Creampie Dreams: Impregnation Erotica Trilogy

by Aya Fukunishi

  Her fingers moved of their own volition, delving into her tight, moist pussy with fervor. Her breaths came quick and shallow, catching in her throat when her fingertips found a new spot of tantalizing tenderness. Two fingers were inside her now sliding deep along the soft, wet, silken sides of her pussy, and the fingers of her other hand drew juice up from her opening to coat her lips with her sweet nectar, then reached further upwards to find the swollen, tender mound that brought such pleasure.

  Amelie's skin slipped from hot to cold in an instant, clothed in both sweat and goosebumps as she gasped and panted. Her breasts heaved with every breath, and not for the first time she wished there were two of her present so as not to deny her tender, tingling nipples her touch. She wished more than anything that someone - anyone - would walk into the cleaning and sink between her legs burying a tongue deep inside her.

  Her fingers moved quickly, slipping in and out of her. Every inch of her body burned with cold fire and she could feel the glorious, beautiful end approach with both excitement and regret that it would be over so soon. Oh, what she would give to prolong this moment for an hour longer! Even a minute would be a blessing. She could imagine no greater gift.

  Her breath was ragged now, panting and out of control. She could think of nothing but the joy between her legs, and she knew there were only moments before it would overflow the confines of her body and spread through the forest. Her fingers moved quickly, slippery with her juices, and her hips bucked back and forth on the blanket against her control.

  'Oh, Lord forgive me!' Her yell came louder than she'd intended but she had little control. Her stomach clenched and flexed as she felt her orgasm spill forth. She clasped her palm over her firm, pink clit and rubbed faster and faster, as if her hand was possessed, and the air filled with her rich, delicious scent.

  Amelie whimpered and moaned as pulses of glorious, overwhelming energy overpowered her. Her back arched upwards and she reached out to grasp a corner of the blanket, pressing it firmly between her legs as if it might be possible to hold her climax inside, to send it circling back into her body to repeat over and over again. Her legs splayed outwards as she feverishly stroked every last drop of joy from herself. She brought a hand to her face, taking a deep draught of her scent, inhaling until she felt dizzy but still wanting more.

  Finally the glorious waves subsided. The last of her climax poured from her body, and she was left panting on the forest floor dripping with her own juices. Already the memory of her orgasm began to fade, as if its power could not be contained within a single mind, and her bliss was replaced by sadness at its passing.

  Amelie trailed her wet fingers across her stomach, leaving a glistening trail. Her hand closed around her breast and she teased the firm nipple, already thinking about playing with herself once more before heading back to the --

  She froze. A twig had snapped somewhere nearby, just on the other side of the hedges. Amelie's heart suddenly fluttered with the panic of being discovered. She stood quickly, buttoning her shirt with slick, clumsy fingers in case an unseen observer was watching.

  She was silent, barely daring to breathe. Around her the forest had grown eerily quiet, as if the creatures themselves had paused to watch. She felt a... a presence, but couldn't explain of what. Human? Animal? It was impossible to tell, but something was watching her. She could feel the eyes running over her. Could it be that her fantasy was about to play out in reality?

  'Hallo?' she called, her voice startling in the silence. 'Is someone there?'

  No answer. The silence deepened. A stiff breeze suddenly rustled through the clearing and the dried oak leaves danced, their crackling muted. Something about the silence made her feel afraid, suddenly exposed, and while the heat remained between her thighs there was now a sharp, uncomfortable edge to her arousal.

  'I warn you, I'm armed. I won't be spied upon, so you'd do well to show yourself.' She reached into her basket and withdrew a short, stubby knitting needle carved from bone. It would never be enough for a killing blow, but anyone considering an attack might have second thoughts and move along. She turned in a slow circle, studying the hedges for a hint of movement. Who could be spying? she thought. Nobody knows of this place but me.

  Gradually, by increments, the sounds of the forest returned. A bird tweeted, followed by the chirrup of a grasshopper, and before long sound had flooded back into the clearing as if a bubble had burst around it. Amelie took a long, deep breath and held her hand to her chest. Her heart was racing, but slowing.

  The attack came out of nowhere. A body landed heavily behind her, and before she could so much as turn a hand was clamped firmly over her mouth, and another around her waist. She struggled against her attacker but the hands held her like a vise, denying so much as an inch of movement. The hand around her waist reached up and squeezed her wrist and her fist opened against her will, dropping her needle to the grass.

  'Amelie,' growled a deep male voice in her ear. 'I'm sorry, but you must come with me. It would be better not to struggle, though you should know there is no possibility of escape.'

  The man lifted her from the ground as if she weighed no more than a house cat, turning her and throwing her over his shoulder. She could barely make out any detail, but she could see that he was naked from the waist up and the ankles down, wearing nothing but a pair of roughly cut brown trousers tied at the waist with a rope.

  Amelie was just noticing how heavily muscled he was as she saw the ground fall away from her. The man had jumped to an impossible height to grasp a thick limb of an oak tree. No man could make that leap, she thought in disbelief. She felt herself swing over the thick brambles and fall back to the ground on the far side of the clearing, and she bounced o his shoulder as her attacker took off at a jog, darting through the trees at a faster pace than even the quickest runner should be capable with a heavy load on his back.

  Her captor ran for at least a mile, not varying his pace by a single step, leaping over streams, boulders and fallen trees as if these obstacles were of no consequence. Amelie lost track of their bearing, and before long she had no idea which direction pointed towards home. For now it was all she could do to keep drawing air into her lungs. Each footfall made her exhale sharply, and by the time they slowed her vision filled with stars.

  They stopped in another clearing, featureless but for a small, ramshackle wooden hut with a poorly fitted door and a window without glass. She was dropped on the ground like a sack of flour, landing heavily on her rear. The attacker turned from her, peering back into the forest as if waiting for pursuers.

  For a moment his attention was distracted, and Amelie didn't need an embossed invitation to flee. She crawled to her feet, pulling on the flimsy wooden structure for support, and darted in the direction of the thickest undergrowth to use her slender frame to her advantage against the thick, muscular beast of a man.

  She ran for a hundred meters before stumbling onto a rough track. It was overgrown and obviously disused, but Amelie felt her heart soar at this sign of civilization. The track would eventually lead to a village or town, somewhere that offered the protection of large, armed men who could deal with her pursuer and escort her home. She picked a direction at random and began to run.

  She didn't make it ten steps before her attacker stepped calmly from behind a tree directly into her path. Amelie couldn't stop in time, and the last image she saw before the lights blinked out was his thick, heavy fist swinging towards the side of her head. Her last thought was confused, a mixture of terror at her capture and, from the darkest reaches of her sexual subconscious, excitement at what was to come.

  She slept.

  Chapter Three

  It was night.

  Amelie's eyes opened slowly from her deep, restful sleep. She shivered with cold and reached over to tug at her blanket. Her hand patted the bed, searching for the thick, warm sheets, but all it met was hard and cold. This isn't my bed. The thought came slowly through Amelie's confused and groggy mind, and it too
k a moment longer for her memories to come trickling back.

  She sat up suddenly, straining to see in the darkness. She was indoors, laying on a cold dirt floor. One hand was trapped in some sort of heavy bracelet, and as she pulled it she heard the dull clink of a thick chain.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she realized she must be back in the wooden shack. She found the outline of the paneless window lit by dim, pale moonlight. From beyond the frame came unusual noises, almost growls, along with a tearing sound, followed by an organic sound she couldn't identify. Then silence for long minutes.

  Eventually there came the sound of a wooden match striking against a rock, the crackle of kindling followed by the woomph of a fire catching. Amelie sat rubbing her wrist where the heavy bracelet pinched her skin, and tried to stay calm. What does he want with me? If her attacker's aim was to harm her, then surely he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of carrying her back here through the forest. He could just as easily have snapped her neck in the clearing.

  So, why? Ransom? Surely that could not be the reason. Her father had no money, as was clear by her clothing. No woman of worth would dare leave her home in such poor peasant's rags. He couldn't possibly have mistaken her for the daughter of a man of means. He knew her name, though, so whatever his intentions this was personal. He hadn't simply stumbled on her in the forest, that much was clear. He had pursued her.

  Whatever his intentions, Amelie didn't mean to stay to find out. She fumbled around in the dark, sensing her surroundings in search of a weapon, a key, anything that might help her fight or escape, but the ground was bare. As far as her chain would allow her to move she found nothing of note but a loose board in the rear wall of the shack.

  She turned her attention to the chain. The links were thick and heavy, clearly too strong to consider trying to break. Her hands followed the links back to their source and found the chain had been hammered securely into a large, half buried rock by a piton. She tugged on the chain, but the metal spike didn't move at all.

  Running her hands back up the chain she found that it split in two just inches from her wrist, with the second length running to another shackle. Her fingers traced around the bracelet, and she felt the hole where the locking pin should slide. Wait... could it be that simple?

  She felt the bracelet around her wrist and almost laughed when she found what she'd hoped to find. The shackles were a simple design, meant to lock both hands together quickly. Each shackle was secured by a long steel locking pin that dropped into a hole at the inside of the wrist, and it was designed in such a way that a prisoner could not reach either pin when their hands were secured.

  With just one hand bound, however, it was simply a matter of easing the pin from its hole to free herself. She couldn't believe her good fortune, and she rejoiced as the pin worked free and the shackle fell to the ground, the sound masked by the crackling of the fire.

  Now free, Amelie reached for the loose board in the wall. It was attached by a single nail, and it easily moved aside just enough to allow her to squeeze through the gap. Beyond she saw the moonlit forest, and she knew she was only moments from freedom. She slid through with her arms raised above her head, and struggled a little as her breasts slowed her progress. For a moment she thought they might make it impossible to fit through the tight gap, but by emptying her lungs of air there was just enough room to continue.

  She could taste her freedom now. The smell of meat cooking in the clearing behind her told her that her captor was occupied, and all she had to do was slip silently into the undergrowth and make enough ground to reach the nearest village before her absence was discovered. She knew she could do it.

  Something caught on Amelie's leg, something firm and unshakable. It felt as if the steel shackle had somehow attached to her ankle, and she panicked and pulled forward to no avail. Suddenly she was pulled bodily back through the narrow gap, the wood scraping at her chest as she was heaved back into the shack, and the entire structure shook. She found herself dazed, back in the darkness, and her captor loomed over her.

  'I told you,' he said, calmly, 'there is no chance of escape.' In the gloom she felt him take her hand and lift her to her feet. 'Now come, Amelie. It's time.'

  She was carried from the shack easily, her struggling as ineffectual as attempting to swim upstream against a torrent. She beat her fists against her captor's muscular chest, but he simply grasped her wrists in one hand to subdue her more effectively than any shackle. She felt the power in those hands, and suddenly understood that what he said was true. He was stronger than her, faster and more capable. He acted as if her attempts at escape were an amusement, and she felt the hope drain from her mind.

  She was dropped by the fire, landing with a thud in the dirt, and her jailer sat down serenely beside her. He studied her with amusement for a moment, and then spoke as if she were simply a house guest.

  'I apologize for this imposition, Amelie, I really do, but I'm afraid it was unavoidable. I need a woman for my purpose, and only you meet my requirements. Please, eat.'

  He handed her a wooden covered in ragged slivers of rabbit meat. Amelie thought to throw it in his face, but her hunger overruled her. The rabbit smelled delicious, and she realized she had not eaten all day. Her stomach made demands that shouted down her anger and fear, and she shoveled the meat into her mouth as he watched.

  For the first time she got a chance to study her captor in the firelight. He was taller than most, and much more heavily built. There seemed to be not an ounce of fat in his body. His pectorals bulged like curved plates, and beneath his thick chest his abs rippled, with every muscle sharply defined and moving smoothly under his skin. She'd never seen anyone so perfectly built in her life. Not even the drovers, huge men who came through the village guiding bulls by their horns, could match his physique. Where the drovers tended towards the portly this man was pure muscle.

  It was as if he was built to a much larger scale than most. Every dimension was exaggerated, from his height to the thickness of his chest to the size of his large, strong hands. His golden hair ran to his shoulders like a mane, and everything about his face gave the impression of a predator preparing to strike.

  His eyes, though, we're what really stood out. Beneath a wayward lock of hair they locked onto hers, captivating her. She found she couldn't look away, despite her wishes. The piercing blue seemed to glow in the light of the fire, and he returned her gaze steadily.

  'I am Roman, king of the werewolves.' He spoke simply, as if this were a fact that could not possibly be disputed. Amelie watched wide eyed, suddenly realizing her captor was insane. 'I have chosen you to give me a child. You will accede to my wishes. You have no choice.'

  Amelie was gripped with panic and more terrified than ever. If this man was truly insane he would be even more dangerous than she thought. He would surely kill her as soon as his broken mind directed him. Despite her lack of hope she new she must try to escape once more, as each moment in his presence brought her ever closer to death.

  With a rush of energy she hurled her plate at Roman, leaping to her feet and pulling a burning branch from the depths of the fire. He watched her with amusement and she waved her torch madly back and forth.

  'I will leave now, and if you pursue me I swear you will burn.' Her voice shook with fear, and Amelie felt a surge of anger that the man simply smiled benignly. She backed away slowly, edging towards the trees, and felt suddenly confident in her escape. Roman had yet to move, and in fact still ate from his plate of rabbit as she moved away. She made to turn, and heard a sigh from beside the fire.

  It took only moments, but the memory would stay with her a lifetime. In one smooth, liquid motion the man rose to his feet and changed. He leaped forward, and by the time he had reached the ground he stood on four legs. She couldn't explain what she had seen. One moment there had been a man and the next there stood a wolf, growling threateningly beside the fire.

  Amelie turned to flee, but she had barely moved before the wol
f bore down on her back. The heavy body knocked her to her knees in the grass, and she waited for the sharp teeth to close over her throat at any moment.

  But the bite did not come. Instead she felt hands, human hands, roughly pin her on her belly to the ground. Whatever lay atop her tugged at her shirt, tearing it easily from her body. Her skirt came next, pinching her skin where the string cord popped open with a sharp tug, and she felt it slide quickly down her legs. She lay naked and vulnerable, unable to move.

  A strong hand lay on the small of her back, its pressure gauged perfectly to hold her entirely still without causing pain. She felt as if someone had laid a cart horse on her, so firm was the hold. She couldn't so much as twist onto her back. Another hand grasped her rear, firm and tight, squeezing her buttocks in a grip that fully covered one cheek. The hand was rough, but not violent. Her captor didn't seem to want to hurt her.