Here’s an Excerpt:
…When the sun set and there had been time enough for her to sing to herself four evening songs four times, she stood, hoping the strong drink the raiders had found in various homes had been potent enough to pull their attention away from any sounds she might make. Leaving, she caught sight of the enemy’s Shaman, a toad like woman with a hunched back. That one would not be drinking. C’hiim journeyed north, gauging her direction from the hint of the rising moon. The woods were thick and she needed her full attention not to cause too much noise, or to trip over unseen branches.
Sixteen songs later she found the River and followed it, greatly picking up her speed. By the time the moon was directly above her, she chose a place beneath a cedar tree to rest. She fingered a piece of the broken pottery she had within the deerskin purse tied to her belt. It was from one of the last pieces her mother had made. By the light of the moon she stared at the bird design that had been a signature of her mother. Her mother would make no more magic from clay. Only ashes would remain of her by now. C’hiim rubbed the jagged edges of this last connection to her family.
“What do you seek?” asked a harsh voice above her. Terrified she had been tracked, C’hiim jerked her head up, at first seeing nothing but the tree’s spreading branches. “I haven’t got all night.”
This time she caught a movement with the voice and spied a small figure sitting impatiently on a lower limb. A Steeyaha had found her. She would need to be careful. These beings were dangerously unpredictable towards humans. It was a good sign it had addressed her directly. It would have been more likely to have lured her away into the darkness, losing sight of the River. They were more mischievous than evil, but when it comes to mischief and mistreatment--the results are often the same
“My village was raided,” C’hiim called up into the tree, her voice deep and strong. “I am the only survivor. I am on my way to Tambala, where I will ask for asylum, and to let them know the Quimavi have moved into our territory.”
“Oh, you want revenge,” the Steeyaha concluded. It used the tone of a digger stating C’hiim was there to buy a sack of bitterroot. Climbing down like an enormous spider, the creature drew close enough to stare into her brown eyes. Up close, the Steeyaha was clad in bits of smoked buckskin. Its skin was pebbled and slightly darker than C’hiim’s own. Its shape was human enough, although a third the size of the shortest of C’hiim’s village. She corrected herself, remembering there no longer was a village. Its hair was tangled with leaves and Pyam flowers.
The Steeyaha roughly touched her, or perhaps it was just the texture of its flesh that felt rough. Its eyes were large and were curious, rather than unkind. “Whakla,” it concluded, sounding very satisfied. “Neither man nor woman.”
“I know what it means,” C’hiim said coldly.
“I know even more what it means, child of The People.” It sat on a broken branch and twirled its shadowed hair with its fingers. “True Whakalas among your people are rare. I haven’t seen one like you since I was a child myself, when the world was young and the sun still shone without embarrassment.” The Steeyaha leaned closer and smelled faintly of cedar and earth. “Show me,” it whispered, “and I will show you more than you know.”
Empty, C’hiim stood, towering over the Steeyaha just as she towered over the other women of her village—as she used to tower over the women of her village. Gracefully, numbly, she stripped away her clothing, the cool night air gently caressing her exposed flesh. Her body responded on its own to the cedar scented breeze. Her nipples hardened, as did her dick.
“I can teach you much,” the Steeyaha said, examining her with sharp inquisitive fingers. “The question is if you have heart enough to learn. Tonight you choose, child of The People. Be broken as that piece of clay you hold or grasp Power. The Steeyaha offer but once.”
C’hiim stood as if she were cedar herself. The legends said the Steeyaha could grant great Power to those they favored. The breeze picked up and swirled between her legs. The Steeyaha circled around her in a counter-clockwise way. When it had made a full circle, C’hiim nodded her head once. The creature smiled, showing teeth sharper than its fingers. A smiling Steeyaha looked very dangerous.
“Power comes in Song,” it said, circling a second time. “Power comes from Life. That might be paid in blood. It might be paid in tears.” The Steeyaha circled a third time. “It might be paid in—other fluids of the body.” It circled a fourth and final time and stood in front of C’hiim, saying, “You’ve already agreed to do as I say. Now we simply bargain with the details of payment. You called me with your tears and the emptiness of your heart. Now is the time to fill you with Power.”
The Steeyaha painted her face with red ochre, and then its red fingers traced lines between C’hiim’s legs, symbolic of the blood that would never be there. She expected the creature’s touch would be cold, but it was feverishly hot. It traced the shaft of her cock, which grew engorged and thick. She closed her eyes and then jerked involuntarily as she felt its mouth and sharp teeth surround her cock. She suddenly realized what body fluid would be used to pay for the Power…
You can find the entire story at: Prick of Power: A Native American Story of Supernatural Futanari Revenge and Destiny
Monstrous Obsession
By
Giselle Renarde
Chapter One
It wasn’t exactly a marriage of convenience—in fact, it wasn’t a marriage at all. Call it a move-in of convenience. Artemis did, in her head. She didn’t tell Budd, of course. It would have hurt his feelings. For a big, hulking, muscular guy, he was surprisingly gooey in love.
When Artemis got notice that her tiny apartment complex was being torn down to make way for a high-density monolith, Budd came to her rescue like a knight in shining armour. Only, instead of swooping up on his trusty steed, he put her on the back of his motorcycle.
What would her mother say?
Stupid question. Artemis’s mother reminded her at every turn that it was a little early in the relationship to move in with this guy, but, hell, her mother’s disapproval probably made the option more attractive. Budd and his eighteen-year-old son Vincent lived in a gorgeous old house. Way too much space for only two people, or even three. But that was just as well, since Vincent didn’t seem interested in ever being in the same room with her.
And who could blame him? Budd’s last girlfriend had taken off a few weeks after moving in. Vincent’s mother had fled the scene years before. How could Artemis expect the young man to trust another woman? She couldn’t.
“I was thinking you could set up this room for your art,” Budd said, guiding her into a cluttered but brightly lit space. “Set your easel by the window, paint the neighbourhood. I know you paint pets, but I’ve always liked that tree out front.”
“It’s a nice tree,” Artemis agreed, hugging Budd around his thick biker neck. “Aww, you’re so sensitive.”
He grabbed her ass and shrugged. “A man’s gotta respect nature. My dad taught me that.”
“You Native people have a way better connection with the earth than us white devils,” Artemis said, laughing.
“We should, but not always. Especially younger people. Well, some do. Depends what they’ve been taught and what they’ve been through.”
Artemis nodded, though she wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. All she could think to do, to lift his spirits, was stand on her tiptoes and kiss him.
That did the trick, and then some! Budd’s grip tightened on her ass. When he lifted her off the ground, she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him deeply. His body was so big, so brawny and delicious that she wanted him all the time. He definitely didn’t look old enough to have an 18-year-old son, no matter how young he and his first wife were when Vincent was born.
“You smell good,” he said, his breath hot on her ear.
“So do you.” She inhaled deeply, taking in his musky aroma. Mmm… salt and leather. Her mouth watered, and she dove back a
t his mouth, kissing him like crazy. “God, I want you!”
“Right here?” He set her ass down on the wooden window seat.
“Right here.” She zealously pulled at the button and zipper of his jeans while he ran his calloused hands down the front of her shirt. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”
His lips found hers as she pulled his cock out the V of his pants. He was hard already. His thick shaft throbbed in her eager hands. Warm pre-cum dripped from his tip onto her forearm while she stroked his impressive length.
“Put it in me,” she begged, parting her legs. Her tight skirt rolled up her thighs. “Fuck me hard.”
“Anything you say.” He closed in on her crotch as she pulled her panties to one side. “I just want my woman to be happy.”
“Then fuck me.” She arched to let him gain entry. “And never stop.”
“I never will.”
Budd growled as he drove his cock between her legs. She was always wet for his big body, but that didn’t mean he slid right in. Oh, no. His dick was huge, the biggest she’d ever fucked, and it always took a little time to ease beyond her opening.
His cock carefully stretched her open as he thrust, slowly building speed. He was the sort of guy who wouldn’t ever harm her. That’s why she felt good about moving in with him so soon.
“Yes, Budd.” She threw herself at him while he lifted her off the window seat. Holding her aloft, he fucked her so hard his metal zipper bit her ass cheek. “God, that’s good.”
“You’re so tight.” He slammed her against the wall, probably harder than he’d intended. The impact rattled her spine. “I love your tight snatch.”
“I love your fat cock!”
His heavy stubble scratched her skin as he buried his face in her neck and his cock in her cunt. She clung to him harder, trying desperately not to slide down the wall. The room hadn’t felt so hot before, but now that they were deep into it, Artemis sweated through her top. She clutched Budd’s damp T-shirt. Although she was pinned against the wall, Artemis thrust her hips against his with whatever leverage she could muster.
“I think I’m gonna come,” he groaned.
“Not without me!”
Artemis hooked her chin over Budd’s shoulder, and that’s when she saw Vincent storming in from the hallway and grabbing at the open door.
Budd’s son looked her straight in the eye and glowered. “If you’re gonna screw each other like a pair of animals, you could at least shut the door!”
“Damn it. Artie, I gotta handle this. I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” Budd hastily pulled out, even though Artemis was so close she could taste the orgasm on her tongue.
“Wait, can’t we just…?”
Too late. By the time her feet hit the ground, he’d already tucked his dick back inside his jeans and gone chasing after his son, apologizing profusely.
Artemis slid down the wall until her butt met the old wooden floor. Her pussy ached from Budd’s big cock, and ached from missing it. All well and good that he cared about his son, but what about her cunt? Didn’t he care about that, too?
Rolling her skirt down her thighs, Artemis sighed and looked around the room. Plaster ceilings, crown moulding, wainscoting, and dark wooden floors. Budd must be secretly rolling in dough if he could afford a joint like this. And he was right—the light would be perfect for painting. She could have clients around to her “office” instead of meeting them in the park. That would lend her a brand new respectability, wouldn’t it?
Closing her eyes, Artemis rested against the wall, listening to Budd and Vincent’s deep voices somewhere in the house. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was obviously about her. Sometimes she felt like she’d never be wanted anywhere she ended up.
That thought was pushed from her mind by a voice even deeper even than Budd’s. Growling, violently, it said, “You’re mine now.”
Artemis jumped up from the floor, looking all around the room. She felt like somebody was in there with her, but she couldn’t see anyone. Tentatively, she opened the large wooden wardrobe, half expecting one of Vincent’s squirrelly friends to jump out at her. It was empty, except for a little wooden box with strange words carved all around the sides. Curiosity erased the tension of the moment, but as she lifted the lid, shivers ran down her spine. The dread returned, even though the box was empty.
Something was in the room with her, watching her. She was sure of it. Something disturbing and malevolent. The hair stood up all along her arms. She felt like she’d been licked up and down her neck by a dirty old man, and she wiped it with the sleeve of her shirt, again and again, convinced she was removing someone’s saliva from her skin.
The bedroom door squealed open, and she screamed.
Budd chuckled. “Jumpy, jumpy!”
“Sorry, I thought I… heard something.” Artemis shook her head, then pressed the ill-fitting lid back on the wooden box. “I don’t know.”
“Vincent and I had a little talk. He’d like to apologize for the way he spoke to you. He showed no respect.”
“Well, we’re just as bad,” she said, realistically. “Leaving the door open while we’re in here, going at it? That was pretty stupid.”
“Yeah, true.” Budd cocked his head and looked deep into her eyes. “You okay?”
Could he see her lips twitching as she plastered on a phoney smile? “Fine. Yeah. Sure.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at her as she fiddled with the carved box. “You’d tell me, eh? You’d tell me if something was wrong?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“The last woman who came to live with me ran off without a word. Vince’s mother, too. Never told me what I’d done wrong. Just didn’t seem fair. I was good to them.” He sighed. “You make sure to tell me if you’re pissed about something I done, okay?”
“I will.”
“Is that a promise?”
She nodded eagerly. Too eagerly? “Cross my heart, hope to die.” The memory of the shiver returned.
He took her in his arms, and the moment her cheek met his chest, tears poured out of her like Niagara Falls.
“Hey, hey,” he said, softly. “What’s wrong now?”
She wasn’t sure. She made something up. “Just, moving out of my own place. I’m used to living alone. It’s hard.”
“Yeah, but don’t think of it that way.” He rocked her gently. “Think of it like you’ve got a family now. You, me, Vincent? We’re here for each other, us three. Through thick and thin.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m being silly. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
Famous last words.
Chapter Two
“Dad says I should be nice to you.”
Artemis looked up from her boxes of art supplies to find Vincent standing in the doorway. “Well, that would make life easier.”
Vincent had long jet-black hair like his dad’s, but that’s where the similarities ended. He was lanky and awkward, and surly as hell. A teenager if ever there was one.
“Wanna see something?” he asked.
“Okay.” Artemis rose from her fortress of boxes and followed him into the hallway. “What is it?”
He opened the door to what she’d thought was a linen closet, and when she saw what was inside, she recoiled in terror.
Vincent laughed.
“Why wouldn’t you warn me about something like that?” Artemis clutched her chest. Her heart beat a million miles an hour, hammering her ribs like crazy. “Jeeze, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
When he’d finished laughing at her, he said, “Look, I’m showing this to you as a sign of trust. I don’t have papers for this little guy, so he’s a secret. You can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” she said, and her hammering heart warmed a touch. “What do you mean little guy? He looks mighty big to me.”
“Nah.” Vincent reached into the enclosure and brought out a massive snake. “This boy’s not even five feet.”
“King may slither, but he’s not slimy.” Vincent held the snake’s head in one hand while he draped the rest of its body over his shoulders. “Here, have a feel.”
“No thanks.” Jumping over the hall railing and crashing down on the first floor was looking like a better and better option. “Please don’t bring him near me.”
For a moment, Vincent didn’t move. He held her gaze with his before finally taking a step back.
“Oh, thank god.” She clutched her top. “That’s better.”
“You don’t like him?” Vincent asked, sounding more than a little disappointed.
“It’s not that. I just don’t like snakes in general.”
“You might, if you gave them a chance. Don’t you paint people’s pets for a living? What if someone brought in a snake? You’d need to keep it together or you’d look unprofessional.”
“That’s true,” Artemis said, though she doubted anyone would get a snake’s portrait done. “Well, what kind of snake is it?”
“A royal python.”
Artemis went “Eep,” though she didn’t mean to. “A python?”
“Also called a ball python, because it curls into a ball when it’s scared. But I like royal. It’s got a nice ring to it. And that’s why I called him King.”
“Cute.” When Artemis looked into the snake’s tiny face, it reminded her of a Chihuahua. Maybe snakes weren’t so bad, after all. “If I pet it, will it bite me?”
“Nah, this guy’s a wimp. I’m amazed he hasn’t curled already. He must like you.”
Shifters, Beasts, and Monsters Page 42
