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“I sense you are no longer as interested in this little game… Anna. If that is the case let us make a deal. Should you continue to play my game and sacrifice enough souls to me, I will grant you your heart's desire, in exchange for true loyalty and compliance.”
The entity.
Shadows danced along the walls of the cabin, the scent of fresh pine, lavender, and something more coppery swam around the hazily lit room. As the room becomes clearer, a rough pounding hits Meg in the back of her skull. A soft wince leaves the young woman's lips, her head rolling from side to side as she bids the pain to ease. A harsh tightness settles in her chest as the visceral need to run floods her body. A twitching inadvertently captures Meg’s leg in it’s hold as another blinding pain takes over from her head; her ankles.
Something is seriously wrong; hesitation engulfs her mind, her hands quiver, as the ginger-haired girl finally is able to force her gaze downwards. No longer is Meg dressed in her running clothes, but her lithe figure is draped with a delicate cotton night gown with dainty lace decorating the hem at her knees. It looks like old photos she had seen of her gran as a teenager. Just beyond the polished white of the night gown was something Meg truly hoped she wouldn't see Blood
So much blood, pools of the maroon liquid surround both of her bare feet, oozing from her ankles where there is a hefty gash along both backsides of her ankles. A scream bubbles in her throat, popping so quickly it startles Meg herself.
“Ah, you are awake, little fox.” A soft,warm voice broke through once the shriek died from Meg’s throat. A figure Meg failed to notice in her hazy awakening.
“I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of bathing you. Infections can be nasty business up here.” The now towering woman spoke.
It was the huntress.
The woman, like a nightmare, had chased her and the other…the others… The memories were there but their faces obscured, fragmented, it feels like someone–or something– in her brain and picking parts out from her memory like pieces from a puzzle. The broad-shouldered figure tilts her head, her blackened gaze no longer blood thirsty, but was no less terrifying.
“No, no, no” comes stifled, from the biting and coarse rope that was lodged in her mouth. The older woman paces away from the fireplace and towards Meg, revealing upon the coals a large pot simmering away. Candlelight flickers over the woman's old mask mask and meg can see its covered in peeling stained fabric, the frayed and tattered edges end above the Huntresses soft frowning lips
“Now, now. No need for that. You are safe. Not out there anymore” Her voice is gentle, a word that Meg never thought she would associate with someone like her. The dark holes of the mask show not a pair of eyes, but darkness. Black and foreboding, like the eyes that must be there, were itching to reach into her soul or her heart and dissect her as if she were nothing more than a frog in a lab. Then as suddenly as Meg felt the intense gaze, it was withdrawn. “I am going to bathe. Stay here, Lyubimaya (darling),” Huntress says, breaking the silence. From a stained wooden hutch that is settled next to a door frame, she grabs a white, clean-looking towel. Huntress’s steps are uncharacteristically quiet for a woman of her build; she traverses her way to what Meg assumes is the bathroom. The door slides closed with a faint thud.
Frantically, the ginger girl gazes around the cabin; it is familiar but also so foreign, as if she had seen it all in a dream. With no further regard for that train of thought, like an injured animal, Meg rips herself from the chair and thuds to the hardwood with a light thwack. Her ankles scream in pain as the smallest pressure shoots ribbons of agony up the back of her legs. Craning her neck upwards, Meg gazes at the front door to the cabin, with all her will, she drags herself forward. Hope awakening in her chest that if she can just get herself near someone else, maybe things will be okay, maybe they could help.
Pull, drag.
Pull, drag.
Pull, drag.
Across the floor, each inch feels as if she is running a mile. ‘Knew I shouldn’t have skipped out on arm day’ she thinks to herself as she pants, her head pressed against the floor, before she tries again.
Pull, drag.
Pull, drag.
Pull, drag.
The door hits Meg’s hand as she reaches out again, the light at the end of her tunnel. Shakily, she pulls herself, clawing her blunt fingernails into the sturdy redwood door, and then pulls, and pulls until she is on her knees. Meg scoots back and opens the door with a sigh of relief– one that is short-lived.
Shuffling forward just past the threshold of the door, a black tendril shoots out from the misty forest and then another, and another until one wraps around the small of her waist, one holds the door open, and the other she cannot see. Quickly, she is thrown backward, the entire world rushing by her until her ass is firmly planted back onto the chair she started in. As if they were never there, the thick long rope-like things retreat before Meg's eyes, out of the cabin door, closing it with a light thud. A frustrated cry ripples devastatingly from her, one that's deep in the trapped girl's chest. There is nothing near her that might even come close to a weapon to defend herself, ‘and what chance do I stand against a woman like her?’.
Desperately, Meg tries to cry out again, as she opens her mouth the drag of an old sliding door makes her close her mouth again. But instead of a monster, outsteps a woman–her eyes are pitch black like a rabbit, her hair is deep brown with small twinges of orange that are barely visible in the light of the fire. Meg stills and notes her outfit, another piece seemingly trapped in a time that Meg had only ever seen in photographs or old attic boxes, bloomers shorts with a split down the middle, and a chemise-like top attached at the waistband. It does little to cover the muscles and decent-sized breasts that lurk just under the worn yet soft cotton.
As the huntress dries her short curls, she wanders over to the fireplace carefully leaning down to stir the large pot that rests upon the bar. She then steps over to a cabinet and takes out two wooden bowls and some spoons, she also grabs wine and simple copper mugs. Silently, she sets the table and then walks behind Meg who tries to turn every which way to see the tall woman, she laughs softly and drags the chair to the table.
“No need to be so scared, little one.” The soothing voice echoes. She feels calloused hands undo the biting rope from her mouth. Meg stretches her stiff jaw and croakily asks;
“Why?!” As tears well again in her eyes.
“You're my prize.” The older woman says simple, her accent making it sound even harsher.
“Prize?” Meg repeats dumbfounded.
“Yes. Now eat. You are all bones.” The older woman says placing a bowl of stew in front of her. Meg wants to push it away but she doesn't remember the last time she ate… it's like her body needs it more than she needs to be afraid. Slowly takes her spoon, and delivers a mouthful onto her awaiting tongue. Flavour bursts into her senses Meg moans aloud and eats another spoonful and then another. It's like slow braised pork she had as a child. The Huntress sits content in her own seat with a small smile tugging upon her lips as she devours her own meal. A tranquil silence settles between the two.
Megs eyes dart up as soon as she finishes. So many questions, yet she feels the woman who had killed so many yet left her alive wouldn't answer them for her.
“I chose you because you are strong. Bested me more times than I care to remember, escaping so often.” The woman says, the words make a shiver trace down her spine. She has no idea what she means but it does offer a small amount of pleasure that she is better than the others to this powerhouse of a woman. But then fear lets the joy go as she still has no idea what any of it means.
“Wh-what will you do to me?” Meg finally asks.
“Ah… the question so many seem to like to ask.” The huntress says and gets back up as she clears the table, not giving a full answer. Once the chores are done, the dark haired woman brushes her hands together, turning on the heel of her feet to look upon Meg. The Huntress circles back over and picks Meg up, as if she weighs nothing. Meg thinks about wiggling, of trying to get free. But the stark reminder of the darkness outside the door that will just pull her right back stops the idea.
The Huntress walks them across the cabin towards a different door, one Meg is unsure of the contents, but as soon as she finds out dread fills her chest.
A bedroom.
Bathed in warm lamplight, the room is sparsely furnished,a simple dresser, nightstand and full length mirror accompany the large imposing bed--sturdy with four posts and hewn from the same wood as the rest of the cabin. In the middle lay a soft looking mattress with lace trimmed ruffles
Meg freezes and looks at the soft and clean bed. She shakes her head.
“I'm not tired.” Meg whispers in a small voice, one she hardly recognises.
“We aren't going to sleep, little one.” the imposing woman chuckles softly.
“No…” Meg shakes her head, as the bigger woman places her gingerly onto the edge of the bed.
“Yes, such pretty hair you have darling.” The older woman says and undoes the braids that hold Meg's long hair out of her face. The soft waves fall over Meg’s shoulders. Suddenly the soft cotton of the night gown is less comfortable and feels as flimsy as a tree house in a hurricane.
“I'll show you I can be gentle, sweetling.” The huntress says, her voice smooth and sugary like trying to lure an animal out before the kill.
“I… I don't want it.” Meg protests weakly.
“That's disappointing.” The older woman tilts her head, her calloused hand reaching out to cup Meg’s face. “I'm sure you'll learn to want it one day.” She whispers and lays Meg out over the bed.
With a sudden burst of confidence; Meg kicks, it hurts her ankle like a bitch, but it dislodges the more sturdy woman. Letting the ginger haired girl roll herself off the bed and down onto the floor. As if she was no more than a feral animal trying to escape a cage, she digs her nails into the floor pulling herself forward. ‘I'd rather fight the tendrils then lay there and take whatever that lunatic has planned.’ she thinks to herself.She barely makes it to the bedroom door, her night gown picks up every spec of dust and dirt, the front staining and turning a light grey colour.
“That was unkind.” The huntress says, her voice like a frozen lake as she easily picks Meg up by her waist and carries her like a cat back to the bed, once back onto the plush surface the older woman's words register to her. Meg almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the statement but the well of anger inside her body was far from empty. A snarl like noise gives way from Meg’s throat as she rolls her tongue around her mouth to collect enough saliva, before spitting onto the older woman's face. The Huntress smirks and licks it away. “Let's try this again. I won’t hurt you sweet one just let me-” But as the words depart the Huntress's mouth, Meg lands an open palm hit on her, making the taller woman sigh in disappointment.
“I wanted to be sweet on you. But no. You had to be difficult. Hard way it is then.”
Then there is a blinding pain in her head and the world goes dark.
The wind blows gently through the slightly open window, letting the slightest chill into the cozy nest that I’ve painstakingly made for her.
My favorite prey.
Meg’s breathing is steady and her face unfazed as she rests so sweet and comfortably upon my bed, no, our bed
‘Such a sweet little fox, when she is sleeping, no fight nor struggle against me, they never understand I'm helping them, these woods are dangerous for such sweet little creatures, babushka or little foxes.’ I lament in my mind as my hands trace down Meg’s sides, a shiver inches down my spine, raw delight in the feeling of having Meg under hand finally, and not just to hook but to do as I please, it’s the sweetest dream that I truly never should wish to awaken from. With no intention of stopping, my hands ghosts over Meg’s lith stomach, I press my hands lightly over where I can imagine the sweet girl's womb and other pretty protected organs are, the softest little whimper departing my sleeping preys lips.
Mother died before she could tell how we make other little humans, Portia was kind, when she realised her jokes about such things went over my head, she explained it. Not that she fully understood either, but after learning from some other small bits and pieces from the other killers. I had never wished to do this kind of thing, but this perfect darling girl called to me the same way blood did, it was a deep seated thrust I tried to escape from, I did try. But like my need to hunt, she was never an option, moya malen'kaya lisa (my little fox), was a necessity I could no longer deny.
My gratitude for the entity was never higher. Lower and lower my fingers trail, looking so large against the back drop of her peach and cream colored skin. The soft cotton of Meg’s new nightgown graces my hands, it was my mothers… far too delicate and pretty for a woman like me. I always wondered why I had been cursed to have so many of her things, her possessions haunting me like small ghosts.. It was like an eternal punishment for sins I never had committed, I was a child. But now I see, it was for her, it always had been her. My breath shakes, as I notice my hands tremble, I take another soft puff of air trying to still the tremors from them. I snap my head across to the window, a soft growl echoing around me in the quiet room, as I see nothing, and feel my chest cease rumbling. I understand it was me. I was making the noise, with a soft shake of my head. My gaze transfixes upon the nestled bundle of fiery curls that sit at the apex of Meg's sprawling legs.
Even at the thickest part of the sleeping girl's thigh my hands can cover the top of it completely, I press against it, letting my palm create an indent, wanting to feel her skin, to be able to know the blood and warm tissue upon my finger tips. Finally I part the silky legs as if they were curtains into a world I never knew I needed, my breath stills, its usual deep pattern replaced by shallow intakes, my eyes not leaving the most intimate and rare prize welcomed into my own hands. I move myself without truly knowing what I wish to do, as if my limbs each have their own co-ordinated minds.
I lean down until my face is level with my perfect prey's cunt, my fingers part the pretty pink lips to reveal, what I although did not entirely know the look of, but what I know I am seeking. I flutter my pitch black eyes shut and let my mouth come to her intimates. The flavour is sharp and yet somehow the sweetest thing I have ever been graced to sample, it was like tart cherries on a cool summer's eve. I brush my tongue ever so slightly up, over the soft bud and it causes Meg to make the most beautiful sound, a moan, but not of pain like I’m used to, something so much more honeyed. It makes a noise of my own leave my throat, as I know now even in her unconscious state, my darling girl is enjoying all I am giving.
I lap again and again, hoping I might happen to hear another chord in the pretty song of my little fox’s pleasure. That one sound sets a fiery need into my being, I press closer until I am fully flush to Meg, buried so perfectly against her. I force my tongue even deeper in, moving from her bud to the wanting hole that awaits, back and forth I go. Joy and desire settle over me as more pretty sounds finally reach my ears.
Meg’s body seems to arch and grow more and more rigid under my touches, the younger woman seeming as though she was a coil that very well may snap at any moment. I pull back, my chest rises and falls quickly as I pant, the back of my hand slides across my drenched mouth as I sit back on my knees. I watch my darling little ones chest rise and fall just as mine does, like we are in sync, small twitches and little noises come from her still.
The wind from outside seems to sing with a soft whispering tune, the candles flickering, a familiar voice that has haunted me over the years, one that I’ve had to learn to tolerate. “Do you still wish for this Anna?” Echoes in my mind.
“Yes.” I say, my voice a little more coarse than I intend it to be.
“Good. Let me in.” It’s gentle and yet not a request.
“You never said-” I start but am promptly cut off.
“Do you want your prize or not, rabbit?” The voice spits the last word like an insult
“Fine.” I begrudgingly accept, relaxing. I let the entity manifest in my home. The air is suddenly cooler and even though it is hard to see outside, I can tell there is a misty fog rolling in. A shiver runs down my spine, but as I recover suddenly a harness-like item settles onto my hips, over top of the romper-like undergarments I have on, then something that appears like a man’s intimates between my legs, black and pulsing gently. With a cautious curiosity I draw my pointer finger down the ridges and bumps, a gasp falls from my lips, my stomach tenses and the most raw pleasure forces itself onto my being. Taking my hand I grap it and move up and down, feeling the bumps and notches, more of the same spine tingling feeling comes, making me double over, the delight weakening my knees.
“Dont let this hurt her…” I request in a small voice almost like a prayer, all I get in return is an echoing laugh.
“When have you cared for someone's comfort?”
I grunt and another laugh fills my mind, dry and humourless, then the feeling of being observed vanishes, like the fog outside, the cabin regaining its warmth and safety. I peer down at Meg a sigh leaving my parted lips. The sight before me remains pure perfection, the way the sunrise hair is scattered over the white linens, the visible moisture glistening in the candle light upon her thighs. Nothing could beat this image… But something does, a thought. Magazines, old and crumbled of my mothers, about women expecting children, the idea of Meg like that made my own thighs clench together. My hand draws across her face softly.
“You’ll look so pretty with our child in you, sweet girl” I say in a quiet reverent tone. unlike anything she had seen, nor ever known she needed.
Meg’s eyes flutter open, the would be cozy room coming back into view, a soft and disorientated groan leaves her as her head still spins, a sharp moan then follows, as the sudden overwhelming feeling of utter bliss settles into her being. Blinking a few times to try and get her mind right, then trying to push herself up. But there is something blocking her, a force that will not allow her to move. Like the last piece in some horrific puzzle it all clicks into place, the weight that is on top of her, a body on her body, hands upon her hips, and the feeling of being utterly, and completely full.
“What the fuck-” Meg mutters in a slightly slurred voice. As she speaks the huntress sits up, the dark pits in her face where eyes should be looking at her, even with no iris Meg can see deep lust and yet something darkly possessive, her heart pounds heavy against Meg’s ribcage feeling as if the organ may break free from her chest at any moment.
“Youre awake. Good” She says, her voice coarse with desire, Meg opens her mouth ready to scream, but whatever it is that is nestled inside her, pulls out deliciously slowly before roughly entering her again. Choking on the moan that claws its way up her throat, Eyes widen as she realises no pain nor horrid ache in her ankles, her head, or even inside her cunt, like there should be, it's just pleasure… pure pleasure.
“I.. I'm not in pain… What did you do?!” Meg groans out as the huntress buries her head back into the girl's shoulder.
“Nothing, moy sladkiy (my sweet)” The husky whisper of the killer echoes into the crook of Meg's neck. “Are you angry at it feeling good?” The smirk in the older woman's voice makes Meg want to slap her.
“Fuck you!” Meg gasps and tries to kick her legs, The huntress however already has an iron grasp upon her hips, ensuring they stay down against the bed. Another indulgent slide of the bigger woman's hips make the protests start to die on Meg’s tongue,
‘How long has it been since I felt this good?’ Meg thinks to herself. Everything felt so muddled and wrong.Meg moves her hands to the huntresses shoulders but quicker than her hands can make contact, one of The Huntresses hands grasp both of Megs and pins them above her head easily. It makes the ginger haired girl’s cunt pulse only needing to use one hand to hold both Megs to the soft cotton sheets.
“No pushing me away, little fox.” The older woman growls.
The words stir something inside her again, anger that could ignite a forest fire, seething she looks up.
“You have some nerve, you brut- ahh!” She pants out, her cry moulding into her words, the older woman's free hand messes with her clit, drawing tense yet slow circles. the little bundle of nerves making her body jolt–the feeling is too much for her, “Too much Huntress-” Meg whimpers, the girl's body shuddering.
“Anna, I’m Anna, call me that.” Anna grunts, her head moving to Meg’s neck to cradle herself.
Heated open mouthed kisses that warm into bites line Meg’s neck, each making her relax more and more, yet the feeling of being branded, and claimed as the older woman's hand moves from her wrists, and both ridiculously large hands grip her hips, tilting them ever so slightly, the angle getting deeper and hitting more of her tight channel. They fall into a quiet rhythm, the room filling with lewd noises; soft whimpers, sweet sounding groans from Anna, and the wet noise of their bodies coming apart and then back together over and over again.
“Such good prey for me” Anna groans, the soft words strike something inside her, a helplessness she never once has accepted in her life, quickly she kicks her legs and tries to move herself from under Anna, the older woman lifts her sight and gives a raised eyebrow, hastily Anna grabs both of Meg’s legs and pushes them up, practically folding her in half.
“Come little one, don’t make me treat you like this?” Anna whispers, Meg snarls at her and Anna chuckles and presses her body down fully trapping Meg underneath her. The huntress's hips move rougher against her, the position leaves Meg with no escape, the pace is built as if Anna were dying and needed this to survive.
“Fuck!” Meg cries out, her head hits the soft embroidered cotton pillows, the entire column of her neck on display, presenting herself like the prey she claims she is not. Yet as another thrust hits closer to the spongy spot inside her. A place that only her finger tips ever have brushed on late nights in her childhood bedroom, when she had already outgrown the twin size bed and her future was already stunted by her mothers unfortunate need for care earlier in life than either of them could have hoped. “No…not there,” Comes out in stifled little moans, as despite her arguing, despite her knowing this should be painful it felt ungodly good. Immaculate pleasure climbs up her spine. Almost as if something is messing with her mind, manipulating her to make things heightened.
“Anna” Meg whimpers as the pleasure starts to mount into that precarious balancing act of being able to push over into the alsboute bliss. Huntress’s head snaps up and looks at Meg, stopping her movements which makes the younger woman whine again and wiggle her hips still folded in half against the bed.
“No mhhmm, please don’t stop!” Meg Begs quietly
“Say it again.” Anna whispers
“Wh-” Meg questions
“My name, say it again.” the older woman demands in a quiet need. Meg swallows and buries her pride.
“Anna-” Meg barely gets through it when the older woman watching her closely moves her hips fast and hard, the pace punishing yet perfect. Meg’s mouth falls open into a silent scream as the forceful pattern pushes her closer and closer to the edge. Her mouth looms open for a moment and Anna’s warm and big fingers press inside, two almost fill her mouth completely, the digits press to her tongue, then slide in and out, slower than the thrusts, but no less intense. Until she's shaking and crying out in nonsensical words, the digits still and press deeper almost holding her in place as her world falls apart.
Anna shudders above her and her eyeless holes close, the lids sheltering the black absence. Her own pleasure mounting too until it courses through her as well. Meg gasps and looks down at where they are connected, the black viney faux cock is pulsing a hot warm filling the inside of her cunt.
“What… what the fuck” Meg whines, her hips squirm, but as she moves only an inch, her hips are gripped, the older woman pushing deeper,
“Still love…” Anna whispers in a pleasured pant
“I, I how are you- Ah!” Meg whispers until the older woman pulls out, and a vicious liquid gently flows from her, Meg reaches her hand down and a slick and warm liquid covers her hands, as she pulls back the colour is not what she expected, it's deep black, it covers her hand slick like oil yet still sticky and unwilling to fall from her palm easily. The sick feeling of it being the wrong colour makes her stomach churn, she pushes it out, willing it away.
“No, no little fox. Leave it” Anna says and pushes her hand down and pushes the liquid back inside. “Do not squander my gift.” Anna whispers intensely. Meg gulps.
The entity comes to call for Anna just as often. But for me? I haven’t seen the campfire in a long time. I get the feeling that the fucking thing is stumped as to where I fit in now. No longer do I fear what it can do to me, my fear is something I left in Anna and I’s bed where I brought our daughter into this twisted hellscape. The little one that is now my life, my own joy and happiness that I would protect no matter the cost, her small swaddled body against my chest, her dark eyes like Anna’s but her soft red curls she inherited from me lay on her tender head.
From the fog I see Anna return, blood on her as always. She walks straight for us, a fear that once would consume me no longer is even a thought, gentle affection replaced it many months ago. Her lips kiss my temple, then do the same to our little one. She pushes her mask up, there is a look of guilt, and some sort of pride as Anna’s hand that shines with our wedding band hands me a fox mask.
“The huntress's wife has a good ring to it doesn't it?”