lord of the forest, Klara thought. My lord, my lord...

  Above her, Kazmer raised a hand, and she braced herself for the blow.

  And then the chamber filled with sound.

  It was so loud that Klara didn't even recognize it at first. It simply was, enormous, deafening. In front of her Kazmer froze, then fell to his knees, his hands over his ears. Her heart felt as though it were about to burst in her chest, and before her, Kazmer began to bleed from his nose.

  Howling filled the air, the hunting call of wolves hot on the hunt, and Klara quailed in her chains. The fire roared, climbing higher and higher, and then, from the depths of the flames, something came.

  Klara could hardly believe her eyes, and if she hadn't spent the past two nights as the stagman's concubine she wouldn't have. From out of the flames came wolves made of fire, as bright as the sun. Huge, they filled the chamber, too large to be confined by the stone walls, and yet somehow they were. Their flaming fur seared her eyes, and Klara cried out, clapping her hands over her eyes to shield them from the fiery onslaught.

  The wolves fell on Master Kazmer. Kazmer screamed.

  Then the lord of the forest was there. She hadn't seen him enter, didn't even k
now where he'd come from—the flame, or the forest?—but it didn't matter. All that mattered was he had come for her, had saved her at the last moment. He stalked among the wolves, everywhere and nowhere at once, reaching out, touching them gently as they streaked about the room.

  The largest wolf—the size of a destrier—seized Kazmer in its jaws as the others howled. Fire whipped about the chamber, consuming everything, and yet she could see perfectly clearly what happened next. As the flames grew and grew, the wolf holding Kazmer dove into the heart of the fire. It seemed to dissolve into the flames, though Kazmer hung in the center, consumed by flame but not burned. The other wolves, howling their mournful, triumphant howls, dove in after him, and the light grew brighter and brighter, filling her head, filling the chamber, until Kazmer was swallowed and the whole world was flame.

  Just as abruptly as it had began, it was over. As though she had snapped awake from a dream, the fire subsided, became only a fire instead of an inferno. No howling filled the air. The bellow of her stag's mating call ceased as though he had never opened his mouth.

  And behind the fire, across from her, the lord of the forest stood in the entrance of the cave.

  Quiet reigned, and Klara licked her lips, not entirely certain she could trust her voice.

  “Milord,” she said finally.

  The forest god smiled at her and strode forward. Instead of skirting the fire, this time he walked right through it. The flames leapt and danced, worrying his legs like eager dogs, and he seemed to caress them as he passed them, letting them flow through his fingers. Then he stepped out of the fire and stood before her, proud and strong and tall, taller than before. So tall that his antlers bumped against the ceiling. Reaching down, he held out a hand.

  Dazed, it took Klara a moment to realize he was inviting her to her feet. Swallowing hard, she put her hand in his, and he closed his fingers over hers. Warmth radiated out through her body, and she shivered with pleasure as he pulled her up.