For a long moment, he gazed down at her, studying her face, and she had to force herself to meet his eyes despite his intensity.
“Little Sacrifice,” he said at last, “you have shown yourself far worthier than I dreamed.”
Klara blinked at him, not sure what to say. “I... I have?”
His smile deepened and he stepped aside, sweeping an arm out to gesture at the entrance of the chamber. Klara squinted at it, not sure what he wanted her to see. Then she realized: night had not yet fallen. Still a dim gray light shone, the last remnants of the day lingering at the mouth of the cave.
“You called me with your courage,” the forest lord said. “Your devotion alone is enough to sustain me even in these times of foreign gods. The folk forget me until I am too weak to return with the sun, but you kept me in your heart until the very end.”
Reaching out, his hands closed around the cuffs on her wrists and with a sudden squeeze they were shattered, bits and pieces falling to the stone floor. Then she was in his arms, lifted high and cradled against his chest as he bent his great head to her and nuzzled her ear as he stepped into the fire.
Too shocked and overwhelmed, Klara didn't even have time to process what was happening before it was over. The flames reached up and drew them in, and then they were stepping out of the fire into another chamber, deep underground. Roots jutted through the walls, but the room itself was as warm as a summer morning. Skins hung against the earthen walls and a magnificent altar, piled high in pelts and soft furs stood proudly before the fire.
This must be his chamber, Klara realized, and her heart swelled with joy and relief. The lord of the forest strode on his cloven hooves to the altar and tossed her down. Looming over her, he ripped her dress from her frame, and she reveled in it as the warm air caressed her skin like sunlight. Rough hands roamed over her body, tearing her clothes from her skin until she was completely nude, bared to him and already soaking wet between her thighs.
The forest lord threw his head back and bellowed. Klara cried out as the sound wormed its way down through her belly, curling in her pussy. She could have ridden that bellow to release. She rolled in the luxurious furs, her arms reaching for her lord.
To her surprise, he picked her up again, and without preamble buried his nose in her pussy, his teeth nipping at her tender thighs, his rough, flat tongue slapping against her little nub and virgin entrance. Thick saliva coated her pussy, and Klara reached out, gripping his antlers in her hands as she braced her feet against his shoulders. His skin was slippery with sweat, and she thrashed in his grip as lifted her up like a fine china cup and tipped her into his face, as though he were sipping from her pussy. Desperately she clung to his antlers as he ravished her virgin passage with his mouth and tongue. Soft lips nibbled at her, rolling each fold of flesh they found between them, pulling, sucking, tasting.
Klara shrieked with pleasure, her hips bucking into her lords face, knowing what waited for her at the end of his attentions, but abruptly he threw her down again. Gasping, Klara reveled against the furs as he tossed his own garments aside and climbed up with her onto the altar.
His huge form loomed over her, and his cock, already fully erect, slapped against her belly as he positioned himself over her. Reaching down he grabbed her breasts roughly and slid his enormous member between them.
Crying out, Klara arched her back. Her breasts weren't big enough to cover her stag's cock and his hands dug into the flesh of her breasts as he moved them over himself, and yet it drove her wild.
“Use me,” she whimpered. “Make me yours, my lord.”
Her words sent him into a frenzy as he fucked her breasts, and she bent her head, trying to catch the tip of his cock between her lips as it furiously slammed against her chin. She needed him inside her, needed him. She would die without it. She had almost killed a man to feel him, and if her strength had been matched she would have finished the job. His heavy cock burned between her breasts like a branding iron, and she reached out, running her hands over his straining thighs, his fur rough and scratchy against her palms. Though his strength was far greater than hers, she tried to pull him against her faster. His knees dug into the fur at her sides, and she let her hands wander between his legs to find his furred scrotum, tight and full of seed. Then she moved her hands even further, and as his next strok brought him near she slipped her fingers under his tail and over his asshole.
Above her he bellowed and yanked her up, flipping her over onto her stomach. Face down, Klara tried to find purchase on the slippery furs, but he dragged her back, aiming her ass in the air as he prepared to take her virginity.
Animal moans issued from her mouth as he slid his cock against her slick pussy lips, parting the flesh there with his member, soaking himself in her juices. She wanted nothing more than to be impaled. She didn't care if he ripped her in half. She would be happy to die as he took her. But it would be nicer if she survived to do it again.
One huge, warm hand alighted on her back, and she realized how small she was compared to him. His whole hand spanned her waist, and she felt his weight above her. All his strength would go into deflowering her. Inhaling deeply, Klara tried to prepare herself as he placed the head of his cock against her unbreached entrance.
Klara held her breath and waited for her world to change.
The lord of the forest curled his body over hers, and to her surprise he licked her shoulder gently. Then he pushed his hips forward, and her tight passage was opening for him.
It was like nothing she'd ever felt, not even the taking of her ass. With quick, smooth thrusts, the forest god inched his huge member inside her, and she shrieked into the fur beneath her face. She was going to split open, he was going to tear her apart, and it felt so good she wanted to cry. Something inside her ripped and she screamed, but the god of the forest did not stop. Relentlessly he filled her, more and more, and she felt her belly swell with his cock, felt him land against the entrance of her womb, and then keep going.
“My lord, you will kill me!” she cried out, not knowing if she wanted him to stop or continue.
Again he laved her shoulder with his tongue. “Peace, my queen,” he whispered. “You will not die.”
Queen, she thought, and she did cry then, tears leaking from between her lashes as he finally shoved the last of his enormous cock into her tight, quivering hole, his furred scrotum grinding over the nub of flesh that brought her so much pleasure.
Only then did he pause, letting her shuddering body become accustomed to his invasion. She would have sworn he was bigger tonight than he had been the night before, and it wasn't until her tears dried and her breathing slowed that he began to move inside her.
Klara could hardly comprehend what he was doing. In a long, slow slide he slipped almost completely from her, then he pushed forward again, filling her up. Neither satisfied her, and she arched her back, thrusting her hips at him, begging him to take her harder.
He complied, his grunts of pleasure filling her ears as his cock filled her pussy. The fur under her burned over her knees and elbows, her mouth was filled with it, and as he picked up his pace, she began to squirm.
“Milord!” she shrieked, and then he was lifting her up, his hands covering her breasts and squeezing them roughly as he knelt back with her still impaled on his member. His hands roamed her body, lifting her leg, wrapping around her waist, until she was just a toy for his pleasure. She had no will of her own except to give him what he needed, what he wanted. Sweat beaded on her skin, the first true sweat she'd worked up since the sun had disappeared. Their skin slicked together, his chest sliding over her back, and the sweet, musky scent of him filled the chamber. Reaching up and back, she tried to brace herself against him, but she could find nothing to hold onto but her own hair.
Klara abandoned all pretense of control as he flung her in the air and let her slide back down his member. Through a haze of desire, she could see her belly bulging with his cock, and she knew with his claiming no one else cou
ld ever satisfy her.
His hand found the little pearl between her pussy lips and he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. Klara cried out, her limbs flailing as he began to move his fingers over it, rubbing it, caressing it, until it was hard as a diamond. Tilting his hand back, he lifted her up on his cock and let her slide down again, tapping rapidly against her aching nubbin as his cock filled her up, and her body contracted around him.
She had to have him, have all of him when she found her release, and Klara writhed on his cock, trying to take more and more of it inside. The lord of the forest groaned and bellowed, and then she was back on her face again as his arms wrapped around her and he began to pound her pussy in earnest, the rough fur of his hips and thighs scraping painfully over her skin.
Time dissolved, and there was only his weight on her, his cock inside her, her body throbbing as she galloped toward her release. “Milord,” she chanted. “Milord, milord, milord...”
“My queen,” he groaned, “my clever vixen—”
The possessiveness in his voice shoved her over the edge without warning, and Klara came hard, toes curling, body thrashing as she shrieked in ecstasy while he pounded into her. Harder and harder he thrust, dragging her pleasure out until it became pain, and she lost all sense of herself, stars exploding in her head, her body only a vessel for her carnal completion.
Then behind her he called, his great chest booming with desire, and deep in her belly she felt the fire of his seed begin to pump.
Warmth spread out over her limbs, through her blood. Her womb filled with great, sticky gobs of his cum. It cascaded down her legs, coating her ass and thighs, pooling beneath her. Her body accepted his seed with joy, and as she closed her eyes and let him fill her over and over again, she imagined her skin glowed gold with the heat of him.
When at last they were both spent, he slid his softening cock from her slick pussy and let her collapse onto the fur. Exhausted beyond all measure, Klara couldn't even move. Her mind was a blank, and her only thought was a vague curiosity about what came next. Would she be killed now?
Gently the stagman rolled her over onto her back and curled his body around her. His ponderous antlers swung above their heads as he propped himself on an elbow and caressed her flushed, sweating cheek.
“My queen,” he rumbled.
Not caring what happened, Klara snuggled into him. “Queen?” she murmured. “I thought I was your sacrifice.”
He chuckled, and the sound sent vibrations all through her body. “You were. Now you are my bride.”
Klara didn't recall being consulted about this, but given the circumstances she wasn't going to complain. She just wished she had brought her wedding linens. “And what does that mean?” she asked.
His hand traveled down to her belly, full of his thick, hot seed, and he covered it with his palm. “It means you will stay with me,” he said. “I will fetch the sun, we will rule the spring, and our children will grow up in a world of light.”
Our children, Klara thought. “Yes,” she told him. “I would like that.”
He leaned in and nuzzled her. “Recover soon, bride,” he said. “Children must be worked for.”
Klara grinned and reached for him. “Then we'd best keep going,” she said, and kissed him.
*
Hot summer sun beat down on the little white cottage. In the front garden, an old woman hung linens out to dry. She was bent and moved slowly, as though a great sadness had come upon her and could not be lifted.
The sound of footsteps on the gravel path leading up to the cottage had her looking up to see her husband come hobbling back from the village. He entered the garden without a word and crossed to his wife. Putting his arms out, he held her close, and together they stood there, leaning on each other.
“How are things in the village?” the woman asked as she pulled away. She may or may not have been hiding a tremor in her voice.
“Good,” her husband said. “Though there seems to be a lot of trouble with foxes this year.”
“Foxes?” the old woman frowned. “I haven't seen any.” She cast a worried glance toward her chicken coop, but the chickens in the yard were pecking happily away, unconcerned.
“I know,” her husband replied. “It's odd. We're so close to the forest, you'd think we'd have a lot of trouble.”
“The forest has taken enough from us,” the old woman said bitterly.
“Hush,” her husband said. “Don't let anyone hear you talk like that.”
“What do I care? You are all I have now, and they can hardly sacrifice you too.”
The old man shook his head. “Would you like some tea?” he said, clearly ceding to his wife.
“I suppose,” she said. She turned back to her washing. Tossing another sheet over the line, she secured it with pins as her husband hobbled up to the cottage door and let himself inside.
Suddenly she heard him yell. Frowning, she peered around the linens on the line as something clattered inside the cottage. More things crashed, as though her husband were throwing her crockery and cooking pans against the wall.
“What on earth—” she began, and then, from out of the open front door a streak of red shot out, dragging something white and billowing behind it. Another streak just like it followed, and then a third.
Her husband appeared in the door as she blinked, trying to figure out what she was seeing.
“Don't let them get away!” he yelled. “Klara's wedding linens!”
Dread struck her heart, and the old woman began to run as fast as her feeble legs would take her. She saw the bobbing red tails of the foxes from between the folds of her daughter's unfinished wedding linens as they streaked through the garden, slipping through the fence and into the meadow that lead to the forest.
“No!” she shouted. “No, no, no!”
Kicking the gate open, she ran out of the garden, knowing it was useless, but grief spurred her on. Her daughter, her only daughter...
Then the foxes disappeared into the forest, and the old woman stumbled to a stop. In the middle of the meadow she began to cry, great wracking sobs that she feared would tear her apart.
“Klara!” she cried.
The warm hand of her husband landed on her shoulder and he pulled her into a rough embrace. “I don't understand,” he babbled as he panted with the effort of running on his hobbled legs. “I don't understand, foxes don't care about human things, I don't... I don't understand.”
The old woman just shook her head and cried, burying her head in his chest.
Then she felt his body stiffen.
“Hanja,” he whispered, shaking her. “Hanja, look!”
Wiping the tears from her eyes, the old woman lifted her head and followed his pointing finger.
She didn't understand at first. All she saw were the trees. Then something moved.
A woman. A nude woman, tall and strong, her hair as long as a cloak, cascading over her shoulder and caressing her full, rounded belly, bursting with child. She was staring at them, just as beautiful as the day she had left.
The foxes emerged from the thicket and danced about her feet as she smoothed a hand over her pregnant stomach and gave her parents a smile. Then from behind her something moved, and she turned and reached out.
A great stag melted out of the trees. Grabbing his antlers, she swung onto his back, lithe and nimble despite her womanly burden. She lifted a hand and waved, and then the stag turned and was gone.
In the meadow, Klara's parents gave a prayer of thanks and cried tears of joy.
* * *
About the Author
Ava Lore was raised by wombats and lives to corrupt the innocent. When she's not writing erotic romance, she spends her time thinking about writing erotic romance and drinking enough iced coffee to kill a musk ox.
Discover more titles by Ava Lore at B&N.com.
You can email Ava Lore at [email protected], follow her on twitter (@authoravalore) or visit her at authoravalore.com. She yea
rns for your approval and always loves to hear from fans. Want more BBW? More Billionaires? More aliens? More menage? Something entirely different? Let her know!
Other Titles by Ava Lore
Her Alien Abductor: Galactic Concubine, Part 1 (Alien Erotica)
Her Alien Instructor: Galactic Concubine, Part 2 (Alien BDSM Sex Slave Erotica)
Maddy Takes a Memo (BBW Billionaire Menage Erotica)
Maddy Calls a Meeting (BBW Billionaire Menage Erotica)
Maddy Shifts the Paradigm (BBW Billionaire Menage Erotica)
The Billionaire's Wife (A BDSM Erotic Romance):
Bartered Proposal: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 1
Bartered Seduction: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 2
Bartered Bride: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 3
Bartered Desire: The Billionaire’s Wife, Part 4
Bartered Submission: The Billionaire’s Wife, Part 5
Bartered Passion: The Billionaire’s Wife, Part 6
Bartered Pain: The Billionaire’s Wife, Part 7
Solstice Sacrifice (Reluctant Virgin Beast Erotica) Page 6