Feast: A Rough & Twisted Sci-Fi Romance

by Lizzy Bequin

  “Gunnar?” Thusar repeated. “What is this thing?”

  Gunnar shook his head.

  “I don’t know,” he reluctantly admitted.

  In fact, he had never seen anything quite like it in his life. It was similar to an ukkur in some respects. But in others it was totally different. Whatever it was, however, the nith had clearly taken an interest in it.

  “It’s still shivering,” Muk pointed out. He was the youngest of the pack. “It must still be cold. Should we put it closer to the fire?”

  Gunnar grunted. He stepped forward and started to insert one finger through the metal mesh of the cramped cage.

  “Careful,” Thusar growled. “That thing could be dangerous. You saw the bandages on some of those nith back there.”

  Yes. Gunnar had seen.

  Whatever this creature was, its small size and helpless appearance belied its ferocious nature. It had taken some chunks out of those nith bastards, and that fact endeared him to the creature instantly. Anything that was opposed to the nith was alright in his mind.

  “It’s bound pretty tightly,” Gunnar said with a shrug. “I believe it’s safe.”

  He reached through the metal grating of the cage and petted the creature’s skin with one finger. It was so smooth and so warm.

  “Doesn’t feel cold anymore,” Gunnar said. “I think it’s shivering because it’s afraid.”

  He looked around at his pack brothers. Muk, the youngest, was looking on in curious anticipation. Then there was Slaine, the silent one. He was unreadable as ever. If anything, Slaine was staring at the caged creature like he wanted to eat it. Last, Gunnar looked at Thusar, his oldest friend and the leader of the pack. He seemed to be deep in thought about something.

  “I’m going to inspect the creature further,” Gunnar said.

  Thusar nodded his assent.

  Gunnar crouched and circled the cage, letting his eyes travel over the creature’s flesh. His nostrils flared as he drank in the fragrant scents that were wafting from every nook and recess of its shivering body.

  Gods, those scents excited him in ways that he could not explain.

  He moved around to the front of the cage. The creature was not entirely hairless. A mane of long, dark fur grew from its head and spilled over its face. One pretty brown eye gazed out at Gunnar through that curtain of hair.

  Though the creature seemed afraid, it made no sound. That was probably because the lower part of its face was covered by a mask which the nith had probably put there to keep it from biting.

  “Do you think it’s a sick ukkur?” Muk blurted.

  Gunnar had considered that. But there was one major detail that made him doubt. He circled around to the rear of the cage where the animal’s backside was on full display, including the strange anatomy between its legs.

  “Can’t be an ukkur,” Gunnar said. “It’s got no balls. No piss stick either.”

  “Maybe the nith cut them off.”

  Gunnar had thought of that too. Below the creature’s exposed anus, nestled in a bed of soft fur, there was a vertical cleft of tender pink flesh.

  “I don’t think so,” Gunnar said. “That’s not a wound.”

  It was more like a little vertical mouth inset between the creature’s trembling thighs.

  “I’m going to have a closer look at that thing.”

  After a bit of experimentation, Gunnar discovered how to release the latch on the back of the cage. He opened the gate and blocked the opening with his body lest the creature try to back out.

  Gunnar pressed his face close to the animal’s upraised backside. First he sniffed the anus, then he dipped his face lower, breathing in a lungful of the raw, wild scent exuding from its furred cleft.

  The effect was instantaneous.

  In the space of one heartbeat, Gunnar’s pole hardened and hoisted between the strips of his fur kilt. He grunted as his balls pulsed and his pole spurted several jets of white fluid onto the floor of the cave.

  Muk guffawed, and even Slaine, who never spoke and hardly ever smiled, was shaking with laughter.

  Only Thusar remained unamused.

  Blood rushed up the arteries of Gunnar’s neck and heated his face with embarrassment that quickly transitioned into anger.

  “Oh, you think that’s funny?” Gunnar snarled. “Have a whiff then, rot your hides.”

  He cupped his hands and fanned the scent from the creature’s hole toward his companions. They stopped laughing, and their cocks hoisted instantly, poking out between the strips of their own fur kilts.

  “Gods,” Muk groaned. “That smell.”

  They felt the effect of it now. But they had not gotten a dose like Gunnar had, directly from the source.

  What was inside that hole that could make such a smell?

  Gunnar reached one finger toward the creature’s opening, intending to insert it.

  “Careful,” Thusar said. “That thing could have teeth.”

  Good point. Gunnar had been so overwhelmed by that mysterious and alluring scent that he had forgotten all precautions.

  With great care, Gunnar pressed his fingertips on the pillowed, softly furred flesh to either side of that slit and slowly teased them apart to get a better look at those more delicate inner folds and the enticing opening in their midst.

  “Looks all clear,” Gunnar muttered.

  He wet his finger as if to check the wind, then pushed the lubricated digit into that tight hole.

  The creature flinched at that inner touch, but the tight confines of the cage gave it little room to move or escape.

  “Easy,” Gunnar said in a soothing voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The creature gave a muffled whine through its mask and shuddered as Gunnar worked his way deeper inside, running the pad of his finger all around those inner membranes. He had not needed to lick his finger. The inner channel slick with its own natural lubrication, and the walls were silky smooth.

  Gunnar withdrew his finger, coated in warm fluid, and sniffed it.

  His balls ached like a bruise.

  If he had not just spent his fluid a moment before, he surely would have done so now.

  Gunnar put the finger into his mouth, sucking away the fluid, which was hot and tangy on his tongue.

  “Aren’t you worried about poison?” Thusar asked.

  Gunnar shook his head. “No.”

  He penetrated that warm hole again, this time with his longer middle finger. The creature jumped, rattling the cage, but Gunnar pressed on, wriggling his finger into the hole until he was knuckle deep inside that wet warmth.

  “What’s it like in there?” Muk asked excitedly.

  “Warm,” Gunnar said. “Warm and wet.”

  “Like a mouth?”

  “Yeah, rather like a mouth,” Gunnar mused.

  Gunnar explored that cavity thoroughly. When he grazed his finger along the front wall, the creature shook, and the wet channel fluttered and squeezed around him.

  “Interesting…”

  Gunnar stroked that spot again, and the creature bucked wildly, banging against the side of the cage.

  “Whatever you’re doing in there, it doesn’t seem to like it,” Thusar observed.

  But Gunnar wasn’t so sure about that.

  He continued rubbing that tender spot, and the soft inner walls engorged and swelled in response, tightening around his finger. Fluid welled and dripped from the penetrated opening like a salivating mouth.

  “Something’s happening,” Muk said.

  Something was indeed happening, though Gunnar was not sure what. But it was clear that the response to his touch had expanded from that hole to overtake the creature’s entire body. Its little muscles were tensing up in anticipation.

  But anticipation of what?

  Gunnar had to find out. He would not stop until this process had run its course.

  With a great effort, he forced a second finger into ever-tightening hole. He stroked his fingertips against that special, sensi
tive place until those inner membranes were so engorged and snug that he could hardly curl his fingers. When that happened, he resorted to pumping his fingers in and out. Wet, squelching sounds filled the stone chamber. Fluid ran in great quantities.

  “Careful,” Thusar warned. “Careful…”

  But Gunnar wasn’t listening anymore. He was like an ukkur possessed. His mind had been captivated by the raw, living scents filling his nostrils. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t stop the rough, steady pumping of his fingers in and out of that hole.

  Suddenly, the creature bucked hard.

  Convulsions wracked the smooth, naked body. The cage rattled violently, and a muffled cry escaped from beneath the mask, like the sound of someone screaming under water.

  And strangest of all, a different kind of fluid squirted from the hole, staining Gunnar’s knuckles and forearm with its sweet fragrance.

  He jerked back, withdrawing his fingers amid drooping threads of slippery secretions.

  “Gods,” he grunted. “What was that?“

  CHAPTER 10

  If her mouth had not been covered by that gods-rotted mask, Ika would have been gasping loudly. She was still tingling and shuddering with the aftershocks of her intense climax. Her fingers and toes were numb, but not from the cold. Between the fire and the ukkur’s invasive explorations, she felt nearly overheated.

  What had he just done to her?

  Part of her wanted to cry. She felt so violated, so physically insulted. The ukkur had forced his fingers inside of her shameful place, and Ika, bound and caged and naked as she was, had been utterly helpless to resist.

  But gods, it had felt so good. All that stroking, that tickling, that rough digging of fingers against her sensitive interior. The feelings had reached a point of no return, and when Ika had finally surrendered, the pleasure that had swept through her being had been intense beyond belief.

  It had crashed through her like a storm. Like a violent wind. The kind that breaks trees and leaves a path of destruction in its wake.

  That’s how she felt now. Utterly destroyed. Broken. A shattered egg, fallen from the nest and oozing wetly on the ground.

  And the ukkur had done all that with just two fingers.

  Yes, part of her wanted to cry, and she did a little.

  But part of her wanted him to do it again. Wanted all four of these brutal ukkur to shove their thick fingers inside her and force her to feel that pleasure that she could not give herself.

  Yes, she had brought herself to a kind of climax on the riverbank the night before. But that outer stimulation had paled in comparison to what the bearded ukkur had just done to her. Gods, he had been so deep inside her, exploring her insides without permission and without mercy. Ika had touched herself inside before, she had explored herself at night, but always just inside the rim of her opening. Never so deep. Never so roughly.

  Ika mentally chastised herself. She needed to be thinking of only one thing right now.

  Escape.

  She needed to get free and get back to Rolf, who was no doubt searching for her this very minute.

  But how would Ika get free? She was still bound and caged. Her mouth was still gagged, precluding her from making any noises beyond a soft moan. And on top of all that, she had no clue where she even was. This cave was unfamiliar to her, and she had been disoriented when the ukkur had brought her here.

  “I want to try it,” a voice growled. “I want to put my finger in the hole.”

  Ika recognized that as the youngest looking member of the ukkur pack. Though his voice was youthful, it still had that deep growling accent that all the ukkur spoke with. Far deeper and more aggressive than Ika’s puny voice.

  “Not now.”

  That was the leader. The one she had seen on the shore of the river.

  He came around to the front of the cage and crouched, studying her with dark, intense eyes. His facial scar shone in the flickering glow of the fire. For the space of a breath, Ika’s eyes locked with his, and a spark of connection passed between her and the ukkur leader.

  Surely he must have recognized her scent from the night before. He must have known that she had been watching him.

  She was a little fool. If she had only listened to Rolf and stayed in the den, she would never have gotten into this mess.

  “Get it out of the cage,” the leader said. “Remove the bindings too.”

  “Are you sure?” Gunnar asked. “You saw what it did to those nith.”

  Damn straight. Ika felt a little warm spot of pride hearing these ukkur talk about that. It was insulting that they thought of her as an animal, but at least they recognized that she was no pushover. She was dangerous, and she wouldn’t lay down without a fight.

  But how could she ever hope to fight four powerful ukkur.

  Her best bet was to run for it, the first chance she got.

  “I remember,” the scarred leader said. “But I think the four of us can handle this creature if it comes to that.”

  Echoing Ika’s thoughts exactly.

  The bearded ukkur, the one who had touched her inside and forced her into spasms of pleasure, reached into the cage again and gripped her by the meat of her hips, dragging her carefully out of the cage. A couple of times, her butt bumped against something long and hard. When Ika realized what that was, a blush of shame scorched her cheeks and ears.

  The ukkur’s stick. It was still hard and throbbing back there.

  Why did that excite her so?

  As soon as she was fully clear of the cage, Ika tried to stand up, tried to make a break for it, but her legs were weak from staying in that cramped position for hours. Those intense convulsions that the bearded ukkur had subjected her to hadn’t helped matters either.

  Her legs buckled, and she toppled toward the cavern floor.

  With her arms bound behind her back, Ika had no means to catch her fall. The stone floor rushed up toward her face, and she winced in anticipation of the painful impact.

  At the last instant, powerful hands caught her, arresting her fall a mere hair’s breadth from the ground.

  It was the silent ukkur, the one with the close-cropped hair and heavy brow. He grunted at her like a beast.

  “Good catch, Slaine,” the bearded one said. Then to the leader, “Should have known it would try to make a run for it.”

  The leader grunted and gestured to the younger one.

  “Muk, stand over there and block the entrance in case the creature tries to bolt again.

  “Aye, Thusar!”

  The young one leapt at his leader’s command, and took a wide stance at the entrance of the cave, blocking Ika’s path should she try to sprint out into the snowy woods again.

  The leader spoke again, this time to the bearded one, “Gunnar, can you remove those shackles?”

  Ika had their names now, at least. Thusar was the leader. Gunnar was the bearded one who had touched her inside. Muk was young and eager.

  And Slaine. Slaine was the one that scared her the most.

  Gunnar set Ika on her knees again and moved around behind her. She felt his fingers moving about her hands and wrists, which were still bound together at the small of her back.

  “Yeah, I can get these,” Gunnar said. “No sweat.”

  He went to one of the packs stowed along the side of the cave and rummaged for a minute before returning with a jangling ring of strange metal sticks that Ika did not recognize. Surely those tools had not been crafted by hand. They looked like the kind of things the nith would make.

  Stolen nith artifacts. So, these ukkur had fought and killed nith before.

  Ika shuddered to think what they might do to her.

  Behind her, there was a jostling of her bindings and a clicking of metal on metal as Gunnar did something with those weird little sticks. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, there was a loud SNAK, and the shackles released like claws opening and fell away.

  Ika brought her hands around in front of her and rubbed at her tender wris
ts.

  She had more mobility now. She could fight if she had to. But for now she held back. To go on the offensive against these savage ukkur would be foolhardy even for her.

  The young one, Muk, was still guarding the door, and the other three now had her hemmed in.

  She could hear their rough breath, could feel the intense heat emanating from their half-naked bodies.

  The leader stooped in front of her and held up a stone knife.

  Ika cringed away, but Gunnar and Slaine caught her by the arms, holding her in place.

  “I don’t know if you can understand,” Thusar the leader said. “I’m going to remove your mask now. If you bite, I will hurt you. If you scream, I will silence you. If you understand, nod your head.”

  Ika kept still.

  She had almost given herself away, but she was smarter than that. She could outwit these stupid ukkur brutes.

  The leader was bluffing. He had threatened to hurt her, but that threat only made sense if he recognized her as a sentient being. So Ika would play dumb. She would act like an animal. She would not let on how clever she really was.

  “It doesn’t understand you,” Gunnar said to his leader.

  Thusar grunted. His blue eyes drilled into Ika’s, searching for any trace of deception.

  “You’re right,” Thusar said at last. “Nevertheless, I want to get this mask off. Hold the creature steady and be prepared for biting.”

  “Just be careful,” Gunnar warned.

  Silent Slaine merely growled, at Thusar or at herself, Ika could not tell.

  Thusar let go a hissing breath of tension and moved forward with the knife. He brought the edge against the tight straps that held the mask in place, taking great care not to nick Ika’s skin.

  With a bit of sawing, the strap broke and the mask fell away.

  Ika’s mouth was free again.

  She had a decision to make. She could trust these ukkur and attempt to talk and reason with them. Perhaps if she just told them where she had come from, they would return her to Rolf.

  But hadn’t Rolf warned her that these ukkur were cruel? And their treatment so far seemed to confirm that. What’s more, Rolf had said they would eat her alive. She had doubted him before, but after experiencing these brutes up close, she could believe it.