Hunter's MoonbyLost Boy©
The hunter's moon shone brightly as Veronica walked home alone from the dance. It was cooler than she had anticipated and so wore nothing warmer than a silk blouse and short skirt on. She rubbed her arms frequently trying to fight off the chill. Her 'glorious' boyfriend had decided to dump her tonight of all nights. She had stormed out without a ride and without money to take a taxi home. She fumed and bitched the entire time home. A breeze sprung up and the chill became a bitter wind. She cursed her boyfriend, correction ex-boyfriend and hoped his car blew up on the way home. The wind's intensity increased and Veronica was forced to make a choice. Either she continued on her path or ducked through the woods bordering her backyard.
If she went through the woods then she could shave a whole half hour off her time getting home. But they have pulled bodies out of the Lost Woods as the locals called them. Veronica was not a local, her dad had gotten yet another new job and moved everyone here. It was as bad as being an army brat, never settling in for long and constantly making new friends. She had not yet developed the force field defense, the attitude of not approaching anyone for fear of getting close and then moving away without warning. A gust of icy wind answered her question for her, Her nipples were already threatening to break off, Veronica thought it would have been sexy not to wear a bra and now regretted that decision. Without hesitation or fear she ducked into the woods and headed for home. The trees were thick and the wind not so brisk here. The path twisted and turned here and there. It made its serpentine way through the ancient oaks and maples, now and again Veronica could hear water trickling by meandering to some unknown and shadowy destination. The woods were very dark and little moonlight could make its way to light the path through the heavy crisscrossed tree limbs. So it was without warning and her hurried pace that caused her to misstep and fall face first into the stream. With an angry scream Veronica gained her feet and looked down at her drenched form.
"Shit! No way I just soaked myself to the bone." A stray gust of wind found her and shivering she continued her way home. With a steady stream of curses she continued through the woods to find her suddenly and inexplicably lost. Her lovely alto voice was raised in fury as one expletive hung on the night air for any and all to hear. She stood there grasping for breath as she tried to find out where she had made a wrong turn. Veronica's arms were crossed over her chest protecting her sensitive nipples from further harm. She closed her eyes and pictured her path, but most of it had been so deep in shadow that she could not be certain where she had gone wrong. Tears threatened to burst from her but she knew panic was not the answer. Veronica grabbed hold of her emotions and let logic take over for a while. She needed shelter from the wind and a fire to dry off; she could suffer from hypothermia out here. Veronica walked on seeing forward as good a direction as any for right now.
Maybe she would recognize some part of the path or a landmark that would point her in the right direction. Hopes held high she traveled on and kept her senses keen for any sight or sound that could help her. It was her nose that leads her to the camp. She smelled food; just a hint at first but soon her mouth was watering from the smell of cooked meat. And cooked meat meant a fire, and that meant warmth. She soon saw the small blaze ahead of her and Veronica cautiously made her way forward. She never saw the tripwire and found her self on the ground with bells ringing nearby. A dark figure appeared from the direction of the fire and knelt next to her with a gleaming knife in their hand.
"Well Mon Cher, what do we have here?" His Cajun accent was thick, as was the unwashed scent that surrounded him. "Come mon petit," his strong hands helped her to her feet. When she stood erect she finally saw the man who helped her, he was gorgeous. Yes he was dressed in shabby rags, he was unshaved and stank of sweat and other things but he was quite striking in face and body. His long black hair was plastered to his head, but his bright blue eyes shone in the half-light. His features were strong and rugged, and he moved like a great cat, silent and mercurial.
"Come to the fire and warm yourself, Old John will not harm you little one."
His accent was seductive with a subtle power and charm. She followed him into the camp and saw he was indeed alone. She squatted by his fire and warmed her hands and body. Her skirt rode up revealing her white thong against the dark cotton of her skirt. Old John, as he called himself, sat on the ground nearby and brazenly watched her. He looked her up and down and smiled appreciatively. Her long silky mane and shapely body were backlit by the moon but the firelight revealed even more. Her dark areoles were heavily pronounced as her large breasts pressed against the wet translucent material. Veronica was not sure how to take this form of advance, handsome or no he could be dangerous. She could not stop him if he tried anything; he was taller and obviously much stronger. She had screamed once this evening with no result, who would hear her cries if he raped her. Show no fear she told herself, fear would be her undoing of that she was absolutely certain.
"What are you doing out her Old John?" She asked proud the way her voice sounded, calm and in control.
"Well petit one, I wander this great land and see what the world has to offer. But you my pretty why are you traveling all alone in this dangerous woods?" When he said dangerous her skin crawled. Her thoughts were jumbled and she paused for a long drawn out moment. "He left you eh? Old John understands the ways of boys and girls." Her eyes narrowed at that, she was not a 'girl'. Veronica considered herself a young woman and to hell with this bum. Old John laughed and nearly fell in the blaze. "Oh I apologize pretty one with no name." He smiled at her, perfect teeth with a little staining but a dazzling smile nonetheless. "But your face was truly funny."
"I am the one who should be sorry. My name is Veronica and I am walking home after my ex-boyfriend dumped me at the school dance tonight." Her fury at being called a child had let her mouth spill out information he did not need to know. "You have been so kind with you fire and all." Trying to salvage the situation and keep a certain distance between her and Old John.
"Oh no cher, you do not have to apologize to one such as I." He caught her eye and held it as he continued. "I am after all just a wanderer and must look quite unlike your friends. A bum is what the locals call me. But you are not from around her eh my pretty one." Her look of concern slipped past her defenses. "Your accent is as heavy as mine mon petit." He looked at the moon and then back at her. "I would say you come from Florida originally." Old John could see by her look of surprise that he had hit home with his guess.
"You may not hear the timber in your voice but it is there. I have been many places and have heard all the voices of mankind. But tell me, are you hot my dear?" Veronica shot him a warning look. "I mean dry… are you dry my dear?"
Her features softened a little and she could only nod. She decided she liked this Cajun despite his appearance and smell he was a good man at heart.
"You are hungry, no?" She nodded and took the bit of chicken he offered. He offered a bottle next, "A little wine for the young woman to wash down her meal." Veronica was not a big drinker but didn't want to offend. She took a sip of the sour mix, obviously out here he had no way to keep the wine from going bad, but it did warm her belly. Another piece of chicken and more wine and the fuzzy good feeling stole over her. She sat hard on the ground and stared into the fire. Old John walked over and sat next to her, he returned the stopper on the wine and set it aside. "You have had quite enough mon petit." Veronica hardly heard him the roar of the fire was so intense all of a sudden. She felt his hands come from behind and cup her breasts, his large fingers teasing her nipples. She moaned and leaned against him, "I like that, a lot." She said groggily as he continued to paw her.
"Take off your shirt Veronica, I want to taste them." She giggled but her hands fumbled with the now tiny buttons but they gave way and the cool breeze and his lips caressed her erect nipples. Her breasts were large for her frame, he guessed a 36 D cup but despite that they seemed to defy gravity. Her rosy areoles were crimson under his devilish assault. She had never let her boyfriend do these things, her ex-boyfriend, but Old John was a man and knew how to please a woman.
She felt his hands lifting her skirt and soon her bare ass was touching the ground and he was tugging her thong to the side where his fingers could explore her wet heat. She gasped as his fingers began to tease her lips and clit. 'Yes he knows how to please a woman.' Then his lips left her breasts and reappeared as if by magic on her clit and the world started spinning, as pleasure seemed to explode out of her. She was only dimly aware of her first orgasm.
Then the pleasure stopped and he was freeing his 'thing' from his pants. It was huge and hard and pointed right at her face. She ran her fingers along the length tentatively and he moaned at her gentle touch. Then she squeezed and stroked it the way her Ex-boyfriend used to when he got drunk that one night. Then Old John gently grabbed her head and brought her lips to it, he wanted a blowjob and she had never given anyone head, ever.
"I don't know how." She muttered but he replied he would teach her how to have power over any man in the world. She felt like passing out for a moment then she was better. Yes, power is good, so she followed every instruction to the letter and soon he was groveling on the ground under her power. She sucked and licked and stroked like a whore on the stage entertaining the crowd and soon he was ready to go further. His mouth returned to her nether heat and stoked up the fire once more. Old John's fingers and tongue brought her to the point where when he pierces her virgin hole she would beg for it. He did it quickly like a juggler, one moment the red ball is in the air then the blue, his tongue vanished and presto like magic he was hilted in her once virginal pussy. Her eyes bulged in her head as his size and her tightness didn't quite accommodate each other. But the pain vanished as with nice long strokes he pleasured her pussy and clit masterfully. Deflowering virgins is an fine art and Old John was an artiste. He adjusted his position and then rolled backwards forcing her on top.
"If you would command men to your desire you must ride them like the animals that they are." And so Veronica straddled him and forced her hips up and down on his fleshy spike, she reveled in her power over this man. She stopped now and then forcing him to beg for it. Only when he wept for her did she continue to pleasure them both. She liked fucking, hell she liked sucking cock. She had learned how to bring any man to his knees and she would use it, oh yes she would. After her legs got tired she asked him what was next. He told her to stand up and then to take her shirt and kneel on it, and then he knelt behind her and entered her again. The penetration was much deeper and more pleasurable. She started rocking back against his in strokes and really getting into it. Next was the reverse missionary and so on, he fucked her in every position he had ever heard of and had to hold back on the last two to get through his entire repertoire and still she wanted more. So they returned to some of her favorites and finished him off with a simple doggy style that pushed all the right buttons. He pulled out and came on her ass and she looked at the milky fluid with a mix of revulsion and curiosity. She took a drop onto her finger and tasted it. It wasn't as bad as everyone complained about. If I swallow it, the boys will flock to me. Yes indeed a plan began to form. She looked over at Old John and smiled.
"Didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you spiked that bottle of wine did you." He looked stunned that she was coherent at this point; the drug should still be working. "Don't look so confused she is still asleep, you got another round in you or should I let you sleep this one off?" The Cajun noticed the complete change of tone, timbre and other subtle qualities of her voice. Veronica was indeed asleep, but who was this then?
"My name is Viviane, and I am you Mistress."