Thlayli’s Stash

Too slow.

Too loud.

Too much dew to slick the soles of your feet as you ran from death.

Through dense thickets and towering trees, there wasn’t an end in sight. Lost, but still moving. You had to keep moving.

You weren’t going to make it. You were. You weren’t. It didn’t matter. You had to try.

Because if you stopped, that was it.

Your ragged pants grew into chest-bursting gasps—unused to pushing yourself this hard—whipping past trees and fallen branches and thorny brush. The night was eerily silent (or perhaps it was you that had gone deaf?). All the animals must’ve hid themselves away by now, much better at being prey than you were. Here, the only breathing thing left in these woods was you.

Because that thing surely didn’t breathe. Not like you did.

Uneven ground caused your ankle to twist and slip. You cried out, but carried on. It was all you could do.

You ran just as fast, if not faster, the adrenaline keeping you afloat. But you could hear him getting closer. If you slowed, he would kill you. If you stopped, he would kill you.

Just on the edge of hearing, a steady thump, thump, thump bounded down the path. You remembered his breathy laugh in your ear, the mocking, the wild look in his eye. He was a daemon, or maybe just a beast—coming straight for you.

Hah. Hah.

It wasn’t your fault.

You clawed through leaves that crowded the way. You urged your body to go faster, move lighter, survive, survive, survive.

It was all you could do.

But it still wasn’t enough.

He had gotten too close, too fast. How did you not hear it? The creature in the shape of a man pulling your desperate form back by the thin fabric of your night gown. Curling his arms around your torso like a steel cage. His mouth parted next to your ear as he pulled you against his chest; scaring you half to death with those wet, jagged teeth sticking out like spines.

“No, no, no, no, no… please, please!—” You tried to twist. Almost strangling yourself with the force at which you pulled and jerked away. But his hold was absolute.

You could feel his warm breath steam across your cheek. Sighing something pleased now that you’ve both had a good run and some liveliness in your bones. But it was over now, and hush, shhhh, it’s okay, you’ve lost.

You expected him to tear your throat out, or perhaps strangle you and feast on your organs; your mind coming up with more and more terrifying ways this was going to end.

But no, he did something unexpected instead.

He forced your head to the side and kissed you.

“Mmph!”

His tongue prodded deep with endless drool falling into your mouth. He laved over teeth, tongue, and the silky sides of your mouth, until there was nothing but him, him, him. It was a viscous, uncomfortable thing. Devouring your lips and pressing into the depths of your mouth like he wanted to bury himself inside and never be removed.

It was humiliating, it was gross, it was warm.

You felt so warm. A little voice in the back of your brain told you something was off, but everywhere he touched grew hot. A spreading, blooming fuzziness that seeped into your muscles and made you feel oh, so soft.

“Hm! Mm, oh…” Your struggles faded with the static in your bones. Not because you wanted to, but because you couldn’t control the use of your limbs anymore. Which was more terrifying than if he just killed you.

He groaned, animal-like and pleased at your compliance. Letting his grip soften, letting his kiss turn sensual and firm. You could make out a growing hardness pressing into you from behind, and, with disgust, you could recognize the slow, thick movements of him grinding into your body.

He let you fall to the ground. Grunting and satisfied with the toxin taking hold. Your body completely limp, muscles unresponsive and tight as he moved you the way he wanted. Pulling your knees up, pushing your face down, spreading your thighs to make room for himself behind you.

His too long, too bony fingers dug into the dirt beside your waist. Panting and sighing as he pushed himself against your thigh. You could feel his clothed cock rub back and forth onto you, stroking himself into a fever. Whining as he grasped your hip, curling over you to gain leverage, humping your leg like if he didn’t he’d die.

You weren’t dumb, you knew what he wanted, but that didn’t mean you were ready for how it felt.

That strange warmth clouded your thoughts, made it hard to think. But it was like each nerve had been massaged and heightened to the point his touch on you started to feel good. You started to sweat. You couldn’t move, but a whimper still escaped your lips. His rubbing on your leg feeling like a warm hand on your cunt.

Your face was pressed into the dirt; you tried to move your fingers, even an inch, but all you could manage was desperate twitching as he pressed up on your leg.

He shredded your night gown with ease and in his haste he nicked your back with his claws.

You waited for the pain, but it didn’t come.

In fact, it didn’t hurt at all.

As the blood bubbled from the cut all you could do was moan.

Exposed. Frozen. And open—your cunt begging to be filled. It was all he could do to free his cock fast enough, pushing into your sensitive entrance with a growl.

You could hear him snarl above you—possessively digging into your hips, drawing blood with his claws, licking and mouthing at your shoulder blade. His tongue on your back brought a sharp jolt straight to your clit, his spit turning the spot sensitive and tender. So good that when he bit in, you came with a surprised, choked gasp. Cunt squeezing and milking his cock as he drove in faster. You heard him gulp and swallow before lapping at the wound. That warmth pushing into your veins and making it feel so, damn good.

Your whole body was a living nerve, sweating and feverish and sensitive. Every touch felt like a thousand, every groan amplified a hundred times in your ear. You could feel another orgasm quickly approaching as he bit and soothed, bit and soothed, all while driving desperately into your core.

Your second peak was just as intense as the first time, if not more so. Gushing wetness over his cock and making him laugh and growl in equal measure.

“Mine,” was the first word you’ve heard out of him all night. Repeating it like a brand, mine, mine, mine.

Quick and easy, he flipped you over. Spreading you out again. Pushing back into your dripping cunt. Indecent sounds filling the quiet night air as your pussy swallowed him over and over again.

You weren’t even allowed to cry, helpless as you were. The most you could manage being a slight twitch of your brow.

Your head lolled off to the side, and in your madness you thought you saw the vacant eyes of your ma and da staring back at you. He had killed them, this beast set on ruining you. Charmed your sleepy parents and killed them right in front of your eyes, before looking at you, stepping aside, and just daring you to try and run.

You knew now, he only did it to play with you some more. Perhaps make his meal taste sweeter with an adrenaline high.

It didn’t matter, not now, not when he sucked your bare breast to feel all your muscles grip him tight. You could feel another wave, as impossible as it was, and when he pressed his tongue flat against your nipple it crested. Your body giving another spasm of wetness and clenching that had him burying to the hilt.

When he broke the skin of your breast, you think you came again, but you weren’t sure. All the pleasure and peaks blending together until your mind gave under the strain.

He took your knees in his hands, pressing them up and up and up until they strained next to your head. The angle hitting even deeper than before as he kept you there.

“Please…” you tried to stutter out, but your vocal cords wouldn’t respond. Stop. More. Harder. Ruin me, hit me, bleed me, bleed me, bleed me.

Your whole body convulsed, less of a body and more of a mindless, pleasure-filled puddle. A soft, wet, clenching thing for him to fuck and eat and fill with sensation. As your fifth (or maybe seventh?) orgasm hit, that was all you were: Sensation. Your body trying and failing, to give anything else. Running out of steam, out of blood, out of mind.

He nuzzled at the tender flesh of your throat—bite marks littering your entire body, blood leaking into the soft Earth—and with one final thrust, he latched onto your neck and pumped your body full of his spend.

A ridge at the base of his cock started to swell, his grinding turned to pushing you back and forth as he locked himself inside. If you had any capacity of mind you would be horrified, but in this moment all you could think about was how good the stretch felt. Plugging you up and fitting you together. A warm, comforting weight after an endless burn of friction.

He drank from your sweet neck, making your head spin and your vision give out. Your eyes fluttered closed—head completely empty—as you wallowed in a body ruined. But you didn’t know, couldn’t know, that he would wait for you to wake to do it all again.

Filling you up, making you cum over and over and over, until it took. Until you swelled up nice and pretty for him.

But for now, he would let you rest, laying his head on your body, curling and purring around you while he plugged you up. Taking in all the comfort your body could provide.