by Vivian Leigh
His cock thrust in and out of her, and the motion no longer hurt—it felt numb, more numb than she’d known anything could feel. Each time he thrust into her, her mind slipped further and further away. Each time he pulled out, she prayed it was finally over.
He traced a hand over her breast, then traced the same line with his tongue. His head bent down and he sucked her nipple into his mouth.
“Uhh,” she moaned.
Teeth closed on her nipple and tugged at the sensitive skin. Margaux’s eyes grew wide. She clawed at his back, trying to drag him away.
Still his cock thrust into her. It felt so big and so hard; it hurt all over again. His breathing took on a deeper tone, and she could feel the sweaty warmness grow between them. He slipped a hand under her hips and pushed her up, changing the angle of his cock within her pussy. She groaned again.
He thrust and thrust and thrust. He shuddered, groaning, howling.
Margaux shuddered, too. It was finally over.
A crack of wood hitting something solid rang out above her. Yassine rocked sideways and toppled off her. She peered up and found Giselle standing over them with a thick length of wood in her hands. The other girl took careful aim, and swung again, bashing him in the side of the head.
“What are you doing?” Margaux cried. “Are you out of your mind?” She realized who it was her friend was clubbing: Ruddy; not Yassine at all.
“Not in the slightest. I needed him to let his guard down.”
Margaux pushed her panic down and gathered her wits. “He’s going to kill us when he wakes up.” She winced as she crawled to her feet.
“He’s not going to wake up.” Giselle swung the branch again.
“Can you even kill him?”
“I’m going to try. I’m sorry it took so long. I needed him completely distracted.”
Margaux picked up the stick she’d used before and swung it against Ruddy’s head. “You bastard.” She spit on him as she hit him.
“Are you about done yet?” a voice asked. The bandit leader walked into the moonlight. A pair of wolves flanked him on either side.
Giselle raised the branch again, then dropped it. She sighed. “Just kill us.”
The leader laughed. “Why? It saves me the trouble of beating him myself.”
“We’ll never stop trying to run,” Margaux said. “That’s why.” She clutched her dress to her body, trying to cover her nakedness.
“You’ll stop. We’ll see to that. You aren’t the first wenches to wander in the wrong woods.”
Margaux sank to her knees, all hope lost. Yassine wasn’t coming for her. Yassine was probably dead, drowned by the storm or torn apart by these monsters.
The leader jerked her to her feet and threw her over his back. She lay limply, too exhausted to fight back, and let him carry her through the woods.
***
Margaux woke with start. Her cheek stung. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs.
“There she is. Wake up, wench. It’s time.”
She opened her eyes. The leader stood over her, his hand cocked for another blow. She sighed and crawled to the middle of the cave.
Here we go again. Her hope had evaporated. Days had gone by with no sign of Yassine or the survivors. The wolfmen boasted of tearing out the sailors’ throats and leaving their corpses in the woods. She didn’t want to believe it was true, but she knew that if Yassine were alive, he would have come for her. Her only consolation was that they spent as much time fighting each other as they spent with her and Giselle.
The leader took her first. He lowered himself to her. She spit on her hand and rubbed it across her pussy. She had learned that the hard way. They didn’t seem to mind if she was dry, and she was the one that suffered for it. The more she pleased them, the faster they’d leave her alone. It hadn’t been an easy lesson, but she’d learned it all too well.
The leader eased himself inside her pussy, then thrust away with abandon. He grunted and panted, not even bothering to make it sensual. She bucked back against him, trying to make it as good for him as possible.
He groaned and stiffened inside her. She recognized the beginning of his orgasm and squeezed her pussy around his cock, trying to milk his cum. He thrust harder, faster. He shuddered and fell still.
“You’re getting better, wench. We’ll have you with child in weeks.” He heaved himself up and stalked off, cum dripping from his dick.
With child? Do they want me pregnant? She couldn’t understand it. What use would bandits have for a pregnant woman? To keep me docile and tie me to them. Her stomach churned. No wonder the women in the huts hadn’t wanted to leave.
The next bandit entered the cave, but he came in wolf form. He padded up to her and sat on his haunches, inspecting her. He walked over until he stood between legs, his long tongue hanging from his mouth and nearly touching her pussy. Wormfinger they called him. The pack’s second in command. She had learned the meaning of his name the first night he’d lain with her. His cock didn’t have the same girth the leader or Ruddy had.
He shifted to human form in an eye blink. He was crouched over her, already naked. Margaux squinted at him, more impressed than she wanted to admit.
“You like that trick?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“Then you’ll like this trick even more.” He lay on top of her and pushed his way inside. Wormfinger didn’t waste time. He pounded into her, thrusting and straining and moaning. His cock was smaller than the leader’s, so he did even less for her. It only took him a few minutes to get to a point that he was gasping and clawing, leaving red streaks across her breasts.
He shuddered and came, then sat back, his cock still in her. “Did you enjoy it?”
“You’re my favorite,” Margaux lied. Her pussy ached and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to walk the next day.
He snorted. “I bet we’re all your favorite.” He slipped himself out, then shifted back to wolf form and sauntered away.
Margaux rubbed her breasts. The redness was starting to disappear, but they hurt like hell. Two down, four to go. After four nights of fucking the whole pack, she was starting to get used to the routine, but it still hurt like hell.
She searched for Giselle, but didn’t see her. Maybe she’s getting some food and some rest. Giselle was cracking under the strain, letting them break her mind as well as her body. It made Margaux sick, but she didn’t know what she could do about it.
Two of men entered the cave together. Snivel and Mange they were called. She waited, not sure what they were doing there together. So far, everyone had just taken turns.
“Snivel! Mange!” someone outside the cave called. “Get back out here.”
Margaux fell back and sucked in a breath. She closed her eyes. How am I going to survive this?
Footsteps receded and she could feel that she was alone. She waited a while, but no one came for her. She gathered her mended dress and crawled onto her pallet near the side of the cave, ready to collapse
***
The wolves snarled outside the cave. One howled and made the hair stand up on Margaux’s skin. Then, to her amazement, she heard the roars of men. Has someone come to rescue us? Did Yassine survive? Hope swelled in her chest.
She crept forward to the mouth of the cave. A wolf yelped. Another’s snarl cut off in a gurgle. A man roared in triumph, then cut off in screams that died amid further snarling.
A group of man shaped figures moved out of the darkness toward the fire. In the light, she could see their short breeches and shabby vests. Sailor’s clothes. Oh Yassine, be out there. A wolf darted in and raked a claw across one of the sailors. Another sailor appeared from nowhere and nicked it with his sword, sending it skittering back into the darkness. A different wolf leapt the new sailor, and he twisted out of the way, faster than Margaux believed possible. His sword leapt out, an extension of his arm, and gashed a livid streak across the wolf’s haunches. The man slid away, back toward his comrades.
Other swords gleamed in the firelight. Dark shapes prowled and leapt out of the darkness. A pair of wolves lay fallen with arrows sticking out of their hides. A man lay near her, his throat torn open and his sword beside him. None of the bodies moved.
Margaux grabbed the fallen sword and searched for a wolf. She pushed down the pain between her legs and focused on the only thing that mattered to her now: revenge. She tried to remember what Yassine had taught her about keeping both hands on the hilt and the tip up. A wolf lunged out of the darkness, her only warning the flash of yellow eyes. She slashed at its head, forcing it away. It snarled and bounded past her. She turned, keeping her sword ready.
Its yellow eyes gleamed in the fire light. Ruddy. Margaux ground her teeth. This is personal, you bastard. The wolf feinted to her left and she swung. It darted past, to her right, and raked its teeth across her thigh. She screamed in frustration and anger and pain, but instead of turning back toward it, she followed through with her swing to left. Her leg gave way beneath her, but her blade struck true, catching the wolf across the haunches and taking a slice out of its balls.
The wolf screamed like a woman and dove away, back into the darkness. A trail of blood dripped behind it.
Margaux pushed herself back to her feet, her wounded leg wobbly beneath her. She grinned with satisfaction. Take that.
“Enjoy your stay, mortals,” the bandit leader called from the darkness. “This isn’t over.”
The men huddled in an arc around the fire, waiting for another attack. The only sounds were the crackle of flames and the wind in the trees.
Margaux hobbled over to where Giselle still lay tied. They may be the sailors from the Sea Hart, but that didn’t mean they needed to see her friend so helpless.
“Shh,” Margaux whispered. She cut the ropes at Giselle’s wrists with her sword, and helped her pull loose.
Giselle collapsed beside the log without a word. Her mind was somewhere else, somewhere far from the cave and the werewolves.
Margaux patted her on the head. “It’s okay. Whoever they are, they can’t be worse than the wolfmen.”
“Excuse me, lads,” Margaux said, turning to the men. “Would you be from the Sea Hart?”
“Margaux?” one of them asked.
The hope in her chest swelled to bursting when she saw Yassine. She dropped her sword and ran toward him. He caught her in his arms and swept her up into a hug, spinning her around.
“Margaux! Oh, Margaux. I was so worried.” Tears rolled down his cheeks.
“You’re alive!” she cried. “You’re really alive!”
“O’ course he’s alive. He’s a dab hand with a sword, ‘e is.” Bo’sun Murray patted her on the back. “It’s good to see you, lass.”
She nodded, blinking away tears.
Yassine set her back on her feet. “Did Giselle make it?” he asked.
Margaux bit her lip and nodded. “She’s hurt pretty bad.” She pointed to the shadows where the other woman sat.
“Well, lad, we found ‘em, we did,” the bo’sun said. “What do we do now?”
“There are women that way.” She pointed into the darkness. “The wolfmen keep them there for…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“For what, lass?” the bo’sun asked gently.
“Breeding,” she whispered.
His face clouded over. He tightened his grip on his sword. “I always heard Florin let such abominations cower within its borders, but I never believed it to be true.”
“Wolfmen,” one of the other sailors spat. “They killed Arnaud, too.”
“They’ve killed more than Arnaud,” Yassine said. “They’ll pay for every drop of blood they’ve spilled.”
“Do you mean to go out after them tonight, lad?” the bo’sun asked.
“Gods, no. Attack a pack of wolves in the dark? Wolves with the brains of men? Tonight we’ll stay here. Tomorrow we’ll check on the other women and then decide how to finish off the wolves.” He collected his sword and took Margaux’s hand. “Two of you lads take the first watch. Fetch me in four hours.” He led her toward the cave.
“What happened to Giselle?” he asked when they were out of earshot.
“The wolves… they…”
“Did they take advantage of her?”
She nodded.
“Did they take advantage of you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
If the bos’un’s face had clouded before, Yassine’s became the eye of a hurricane. “I will hunt them. Every last one.” His voice rumbled, almost a growl.
“They won’t go down easily. They’re so strong, so fast.” She shuddered.
“Beasts cannot carry steel.” He patted his blade. “I’ve come too far, through too much, to give in now.” He looked into her eyes and smiled, his expression softening.
“I thought you were dead,” she said. She put her head on his shoulder and held him.
“I nearly was. How are you? How are you really?”
“I hurt. They were not gentle. But now that you’re here, it doesn’t matter. Nothing that happened matters.” She willed herself to believe her words. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Thank you for coming. I never gave up hope.”
He squeezed her. “I love you, Margaux.”
She met his lips, returning his kiss. “I love you, too.”
###
Ravaged by Wolves
A bitter wind blew down the mountainside, carrying the scent of snow. I pulled my scarf tighter and tried to focus on the rocky path before me. My pack weighed heavily on my shoulders and threatened to throw me off balance any time I stumbled . I wish I had just stayed home. I pressed onward, hoping to get to the meadow before the storm hit.
As I crested the top of the ridge, I saw the meadow stretching out below me. It lay maybe two miles away, but it was two miles of hard hiking downhill through switchbacks, and the first flurries were already floating down into my face. I wondered again why I wanted to go seek out rumors of werewolves in the back country. Because I'm a glutton for punishment, I decided.
Ducking my head and pressing on, I hoped against reason that I could make it to the meadow before the snow grew too deep. Getting caught on the ridgeline without protection from the wind would be a death sentence.
My fingers and toes were numb when I finally reached the grassy meadow. Well, it used to be grassy. It was covered in two inches of fresh snow in the hour it took me to reach it. I fumbled with my tent, but finally got it setup and climbed inside. Just getting out of the wind made a world of difference. I unrolled my sleeping bag, peeled off my outer layers and climbed inside with a chemical heater.
The warmth spread out from the heater and in a few minutes I could feel my fingers and toes again. I wriggled out of more layers of clothes and kicked them to the bottom of the bag to keep them warm. Snow still pattered against the tent, and I knew it was going to be plenty cold in the morning. I tucked the heater into the special pocket sewed inside the bag, then rolled over to my side to let it warm my bare ass. The heat built behind me and I found myself getting warm somewhere else, too.
My hand slipped down between my legs. My fingers parted my folds, sinking into the wetness within. I rubbed a finger around my tight hole and slid just the tip inside. I sucked in a breath of cold air, then eased my fingers up, letting two rub slowly over my clit. The warmth really started to spread. My breathing deepened. I groaned into the inside of the sleeping bag.
My fingers dipped into my pussy, stroking, massaging in and out, then up to my clit, then back down to my soaking hole. I panted like a wild animal as the tingling shivers raced up my spine--Gods, I could feel it in my toes!--and made a long swell of ecstasy that I knew would soon burst. I fucked myself harder and faster. With my free hand, I pinched my own nipple. It felt hard and tight beneath my fingers.
I screamed as I came. I didn't care. It didn'
t matter. The shivers of ecstasy blossomed into a full pulsating orgasm and I let the rush sweep me away. After what felt like a lifetime of thrashing and stroking and moaning, I came back down to Earth.
My breathing settled down from a ragged pant and I settled into the bag. The exhaustion of hiking all day hit me all at once, and combined with the utter relaxation of a fresh orgasm, I let sleep take me into its sweet embrace.
***
"Hello, is anyone in still in there?" a man's voice distantly called. Something crunched outside in the darkness.
I scrambled inside the sleeping bag to pull my panties and tights back up over my legs. I wriggled into a shirt. "I'm here."
"Okay, don't move. We'll dig you out."
Dig me out? It was still dark outside. What was the... the crunching sounds increased in volume and the light grew brighter. Did it snow that much? Am I buried? I climbed out of my sleeping bag. The cold hit me instantly. My breath nearly froze in the air before me.
I unzipped the front of the tent and looked out into a blank wall of snow. I hurriedly pulled on my ski pants and parka. The realization that I was nearly buried alive made me want to scream. I could have kept right on sleeping and never woken up. I shuddered at the thought. I needed out of this tent and I needed out now.
"How deep is it?" I called.
"Four or five feet. We'll be to you in a few minutes."
I rolled my sleeping bag back into a tight cylinder and strapped it to my pack. My gloves made effective enough shovels, and I didn't care if I filled the tent with snow. Handfuls of powder sprayed around me as I dug for the growing daylight. A gloved hand appeared and clawed the hole open further. Together we enlarged it enough for me to push my pack up, and then a pair of strong arms lifted me free.
Two men stood in the glowing post-dawn light, both bent over and panting. They had on ragged looking jackets, hardly the kind of clothes one would expect a prepared hiker to have. Even their gloves looked worn and ratty. I wasn't one to look down on salvation, though. "Thank you guys so much. I think I would have just suffocated if you hadn't found me."
