Edge of the woods (1765) (Beastysakura and squidley)

[Beastysakura]

His chuckles drove her mad, the few crumbs of food that stayed to her lips, were tucked into her mouth as she curled her tongue and lips, cleaning them. She saw him watching her and as he walked about the room she too kept her eye on his hulking movements.

He unsheathed his blade, and the grind of the metal against leather startled her and put her on guard. Backing away from the table, she stood fingers interlaced head tilted down, as she fiddled with her fingers, cleaning them of their last bits of food.

He spoke to her, and as he did her hands clasped the sides of her shirt, pulling it together to hide her softly rounded and chilled young skin. the shirt was worn and flimsy, and as she shivered her nipples became cutely visible beneath the fabric.

She didnt want to go outside...she was afraid of the wolves, but she wanted to escape, the choice between chance and safety was difficult. Her feet were warm in her bandages, but her knees were pink in the light chill, and she waited for him to make the first move. What was he up to...where were they going? Her heart raced and her eyes snapped between the door and her captor. She was not afraid for her life...not as much as she was afraid for her mind. He was playing with her, and the fear of what was to come, the fear of waiting upset her childlike heart. As he prepared to leave, gathering his things she paused, her delicate hands lifted to brush her soft hair out of her face, and she spoke quietly, "where to?" The words came out of her mouth pleadingly, pitifully as she puckered her lips in a stuttering manner, holding onto the letter W as she let the words spill out.

maybe if she was nice...he could be nice to?

[squidley]

He went to the door and opened it. A dozen smiling faces crowed into the doorway, their breath steaming in the cold glory of the morning like a gathering fog and then blowing away in the frigid wind. Frost covered their faces, the thick furs they wore keeping them from the chill as they jostled for position in the tight doorway, looking inside at the large man and the small woman. They leered and drooled after seeing the woman, their low voices plainly eager to sample what delights she might give them, desirous of the taste of her smooth flesh, the excitement of her struggling beneath them as their hot moist breath played over her face and neck for a few all too brief moments. They crowded and shoved against each other for the chance to be the first to take her, to savor her.

The two young wolves that had played beneath the table next to the girl ran into the smiling crowd at the door and were greeted warmly by those their. Each recognized the playful murder in the other and glad voices rang out at the gathering like old friends reuniting.

The man spoke a few words to the assemblage, unheard by the woman. His breath too raised steam in the cold air and he looked back to the girl and considered. He left the assembled group and returned to the old trunk to rummage again, bringing out an old coat far too large for the small woman but all that was at hand. He tossed the musty old garment to the woman. It was just something that would spare her a few moments discomfort in the biting sub-zero cold of the new morning chill.

“Put it on” he said to the girl as he draped the coat around her and then pulled her up to march her towards the door, “it’s cold outside.”

The old wolf on the bed lifted his head up and perked his ears toward the crowd gathered at the door to the cabin. He grinned and yawned, his tail wagging a bit as he set his head back down and watched the man push to little woman towards the door. He put his head down to rest, here warm and away from the bitter cold outside, his tail wagging slightly. He’d rest for a time, his old bones weary. The man would bring back scrapes for him, whatever was left of the woman when the pack was done with her. He was certain, he’d seen it before. The door closed and he was alone, waiting to hear the music of her screams, the signal that dinner would be ready soon, ripe and bloody just like he liked it.

The Squid

[Beastysakura]

Jerked upward by the mans strong palm, she whimpered. She was focused on the dogs, her limbs curled up to her body for fear of having them removed by the mouth and maws of the visitors.

"where?" she asked him but she did not expect a reply, he was grinning at the reunion with his friends and he may not have heard her. She pulled the earthen smoke flavored coat to her body, covering her tender curves and delicate skin under the coarse and grit of the heavy jacket.

by now she had lost control. She moved to the door as he had told her to do so, but froze before leaving, waiting for his command. She feared more now the feral wrath of the dogs more than the beast that had captured her and as he stood over her on their way to exit she looked up.

She stood at the open door and as he commanded her out, one foot broke into the light, the fur deep in color, her pale legs white as snow and the fog about in the air. She was like a delicate blossom chilled and delicately balanced in the hands of her captor. She squinted, turning back to look at the beast, her hair shined bright in the light, the waves gleaming crisply as the air, her tiny pink tipped fingers shaded her eyes in the morning light.

[squidley]

Pulling the young woman along by her arm, the man dragged her thru the door towards a trail leading into the woods. He started taking her toward the killing field.

The killing field was just an opening in the woods, a small glade. In the middle of the glade was a stump, the base of an old and mighty tree. Some long time ago, the tree had died and fallen over; perhaps the victim of some great storm as the root of the tree was still solid. The large man had found the fallen tree and removed the trunk for firewood long ago. Then he had trimmed the stump, flattening its surface and making a natural chopping block from it, perfect for beheadings. A pile of skulls, maybe six or eight deep, lay witness to the effectiveness of the block and the axe that now lay buried in it.

The wolves wouldn’t bother with the skulls. They were hard to chew on. Some of the cubs would trim off the tender bits, the nose or the ears, from time to time. But after that, they were only good for a spot of play and then were discarded by the wild dogs. Other wild beasts would occasionally wrest one of the skulls away, to crack the bone and suck the tender meat from inside the shell. While the man had piled the skulls up from time to time, it was why the count of skulls was uncertain. You never knew if something hadn’t purloined one for a tasty meal.

Beheadings here all seemed to flow together anyway. It was always some poor wretched woman bound and being dragged to this spot, forced to kneel, her head above the dark stained wood. Before today, all had been naked by now, and depending on the time of year, some saw the stained wood for what it was. Some screamed, some begged for their lives, and others went sobbing to their deaths. He always raped them first, one last time before the axe took their heads. Bent over, their pussies were ripe for the taking, as were their ass holes. He always enjoyed buggering a sobbing woman, begging for her life, the axe embedded in the wood before her wide and terrified eyes. Many offered any pleasure he might want rather than die by the hard iron blade.

They had reason too. Unlike the history stories, the axe rarely took their head with the first cut. Usually it took several, and if they didn’t die from the first blow, it was not unheard of for the man to sate his lust in the dying woman, rolling her onto her wounded back and fucking her belly to belly as she bled and the light in her eyes dimmed. Her death throws would pleasure his dick as she shuttered and died. Some didn’t die that easy either. Sometimes the man would take their limbs first, cutting a foot or leg off, maybe a hand or an arm. Taking the time to kill them slowly between rape sessions, he would bring a burning torch to the killing field to sear their wounds, stopping the blood, slowing their inevitable deaths. Fondly he remembered one small blond woman knelling before him, sucking his cock, her hands lying at her feet as she tried to use the stumps of her arms to guide his cock to her wet and willing mouth, desperate not to die. Her skull might still be in the pile. He didn’t know, or care anymore.

Today the old stump was covered with light snow from the night before. The old blood stained the snow a light red to pink where the deep blood once more wept from the ancient wood. The girl would notice. The wolf pack, having followed them from the cabin noticed too. They preferred not to scavenge some bloated corpse in the woods and at this place they had often feasted on the freshly bled prey. Happy murder danced in their eyes and hearts as they watched the man prod the small woman thru the woods.

Today was different though, and he pushed the small woman on past the old bloodstained stump, on into the deeper wood. Shortly, they came to a small wooden building set in the thick woods, a simple latch holding its stout door closed. In the cold morning light, the breath from the man and woman made frosty clouds as he opened the door and pushed her toward the plain and barren interior, not much more than a bench seat set above the floor.

“Go” he said pointing to the interior, “Get in there.” He watched her uncertain for a moment before pushing her inside the dark interior and closing the door with a final word. “Privy”

The Squid

[Beastysakura]

The door closed and as it shut she jumped and turned about placing her hands on the splintered wooden door. There she peeked through the boards, seeing nothing but what few wolves were pacing about in front of the door, their smiling maws before the wooden building. She shuddered and whimpered out from the door, her high voice and innocent pleas rang out softly muffled*

"nhh...p..please! i dont want to be in h...here..."
her brow furrowed and she cried out in a pitiful whine as she sank to a squat above the ground. Her forehead rested against the door when the feeling came over her and she denied the sensation.

"i..i..please!"

She paused...
crosssing her arms underneath her still pirky and supple breast she kept warm, and avoided what she knew would come.

"PLEASE! *she screamed out*
She had to do as all living things did at one point, and she refused to do it there. Too embarrassing was it for her to be locked up in a tiny box like this...with him out there. Her whines carried a little ways on the wind, but for the most part her voice was caged between the cracked wood planks.

"sir..?"
her head still hung as she spoke out, tears no longer flowed from her swollen read eyes, as now the frustration and hopelessness settled in her heart. The cold was kept from her flesh but as the woods fell silent, even the breathing of the dogs had left her ears. She cried out in terror for the first time. Gripping the door firmly with her hands she clenched her fists, had he locked her in? did she hear him latch it?

She shook the door..it didnt budge...a more aggravated flailing against the wood knocked it free...only stuck..
her eyes looked out into the light of the still beautiful morning...she didnt see him...where had he gone.

[squidley]

Cold. It was very cold and crisp as the man walked thru the woods. The afternoon of the first day after he had left his cabin it had clouded over turning the clear skies of that sunny morning bleak and gray. The wind had also brought more fresh snow. Winter had come bringing its icy grip with it.

He had left the small woman alone that morning save for the young and old of the pack and a few bitches to care for them all. He thought of her now, her round smooth hips, long coltish legs, the firm globes of her chest surmounted by those tender pink buds. He daydreamed a little as he trudged thru the frozen wilderness, his feet crunching on the fresh snow pack. In his mind he could feel the silky smoothness of her long dark hair against his cheek, taste the salty milk of her skin as he ran his tongue and mouth along her neck and shoulder. He could feel her flesh fill his hands, the pink bud of her nipple between his rough fingers as he pressed his chest against her naked back and his arms encircled her. He could feel her heart racing and hear her whimpers as he pushed into her, his hips thrusting against her firm buttocks and his manhood into her warm moist cleft.

The thought of that golden moment passed as he walked toward home in that hazy gray afternoon. The clouds had remained and the light snow that was falling had turned the land from the bright colors of autumn to the black and white with shades of gray winter. The fine falling snow sounded like shifting sand in the now barren trees and it would bury everything in the dark woods until the coming of spring, including the remains of the men he had just left behind, their bright blood that had sprayed upon the ground already long turned black but a frozen white blanket would soon cover even that.

They had come from the village of course, looking for the lost waif he assumed still at his cabin. Finding the remains of her mount savaged by the wild beast of the forest, they had foolishly decided to seek revenge on the great gray hunters there. Two men, having taken the coin of some local lord or gentry had pressed on into the dark forest. They were hunters, trackers, and they were fools. They thought the great forest dogs were tracking a man thru the wood and not that the man and the hounds were tracking them. In the end that mistake had cost them their lives, but at a price to the pack as well.

One of the hunters had managed to shoot a young male of the pack before the man and the wild dogs had converged on the interlopers. An arrow from the bow the man still carried had torn out the throat of the second hunter as the first fumbled with powder and ball to reload his musket. The dark gray pack descended on the hunter as he franticly sought to reload his piece and the savage animals tore his throat into bloody goblets and then ripped into the two dying men with glee.

The man took powder and ball, tinder and flint, and some small foodstuffs from the dead men. Nothing that would be noticed was removed. Nothing that a man might take in a robbery, just some small survival items and a wine sack partly full of the local Madeira was removed. The man took enough from the villagers, their lives and their woman.

In the end, the knife had been a mercy. The young wolf had been gut shot and condemned to a slow death. The pack knew his fate, but grudging understood as the man took the young one’s life. The pack made their partings, each stopping to sniff or lick their lost companion as the man finished rifling the scattered belongings of the felled hunters. When they left, the body of the young wild dog was left undisturbed, the falling snow gently beginning to cover him.

He plodded thru the deepening snow and pondered if the woman would still be there when he arrived home. When he left her, she had but one of his old shirts to wear and bandages upon her feet. He wondered about her courage – would she falter and run? Would he find her frozen form lifeless and pale as a murder of crows circled overhead? Or would he find her safe and warm, frightened at his return yet huddled in his bed in the snug old cabin in the woods?

He would know soon enough, for it lay but a few hundred yards ahead in the dimming light of the setting sun…

The Squid