Son of Cernunnos: Ostara

Trigger Warning: This tale has a strong consistent theme of CNC, some Violence and Mythical Beings!

**Wee Disclaimer**

I haven't wrote for many many moons. This tale was born from a long held fantasy and I am starkly aware I have gone all out on the preamble and descriptives. If you'd like to skip to the mucky bits with little context head to the 9th Paragraph

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I was clearing debris from my makeshift altar when I heard the distant echo of snapping branches from the ancient copse just behind me. Immediately I felt a ripple of discontentment. It was the first Ostara I had been able to celebrate free of responsibility and obligation and although my incantations had been spoken, offerings placed at the alter and oaths pledged I was not ready to relinquish my long-awaited weekend of meditation and moonbathed masturbation to host some disorientated hikers. This had been the case in the previous weeks as I had been popping back and forth from the village to prepare my chosen little clearing. When nothing emerged from the grouping of forgotten conifers, I concluded my altarplace cleansing then padded to the entrance of my tent for a little interlude in preparation for the evening ahead.

As I was about to cross the threshold I noticed a dusty pattern of intersecting triangular shapes and something deep within my cerebral archives immediately offered up a suggestion as to what the marking may be. After a moment contemplating the possibility that I had etched the bind rune into the soil myself after a generous consumption of edibles the night before, I rubbed the ball of my foot over the offending patch of earth and snuggled down on my rollmat.

As the grip of slumber took hold I considered the handful of strange occurrences since I'd set up camp. The resounding percussive pounding I had woken to several times in the night, accompanied by an earthy almost metallic smell filling my textile shelter. My logical quarter had reassured me it was just the usual mysterious acoustics and aromas of nature but then I recalled the unusual tracks around my makeshift privvy, the apparent disappearance of my woolen socks and (my only) pair of underwear. A mystery for another time, now to rest.

I awoke in darkness, the familiar haunting shriek of a fox reverberating through my clearing. The best sound.

The moon was in bloom and there was a slight chill in the air. Strapping on my boots for the first time that day, I grabbed my bow and quiver as I sprung from the tent with clumsy enthusiasm. Time to hunt.

My stride was purposeful as I cut through the thickening woodland just north of my camp toward the burn that I had previously noted many a hare frequenting.

I had that feeling you get when you suspect you may be being followed but you're too preoccupied to turn around and confirm it.

I had been taking shit for my unusual "mish-mash" of beliefs for as long as I could remember, A custom mix of principles and attitudes taken from the Sioux, Celts, Norsemen and whatever else lit my fucking fire. The first luna illuminated hare to enter my line of vision was my prey. A worthy tribute to the gods that I would handle with great care from the moment my turquoise-headed arrow met its heart to the ritualistic use of each and every part, nothing wasted, each part honored in its own right.

I slowed my pace to a dander as I approached my most beloved tree, an ancient weeping willow with her moistened fronds and twisted trunk.

I was raising my hipflask to my lips in gratitude when I was knocked to the ground with such force a gasping shriek escaped from me as my torso made impact with the earth. As I lay there winded and startled I could hear the distinct sound of retreating hooves clip-clopping toward the treeline behind me. Without giving it much thought I scrambled to my feet and fled in the direction of the crag up ahead as bellows in a language I had never heard filled the air. I was trembling with raw fear and confusion as I approached the precipice. I'd never been much of a freeclimber but as I hauled myself up onto the grassy summit I uttered a "well fucking done" to whatever divine force had been at my assistance and gratefully sucked in a lungful of crisp chilly air.

I lay atop the sodden grass for several minutes giggling with childlike relief.

When I rose to brush myself off was so giddy and drunk with adrenaline that through my bleary vision, the bracken up ahead appeared to be growing in front of my very eyes. By the time I registered what was actually protruding from the ferns, it was too late.

I was so taken aback by the antlers it took me a wee minute to realize they were atop a human head. A head with a masculine face and a voluminous, pointed beard.

As he continued to emerge I instinctively began to growl, although I had little clue what was happening every cell in my body was vibrating in defense. He was close to seven feet, three times my width and I quickly decided my only chance of survival was brute force and perseverance. Before he could take a single step forward I darted directly at him zagging to his right at the last second grazing, past his side and made a beeline for the woodland up ahead.

As I frantically searched for an accessible tree to climb I realized my hip was bleeding. The bastard had cut me.

I was too busy assessing my wound to fully register the snarling and pounding of hooves behind me. I turned in time to see him charging toward me on all fours in complete stag form, as he ground to a halt at my feet he rose and reverted to his human aesthetic save for his antlers, hind legs, and tail.

As I backed away he spoke in that unfamiliar tongue I had heard by the brook, I didn't require any interpretation to know I was being threatened. My nipples hardened in trepidation.

Before I could raise the hastily foraged stump of wood in my hand he had me prone by the throat as a chortled low rumble left his. This dickhead was mocking me.

I blenched as he drew his weathered face to mine and roughly licked my cheek. Muttering another inaudible threat, he slid the fingers of his free hand through my hair and gripped so tightly I rose to my tiptoes.

Without warning I was spun round, nose to bark with a giant ash tree as his fingers remained tightly tangled in my dark tresses and when his other hand resumed its clench on my throat he began rhythmically squeezing his palm against my windpipe. I became aware of how vehemently he snarled each time I gasped for air and I could no longer ignore the disturbingly firm protrudence digging into my tailbone.

As if he could read my mind he abandoned my throat so he could release his threatening cock from his furlined waistband. I was so distracted trying simultaneously to catch my breath and comprehend the size and heat of his appendage, I barely noticed that my shorts now lay in tatters until two large fingers entered me with such force he had to tug my hair back to keep me upright. It was only when he withdrew and brought the cream covered fingers to his mouth that I noticed he must have retracted his claws, other than my smarting scalp, aching larynx and wounded hip I felt no other pain.

In one smooth motion, his giantlike hands pulled my dainty hips backward, fell to his knees and stroked a firm lick from the head of my trembling clit right to my puckered little arsehole. Before he retreated he swung back his hand and smacked my right buttock so hard I was sure he had broken the skin.

This was his caution but also my invitation.

The hunt had resumed.

I bolted.

For a solid ten minutes I ignored the betrayal of my throbbing clit and secreting lips as he gave chase. On occasion we would scuffle and maim one another but eventually, my injuries were so innumerable I had no flight left.

Time to get feral.

I was leaning against a fallen trunk in a small moonlit clearing when he caught up with me, back to his semi-human form.

I donned my most convincing expression of surrender, his air of smugness filled the clearing as he approached and sat down opposite me with his long legs neatly folded. I slowly reached out and gingerly glided my hand up his enormous thigh, refusing to acknowledge the impossibly fat, still-solid phallus casting shadows beyond his waistline.

His hand landed heavily on my knee in response to my indifference but I firmly brushed him away and with feigned confidence, swiftly slid into his lap.

He grunted in pleasure as I ran my fingers up through his long, moss-laden hair and clenched tight at the back of his skull. After a lustful gaze into his black copper-specked eyes, I brought my lips to his ear.

By the time he'd registered my words, my jaw was locked into position as my teeth sunk dangerously deep into his thick bristled neck.

"I'm nobody's fucking prey"

As his deafening roar pierced the air I spitefully spat a mouthful of his own blood flat into his face. he had me on my back in a heartbeat, his hand clasped painfully tight around my jaw. His mouth reached my ear and whisper-snarled a single sound so violently it ricocheted.

"Flidais"

I knew in that moment I was absolutely fucked.

The pain was excruciating as his monstrously engorged cockhead battered through my folds instantaneously filling my wet hungry cunt, a bansheesque shriek escaped from my bloodied lips.

I was pinned by the neck and wrist whilst he mercilessly ploughed his marble hard shaft between my gushing walls. I was impossibly wet and each time he thrust to the hilt my cunt would contract and grip like it never wanted him to leave. I don't know how long I lay there being savagely ravaged on the dusty forest floor but the moment I felt him retreating from my aching little hole I dug the nails of my free hand deep into the flesh of his buttock. He smiled wickedly sneering something incomprehensible as he withdrew from me completely and rose to his feet. I was fucking raging. This bastard had marked me, tried to kill me and after entering my body against my will he was refusing to finish the deed. That wasn't acceptable.

I crawled to his feet like a creature in heat and ran my nails up his long muscular legs.

Purposely ignoring his slick, twitching dick I brought my mouth up to his groin and ran my pointed tongue from his gouche to the centrefold of his generously fruitful balls.

Gazing up his towering frame I took each one into my mouth in turn alternating mouthing and sucking motions whilst his pulsating totem slapped me between the eyes. Good, he was getting impatient.

I raised my head toward the stars as I dragged the flat of my tongue around the base of his shaft, slowly ascending each side stopping short of his desperate, engorged head each time. As his groin grew unhumanly hot, I reached a palm between my legs and gathered some growing moisture from my aching, wet cuntfolds and generously lathered his beautifully monstrous cock.

His girth required me to use both hands as I twisted my sodden palms up and down his length in opposing directions.

The grunt I'd elicit from his chest each time my tongue darted out to lap at the constant poolings of thick, earthy precum were sending my slutty little cunt into overdrive., I was pooling down my legs and I just knew he could smell me. When I finally puckered my lips around the rim of his fleshy helmet he almost lost his balance. I was in the same state of bliss as he, nothing got me off more than someone finally realizing I was the one truly in control.

I plunged my mouth down and took him in completely. Almost immediately his hips began to buck wildly, throat fucking me furiously without any regard for my physical comfort. After Gagging and retching several times I grabbed the wheel back and bit down on the base of his shaft. My mouth flooded with a stream of precum and he came to heel allowing me to continue my slightly less aggressive oral attack. I could feel the familiar rigidity and tightening in his balls, he had denied me once. Now it was his turn.

I rose to my feet shooting him a seethingly defiant glance and stretched out my palm to lean on the nearest tree, back arched and legs widespread as I parted my smooth cuntlips from behind and ran two fingers on either side of my hard, twitching clit.

He was behind me within a blink and as I began to tease him by gyrating my arse to inhibit his reentry, that familiar growl rose in his throat and every cell of my being was crying out for him to tear me apart. He roughly slapped his cock against my entrance and we both nigh howled in tandem as my damp walls sheathed tightly around him once more.

I was more than willing to submit to him this time, I melted into his brutal embrace as he pulled me upright hard against him snaking his arms diagonally across my torso so one was over my shoulder and the other across my abdomen. Inbetween our animalist grunts and snarls he uttered "Flidais" at seemingly random intervals and as he repeated it for the final time I understood that that was who I was to him now. White hot pain ripped through my upper left trapezius as he sank his sharpened teeth into the nook of my neck. I twisted my neck round and kissed him hard, my tongue lapping at the blood on his and sunk my teeth into his lower lip as we parted mouths.

He was going to fill me.

He backed my hips up and allowed me room to turn, refusing to exit my body and in two careful rotations, we were face to face our mouthes greedily locking together as the course ash bark clawed through my back. At the last moment, he pulled my thighs up onto his hips and began bludgeoning my cunt so violently it was as though he was trying to fuck the mortal out of me. His 'final strokes' seemed to last a lifetime and even at that, I didn't want it to end.

He yanked my hair back by the crown and pushed his open lips onto my jaw and I could barely hear his roars of climax over my own primal howling as he filled my craving core with his hot potent cum. The acoustics of moist slapping echoed through the trees as he concluded his final thrusts. I'd never been filled so thoroughly, Who knew my capacity was so great.

Sometime later, he finally withdrew from me and the searing pain that followed was so intense I must have blacked out.

The next thing I recall is waking up in my tent to the sound of morning birdsong and crackling wood. I crawled to the end of my rollmat feeling well rested but heavily torn and bruised when I noticed two familiar aromas in the air. One of coffee which seemed to be emanating from the well-stoked campfire and that of witchhazel. I followed that scent down and opening my formerly lost knickers, realised a homemade poultice had been placed in the gusset.

You'd never get that quality of aftercare from a mortal, I'll be healed and ready by next weekend.