The beastmen are known as vicious raiders attacking villages to kill, pillage and take what they want. Now Twyla is their captive, and she is faced with a choice - be sold into slavery by them or mate with one of their warriors. For Twyla, the choice is easy and introduces her to pleasures she never imagined. More
The beastmen are known as vicious raiders attacking villages to kill, pillage and take what they want. Now Twyla is their captive, and she is faced with a choice - be sold into slavery by them or mate with one of their warriors. For Twyla, the choice is easy and introduces her to pleasures she never imagined.
This 3155-word story contains monster sex and a young woman being stretched to the limits in more ways than one as she mates to survive.
"The inside of the tent was filthy and smelled of rank fur. A series of slashes had been painted on the wall with clay accompanied by more of the strange sigils she had seen outside. The floor of the tent was littered with ragged blankets but the interior was surprisingly warm. In one corner of the tent was a skull atop a small pile of bones, its long horns and vicious fangs showing it had once belonged to one of the beastmen. A dead rival, maybe? Her captor dropped his weapon on the floor inside the tent flap; a huge, crude club, banded with pig iron along its length. Twyla cast an eye at the weapon but it was as thick as her leg and she doubted she would even be able to lift it. Casting her eyes up, Twyla took her first good look at her captor. His legs were those of a goat and covered in coarse brown fur, a mottled grey loincloth was tied around his waist. His torso was similar to a man but thicker and heavily muscled with patches of fur which grew into a full coat at his shoulders. His brow carried the same curled horns as most beastmen and a small scruff of fur grew from his chin. His face was unnaturally flattened and his nose faded into his brow in the same way as a cat. His one ear was pointed, the other having been ripped away at some point, leaving behind an angry scar.
“You woman,” he spoke and his voice was a low growl that seemed to be trying to bark. Twyla nodded: yes, she was a woman. “We mate,” the creature informed her.
“No,” Twyla yelped, “we not mate.”
The creature's brow furrowed in thought. “We mate,” it said again, “or you sold.” "
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