Daughter of the Witch Wood Pt. 08

08.

The Beginning of the Ending

More nights passed and San tended to Ustal's needs whenever she could. She was also given more indigents to harvest, but found their screams and cries for mercy bothersome and irritating—she was doing them a favor, cutting their miserable lives short and allowing them to serve a greater purpose besides. The pitiful creatures didn't see it that way, of course. But then, they never did.

She gifted her mate three more hearts for the trouble, bearing them with her as she emerged from her little den, lightly touched with blood and foulness. Three more bear-men warriors awaited her on their knees, while Ustal and his fearsome army looked on—they were a small force, really, just over fifty men in total, but that was still a larger number than the entire wolf tribe if Ustal's scouts were to be believed.

San carried the bowl of hearts to a small, stone table and set it down, looking at each of the bear warriors in turn—she didn't know or remember any of their names, but they weren't important enough to remember. "Are your chosen men ready, great chieftain?"

Ustal stood behind the three men, who in turn were on their knees. "They are ready."

She looked at each man in turn, thinking they look more torn between nervousness and disdain of her. "What I give you is a gift from my god. It will change you, but it shall also make you invincible. Are you ready?"

They nodded. One of them, an especially lecherous sort, was eyeing her naked body with undisguised lust, ravishing her with his eyes like he wanted to grab her by the neck and bend her over the table in front of every man watching. Not that she could blame him; San knew that half of the men in the tribe wanted her.

Men were so easily manipulated. It was true of Ustal, and true of all of them. San only knew one man who was strong enough to resist her temptations, but he wasn't as thick-headed as these bears anyway.

She'd kept her hands bloody for the ceremony, since they weren't likely to stay clean anyway. Picking the bowl back up again, she walked towards them. "Each of you, take one of what I offer—steel your hearts for what I command of you next." The black hearts were wet and heavy, dripping with fluid as each man took one. This wasn't the first, or even the tenth such ritual, but still she saw at least one of them hesitate for the briefest instant before taking the black, corrupted lump of muscle in his hands.

No one said anything, but San noted the man's reluctance all the same. She found it more amusing than anything else—these were trained killers and abductors of women, siring and whelping cubs on them, keeping them naked and helpless in their dens—yet some still hesitated to touch a lump of dead flesh.

"These offerings will grant you the strength three- or four-times over beyond anything you know now, either as man or bear." She held for a moment on ceremony, looking all of them in the eye again. "If you wish to attain such power, consume the heart whole—waste nothing, lest the god of the earth deny you his boon."

They looked at their given offerings and began to take big, meaty bites of the black muscle. The look on the one man's face, the one who'd hesitated to take the heart, said that it had a foul taste, making his eyes water, but he ate it all the same. None of them vomited it back up, at least—Ustal had torn the arms off the last man who'd done that.

Once the hearts were consumed, San stretched her hands out towards them. "Umakyun," she said—kar flowed through her, up through the soles of her feet and out her opened hands. It was a quicker summoning of her god's power, with none of the violation of the ritual she used to imbue power in the hearts themselves, but a quick summoning versus a full ritual was both less potent and much more tiring by comparison.

The chaotic magics contained in the black vessels, now torn to pieces and resting inside the bear-men's bellies, woke up at the sound of her voice and the single word. The warriors fell to the stones and writhed, screaming, belching smoke and green froth from their open mouths. Their faces were a mask of agony; their eyes burned with unholy light.

Ustal stepped to San's side as they watched the men twist and roll about, beating their fists against the ground, shrieking like demons. "How many do you expect to survive this time?" she asked, unconcerned by their screams.

"Two, maybe—perhaps all three, if the gods are in a good mood."

"They so rarely are," San said, forcing a sigh of concern. This was the last batch of warriors before Ustal intended to march—so long as one of them survived, that was good enough for her.

In another minute or so, it was over. All three of them stopped their writhing. Two of the three men spat out a mouthful of blood and froth and pushed to their feet; their limbs were trembling and they both stank of piss, but they'd survived the procedure.

The last one, the man who'd been raping San with his eyes, who'd hesitated to take the heart in his hands, didn't move at all at first. When he finally raised his head, he gave a roar and his bones began to break; his back swelled and fur broke out over his bare flesh like black weeds. In moments, a great black bear stood in his place, but he didn't speak again or even move, aside from his breathing.

"Damnit, Irmak," Ustal said, scowling at the bear. "I was counting on you surviving this."

"My apologies, Great Chief," San said. "The black heart knows a warrior's true mettle better than he knows it himself." The potent magic contained in the heart had burned out the man's conscious mind; he had reverted to his bestial nature and would never change back again. Ustal had several such bears now—they were capable of following basic commands and orders, but they were useless as more than simple foot soldiers.

"Yes, yes," the chief said, growling in anger. "One of you, get him out of here." He waved the bear away. The beast swung his head in confusion before following the strong hand of one warrior who grabbed Irmak by the thick scruff of his neck and led him away.

"You two," Ustal said to the survivors, "are you ready?"

They slammed their fists to their chests. "Yes, Chieftain!"

He nodded. "Administer the test."

The two men stood tall and unbending as several bear-men stepped closer. One of them carried an uprooted sapling as thick as San's arm—he raised it high and brought it down over the shoulders of one man. The blow struck hard enough to splinter and crack the tree in half, but the bear-man shrugged it off with little more than a grunt.

Another carried a flint knife. He grabbed the arm of the second survivor by the wrist, raised it, then slowly drew the black edge across his flesh. Blood welled and ran in a thick curtain down his arm to drip onto the floor, but the man watched with surprise and some pleasure at seeing the wound caused him no pain or trouble at all.

Ustal grunted. "Very good. Make ready to march, all of you—soon, we feast on wolf cubs and make their women our own!" The sound of their combined shouts made San's ears ring. Ustal pushed through the crowd and his warriors followed him, fists and voices raised with adulation.

San left the bowl for the flies to sup on and went to clean herself up. She was bristling with excitement, practically feeling it hum beneath her skin, and although a part of it was on account of Ustal finally making ready to move, there was a much more important matter on her mind.

She had been summoned.

—

It was the way of the Bhalot to fatten themselves on stored food and gorge their fat bellies on fermented tudsa wine the night before a battle—the blood-red liquor made from forest berries was thick and sweet, and drinking enough of it left them feeling intoxicated and invincible. The only thing was, thanks to San, now they actually were.

The laughter of the men echoed throughout the falls, but San didn't stay around to hear it. She slipped away in the midst of their merrymaking after cleaning herself up from her labors, slipping off into the deeper forest without anyone noticing—even the usual perimeter guards were invited to the feast, so no one saw her disappear.

The moon was thick and high overhead, a winter's moon that promised the arrival of more rain, but then, that was almost every single day during the rainy season. Thunder and heavy clouds would do nothing to dampen the spirits of the warriors celebrating tonight, and would only serve to cover her tracks.

The chosen meeting place was an abandoned den, out of sight of any prying eyes. When she reached it, San looked for the sign, saw it tucked away next to a loose rock by the opening: a small pouch that contained a pinch of dried purple turimyk petals. The flowers bearing those petals were frequently found in human lands beyond the borders of the Witch Wood; the humans called it by its other name, "wolfsbane."

Within the forest itself, all of the beast-men tribes—bear and wolf, cobra and eel, panther and hawk and ape and basilisk alike—crushed, uprooted or burned any bush or vine that bore the telltale purple blossoms. Just handling those petals or breathing in their scent promised discomfort or death to any beast-man unfortunate enough to encounter them. To San, they were harmless—whether a witch or not, she was only human. She'd picked them herself, placed them in that same spot, and finding them undisturbed meant that their meeting place was still secret.

She closed the pouch tight and tucked it away carefully within a hallow in the rocks, making sure not to wave it in the direction of the den's opening. San checked all about for a moment to ensure she wasn't followed, then ducked down and slipped into the darkness of the cave beyond. She slid down a slope of loose earth and into a black pit—during the daytime, sunlight snuck into the den through a dozen different cracks, showing a dome-shaped space just large enough for her to stand upright. At night, it was a pitch-black hole.

Then, she waited. Seconds turned into minutes, and time got on until it melted into a span of empty nothingness. When she saw the shine of eyes in the dark, San didn't even have enough time to take a breath before a pair of hands grabbed her, lifting her bodily up and crushing her to the ground. A hand pressed tight over her mouth and nose, silencing her to the point of even drawing breath; a heavy weight pressed down on her back, pinning her in place. San's heart was pounding in her chest so hard she wondered if it might break a rib, but she didn't struggle.

A long, tense, breathless moment later, the hand over her face went slack enough for her to take a slow, silent breath. "Seems you weren't followed," said a familiar dark, silken voice from over her shoulder.

San shook her head quickly, not speaking.

"Good girl." It was her secret contact, the one she'd spoken to on the cliffs near Ustal's den. It was equally frightening and arousing just how he moved and manipulated her; those strong hands pushed her onto her back, and then his mouth was crushing against hers, driving the breath from her lungs in a very different way.

She whimpered like the helpless thing she was and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing so tight her shoulders burned as the kiss lingered and lasted for a long, luscious moment. When he broke it, she heaved with a heavy, gasping breath, certain that if she'd had any light to see by, her vision would be blurring over. "Gods below, but I missed you," she said.

"And I you," he said. When his hand brushed between her legs, San whimpered again, opening them so wide her hips felt ready to pop.

"Now, please," she begged. "I can't wait any longer."

"Your man might be looking for his 'Little Bear' later," he said, and thrust a pair of thick, curled fingers into her cunt, sawing away between her tight lips, rubbing against her inner sweet spot hard enough to make her squeal. "I can't risk him smelling another man's scent on you."

"Please! Oh, please, more! I need you!" She bucked her bare hips against his hand and loving fingers, craving his touch so much it felt like she'd been starving for it. In truth, she had—the memory of his voice hadn't been enough to satisfy her on those warm, lonely nights in Ustal's bed. When she reached out to touch him, to run her greedy hands all over his chest and shoulders, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head and into her hair.

She came in moments, and the force of it was ripped from her lungs in a shout until, like before, he clamped a hand down over her mouth to silence her. Her hands free, San grabbed his wrist and rolled her eyes back, shuddering violently from the combination of her orgasm and the need to breathe. Her secret lover knew just what buttons she had and how to press them in all the right ways. It was one reason she loved him, one among so many.

When he removed his hand again, she took another greedy breath and reached out for him, hands clawing in the dark until she felt his chest and threw her arms around him, nuzzling against him, cooing like a newborn. When she felt him embrace her, San's heart just about burst with happiness. "Oh, thank you," she said, rubbing her cheek and nose to his chest, kissing up under his strong, handsome jaw. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"All for being my best good girl," he said, stroking her head. His other hand rested between her opened legs, giving slow, sweet caresses up and down the soft cleft of her pussy. It all felt so good, so unbelievably amazing that San was sure she might die. "Now: report, my love."

"Yes." She opened her eyes, staring into the blackness, trying to focus past the fingers teasing her heart and other, needier body parts. "Ustal has the last of his soldiers—over fifty bear-men and another six or so bears who failed the ceremony. He already announced to his men that they're moving on the wolves next."

"Excellent." Such a feverish excitement was in his voice that she bit her lip to keep from reacting beyond another eager shiver. "Once the remaining few of the old wolves are swept away, the survivors should be easy to find and collect, or pick off one by one."

"And then you'll make a fine chieftain of the New Children of Kelash," she told him. He was unlike any other man she'd ever met, but he still had an ego, same as any other. San said it because she knew he'd want to hear it, but also because she believed it was true.

"You and I will lead them together," the man said to her. His hand between her legs was making San think twice about his refusal to take her out of some needless fear about Ustal finding out.

She squirmed in his lap, the same way she always did. "The bears are drunk on wine and boasts of their own victory," she said, turning to straddle him, kissing up his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe. "It's been so long..." San added a little whine to her voice as she begged him, knowing he liked that. "Can't we risk it this one night, please?"

"San." His voice was like ice, cutting through her pleading like the edge of the blade on her kollik, but it still turned her on nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," she said, still writhing in his lap, turning to straddle him. His cock was warm but too soft to penetrate her, so she rubbed her wet cunt against it; he still felt so good that she couldn't help but to keep going, to keep wanting him. Pressing her mouth to the side of his neck, she licked at his rugged flesh. "Let me take you in my mouth, please. Or use your tongue to make me scream again. I need you tonight, I need you so fucking bad I might scream. After sharing that man's bed, riding his cock, being a little cock-tease for his fantasy, over and over and over again..."

His laugh was soft and slithered between her legs, wriggling inside of her in all sorts of pleasurable ways. "Don't be so modest, little girl—Ustal might have his fantasy, but you still love to play your part."

San sighed, taking his hands and pressing them against her ass while she writhed against him. It felt like her efforts at tempting him were failing, but she wasn't going to stop until he threw her away. "That's true," she admitted, "but he's nothing like you. He's so hairy...and round." She could feel her lover's manhood starting to stir, and she decided to take a different tactic. "I mean, day after day, night after night—wriggling under him, squeezing his cock inside me, letting him fill me with his cum again and again..."

She licked his mouth, tongue sliding between his lips in a bold, deliberate kiss. She knew he might still reject her, but hoped his desire would win out. "He's nothing like you. You feel so much better, and I don't have to pretend to be happy when you fill all of my hot, little holes with your cock and make my belly warm with your seed... Don't you miss me?"

"Always," he said, growling the word into her mouth as, for a moment, he returned her kiss with all the need and desire she had for him.

When he moved, it was so fast that she tumbled end over end. San hit the ground on her stomach so hard her head started spinning, not knowing which was was up or down. But then she felt him grinding against her ass as he spoke into her ear: "And if you're going to be such a dirty little girl, I'm going to take you like one."

San bit her lip and quivered with excitement when she felt the wet, swollen tip of her lover's cock press against the tight star between her ass cheeks, and let out her breath in a long, steady moan as he penetrated her, driving in and down in a slow push so that she could feel his body crushing hers.

"Yes," she said, whimpering the word over and over. "Yes. Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Yes!"

He gave her enough room to breath, but his body was hard and heavy atop hers as he took her tight little backside. Flesh slapped against flesh and she grunted with every deep thrust as he filled her up. She lost herself, lost control, started hissing into the dark: "You like that? You like fucking my ass? Can't fuck my pussy or the Old Bear will know, but you'd fuck my little bottom all night if you could, wouldn't you?"

He chuckled, sounding a bit winded, but then, so was she. Pinning her hands over her head, he slid his body across hers, rocking with his hard thrusting, making her toes curl from the force and roughness he used to take his pleasure from her. San loved to feel him that way, and she clawed at the dirt with every push and sweet sensation of his cock inside of her, like she wanted to squeeze around him so tight he could never pull out.

San gave a gulping gasp and a cry when he pushed especially deep and she felt him tie with her. The sensation, the feeling of being so full was delicious agony. "Mmmmmmmmmmm!" Her breaths became rough and ragged, like she was drowning, as his swollen cock pulled against her tense sphincter; she clenched up, wishing she could curl her whole body into a ball and squeeze his dick until he came.

"Close now," he whispered into her ear.

It was like a spark hitting a stack of kindling. San arched her back, closed her eyes, opened her mouth wide as she murmured with each new push. "Yes, yes, more, so good, so good, so—fucking—good!" Cumming when he fucked her ass was harder than when he took her cunny-hole, but that wasn't saying much because he was so good at breaking her no matter how he fucked her. She writhed and fought his grasp, but he had a hold on her that she couldn't get away from, and that only made her climax that much sweeter and more powerful.

She knew he came when his cock pulsed and flexed inside of her, and let out a soft, prolonged hum of satisfaction, imagining its hot, thick presence in her belly. Pleasing him was a reward all by itself; her orgasm, which still shivered in her cunt and fizzled in her nipples like fireworks, was the sweetest kind of bonus.