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-rb

Ayda dreamt of fire. She loved fire. Ever since she was a child Ayda had obsessed over the little cooking fire her father would light in the pit of their simple cottage. They lived together in a human village, a collection of houses, homes, shacks and shanties that sat beside a large, dark blue lake at the edge of a great forest known as the Witch Wood. Ayda would lie on her blanket and watch the flames for hours, waiting for them to burn down to cinder and ash before falling asleep.

But those days were gone now. Her mother was gone. Ayda’s father said her mother fled into the Wood when Ayda was only a baby; other times, he said she’d drowned in the lake for being a witch woman, a practitioner of forbidden magic. He was only a poor woodcutter, and had no way to provide a dowry for Ayda, and with no dowry, who would want her? So to keep his belly full, he sold her into indentured servitude to a wealthy farmer’s family—Ayda became a slave, and never saw her father again.

For more than half her life—ten of her nineteen winters—Ayda had been a slave. When she carried the heavy leather pails of water from the well to the house to fill the kitchen pots, she sometimes lingered to stare at the cooking fires, to watch them dance, crackle and pop. When she prepared the family meals, both morning and evening, without so much as a thank you or a word of praise, she thought of bright light and glowing embers. When she went to her little bed of straw with its threadbare blanket in the barn, curled up in a corner in the dark, she thought of the candle that was her only source of light, wishing she could light it again and again, watching it burn until nothing remained.

The family she served wasn’t particularly cruel, but they weren’t particularly kind, either. Ayda was given a single dress for as long as it would fit, or for as long as it held together—when she wore one out or outgrew it, the wife of her owner made sure Ayda was given another. It was the only gift from her mistress that Ayda ever received. She worked in their kitchen, serving under Fatma, the head cook, handling the mind-numbing tasks of water carrying, stew stirring, floor sweeping and pot scrubbing as best she could.

Time turned into a dull, slow-moving blur—each day was like the one before it, and each was no different than the day that came next. Ayda belonged to the family that owned her, but she had no sense of belonging there. No one cared about her dreams, or how lonely she was. Nobody had any reason to care. Her existence was an empty shell with nothing to fill it.

Then came the day that her life changed forever, when she almost burned the bacor soup. Something had Ayda in a foul mood—lack of sleep, an empty stomach, some nasty comment the cook made in passing—and she could only grind her teeth and hold her tongue for so long. She stirred the contents of the great pot with such fervor and pent-up frustration that she watched the whirling pool of lentils, tomato, onions and more turn and turn, sweat bubbling across her brow, while her clenched jaw ached and her shoulders shuddered.

“Hate this,” she mumbled to herself, over and over. “Hate this, hate it, hate all of it… Nngh!” She gave a wordless growl and stomped one bare foot on the stone floor, venting all of her frustration and anger out in one motion.

Suddenly, the cooking fire bellowed around her; Ayda’s vision went white for a moment and a stomach-churning rush of something she’d never felt before roared in her head. A blinding flash leapt from her hands, which made the flames flare and swell for several seconds, singeing the hem of her dress and the tips of her toes. A great cloud of smoke up flowed right up the chimney.

“Gods!” Ayda felt her anger turn to an icy sweat. Throwing a panicked glance behind her, she saw the kitchen was blessedly empty. Quickly, she tempered the coals of the cooking fire, stirred the food and tested it—the flavor of smoke was faint, faint enough so that, with a quick pinch of extra spice from the stores, no one would notice.

Her dress was a charred mess, but she rubbed charcoal ash into it to hide any evidence of the flare-up; nobody would care about a few more stains on her clothes, after all. Her toes and feet were completely unblemished, to her shock and surprise. Not so much as a single hair or burn mark was to be found.

That evening, in her lonely bed in the barn, sheltered and out of sight, Ayda clutched her tiny candle close, trying to keep its light hidden. She focused on the fire, watching as the flame bounced and danced from the soft, gentle passage of her breath. She passed her fingers close to it, feeling its heat, and thought back to the cooking pot of that day. Ayda remembered how angry she’d been, how hard she’d stirred and stirred, how the fire had leapt and flowed around her without burning her.

“Come on,” she whispered, repeating the words the same way she’d done earlier that day. “Come on, come on, come o-o-o-on… Come on!”

Ayda felt the same rush as in the kitchen, the same soundless-sound roar in her ears, but this time it was soured somehow, like a discordant note on the edge of her hearing. When the candle’s flame went white and swelled to three times it size, Ayda’s eyes went wide. She snuffed out the flame quickly, terrified that someone would come looking for her and her light. For minutes in the dark she waited, smothering her breathing behind her blanket, her heart pounding, eyes straining for any sight of an intruder. But no one came.

Everyone in the village by the lake knew that magic was cursed—using it was an evil act in the sight of the gods. Witch women that were caught were bound and drowned in the lake; those that escaped ran into the Witch Wood, never to return or be seen ever again. Ayda didn’t want to drown, and she was afraid of the stories she’d heard about the Wood: of wild beast-men that prowled beneath the trees and evil witches that kidnapped unfortunate souls and cut out their hearts to be eaten during their wicked rituals.

On the other hand, Ayda was sure she’d just used magic, as sure of it as she was sure of anything—real magic, the sort that would get her killed or worse if anyone saw her do it again. She remembered all too well the frightened faces of those accused women. She also remembered the dread and heart-sickness she felt as they were always found guilty, stripped, bound with cord and thrown into the lake. They always tried in vain to swim or stay afloat, eyes wide with terror, thrashing like mad before they, inevitably, were pulled down into the deep water and vanished from sight.

Ayda loved fire. But she didn’t want to die.

The smart thing to do would be to tuck her candle away and to put aside thoughts of witches, or magic, or anything aside from the hard work that was expected of her. Instead, once it was clear that no one was coming to check on her, she got up. Sneaking out of the barn, clutching her candle, she slipped away in the dark, away from the house where everyone else slept.

The family farm where she worked was at the edge of the village by the lake, which itself sat near the edge of the Witch Wood. From what Ayda had heard, humans didn’t dare to build their villages inside the Wood itself, but they cut and cleared the trees and built their homes in the land they’d reclaimed from the forest, as if in defiance of the trees and what they represented. Humans were stronger than nature, and they intended to prove it.

It was a short, brisk walk in the dark to the edge of the lake—the water, normally a rich, deep royal blue under the midday sun had turned black as pitch in the moonlight. Ayda was very aware of how the tall stalks hissed and swayed around her body, of how far noise traveled over the surface of the water, but there were no late-night fishermen out on that evening. Ayda had been coming to that particular place for years, preferring to use the lake for bathing, but only late at night when she had any chance at privacy. Knowing she was alone gave her more confidence, a chance to enjoy being in her own skin.

Even so, she bent down, crouching amongst the protection of the tall reeds as she pulled off her dress and setting it aside. It was warm year-round in that place, so she didn’t shiver when an evening breeze blew across the surface of the lake. She stood up as the breeze wicked a bit of sweat away from her brow, slid up between her legs, made her nipples tense up in response.

“Mm?” Ayda stopped, held very still—she’d heard something, a sound she couldn’t place, but the hairs stood up at the back of her neck. She turned her head slowly, trying to attune her ears to the chattering in the darkness while filtering out the dying wind, the sound of birds calling, the chuckling of the water. But whatever she’d heard was gone.

“…just my imagination,” she whispered to herself, then waded out into the cool, dark water. As she did so, Ayda thought it seemed a touch cooler than usual, so she scrubbed at her skin with quick, eager movements from her neck all the way down to between her toes. Her breasts felt heavy in her hands, and her nipples throbbed at her own touch; the soft split between her legs was wonderfully warm in contrast to the water’s chill, and she felt a familiar temptation to linger awhile, to burn off some of her frustration through more caresses. But, with regret, she pushed off such thoughts and finished cleaning herself.

When Ayda began to dunk her head, some part of her realized that the black water had caught some of the radiant moonlight, which made it seem to glow. It gave her pause for a moment, enough to wonder what made the lake shimmer in such a manner, then she sank below the surface. Opening her eyes underwater, she could see the glow was much brighter. Her vision was cloudy and indistinct, but she saw a distinct, greenish light from a ways off, closer to the village docks. Ayda stared in wonder, surprised by the light, for she’d never seen such a thing before.

Then she saw dark, lithe shapes swimming through the water—whether some trick of the light or of her own mind, Ayda was sure in that moment that they were swimming straight towards her. Panic seized her heart, froze the blood in her veins, and she was sure that if she didn’t get out of that lake in that instant, she was going to die.

Breaching the surface with a gasp but smothering the louder scream she wanted to make, Ayda swam for shore and crawled onto the bank. Her heart was hammering against the inside of her breast as she collapsed onto a thick bed of soft grasses. She stared at the water for a long moment, but the light had disappeared. Nothing emerged from it or crawled out after her.

For several minutes she waited, body coiled tight, ready to flee at any second. But as time passed and nothing appeared, Ayda’s fear began to fade. She chided herself for imagining things that weren’t there. With a sigh, she lay back on the soft grass; the heat in the evening air would help her to dry before she was forced to dress herself and slip back to her bed.

On her back, her legs open, glistening from her bath, Ayda picked up the candle she’d brought with her, holding it in her cupped hands. The candle’s wick was black and dry, but Ayda sensed something within it—some energy or potential, a latent humming in her fingertips. It was an ordinary candle, no different from the others she’d been given in the past, and yet, Ayda concentrated on the wick, focusing all of her thoughts towards it and willpower into it, and just like magic, it began to glow a pale hue, burning back the dark night air. She began to smile, even laughing aloud.

“It works!” She smothered a delighted giggle, laying her head back, drumming her heels against the soft grasses.

Then Ayda looked up. There was a shine over her head, a pair of wide eyes staring done at her. The shock and fear of seeing them smothered her newborn joy in its crib—they were so close she nearly screamed again. Instead, some part of her unconscious mind choked back her voice to just a gasp and she dropped the candle where it rolled into the grass, it’s light gone cold and extinguished.

In the moonlight, Ayda could see a large, furry body crouched above hers. It was a cat, a great panther whose fur was pitch-black with streaks of silver, so dark in places it seemed to almost absorb the moonlight. Its body was long and lithe, tight with muscle and a promise of violence; its tail flickered in the grass like a live serpent. The creature’s eyes were pale gold like the moonlight, looking down into hers with a long, unblinking stare.

Ayda never knew how long they both stayed frozen in place, with just the whispering of the lake and the swaying of the trees and grasses around them. She wanted to reach out and touch the beast, compelled by a will almost stronger than her own, but she didn’t dare; when her hand shifted, hardly moving at all, the beast’s lip trembled, showing a hint of white teeth behind it.

“Go away,” she whispered, barely daring to breathe, as if her breast rising and falling might be enough to anger it.

The panther’s eyes bored into her.

“I…I don’t want to die.” Her earlier need to touch the beast had turned into revulsion and fear. “Please go away.”

The great cat raised its head, turning in the direction of the water and the village beyond. For a second, she watched its ears swivel, heard it take a sharp breath. Then it turned back, baring its fangs at her in a snarl.

Ayda closed her eyes, swallowed a sob, and waited to die.

But she didn’t. When she heard a far-off scream in the direction of the farm house, her eyes popped open again. More screams came from the village beyond it, growing in number by the second.

“What’s happening?” she said.

The panther snarled and snapped at her, baring its teeth.

“Wait, stop!” Ayda rolled away, pushing to her feet. When she bent for her candle, the beast snapped again, missing her fingers by an inch, but she pulled her hand back just the same. When she turned to reach for her dress, the panther blocked the way and swiped at her, claws bared, coming so close she could feel the breeze of its paw.

“Please!” Ayda said, her panic and fear near to overwhelming as she heard more screams, mixed with loud, bestial howling that turned her blood cold. “What’s going on?” She knew asking the animal was pointless, but it was the only thing she could think to do.

The cat blew out a breath and began to approach, teeth visible, glistening in the moonlight. Its broad shoulders shifted and slithered under its dark flesh. It growled at her, and she was forced to walk backwards, moving towards the trees.

“No! I don’t want to go that way!” Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but the beast wouldn’t be denied. When she tried to move around it, the panther shrieked in anger. She cried out, but didn’t try to escape again.

The beast was herding her, driving her steps, Ayda was sure of it. In moments they’d entered the shelter of the trees, where the shadows were longer and the footing more treacherous—she had to watch where she was walking, pulling her focus away from the village as she moved ever further and further away from it. She’d heard stories of how people were taken but the Wood and never seen again. Had her mother been killed in such a way?

All the time, as they moved deeper into the Wood, the sound of cries and screaming grew fainter. At the top of a rise she halted, looking back through the trees at the village by the lake in the distance. Any sound was lost on the wind, and it was too far away to see anything beyond the shapes of wooden huts and houses, but what she saw was unmistakable: the village was on fire. Ayda was torn between sorrow and shock at the sight, as well as enjoying some deep-rooted, wicked thrill at seeing a place she’d grown to hate be destroyed in such a manner.

For a second she stood and watched, wondering what had become of the people, and what would become of her. Then the panther swiped a paw at her again with a snarl. Red-hot pain blossomed across her backside and she cried out: “No! Stop!”

The beast didn’t attack again but glowered at her, eyes narrowed, lip quivering as if ready to bare those fangs at her again. Ayda swiped a hand across her bottom and saw a faint, dull smear of blood across her palm, which turned her stomach to ice. The animal didn’t attack her again, but pressed a shoulder hard against her bare legs, growling, urging her onwards again. Ayda turned away from the faraway village and walked on, though to what fate was impossible to guess.

Now the panther was moving more quickly, urging her forward at a run, still keeping an eye on her but realizing now she was willing to follow directions obediently and that she didn’t intend to escape, for where could she go that such a creature couldn’t follow? Ayda might climb a tree, but any cat worth its claws would come after her, and if not, it might even be smart enough to know she’d have to come down eventually. And she still ran the risk of it chewing her legs to pieces before she even got out of reach.

After some time, Ayda was panting from the brisk pace of their jog. The sting of her injury was faint by that time, just one more ache, when her entire body was burning from the effort of running. “Where…are you taking me?” she said, scowling at the animal. She wanted to give it a hard kick for her trouble. “And why didn’t you let me take my dress?” Ayda’s naked body was covered in more scratches and thin, red lines by that time. She’d been forced to protect her face from low-hanging branches and briars, and now she stung all over from several dozen shallow cuts.

The cat gave a sniff that almost sounded like an answer. That did very little to soothe her, however.

They had walked along the river that fed the lake, following its winding route deeper into the Wood. The great cat kept urging her on, never satisfied at her speed, even when she was running to stay away of his snapping teeth. The air felt oppressively warm by that point, and Ayda realized she was deeper into the forest then she’d ever been before. The moonlight slipped and snuck through what gaps in the canopy it could find, but soon there were very few of those gaps left, leaving the world in an empty, grey twilight. The stream was now just a shallow, slow-moving brook in that place, a silver scar passing between trees so thick and heavy with foliage that she couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her.

“That’s it!” Ayda fell to her knees beside the water, her body shaking, hands and arms trembling. Her gasping breaths were so rough and ragged that she felt as though she were heaving. “Going to be…going to…be sick.” Ayda swallowed down a foul-tasting lump at the back of her throat.

When the great cat snapped again, the sound and shock of it was enough to make her angry. “Stop it!” she shrieked, throwing an arm back at the animal.

For the shortest of seconds—the blink of an eye, nothing more—light seared her eyes, and bright light burned back the darkness under the trees. She saw a flash of white and red, tainted with green. The huge cat gave a yowl of surprise and jumped back; she caught a whiff of singed fur, but the light died as quickly as it came.

They both stopped, staring at each other. Ayda’s eyes were wide, tears and sweat sliding down her face, her back, along the curve of her naked ass and bare thighs. The panther’s nostrils flared, and for the first time she saw it hesitate while stalking closer to her. Now those teeth were covered, and it didn’t show any visible anger or displeasure at her—a welcome surprise.

“I…need…to rest,” she said to the animal, aware of the sense of foolishness that came over her. “Gods! I’m talking…to a wild animal.” Ayda sank back to her bottom in the soft grass. “I must be dreaming.” Then she saw how close the cat was, and that it kept coming closer. After a feeble attempt to look for a weapon and finding nothing, she opened her hands. “Don’t—don’t come closer! I’ll burn you again!”

The panther actually stopped in its tracks for a moment, staring her down. When her promised fire didn’t appear, it came even closer.

“No,” she said, feeling cold all over. “Please no. Please stay back. Stay back!”

Her protests did nothing to dissuade it, and in another moment she was face to face with the beast. Letting her hands fall, feeling numb and confused, tired, and a dozen other things, Ayda didn’t know what to do. “What do you want from me?”

Ayda felt the panther’s breath, heard it a split second before the warm, wet touch of its tongue slid up her sweaty temple; it was textured, scraping gently across her moist flesh and dark hair. Her eyes popped open again as the animal pushed her backwards; she tried to resist, but the panther was too big and she had nowhere to go but down to the ground as it began to bathe her face and neck in long swipes of its tongue.

“What… What??” Ayda gasped the word, helpless, confused beyond belief. “Where did this come from?” Talking helped, so she ignored the feeling of foolishness as she was forced onto her back, staring up as the beast continued bathing her with its moist muscle. The tongue was long, bright and pink, with a long streak of dark black pigment stretched across its surface.

“You…you terrify me,” she said in a soft, trembling voice. “Are you going to eat me after all? Please don’t. I don’t want to—oh!” By that time the cat had moved down her neck, under her chin, across her collarbone and chest. The tongue tickled in her armpits, which the beast seemed to enjoy more than she would’ve liked, making her bare bottom squirm and wriggle in the grass as she fought back helpless giggles. The sensation of the tongue reminded her of fish scales—textured, though not painful, as they slid across her flesh, so very much unlike a human tongue.

But when the tongue swiped across one of her nipples, a shock of something hot and startling burst in Ayda’s head and deep in her belly. “Why—! Why are you doing this?” she said, begging to be understood as the panther moved to her other nipple next. She was gasping again for a different reason by the time it began to move to the underside of her breasts and down her stomach, leaving her nipples hard and burning, throbbing for more attention.

When the cat shifted in its stance, moving to one side to lather her navel with those hungry caresses, she saw unmistakable proof under that black belly, the sign of just what the animal really wanted: a hard, hot cock of red flesh, long, swollen and eager for relief. Thick, fleshy nodules and rounded barbs of muscle jutted out near the base of that thick shaft in rows, darker in color, flared outwards.

Ayda had worked on a farm, so she knew what males wanted from females, how they rutted with one another, but seeing proof of the cat’s intentions up so close was startling. The cat was no longer just an it. It had a sex now—he—and he obviously intended to rut with her.

“Oh no,” she said, her voice a frightened whisper. “Gods, no—!”

Then the panther swiped his tongue up the cleft of her pussy, and Ayda’s whisper turned into a cry of surprise, but also one of unintended pleasure. Her legs trembled and pulled apart, almost on their own, and he bent his dark head to slake his thirst. His tongue stroked and pulled at her clit, scraping it with an exquisite, stomach-churning pleasure. The slippery muscle pushed deep, deep into her throbbing cunt, wriggling and caressing places even she hadn’t ever touched before, christening his fangs and tongue with the cream of her desire.

“Ahhh! Mmmm!” Ayda’s head fell back so fast into the grass that she felt stunned at the impact for a moment, fingers squeezing hard around her round breasts, fingernails digging into the tender flesh. Her bestial captor—she didn’t dare think of him as a lover, not a thing so wild as he was—pushed his muzzle in-between her legs so hard she felt his whiskers against the lips of her cunny and his hot breath stinging every bit of tender, wet flesh.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she gasped, even beginning to sob, though now more from pleasure than fear. “What are you? Why do you want this—?!” Any other questions were lost with her orgasm, a fiery blast in her belly that swelled behind her eyes and made her body lock up. “Gods! Oh! Oh no, I’m cumming!” She cried out her pleasure to the trees and the sky beyond them, shuddering with such violent, wicked delight that she twisted up and pushed away from him onto her hands and knees, fingers curled tight into the grass, thighs squeezing, her cunt spasming with every gasp and pounding beat of her heart.

Then Ayda’s breath was driven from her with a wild huff as his heavy, furry body pinned her down, pressing her into the soft bed of weeds and growing things beneath her belly. The evidence of his lust was burning hot in the crack of her ass, and his breathing in her ear was somewhere between a whine and a snarl—the sound of a male who wanted something, one who was willing to use force to get it.

Ayda had no more breath or energy to speak. She pushed up higher onto her knees, keeping her head cradled in both arms, giving wordless consent by stretching her legs open wide, offering her wet, gaping quim for the taking. Her feline possessor began to buck and rock his hips, causing his cock to bounce and slide about, sliding against her thighs. She didn’t reach back to help him—her mind was too frantic, too wild and out of control to contemplate doing anything of the kind.

In another moment, he didn’t need her help any longer: the nameless cat raised his seeking hips, and the tapered tip of his cock penetrated her cunt. It was so violent, so sudden and rough that Ayda raised her head and wailed—less of a scream, it was a cry of bewilderment and shocked, bestial lust, a sound so unexpected she hardly recognized her own voice. The panther raised his head and called out his dominance of her, his shriek echoing through the trees until it was lost.

Then he started pounding her willing body, and she only had enough energy for soft, whining breaths. His strength was terrifying, but more than that, it scared her just how fucking good he felt. This was more than her probing, desperate fingers pleasuring herself in the dark: this was belonging, completely, to a male in the full heat of his lust. His strong forelegs coiled tight around her thighs and held her tight in place, claws scraping across her moist skin while he fucked her poor, stuffed cunny-hole with such brutal, delicious force.

“Yes!” she said, eyes rolling back, gasping the word again and again. “Yes! Yes! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! More! Please, please, don’t stop!” It never crossed Ayda’s mind that he would do anything beyond use her body the only way it could be used—she as an empty vessel meant filled with his raging, throbbing, swollen manhood. Ayda knew what sex and fucking was, but to experience it so roughly and completely as this was beyond amazing, or frightening, or any other solitary word that her fractured mind could summon.

When he bottomed out in her belly, his cock pushed in so deep that Ayda groaned in discomfort, she pressed her face into the grass and groaned aloud as if in pain, pounding at the ground with a fist. She felt him force the thick, fleshy knobs at the base of his cock inside her abused, soaked pussy. The cat gave a low, rumbling growl of warning in her ear. He was already big, but now Ayda was locked tight to the pulsing cock in her belly. She was completely helpless, unable to get away, or to even want to.

“Gooooooooooods! Noooooo, nooo—oh y...yes! YES!” Another orgasm, the strongest she’d ever felt or could remember, roared out of her open mouth as her body felt like it was ready to burst into flames. His hot, swollen dick stretched and pulled at the sweetest, deepest points of pleasure inside of her. From the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair, every nerve ending she had exploded at once. She dug at the grass and dirt with her fingers, curling her toes into the earth; every breath, every twitch of her body created another surge of pleasure.

She looked back, eyes gone wide from this new torrent of sensations she’d never felt before. The beast was watching her, staring with his shining eyes. His loins were pressed hard up to hers, his cock still swollen and locked inside of her; his dark tail was curled under her, coiled around her thigh, an act that struck her as possessive, even.

The panther—her lover? her captor?—looked out at the trees and shadows beyond their makeshift bowery, and Ayda had the impression that he was watching for threats, should any appear. His hips kept moving, thrusting his cock within the tight confines of her fuck hole, still claiming her, still taking her for his pleasure, however long that would last.

Ayda lowered her head, reaching back with grasping fingers. Her mind was white-hot, almost a blank slate on account of one orgasm after another, making her groan and whine with each new surge of pleasure. But she was aware enough of herself to reach up, sliding her cautious, probing fingers at the tight, sweet center point where their bodies were linked. She was so swollen with his panther dick and the seed he was pouring into her that her stomach was bulging with it. The thick nodules at the base of his cock were firmly lodged past the swollen lips of her cunt, tying their bodies together.

Ayda’s eyes went a little wider when she realized that she could feel him cumming under her fingertips. His shaft was pulsing, swelling and flexing as his potent spunk flowed into her. Her stomach continued swelling, filling, bulging outward; he was twitching inside of her shuddering quim, cumming again and again, pouring more and more of his potent seed into her empty womb, intent on filling her near to bursting.

Then Ayda had no strength or thoughts left in her. She slumped to the ground, letting pleasure sweep her away to somewhere bright and wonderful. For now, the beast seemed to have no intention of eating her—instead she’d been claimed, taken, and that meant he’d wanted her. There was a chilling sort of comfort in that: she was more valuable as a fuck-toy than as a meal.

Her mind went dark, carried away on blissful waves of pleasure, interspersed with dark flashes of teeth and blood. Before she blacked out, Ayda only hoped that if she was going to die, she wouldn’t feel the beast’s fangs when they closed around her throat.

When Ayda woke up the sky was still dark, which meant she hadn’t been out for long. She was sore all over, feeling like she’d run for miles just to get the hardest workout of her life at the end. It was a languid, almost-pleasurable sort of soreness, and memories of the panther and his amorous attentions made her go hot all over. The sting of the animal’s scratches on her bottom were dulled by then; she’d nearly forgotten about them.

She also felt empty now; the physical connection between them had ended during her unexpected nap. Her pussy ached for the memory of his cock, and Ayda was startled at the very idea of even wanting to be fucked again, but that was exactly what she wanted. The urgency, the craving of it shocked her the most—she’d been assaulted by a wild beast, driven into the Witch Wood and then rutted with the same animal.

But Ayda had accepted it. She’d even enjoyed it. And she wanted it again. Her logical mind was already fighting against her emotional desires, and that was unexpected and a little frightening.

Ayda moaned and shifted again. The smell of something pungent and strong was in the air. The grass between her legs was wet, sticky with the remnants of his bestial seed that her body was incapable of holding in. She started to roll over, before hearing a familiar, dangerous growl. Looking up, she saw the cat was now crouched over her, his dark fur bristling, limbs tight and poised as if ready to spring. His face was a mask of anger—lips and ears back, fangs bared—but his shining eyes were focused at the trees around them.

Then she saw more eyes: dozens, maybe hundreds of them, shining in the branches. They were all around, shades of gold, brown, blue and pale white.

All of them were staring down at her.

Ayda slowly rolled up to her knees. Without knowing why, following some unexplained urge, she dared to reach out and touched the side of the great, black and silver cat. “I’m all right,” she said in a soft, soothing voice. Ayda was never sure why those were the first words out of her mouth—an attempt to soothe the panther, that she might’ve even been worried for him. The beast’s rumbling growl softened as though in acknowledgement, but he didn’t look at her or let his hackles down.

The creatures watching them hadn’t attacked yet—why, she didn’t know, but they probably wouldn’t be content to watch forever. If they were all of a mind to stare at her, maybe they were intelligent. Maybe they could even be reasoned with. “Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want from us?”

For a few moments, there was no answer beyond the hiss of a warm wind and the soft babbling of the brook. Then a voice, deep and not altogether friendly, spoke from higher up in the branches. “You will come with us,” he said. It was a male’s voice, but the speaker didn’t reveal himself.

“What do you want?”

“You will come with us, witch, or we will kill you and your mate and pick our teeth with your bones.” He sounded even less pleasant the second time, and Ayda had no doubt that those creatures could and would follow through with his threat.

The panther snarled and yowled once, an obvious sound of challenge. Some creatures in the trees howled back, high-pitched screeches that made Ayda’s ears ache; she visibly winced from the discordant noise.

But the hidden speaker didn’t talk again. Instead, there was a deeper bellow, and then the hundreds of pairs of shining eyes turned as one. She finally saw the creatures that belonged to them when they began to move: short, squat bodies with long limbs and long-fingered hands. They moved from branch to branch, climbing or swinging, moving deeper into the trees.

“Apes,” she whispered, in surprise. She’d heard of such beasts, but had never seen one in the flesh before.

The cat finally turned his head and looked back at her. His bright eyes shone with intelligence and an awareness that she’d somehow missed before, but now she saw it clearly.

“Can you talk too?” she asked him.

He licked his chops, nostrils flaring, but said nothing.

Ayda was quite conscious of the lingering stickiness between her legs. Crawling quickly on all fours across the grass and into the stream, she gave herself as quick of a bath as she could, rinsing herself clean again in the warm water. The apes continued moving, and she doubted they would be happy if she lingered overlong.

The cat sat down on his haunches and stared at her.

“Why did you do that?” she said, her hand lingering between her legs. She spoke soft and quick. “Why did you…take me that way?”

The panther didn’t speak, but he didn’t react, either.

“And when I woke up, you were standing over me.” She blinked as a strange thought came to her mind. “Were you protecting me?”

He still didn’t speak. The panther blinked his eyes, as though waiting for her to realize the answer.

“Well…thank you.” Ayda pushed to her feet and wading onto dry land. “Even if you were a bit too forceful earlier.” Ayda sniffed herself. “I didn’t know that cats did such things to people.”

For the first time, her feline companion showed an actual response: his head turned to one side, tail twitching from where it was cocked around his legs.

“Well, that’s hardly helpful.” Ayda sniffed. “No wonder you wouldn’t let me keep my dress.”

He stood again, walking up close and circling her, rubbing his body against hers, a gesture that seemed almost affectionate. Together, they followed the apes through the trees, following a winding path lit by the moonlight ahead of them.

“I’ve never been so deep into the Witch Wood before,” Ayda said, keeping her voice low. She wondered if the apes could hear her in spite of the shaking of leaves and branches and the swaying of trees, but figured that a cat’s ears had to be even sharper than an ape’s. Her black-furred companion walked beside her, his head near her bare thigh; Ayda rested her hand atop it, and was pleased when he didn’t pull away.

They walked for some time, as minutes blurred together and the bright moonlight turned the world into a silver-hued dreamworld. She heard voices up ahead, but they weren’t speaking, not in words that she could understand. They were sounds she recognized, ones that made almost made her stumble and trip; the panther even pressed against her, keeping her upright, as she stopped in her tracks.

Ayda heard the sound of women in heat. There was moaning, gasps for breath, sobs, whimpers and cries. Some of the voices were shrieking in gleeful abandon, overwhelmed by passion; others gave deep, heavy grunting noises, as though they were no better than beasts themselves. Some called out names that Ayda didn’t recognize, while others simply pled to the goddess Mylan for mercy. The majority just begged for more of whatever treatment they were getting, and from the sound of it, they were enjoying themselves.

The moonlight grew in brightness and intensity as they walked into an open clearing. All around her, Ayda saw human women locked in passionate embraces with their lovers—some were men, with strong backs and roaming hands, but most were apes towering over their chosen females, long arms wrapped around them, huge hands pinning them down. Not a single one of the women were covered; there wasn’t so much as a single stitch of fabric among them. Ayda recognized some of their faces, people she’d seen in the village; the wives and daughters of fishermen, cobblers, farmers and traders.

The sounds of flesh smacking and slapping together was unusually loud, and there was a strong scent in the air, a mix of sweat, musk, seed and something Ayda couldn’t identify, but it left her belly quivering and her nipples throbbing, aching to be touched. She heard the panther take a deep sniff, saw his nose linger near the cleft between her thighs; it seemed an acknowledgement, or perhaps a note of her arousal, as he rubbed the side of his head against her thigh. This one is mine, she imagined him saying. Not that Ayda could—or wanted to—disagree.

A large, flat stone atop a mound of earth sat at the center of the clearing. Atop it was a huge ape, with a broad back covered in grey fur turned to muted silver in the moonlight. His long hands were curled tight around the thighs of his chosen woman, pale-skinned with long, pale hair. His hips were almost a blur of movement as his dark cock pounded her cunt with wild, wanton abandon. Ayda saw that her flesh was lathered in juices and sweat, nearly frothing from the repeated force of his fucking. The woman had her hands curled into her hair, shrieking her pleasure to the starry sky overhead.

Ayda stared, unable to stop herself. It was Yonal, her Mistress and owner—or former owner. The woman was so lost in her own lust she had only eyes for the great ape who was pounding his cock into her hot fuck hole. Ayda swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and had to fight hard against an irrational rush of emotion: jealousy, hunger, and the wordless desire to climb onto that great rock and beg for a turn. The great ape’s presence was so stirring, so overpowering that Ayda curled her hands into fists to resist that last temptation.

She stopped with the large cat before the stone throne, forced herself to stand tall, to not slouch or cower as she might have done before. The huge ape finally noticed them standing there—especially her, the only female who wasn’t rutting or writhing under another male’s cock. He bared his teeth and gave the same bellowing sound she’d heard earlier in the trees, which seemed timed with his climax, for he pushed himself deep into his partner and rocked his hips back and forth, sowing his seed in her belly. The sound of Yonal’s pleasure was so raw and helpless that Ayda swallowed and curled her fingers into the panther’s furred scruff, feeling a tell-tale trickling of moisture sliding down her thigh. In that moment, if the great cat had tried to mount her again, Ayda wouldn’t have had the willpower to resist him.

The response to the ape’s loud bellow was almost immediate: the other males slowed and soon stopped their passionate labors, regardless of the state of their women; most of them lay slumped over or listless in the grass, panting, heaving for breath, eyes half-closed or staring up at the sky. When the ape-chief was done, he released his woman and sank to his backside on his stone seat; his thick, muscled legs sat askew, and his swollen cock, still heavy and pungent between his legs. The smell of him—his dominance, his male-ness—was nearly overwhelming.

Raising his heavy head, the lead ape bared his teeth at Ayda and pounded his fists against his chest. “You are the witch woman,” he said—his voice was understandable, but came out butchered and thick through his long fangs and dark lips.

Ayda, faced with a choice while surrounded by so many hostile creatures, did the only thing she could do: she lied. “Yes,” she answered, nodding.

The response from the apes was immediate—they screeched and shrieked, calling out their displeasure and anger that echoed amongst the trees. The chief bared his fangs and beat his chest again, several times in quick succession, howling louder than all of them. The panther curled around Ayda’s legs protectively, baring his teeth again in anger, fur standing on-end; a low, wicked moaning sound came from his mouth. Ayda swallowed, tried not to look afraid, and kept her hand on his shoulder.

“I should tell my warriors to kill you,” the ape said, pounding his palms atop his stone seat.

“Why?” Ayda curled her fingers even tighter in the panther’s fur—to call him a friend seemed a stretch, but at least he seemed angrier at the apes than he’d been at her earlier. “What have I done to anger you?”

“Apes…hate….witches,” the leader answered, spittle jumping from his lips. “Women belong to ape!” He reached over, grabbing his lover by her hair; the blonde crawled on all fours with quick, obedient movements, until she was half-draped across his lap. “Apes keep women—for mate, for pleasure, for whelping more apes.” While he spoke, the docile Yonal cradled his cock in her fingers, caressing and kissing it. She bathed it with her tongue, wriggling and swirling the tip of it across the head of his shaft, focusing every bit of effort and loving affection she had on it. This seemed to please him, for he grinned down at her, stroking her head with some amount of gentle affection. Then he looked at Ayda again, his grin turning into a sneer. “Witch women not afraid of apes, so witch women no good to apes.”

Ayda felt stronger, more certain of herself with the panther by her side. Her mind was moving fast, fitting pieces together, desperate to find a way out of this situation. The apes were loud, brutish and crude, but not one of them had made any violent or threatening moves towards her or her four-legged companion. After what the ape had said, suddenly it was everything that Ayda could do to not start smiling. If the gods were merciful and her luck held, they could still escape. The ape said he didn’t like her, but she was only one woman. They had to be afraid of the cat—that gave her courage, and led her to speak again. “Great ape,” she said, “may I ask a question?”

The apes’ leader seemed surprised by her speaking, growling under his breath. Now-erect and obviously eager for his woman’s attention again, he seemed quite upset at the interruption. “Speak.”

“Do you have a name?”

He pounded his chest. “I am Batihan—chief of this tribe, greatest of the children of Logga!” There was more screeching in response to his words.

“There was a human village near here that was attacked tonight. Do you know of it?”

The ape grinned again. All around them, the other males began to laugh, beating their chests in jubilation. Their women, in contrast, cowered or covered their heads. Once the noise died down, the ape leader beat his chest again. “Apes destroy it!” The other beasts howled again. “Human place was corrupt, evil. Apes destroy it and the men there; bring women back for…celebration.” His leering grin was so wide it seemed ready to split his head in two.

Ayda frowned before she could help herself. She had little love for that old village, but the creature’s words puzzled her. “Corrupt? Corrupt how?”

“Corrupt!” Batihan repeated. “Bad. Evil. Ape not need witch woman to tell them deep magic there. Apes know it!” He beat his chest again, then gave a great sniff of the air, a long, rheumy sound. “You stink, witch woman. Stink like cat, but also like village, like these humans.”

With a dozen questions burning in her brain, Ayda had to repress all of them—asking too much would reveal her ignorance, and put both her and the panther in danger. But if the ape was right, what did that mean? She’d lived in that village her whole life—was she corrupt, too? Was it really so strong that he could smell it?

Batihan narrowed his eyes at her. “What human village mean for you, witch woman? All beasts know that witch women live within the Wood.” The ape snarled. “Why you care about humans?”

Ayda shook her head. “I don’t,” she said, and it was almost true—knowing that she’d escaped so much death and suffering was a relief, but she didn’t wish what had happened on anyone; had things been different, she would’ve been one of those same women writhing on the end of an ape’s turgid cock. “My…teacher was taken by that village. Drowned by these people. I’m not one of them.” Not anymore.

“Liar!” One of the women shouted, her voice an ugly, accusatory thing. She turned around just in time to watch a nearby ape backhand the speaker across the mouth, sending her sprawling senseless into the grass.

Batihan grinned again. “Humans all the same—hate beasts, hate witches.” He gave a huffing sound like a chuckle, and the other apes laughed, right on cue.

Ayda stiffened her back, pressing her lips tight together. “In that case, Chief Batihan, we will leave you and your tribe to your ‘celebration.’” She gave the panther’s scruff a firm squeeze with her fingers, and with a bravado she didn’t expect to possess, Ayda turned to go.

“Leave so soon?” Batihan grunted. “Witch woman should stay and celebrate with apes!” She could hear the grin in his voice again, hear the hooting calls of his followers.

It occurred to Ayda that the very thing a witch woman would probably do was walk out without antagonizing the ape further, so she resolved to do just that. “Another time, Batihan. Let’s go,” she added, murmuring to her companion, whose furry coat bristled once, yet he followed without resisting.

“Stay!” The great ape shouted it, then gave a heavy, echoing bellow again. One of his subordinates leapt at her, slamming his huge palms into the grass, screeching and shouting.

The movement surprised and frightened Ayda—without thinking, she opened one hand towards the beast. “No!” she shouted. Her vision flickered, a deafening sound roared in her head, and the world went green and white. Ayda was blinded for a split second, but not before she saw the ape’s fur light up like soaked kindling.

The clearing exploded—apes shrieking, women screaming; a wild wind howled and fed the flames as the ape cried in pain and rolled in the grass, spreading the fire even further. Everyone seemed to be moving, running, leaping for the trees or picking up their chosen women and sprinting for safety.

Ayda curled her fingers right into the panther’s fur and let him lead her, running into the trees as fast as she could follow him. After several times where she nearly tripped and fell, he pushed up close and came right under her, lifting her off the grass. She straddled his back, curling her arms tight about his neck as he ran.

The screams of the apes and their women were lost as the wind howled and whistled in her ears. Ayda could barely breathe, holding on for dear life because if she fell, she was sure they’d be caught. She felt and heard water under them, splashing her legs as her cat ran on. The black beast carried her while time seemed to slow or even stop, interspersed only with flashes of moonlight and surges of new terror at the sounds she heard in the dark. Eventually he could run no further and finally stumbled, catching one of his large feet on something that sent them both sprawling, rolling into the undergrowth beneath the trees.

Ayda stared up at the sky for a time, panting, fighting for breath. She pushed up on weary limbs, looking around for the great cat in the twilight. The moon was low in the sky by that time—she couldn’t see it, but the world had turned grey below the canopy of the trees. Then, she heard a new sound: a crash of thunder overhead, a heavy boom and rumble with the promise of rain.

“Where are you?” she called, looking for her companion. When she saw a dark lump near the base of a huge, knotted tree, she gasped and hurried to him; her legs felt heavy, almost too heavy to move, but she stumbled over to him all the same.

Her panther was panting heavily, his bright eyes half-rolled back, but she was just so thankful to see him breathing that Ayda nearly sobbed with relief. She hugged the beast, any earlier fear or hesitation long since forgotten. The panther raised his head, staring at her, before letting it fall again.

“Oh, you’re completely exhausted,” Ayda said. “And all because of me!”

More thunder split the skies. Rain was coming. They would need shelter, and soon. Looking around and seeing nothing, Ayda forced herself to her aching feet, leaning on the tree for support as she circled it, trying to look for anything that they could use for protection. Her luck hadn’t run out entirely, for she found a deep hollow buried beneath the roots, a black hole that she cautiously checked and found empty.

“Here!” she called, hurrying back to the tired animal. “I found somewhere safe. You just have to get up for a moment longer.” The cat moaned and whined at her urging. The look he gave seemed more annoyed than anything else.

“It isn’t far, I promise,” she said, smiling for his benefit.

The large cat reluctantly rolled to his belly and pushed up on his legs. Ayda led him around the tree, moving slow as he limped along, and allowed him to crawl in first. Going second, Ayda gathered up large armfuls of rubbish and detritus that she piled at the mouth of the hollow to block out any rain and wind, and hoped it might camouflage the opening from being spotted.

The place was dark and thankfully dry, snug enough to let them both stretch out and allow her to crawl on hands and knees. “I suppose a little light would be helpful,” she said, her voice sounding muffled in her ears, “but I’m not sure I trust myself not to burn the tree down.”

Her bestial companion gave a sharp shake his head and shoulders, a sign that she took to mean he most certainly did not want her to burn the tree down.

“I wouldn’t do it on purpose,” she protested. After he laid down, Ayda carefully stretched out and rested her head near his, pillowed on one arm. It was easier to talk to him when she looked at his face. “You won’t hurt me, will you?” she asked, more softly.

He looked into her eyes, only blinking once, but gave no other reaction.

Reaching up with a hand, she rested it gently on his head, near one pointed ear. “You’re a beast of the Wood. I always heard stories about women being kidnapped, taken by wild things or beast-men, forced to live in the forest like animals.” She remembered the uninhibited, hedonistic orgy of the apes and sniffed, feeling a familiar heat between her legs. “I might’ve been one of those women…helpless, enslaved to the apes…except you found me first, didn’t you?”

His eyes rolled to one side, letting them roam down her naked body. He licked his chops again, which struck her as funny, in a way.

She smiled and stroked his head. “I don’t think I should be frightened of you. You’re stronger and faster then I am, but it’s not like I have anywhere to go back to now.” Ayda sighed with a faint, sad smile. “Am I your captive now?”

The black beast gave another groan and whine, opening his jaws to pant at her, tongue sliding along his lips again.

“I may as well be,” she said, unsure of his response, but talking to him was better than being alone with her thoughts. “They called you my ‘mate.’ I wonder if he knew what happened between us.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I wonder if he could smell your seed…on me. In me.” Ayda curled up her nose. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

The panther licked his chops, twice, staring her down. His breathing was softer, calmer, which she took as a good sign. Ayda listened as another crash of thunder sounded, and then the rain came: a torrent of it, falling in such a hard, heavy fashion that the ground seemed to quake and tremble because. The weather in that part of the world was warm year-round, but Ayda was thankful it wasn’t the rainy season, when a thunderstorm usually happened once or twice a day.

Crawling around in their little hiding place, Ayda moved up closer, lying down in a parallel position next to him. Carefully, gently, she urged him into a position to allow her to lie closer to him; the cat seemed intrigued at her behavior, but didn’t struggle. She was reminded that he wasn’t just pure black, but streaked with silver as well, which made him seem older, stronger. He was already so much bigger than she was, and his presence was reassuring in the midst of the storm.

“I wish that you could talk—it certainly would make things easier between us.” Ayda sighed. As she slid the fingers of one hand through the fur on his flanks and rump, he gave a sound like a sigh as well. “And you could use a name.”

He licked his lips again.

“I certainly can’t guess what it might be. But no beast as smart as you should be without one.” Ayda kept stroking his fur, enjoying his company, his closeness, as the rain and wind howled. Outside might be a wild, chaotic place, but she was warm and content in their little den. “And it was you who found me, who made me run away from my village…” Her voice got softer, deeper. “You, who took me…kept me…mounted me…rutted with me—“

A thought came to her, one as bright and blinding as the lightning over their heads. She nearly sat up in her shock, and her eyes went wide, staring back at his. “That’s it, isn’t it? You knew the apes were coming. You knew they were going to attack the village. You kept me so that they would smell your scent on me. Didn’t you?”

He wriggled and slid up closer to her, sliding his tongue across her cheek as if in reward.

“But…” Ayda pressed her face to his neck, breathing in the smell of his fur and dark flesh. He smelled of trees, of earth and grass, and some dark, bitter scent she couldn’t place. “I don’t understand,” she said, curling her arms around his neck, fingers tight in the scruff of his neck. “I don’t understand what you are, and barely understand what I am, even.” She sniffed, squeezing her eyes tight. “I don’t even know where I can go now. I have nothing. I…I…!” Ayda didn’t cry, but she still felt a heavy, suffocating sense of sorrow fall over her, making it hard to breathe. The cat was content to let Ayda rest her head near his, and she listened to his slow, even breathing in the dark while the rain fell and the wind howled.

She felt safe with him, somehow. It made very little sense to feel anything but fear around such a large, virile beast as him, especially given how rough he’d been with her earlier, but he still made her feel protected. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for protecting me, I suppose.” Blinking her vision clear, she leaned back and stroked his head, watched his face and his curious, shining eyes.

The panther licked his chops again, saying nothing. But then, he was only a beast, after all.

Safety was a precious thing, but her despair and sense of helplessness was still almost too overwhelming to ignore. They were so close together, and Ayda licked her lips, forcing herself to speak. “Will…will you help me?” When he flicked both ears, she rubbed the fur between them. “I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost.”

He wriggled even closer, until he was pressed up to her. In spite of how much larger he was, she still didn’t feel intimidated or afraid. The beast reached up, swiping one large paw across her arm, catching her at the wrist. He repeated this motion twice-over.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

The cat swiping her hand down again, in the vicinity of his belly.

“Oh—now I see,” she said with a bemused smile. Ayda gently scratched and rubbed along his rib cage, which seemed to please him a great deal. As she increased the scratching and her vigorous pleasuring of him, he gave a feline moan, licking her face again.

Ayda leaned back and looked down; he had one leg hoisted, and his cock was already showing itself, filling and growing as it emerged from it’s black sheath. Those delicious nodules were filling out as his cock swelled and widened, as though longing for more.

“So that’s it,” she said in a soft, amused voice. She gave a slow, sultry sigh and slid down in the dirt. “I had a lover once, you know. It was years ago.” The fur of his belly tickled her face. “He was the son of my owner—I even got to sleep in his bed a few times, before he grew tired of me.” The cat gave what sounded like a puzzled grunt as she slid both hands around his wonderfully-thick shaft. “Let me show you a trick he taught me.” Ayda gave a tiny mewling sound before stretching her mouth open wide.

The panther’s cock was a different sort than what she was used to: hotter, smoother along its length, and certainly much thicker. It filled her mouth and knocked at the back of her throat before she had half of it in. The rows of thick bumps at the base of him—the things that had tied them together, giving her such hot, sensual bliss earlier that night—were evidently sensitive, and her four-legged lover growled and whined when she caressed them with her fingertips.

The cat’s growling turned into something closer to purring, which only grew in volume and speed as she continued; his hind legs twitched and jerked, threatening to scratch her once or twice. Ayda just smiled and stroked his heavy cock, finding she enjoyed his sounds of pleasure even more than a man’s.

“Is it good?” she murmured, pressing needy kisses to his furry belly. “Do my hands feel good? I’ll bet my mouth is even better.” Sucking him in between her lips again, Ayda crouched on all fours, head bobbing up and down, fingers curled tight in his fur, ears perked for every noise and breath he made.

When the beast gave a desperate sound, a loud whine that was followed by more panting, his mouth opened wide, Ayda pulled her mouth away with a small, pleased sounding laugh. “Alright, alright—I don’t need words to understand what that means.” The space they shared was small and low to the ground, so Ayda flattened herself on her back, opening her legs with her knees to the ground, spreading her cunt wide open for him. The cat twisted and turned in the small space, his body slithering about like a four-legged serpent as he crawled on top of her; his weight pressed her down, and his breath was a soft, whispering pant in the dark.

Reaching between them, Ayda took hold of his dick with a delicate touch, watching and feeling as she guided it into place. He immediately pushed forward, and she felt it slide right into the hot, snug channel of her waiting, wet cunny-hole. “Ahhh!” she called. “Just…as big…as I remembered. Goooooods!”

He was panting and groaning again, hind legs twitching. Ayda gave a long, delighted whine of pleasure and pushed up against him, rocking her hips, wanting to feel every inch of his red-hot dick in her pussy. “You feel so good!” she whined, her voice high and feral. She kept rocking, moving, bouncing herself up against his loins while he drove his feline shaft into her hot core again and again. “Why does it feel so good? Why? Ohhhhhh, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The panther curled his paws in a tight grip around her body, as if to keep her in place. Ayda laughed, delighted, thrilled, as she turned her face to rub her cheek up against his dark head. “No, I’m…I’m not going anywhere! I promis-hooohFUCK!” One especially deep thrust combined with his rutting hips and twitching back legs forced the swollen knobs inside her pussy lips and locked them together again. Ayda felt all the strength leave her body for a moment as she slumped beneath his heavy bulk, shivering and shaking all over. He hugged his long limbs tighter around her, possessive and hungry; it made her smile.

“It’s so goooooood,” she cooed, feeling his hips jerk and twitch violently as he began to cum. His shaft pulsed and flexed, grinding the little nodules against the sweet spots inside her quim. Her first orgasm went off like another blast of thunder—Ayda cried out, venting all of her pleasure and lust, heading it ring in her ears. Her feline lover raised his voice and yowled as well, hugging as tight as any human could.

“Yes! Yes! Mmmmm, I love it! I lo-o-ove it! So good, so good, it’s so fucking good!” Their conjoined muscles flexed and tightened, working in perfect sync together: he sprayed more and more of his potent seed into her belly and she squeezed and contracted her cunt muscles around him, urging more of his spunk to flow.

“Is it good? Does it feel good to fuck me, Master?” she said, half delirious with lust and delight, lost between old memories and new pleasure. Her entire body was clinging to him, wrapped around him, every lit nerve firing and sparking with pleasure. “Am I a good little girl for my hungry man? A good little cub for my big, strong panther? Don’t stop! Fuck me more! Ohhhhh gods—I wish you could fuck me like this every night!” Reaching down with one hand, Ayda cupped the swell of her lower belly, growing heavy and warm with every new jerking spurt of his dick, filling her with his potent seed.

“So good,” she whispered, eyes closed, smile wide and content. Ayda was floating on a cloud of constant, orgasmic bliss. “It’s so, so good. Thank you…thank you for saving me…for taking me…for fucking me this way…” Eventually her voice faded away for soft, happy humming of her breath, panting in time with his.

Ayda wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, bodies locked tight together, limbs intertwined, cock and cunt as one. The panther seemed content to lie on top of her, to fill his woman up with as much sperm as her belly could hold. Uncounted minutes passed, and Ayda let the sweet, warm feeling of pleasure and possessiveness—of him possessing and claiming her—carry her off to unconsciousness. As she drifted off to sleep, one discordant thought troubled her: the realization that she’d given her body to a beast twice in one night, of not really knowing why she’d so readily gone along with it. But Ayda was too tired to puzzle overlong about such things. Surely she’d have time to figure such things out another day…most definitely on another day.

Batihan was chief of the largest tribe of the children of Logga, the ape-men, likely the greatest fighting force in the entire Wood. He was an immense creature, the largest, strongest and most virile male, and that naturally accorded him the right to rule. That was the way of the apes: the strongest ruled, always. Batihan’s father, Gorgu, was the strongest once, until one of those accursed witches slew him without honor as befitting one of their ilk. Now Batihan was the strongest—he ruled by the strength of his fists, and he hated witches. With every muscle, cord and sinew of his being, he hated them. To the very tips of his silver fur and grey beard, he hated them. With every wild beat of his heart, he hated them. The fact that his beloved forest bore their name was insulting beyond measure.

That was a preview of Firebrand of the Witch Wood: Another Dark Fantasy Romance. To read the rest purchase the book.

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