Then, as abruptly as it began, it stopped.
Klara sat in the deafening silence, shivering. The meager heat of the fire didn't even touch her now, and she listened, wondering if the great call had robbed her of her hearing. But no, the fire still crackled, though it was a thin, fragile sound, like the breaking of mouse bones rather than the snapping of sap-filled branches.
Then the air changed. She couldn't say quite how, but she knew something had approached the cave. May, in fact, be lingering in the entrance of the tunnel. Her heart, overtaxed and filled with fear, fluttered in her chest, though she vowed to keep her head.
There. Footsteps. A clunk, a scrape. Something hard and heavy, like the hooves of a horse, on the floor of the long stone passageway. For a moment, Klara wondered if someone had come for her—perhaps her father, or Hugor, or anyone at all, but she knew that no one would. No one but Kazmer, and she knew instinctively that he would be as good as his word. Tomorrow, he would return.
If she was even here tomorrow.
Something scraped against the stone, setting her teeth on edge. Squinting, Klara tried to see past the blinding light of the fire in the middle of the floor, but its light only illuminated the chamber. Whatever lay beyond, whatever approached, remained in shadow. Despite the chill, a trickle of sweat gathered between her breasts and ran down her stomach while her hands grew clammy in her lap.
Clop. Clop. Clop. The footsteps grew closer. A two-footed gait, but unlike any she had ever heard before. Her mind could not make sense of it.
Again, the scraping sound. Louder now. Klara gripped the fabric of her skirt with her sweating hands, willing herself to stay silent, to remain calm, but her blood sang in her veins, screaming at her to run to hide, to get out, get out, get out—
The footsteps paused, and over the sound of the fire, Klara heard heavy breathing.
Fright seared across her brain in a silver streak, and she jerked involuntarily against her chains.
The clank of the links against each other clattered in the silence. A surprised snort met the sound, and then something emerged from the tunnel into the light.
It was... impossible. At first, Klara thought it was a stag, though why such a large prey animal would willingly corner itself in a cave was a mystery to her. But the first thing she saw was a rack of antlers, huge and many pointed, knocking against the stone doorway as they emerged into the chamber. But the head that carried them was neither beast nor man, but a mix of the two.
The creature had the dark eyes of the stag and a great shaggy head. Long, furry ears flicked toward her, listening, and the quivering black nose shone as it sniffed her out. The nose, however, was not at the end of a snout, but rather set where a human nose would be on a face. Coarse brown hair covered the creature's upper face, but the jaw and mouth were smooth and sensual and fully human. The creature's head sat on broad shoulders, covered in the shaggy pelt of a stag, but the chest, stomach and arms were all human. Male. Very much so. What flesh was not covered by animal skins gleamed in the firelight, as though he had been running, working up a sweat. He stood so tall his antlers grazed the dome of the cave above him. The lower half of the creature's body was that of a deer, covered again in a thick, shaggy pelt, and between his legs hung a phallus so huge that Klara closed her eyes and blushed so hard the chill of the night momentarily receded.
She'd heard of this creature. The god of the great forest. But he was only in stories and legends, things no one believed in, tales driven to whispers on long dark nights under the hard eye of the new church. He was the god her sacrifice was meant to appease. The forest lord. The horned god. A name so sacred it could only be whispered in the summer, only thought in the winter. The god Szarvas. Even thinking it gave her the shivers.
And now he was here, come to take his due.
The fear she'd been drowning in curiously subsided, leaving behind only a pitiful exhaustion in its wake. If she was to be sacrificed to the god of the forest, then she was glad he at least existed. The loss of her life would not be a vain one, and Kazmer, she couldn't help but think, would come tomorrow to find only bones. Cold comfort, but comfort all the same.
"I am ready," Klara said.
The creature didn't respond immediately. Instead, she got the impression that it was still standing there, watching her. She didn't want to open her eyes or she might lose her nerve, but after a few moments, his silence got the best of her. She peeked at him beneath her lashes.
He stood in the firelight, strong and proud. Now that she had realized who and what he was, it was impossible that she could have mistaken him for anything else. It seemed impossible that anyone could have forgotten him except in the years when the sun disappeared and starving people implored him to bring it back. Gilded gold in the dancing light, she could imagine him rooting in the snow where the sun was buried and carrying it in his antlers to the sky. He was a queer, terrible, beautiful creature.
And he wouldn't stop staring at her.
Her nerves began to build again. If he was to take her as a sacrifice, she wished he would get it over with.
"Do you speak?" she asked him finally. Her words came out small in the silence between them, but his ears flicked and she knew he had heard her.
When he moved it was like a statue coming to life. Slowly, deliberately, he rounded the fire. The great, ponderous antlers on his head swayed as he walked, and his hooves clattered on the floor, his footsteps echoing against the walls.
Closer and closer he came, and the wild animal scent she had first detected in the chamber became stronger than ever, filling her head with musk. The sharp smell made her dizzy, and she had to turn her head away from him as he loomed ever closer. It seemed to her that he grew larger and larger the closer he came.
He stopped before her, his back to the fire, and she saw his shaggy, cobbled-together body from the corner of her eye, doused in shadow. His breathing hissed in his nose, raising the hair along the back of her neck. In her chains, Klara squirmed. Then he spoke.
"Sacrifice," he said in a thick, layered voice. It did something to her, sending a warm, oozing sensation down over her neck, across her breasts, curling over her nipples before it dripped down her stomach and pooled at the secret, hot place between her thighs.
Klara was mortified. For almost twenty years, she had kept herself from thinking of her virgin entrance, only tending to it when her monthly courses required her to do so. Touching it was a sin, she knew, so she never had, and it had never made itself felt. Now, however, it was like something alive and completely seperate from her own body. She'd never felt a flood of warmth there, not even when boys stole kisses or Master Kazmer tried to grab her and make her submit to him.
The creature before her—the god, really—knelt down next to her. The huge rack of antlers blotted out the fire, criss-crossing her with shadow. The musky scent of him was almost overwhelming. Klara dug back into the wall, trying to shrink away, but the bonds held her fast and she had nowhere to go.
Something cool and wet touched her cheek, and she started. A warm puff of air billowed across her skin and shivers rippled out across her body. Klara swallowed around a suddenly dry tongue. What was happening? Why didn't he just kill her? She squeezed her eyes shut again.
With exaggerated care, he moved his nose to the crook of her throat and shoulder, where her cloak still hugged her tightly, and inhaled, taking in her scent. Her body responded, drawn toward him like the air into his lungs.
“You are defiant,” he said at last. “A woman of spirit. The first of your kind in many, many years.”
She didn't know what he meant, only that his voice warmed her from head to toe.
A hand caressed her cheek, and, gently, the god turned her face towards his.
"Open your eyes, Sacrifice," he rumbled.
That voice bypassed all rational thought. She wanted to obey it, no matter the cost. Klara opened her eyes and met his.
Dark and deep, his gaze collided with hers, and his mouth—ful
l and sensual and entirely human—quirked at her. Her eyes were drawn to it and she wondered, dreamily, what it would be like to nibble on that mouth. Then his lips parted and a deer tongue—smaller, fit for his smaller jaw, but the tongue of a deer all the same—swept over them, and Klara snapped back to reality.
The reality of sitting in a cave, chained to a wall, as a sacrifice for a god.
She lifted her chin and met his eyes. "I'm ready," she told him.
He smiled wider.
"No," he said. "You are not."
He placed his fingers—rough and calloused and filled with strength—against her mouth. Heat radiated out from where his skin met hers, and Klara blinked, forcing herself to focus. She couldn't feel these things. They were not holy, not with men, and certainly not with a stagman. Shaking beneath his touch, she rubbed her thighs together, restless, uncertain.
Then his hands moved to her shoulders, and he pulled her forward in a sudden, rough motion. With a cry, Klara tumbled into him and he rumbled deep in his chest, a ghost of the mating call she had heard.
Realization dawned, and Klara began to struggle. The cuffs on her wrists rubbed over her raw skin, bringing tears to her eyes as the stagman ran his hands over her virgin body. Unclaimed territory fell to him as he yanked on her dress, his brute strength ripping the fabric. Cool air hit her and Klara sobered further though the heat between her thighs was mounting. The lips of her cunt were aching and swollen, her breath coming in quick, short spurts as the beast roughly worked his way into her clothing. She squealed when a calloused palm closed over her breast and squeezed, sending a rush of desire through her body.
No, no, no, Klara thought as he reached around and grabbed her ass. No, no, no. But she was powerless to resist him, just as she was powerless to resist the traitorous responses of her own flesh.
Large, calloused hands caught on the ripped fabric of her dress as he lifted her bodily and turned her around so she faced the wall, the chains crossing over each other, keeping her from falling to her hands and knees. A stinging pain knifed up her arms, and she put her palms out to steady herself against the wall. Only when she felt her skirt lifting did she realize what sort of position this put her in.
Hot, moist breath puffed against the back of her neck, and from the corners of her eyes she saw the huge antlers moving on either side of her as the god of the forest inhaled her sweet, virgin scent. Snaking his hands under her skirt, he reached up and up until both palms covered her breasts again and he gave her another painful squeeze that somehow turned to pleasure.
Against her will, Klara moaned at his touch, and then his tongue—flat and hot—scraped against the shell of her ear.
He was going to take her. He was going to fuck her and she could do nothing to stop it.
The knowledge was terrifying. The knowledge was horrible.
It was almost freeing.
Rough fingers found their way between the slick lips of her pussy and Klara squeaked at the intrusion. Never had she felt anything so intense, and when the stagman dragged the calluses of his fingertips over the apex of her slit, Klara discovered that there was something there she had never known. Though she had never touched herself, it seemed to be a tiny nub, a little pearl of flesh that sent terrifying waves of desire through her body with each stroke of his hand. His other hand cupped her ass, pushing her up until she was on her feet, her skirt up over her hips while he worked away at her nubbin with one hand and the other wandered over the lush mounds of her ass.
Suddenly he paused, his hands growing still, and Klara couldn't help but groan. Without her permission, she ground her hips downward, attempting to recapture the rhythm of his deft fingers, but to her conflicting relief and dismay, he withdrew. Another puff of hot, moist air, this time at the crease where her ass met her thigh, and Klara went weak in the knees.
"Sacrifice," the stagman rumbled, "what man has dared touch you?"
For a moment Klara didn't understand what he was saying. No man had touched her. She was pure. But then she realized that he was sniffing the place where Master Kazmer had groped her after she had futilely fled.
She licked her lips. "The head of my village," she told him. "He has wanted me for many years." She bit her lip, considering her next words. "But I fought back. He has not deflowered me," she said, and she didn't know what emotions welled in her chest at that declaration. Pride that she had kept herself pure, or reluctant hope that she was about to become decidedly impure? If she was condemned to die, it only seemed fair that she know earthly pleasure once in her life. Just once.
With a monster? she thought to herself. Are you so depraved you would submit to a monster just to feel what a man could have given you?
She didn't know. But she didn't think she had a choice in the matter anyway.
To her dismay and relief, the forest lord pulled away. "Another man has dared to touch you, who are meant for me," he said. "A punishment must be extracted before I fill you with my seed."
Though she'd known that was what he was going to do, hearing it said out loud made Klara sag in her chains, her body growing weak and aroused at the thought.
"What sort of punishment?" she managed to ask.
"He must pay with his life," the stagman replied, and her heart leaped in her chest.
Master Kazmer? Dead? No more would he plague the women of the village, no more would he force himself on innocent girls too scared to speak out against him and his 'impeccable' character. Klara could hardly contain her joy. The man had condemned her to death; it was only fair that his own disgusting actions do the same to him.
Her inner revelry was abruptly interrupted when the stagman gripped her hips and turned her around again. This time her arms wrapped in front of her body, the chains growing tight as his overwhelming strength forced her to her knees. Klara realized that though he could not claim her yet, he was not done with her tonight.
The strong, animal scent of him filled her head as she knelt against the stone floor, the hard, cold rock biting into her bones, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the fear that ran through her as she beheld the forest lord's erect cock, up close for the first time.
The shaggy pelt of his legs and buttocks covered his hips and groin. His scrotum, lightly furred, was full to bursting, the testicles under his skin moving slightly with his arousal. She had never seen a man's penis before, but she knew it did not look like the forest lord's. The long, thick member jutted up from his crotch, gleaming wetly, pale against his dark hair. A ring of fur surrounded the base of it.
He placed one heavy hand at the back of her head, sliding his rough fingers through her hair until he held her by her tangled tresses, and with his other hand he gripped his cock. She didn't realize what he wanted to do to her, so he had to show her. Moving his hips forward, the tip of his cock kissed her lips, and Klara thought she would gag.
She tried to pull away, but the stagman would not let her. He held her fast and butted his cock against her lips again, this time running up against her clenched teeth. To her shock, he chuckled.
"You thirst, little sacrifice. You hunger. Let me take it away."
Her surprise gave him the opportunity he needed. When she opened her mouth to ask him what he meant by that, his thick, hot phallus dove into her mouth.
Klara thought she would vomit. She thought it would be disgusting. But instead she found herself first overwhelmed by the taste of him, then shocked by how good it made her feel to open her mouth wide. At the back of her mind, in the privacy of her head, the chaste little part of her shrieked that what she was doing was wrong, far more wrong than if she had lain with a man, but Klara was hungry and thirsty, and the forest lord had said he would make Master Kazmer pay for his crime. That alone gave her the strength to stifle the little voice and let her give herself over to the sensation.
The forest lord was not gentle. His cock—thick and sweet and salty and sour—pushed past her lips, slick and smooth, working its way through her virgin mouth. It slid over her
tongue until it hit the back of her throat and she coughed and gagged, tears springing to her eyes. He retreated a little, and Klara struggled to catch her breath. His cock wasn't even halfway swallowed. Did he want to shove all of it down her throat?
He did. Again he pushed forward and Klara gagged, but this time he did not stop. His cock butted against the back of her throat again, and she tried to relax, to breathe through her nose. The taste of him filled her mouth, the smell of him filled her lungs. Wild and dark, he stood before her, his cock half-buried in her face.
He said he would avenge her. If she didn't please him, would he leave her here to rot?
Fear speared her heart, and Klara took a deep breath. Her jaw hurt with the breadth of his erection, but she knew she had to give him what he wanted. She was his sacrifice, after all. Saliva dripped down her chin as she adjusted her head, and when she swallowed his cock moved deeper.
Swallowing? Was that the secret? Klara tried again, yawning her throat wide, and then the stagman was pushing his penis down her throat, and she stretched out to accommodate him.
Klara had never known what it was like to be filled so fully, so completely. Her eyes watered with his girth and her jaw ached, but between her legs the dormant flesh she had neglected for so many years awoke. Her pussy lips hurt with her arousal, and the little nub of flesh between her thighs seemed about to burst.
The stagman drew his hips back and thrust into her mouth, the slippery flesh of his cock gliding smoothly inside her throat, and Klara moaned. She didn't know if she loved or hated what he was doing to her, but her body knew exactly what to do. Pushing forward, she drew him in as far as she could take him, her throat stretching out, until her lips brushed against the fur at the base of his cock. The stagman gave a surprised grunt before thrusting again, and Klara felt her pussy flood with moisture.
In agony, she rubbed her legs together where she knelt, but she couldn't seem to please herself as the forest lord began to fuck her mouth in earnest. The head of his fat cock jutted down her throat, in and out, in and out, until tears streamed down her face and her tongue rose up to meet it, stroking and swirling around the base of his shaft. He fisted his hands in her hair, pulling her head over his phallus. The scrape of his hooves over the stone floor ground rhythmically against the accumulated dirt.
Solstice Sacrifice (Reluctant Virgin Beast Erotica) Page 3
