An Aria for Annie


Annie reached into the sack and pulled out a long serrated kitchen knife. She sat down next to him on the slab and teased the tip along his bare chest, enjoying how his eyes went wide as the metal gleamed in the torchlight.

"What are you-" She slapped him again with her free left hand.

"I said, 'Don't talk,' okay?" A pointed glance at the knife made clear that next time it would be more than a slap that cut him off. "Now can you hold still for me, Runt?" He nodded, his eyes not leaving the blade lying along his abdomen.

She stood up and walked around to stand between his feet. Then she got down on her hands and knees between his legs, her head coming to just in line with his waistband.

"See, I was hoping to finish this part upstairs, but someone else finished made a move too early." She rubbed the edges of the knife along his thighs, drawing white lines of abraded skin just above his knees. She slid the tip of the knife under the inseam of his shorts. He barely stopped himself from whimpering, not sure what level of sound would be deemed unacceptable. When someone has a knife that close to your manhood, you think very carefully before saying anything, concussed or not.

Then Annie began cutting his furry shorts open. She cut all the way up the inside of each thigh, stopping just short of the center. She checked the knife for blood occasionally, but not as often as Tim would have liked. Then she cut the seams on the outside. Then she prodded him a bit, a malevolent grin on her face.

Then she pulled his tattered shorts away, and Tim was naked before the crowd, which had stayed silent through the affair. Sitting between his legs though, Annie had the best view of his flaccid cock in the room. Even having felt it against her through the thin fabric of her costume earlier, she was surprised at its size. It was at least seven inches while soft. She ran a smooth finger along the top of it, almost a caress, stopping just as she reached the head. Despite his horrifying position, Tim felt the familiar rush of arousal begin, and his member starting to harden.

"I guess you aren't quite ready then." Annie said with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment. She held the knife to her own throat and quickly sawed through the ragged ribbon choker. She put the knife back in the bag and stood up, her back to him. She undid the zipper running the full length of her left side and stood still as the last of her clothing fell away.

Tim certainly hadn't imagined the first time he saw her naked backside would be while he was chained to a stone slab in some dark revenge plot, but he had to admit it was still an enjoyable sight. Her firm ass cheeks looked as good as they had felt when the two had danced so close before, and the smooth expanse of her bare back, crowned by those dark red locks, would normally have him salivating. His cock leapt up in response, and then lay flat over him. It was clear he was going to have an erection whether the rest of him wanted to or not. At least some part of him was happy with the situation. The pain in his head had also ceased entirely, due to some combination of his arousal and whatever Breanne had forced into him.

Annie bent over, affording Tim an even better view of her bare ass, and also of the smooth lips on the other side. She reached into the sack and pulled out two small bags. One held a thick red liquid and the other a mix of brown and green powder. She turned to Tim, stepped onto the slab, straddled his chest and got down to her knees. Her pussy rested just below his sternum, and his hardening cock rested against her anal cleft. If he wasn't ready to go before, he certainly was now. His arousal was further aided by the magnificent view this position afforded him of her breasts.

They hung firmly on her chest, the soft skin unmarred but noticeably flush. Her areolas were only a thin pink ring around her nipples, stiffened and goose bumped, but whether from cold air or because he wasn't the only aroused person on this stone slab he couldn't say. Tim saw that the hard objects he had felt earlier were vertical barbell piercings, shining as red as her hair.

Annie didn't seem to notice his eyes any more, nor anyone else's, as she drew streaks on her arms and legs using the green and brown powder. She added a dash to the top of each breast, a circle on her abdomen, and finally one on her forehead. She next turned her ministrations to Tim, coating him similarly. His now throbbing shaft was pressed hard into her warm, welcome flesh when she leaned back to lay it along his legs, but she paid it no mind. He nearly moaned at the event, but knew the knife to still be nearby. If it weren't for the ring of gleeful pumpkins and silent people surrounding them, Tim could almost see this situation as merely rough and kinky foreplay.

Then Annie picked up the bag of red liquid and poured it in a ring over his chest. It was blood. Whose blood, even if it was human or animal blood, he didn't know, but that was the moment Tim concluded he was not going to get out of that room alive. Annie stood up and turned to face his feet. He saw again that undeniably arousing tail-end and slightly moistened, peeking open pussy between her invitingly firm thighs. If this was to be his last view, at least it was an enjoyable one. His cock was now as hard as it had ever been.

"We are now ready," Annie shouted to the room, taking a small step forward, "to begin the ceremony."

And then his old friend tiger costume shouted back, "They watch that we may wait."

The room erupted in a deep hum, or a wordless chant with whispers throughout. Through it he heard Breanne's now familiar voice announce, "The host may commence."

Annie turned back to face Tim and sat back down, this time keeping up on her knees. The head of his hard spear lay against the top of her slit, and he felt her heat and dampness along the underside. She reached into the bag and pulled the knife back out, laying it on the stone to the right of his ribs. With her other hand she slowly pressed the tip of his flesh against her clit, eliciting a moan from both of them. She kneeled down further, allowing the whole of his horizontal cock to push against her swollen lips. Very slowly she started to rock back and forth, rubbing her pussy against shaft, grinding it into his stomach. Tim gave up on having any other thoughts and decided to enjoy his last lay. He expected that knife to come for him any second but hoped he'd get to penetrate the hot woman riding him before it did. After grinding him a few times, Annie moved back up on her knees. His cock sprung back up, slick with her juices and his pre-cum, and yearning to enter her further. Grabbing it in her left hand and the knife in her right, Annie placed the knife on his chest, pointed towards his throat. She then began to recite.

"I, Annabel Whelan, do request an audience with the spirit of the forest." She pressed her right hand into the blood ring around Tim's chest.

"Oh great Hunter, I request the aspect of Our Lady of the Wolves. Mother of the Pack, She who Binds and Gathers us, She who Watches our Hunt, we seek your blessing on this hallowed night." She brought her right hand to her face and made three vertical marks across it with the blood.

"We seek your protection and leadership, that you hold us as brethren through our coming trials and prevent that which would lead us astray." She gripped the base of his cock tightly, holding it up and pointed towards her.

"We ask your guidance as we seek our prey, that you lead us to our mark and prevent that which would lend our quarry refuge." And on that Annie released her knees and slid down onto his cock. Despite how hard he was and how slick she must have been, he felt an unexpected amount of resistance. Then he saw the blood drip down his shaft.

"We offer you through the virgin vessel the life and blood of our prey, freshly caught. Our Lady of the Moon, Our Lady of the Pack, Our Lady of the Hunt. We give you this prey that you might feast." With both hands now she pressed the tip of the knife against Runt's collarbone until it started to bleed, then dragged it down to the center of his ribs. She felt him buck under her, felt that throbbing cock she had waited so long for be the first to pulse against her inner walls, and she brought that shining, lovely knife to her mouth.

As she tasted his blood on her tongue, Annabel smiled triumphantly; she had finished the hardest part of the ritual. The rest would carry itself through. She reached into the bag and pulled out the last item she had chosen to bring into the circle with her, the circle she would not leave until dawn.

Tim was shocked, with the meager ability he had left to feel anything, to see Annie pull his wolf hat out of the bag and place it on her own head with a smirk. Annie let out a surprisingly convincing howl, and the rest of the room joined in. She leaned forward and lapped the blood straight from his chest. She whispered to his ear, over the continued wild timbre of the crowd.

"What's wrong Runt? Haven't you ever heard of a wolf in sheep's clothing?"

She sat back up with a laugh and began to rock on his swollen member again. She shouted the litany this time, punctuating every few words by thrusting herself onto the long hard cock that was now inside her.

"I! Annabel Whelan! Do request an audience! With the spirit! Of the forest!"

And now the crowd answered her back. "Oh great Hunter, we your pack request the aspect of Our Lady of the Wolves!"

"Mother of the Pack!" Annie shouted, thrusting faster now, out of time with the words and even more aggressively. "She who Binds and Gathers us!

The room took over again. "She who Watches our Hunt! We seek your blessing on this hallowed night." And while they spoke, this time Annie dipped her fingers in the blood still dripping from the slash she had made in Tim's chest, in Runt's chest, and drew it down her face, freshening the marks.

The crowd continued the chant for two more phrases as Annie rode him, faster and harder. Tim couldn't help letting out another moan, and she moaned with him. And then it was her turn to speak again.

"We offer you through this virgin vessel the life and blood of our prey, freshly caught." She ran the knife down his side, smiling, and he didn't even feel it. He welcomed it.

"Our Lady of the Moon!" The crowd shouted, those still wearing anything tossing their robes aside. "Our Lady of the Pack! Our Lady of the Hunt!"

She licked the blood off of the knife again and slashed his chest twice. He grinned. She laughed, and her laughter turned to moans as she slammed down on his cock to the hilt, again, and again. He felt her walls tighten around his shaft, tighten and pulse, and he finally couldn't hold it back any more. He felt the explosion in his cock as he came inside the woman who brought him here to die.

He breathed heavily and let his chest fall, blinking quickly as he started to feel the pain in his head return as the rush left him. Annie lay over him, not removing his cock from inside her, and closed her mouth on his for a last lover's kiss. He felt her rake the knife along his side again and winced.

But when she pulled away, the knife sat gleaming on the stone next to him, and Annie was licking her sharp, black nails.

And as she took on the aspect of Our Lady of the Wolves, as her face began to elongate and her hair become darker and coarse, Annabel Whelan leaned over Runt's chest, covered in both his own blood and that of his chauvinistic roommate, and inhaled that wondrous scent. Gwen had told her what a treat it was to feel the edge of the change, to see how delicious all that blood would begin to smell as your senses heightened and sharpened.

And the last words she spoke to Tim Ryan, the last words he ever heard, were as she went to clamp her newly grown jaws around his oh-so-appetizing neck, "Your loyal pack, we give you this prey that you might feast."


"Oh yes, everything went fine with the ceremony."

"Oh, no, I meant no disrespect to your knowledge, Mathuin. Yes the lights, certainly. Yes they are shining beautifully, of course."

"Well those would be dimming at this time of year."

"No, no, Ulchaban, certainly not early, last year's was of course most well-received, yes, and we do not anticipate any delays, no."

"No more than the usual mess. All the documents were accounted for well in advance, absolutely. They won't know a thing."

"I certainly can. Yes. Yes. She performed quite admirably."

"I'm sure they will."

"I don't mean to presume, no, I apologize, certainly."

"Everything is under control."

"Yours. Yes, of course Mathuin, yours."

"Thank you for this audience, gentlemen."

Breanne hung up the phone with relief; the monthly conferences with the high clergy were always nerve-wracking. If there were ever a mistake in one of the rituals -- even in just her reports about them - she knew they'd have her head for it. She stood up from her desk and opened the window to watch the sun rising. It had been a long night, as always, at the end of a long month, but it was finally October 31, and she could relax for a few days before getting back to her duties.

They had only two months to prepare for the winter solstice, after all.

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