Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Fiction, Horror, Paranormal, First, Oral Sex, Slow, .
Desc: Horror Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Inga has always been drawn to places of wild, secluded nature. During her college's summer holidays she decides to go on a long foray out in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. What she finds there is a world of pristine beauty, fascinating wildlife, and unpredictable weather - that and one other thing that she didn't exactly plan for, that is. When you're alone in the woods and something sets its sights on you, it might make you rethink your preferences regarding isolation and seclusion.
Inga drew in a deep breath and then slowly released it again, savoring the fresh, oak- and pine-scented air. This was already proving to be one of the most wonderful forays into the American wilderness that she'd ever had, and she intended to enjoy every subsequent moment of it. She was glad she had chosen the Colorado Rockies as her current plunge into the unpopulated reaches of the country of her mother's birth. So far she had experienced extreme weather, exciting wildlife, and the most beautiful landscapes she'd ever found in the mainland United States. The Rockies were wonderful.
Although she was technically an American citizen by birth, Inga spent much of her time in Switzerland, which was the homeland of her father, Sven Bjorgson. Her mother, Molly Richards, had encountered her father on a mountaineering expedition in the Swiss Alps, and the two had fallen like lead weights for one other. They'd decided to get married, and not long after they had moved to the states to get her mother's affairs in order, Inga had been born. Sven and Molly had decided that they would expose their daughter to the best their two countries could offer, and she spent a wonderful youth prowling the Swiss wilderness and struggling her way through the American public school system. Although the children were quick to tease her about her odd accent, they couldn't deny the fact that they were fascinated by Inga's stories of the wonders of her second home. She had regaled them with stories of fjords, alpine mountains, and lands teeming with so much wildlife that sometimes it was easy to forget you were even human. Her outgoing, plucky nature awarded her many friends, and Inga led a fun, exciting life, at least in her own opinion. Her parents were strict about certain parts of her upbringing, but they were very kind, and they indulged her innate love of hiking and wilderness often, as they themselves shared the same passions. By the time Inga had matured into an adult herself, she had already seen and experienced more nature than most people did throughout their entire lifetimes.
Despite her proclivity to attract friends, Inga's life had been surprisingly devoid of romantic encounters. She often had to explain this to her parents and friends, who all found it quite hard to believe that such a vivacious, shapely young girl could manage to live her entire life so far without "hooking so much as one measly boyfriend," and Inga had soon grown quite tired of explaining herself. The simple truth of the matter in her own mind was that she had absolutely no interest in chasing after boys, and most boys weren't really able to keep up with her anyway. She preferred to chase after mountain streams and sights of elusive animals more, armed only with a camera and a knife. Although this is what she believed and told others, the reality was that she passively avoided contact with all people, spending so much of her time in unpopulated areas. It wasn't as though she disliked others of her species; it was just that she found other species so much more fascinating.
It really was a pity, too. Inga was what most males of her species would have considered "prime mate material." She was lithe and characteristically tall and fair-haired, bearing traits of nearly everyone in her father's family. Her eyes were as blue as aquamarines, and when they focused on the cold stillness of a mountain lake, you got the feeling that they were satellite pools of it themselves. Her face was symmetrical and jolly, rendering it both lovely and fun to look at, especially when she smiled or laughed (which happened very often indeed). Although her friends and family often complimented her on her beauty, Inga paid them little heed. If she had been born hideous but more able to sneak up on the animals of the regions where she hiked, she'd have preferred that much more. As it was, how she looked really didn't factor in to what interested Inga most, so such compliments usually fell on deaf ears.
She had been popular at college so far too, but she usually spent her collegiate career in a rush of waiting, eagerly longing for the holidays, when she might immerse herself in yet another hike or climb. Now it was the height of the summer holidays of her junior year, and Inga intended to spend nearly every moment of it wrapped up in the solitude and grandeur of the Rocky Mountains. She had been hiking and camping now for nearly a week, and although some of the terrain was harsh and formidable, around every bend she found new wonders and exciting scenes, wholly different from what she'd already experienced. She was in her element, and she knew she couldn't be happier.
After skirting the base of a smaller peak, Inga climbed a gentle slope for a bit, keeping a keen eye on the shadows of the trees and the gently waning sunlight. She would have to make camp soon. Gutsy though she was, she knew better than to tramp around in the wilds of Colorado in the darkness. After another quarter hour or so of hiking, she found herself looking up at the spring-fed, mirror-like surface of a large, mountain lake. Beaming in satisfaction, Inga knew that she had found her campsite. After pitching her tent and stowing all her perishables on a line thrown up into a tree — so as to dissuade bears from trashing her camp and gobbling up her supplies — Inga stripped down to her underwear and skipped off to the edge of the lake. She was well aware that she was near several game trails, so the likelihood of this watering hole's being deserted was next to nothing. However, she didn't really worry about swimming in front of a few curious onlookers. They weren't going to be human, after all, and she wouldn't mind the company, if she'd be lucky enough to see it.
The water was crisp and cold - its water originating from an underground glacier-fed spring deep inside the mountain - but it was the height of summer, and so far the weather had been fair today. That could change in an instant in the Rockies, but Inga was willing to take the chance. She hadn't had a good dip in nearly a week, and she was just aching to wash some of the grime off her skin. She loved the outdoors, but she wasn't always keen on taking part of it into her sleeping bag with her. She let out a few stifled gasps of delight as she waded out into the water up to her thighs, feeling the bite of its chill on her skin and relishing the abrupt sensation. Deciding to get it over with quickly, she leaped into the water, submerging herself entirely, but promptly shooting back up again to gasp and squeal at the shock and rush of cold that met her sensitive skin. Maybe she'd make this a quick bath.
As Inga paddled around and vigorously scrubbed her skin with her hands, she was unaware that she was indeed being watched. In fact, she had been under this same scrutiny for nearly two hours already, but her follower had been so stealthy and secretive that she never would have known it. He lived his life in secrecy, having learned long ago that if it didn't bleat like an elk or flee from him like a rabbit, it was something to be feared. However, although he held a certain healthy degree of fear for this creature, he couldn't help feeling curious. So far, she hadn't done anything truly frightening, save for shedding her skin, which reminded him of the snakes he took such great pains to avoid. Still, she didn't have a rattling tail like the vicious serpent that had killed his already feeble mother all those seasons ago, and she certainly didn't behave like a snake, either. She made strange noises, but they never seemed menacing or harsh, like his own warning cries were. They were more like the coos of an innocuous bird, and whenever she encountered another beast, she ceased them altogether, and stood as still as the very pines until it had passed. It was as though she had lived here forever, and she wanted nothing more than to coexist as peacefully as she could. He wondered whether it was all just an act to lure in prey, but so much prey had crossed her path already and left unharmed that he rather doubted it.
He was at least certain that she was female. Something about her scent reminded him of the scent of the females of his own kind, and it might also have explained the similar shape of her chest. When she had shed her skin before entering the water, he had held his breath, because he had seen through the remaining undershirt that there were tiny bumps poking into the softness — bumps which reminded him of the provocative teats of the females of his own species. It gave him a funny feeling — like a warm glow deep inside a part of him he'd never known existed, and it made him all the more furiously curious about this creature. Just what was she? If he dared show himself to her, would she attack him? If she did, would she be able to injure him? It was a serious thought to consider, especially since he himself had no claws like the bears, and no poison like the snakes. He had only his own cunning and strength, and even that was not enough to keep one alive if one made a foolish enough mistake.
Cautiously, and very slowly at first, he crept out of the cover of the tree line and into openness of her campsite. He had to investigate the place where she had just been. He knew that the items she had left behind would smell even more like her than the trail she had left on random bushes and twigs through the woods leading to this place, and he longed to study her scent even more closely. This would be safer than studying her directly, so long as she didn't return while he was here. Once he was sure that she was too busy splashing and squealing in the water to pay him any heed, he began digging around through her tent, sniffing and poking at every fold of fabric inside, nearly giddy with excitement and curiosity. She smelled so soft and inviting; her musk was entirely different from the smells he was used to, and although such a thing would normally alarm him, in her case it only aroused his curiosity even more. He stood upright, easily ripping the tent fabric away from the tent spikes, but causing the large expanse of material to flop down against his sides as it covered him. Alarmed and startled, he let out a grunt and flailed his arms, succeeding in flinging the cheeky canvas away from him.
Realizing that it was only some kind of skin and was not alive, he turned his attention away from the tent and looked down at the creature's own skin — which she had just shed only moments ago. He knew that of all the strange objects in this clearing, it would smell like her the most, so he eagerly walked over to it and lifted one of the pieces to his nose. Eagerly drinking in the intoxicating aroma of her scent, he looked up to find that she had silently emerged from the water, and she was now standing before him, eyes wide and body quivering from either the chill of the lake water, or in preparation for some malevolent intention that she might now be entertaining for the intruder in her midst.
Frightened and startled by her sudden closeness, he leaped to his feet and stood tall and erect, using the tried and true method his kind used for warding off threats to their safety. He made himself as tall and formidable as he knew how, and he uttered a harsh grunt at her, as if to say that if she came any closer, he'd kill her in an instant.
Inga, of course, had absolutely no intention of coming any closer. The creature was nearly eight feet tall, covered from head to foot with dark grayish fur, and his dark, nearly furless face was making a most terribly menacing, grimacing expression at her. She decided he must be male, as she thought she could see what appeared to be a penis mostly hidden by a thick patch of fur between his legs. With his squashed-in nose and sharply sloping brow, he looked very much like some kind of gorilla or ape, but he was so tall and so at ease on his enormous feet that it was obvious he was more of a biped than most apes were. Inga had never seen an animal like this, but she knew at once what it was. She had heard tales from her own father about the Yeti of the Himalayas and the Sasquatch of North America. When he had told to her the outrageous tales of these supposed missing links, the stories had been only just that — stories meant to make her snuggle under the covers and giggle nervously in her bed. However, there was no Papa here to tickle her and make her feel safe again, and the warmth and comfort of her own bed was the farthest thing from her current situation. She was alone, unarmed, and entirely vulnerable, and if this creature took it in his mind to attack her, there'd be little she could do to stop him.
It was always a rare thing indeed for Inga to feel fear. Oh, she might become nervous and maybe even apprehensive from time to time, but pure, mind-numbing terror for her own safety did not normally occur in her. She had stared down bears, mountain lions, and even crocodiles, and never before had they evoked in her mind the kind of sensations that this eight-foot tall, monstrously powerful-looking ape did now. The real cause of her terror was that she had absolutely no idea what she was really up against. Until now, she had always assumed that his kind were only fairy tales. She knew nothing about how to intimidate such a creature, or even successfully flee from him, at the very least. She was entirely at his mercy, and she knew it.
The sasquatch eyed Inga warily. She had made no move toward him, so either she had heeded his warning cry, or she was still debating the idea that he might be edible. Deciding to drive his point even further, he took a few menacing, stiff-legged steps toward her, keeping a close eye on her every limb, lest she change tack as well and lunge at him. However, the opposite occurred. With a frightened squeak, she stepped backward, stumbling a little on a loose branch, but never once removing her widened eyes from his face. It seemed as though he had intimidated her after all. He allowed himself to relax, even if only slightly, and his next grunt was less harsh, but no less serious. He took his opportunity to study her visually, as he hadn't been this close to her until now. She seemed entirely bald all over her body, save a long patch of straw-colored fur atop her head. She was breathing quickly, as though she had been running for a long time, and although he wasn't sure of it, he thought her skin had become even lighter in color than before. He watched with keen interest as she backed herself into the trunk of a tree, and with a frightened yelp, she clutched backwards at it with her shaking hands and steadied herself on trembling legs. She appeared to be entertaining no ideas of lunging at him, so he decided to see just how close she'd let him get to her before she fled. Cornered, frightened animals were often quite fierce when they felt threatened, but as he could see no claws on her hands or feet, and no sharp fangs peeked out from behind her slightly open, pink lips, he thought it would be safe enough to take the chance. If worst came to worst, he could always smack her with one of his fists. It looked as though even the mildest of blows would be able to dissuade such a slender and delicate-looking thing from trying to do him harm.
Inga's despair surged within her as the sasquatch began advancing cautiously upon her. Either he was curious and wanted to figure out what she was, or he had decided she looked good to eat, and he was creeping up on her to kill her. Either way, she knew she didn't want him coming any nearer to her. Those gigantic hands of his with their thick, sausage-like fingers looked as though they could easily crush her head like an egg, and the thick, sinewy muscles she could see even through his thick fur told her that he had a strength she could only dream of. She wondered if the large muscles in his legs lent swiftness to his run as well. If she tried to run away from him, would she be able to outrun legs like those? If she tried making any sudden moves like that, would he simply strike her to the ground and be done with it? She was so conflicted and so afraid that she could only remain rooted in place and whimper at him as he came up to within mere feet of her, now able to reach out his thick arm and touch her. She trembled violently as he slowly extended a cautious arm toward her chest, and upon giving her a soft poke on one of her breasts, he quickly snapped his arm away again, as though he expected her to bite at it. Instead, she had only yelped involuntarily, and tears of fright began blurring her vision as he cocked his head to one side and grunted at her.
He was indeed trying to figure her out. She hadn't struck at him when he'd touched her, so he steeled his nerve and did it again, this time gripping her tiny teat in one hand for a couple of seconds before withdrawing his arm. Again, she let out a frightened cry, and she shut her eyes as trickles of water dripped from them down the sides of her face. He studied the saline drops in wonder. Never before had he encountered another creature in these woods which shed tears as his people did. He couldn't help himself. He reached a tentative arm forward and gingerly traced one of the watery lines with his finger. She shuddered and let out a sob, but she didn't try to bite him or scratch him, and he found himself even more eager to touch her as a result. He pressed his dampened finger to his nostrils and snuffled at the familiar-smelling moisture. They were definitely tears. She was crying.
Softly and carefully, he padded even more closely to the trembling creature, and he dipped his head down toward her face until the two were level with each other. Inga opened her eyes just long enough to see how very near to her he was, and she promptly closed them again as she gripped the tree trunk even more tightly. Her breath came to her in shallow gasps, and her chest was heaving forcefully in response. Just be silent and passive, she told herself. Eventually he'll get bored and go away.
Again she made no move to attack. The sasquatch decided that she must be a harmless creature after all. Eager to satisfy his urge to examine her more closely, he took in a few long, deep breaths, becoming nearly drunk with excitement at the fresh and exciting mixture of scents coming from her. She smelled strongly of the lake water, but beneath that smell was a much clearer sample of her scent than even her recently shed skin had contained. Forgetting himself for a moment, he dropped to his hands and knees so as to move his explorations farther south, snuffling eagerly at her midsection where the flimsy fabric of her undershirt hid her belly button. His nose was pressed firmly against the wet fabric, and had she not been so frozen in terror, Inga might have likened him to a dog investigating the smell of another animal on its human owner.
Realizing that there were even more interesting smells farther down, the sasquatch followed his sensitive nose farther south, until he had reached the place where Inga's legs connected with her torso. Sucking in the air from between her legs like a furry vacuum, he unconsciously gripped her thighs with his fingers and tugged at them so as to part her legs and offer him better access to this exciting new scent. Inga cried aloud at this invasion of her most private area, and without thinking, she let go of the tree and gave the creature's head a shove, shrieking at him both in fear and shame.
Startled out of his reveries, the Sasquatch grunted again and scrambled backwards, worried that she was about to attack him. However, she made no move to follow, and she went back to clutching at the tree and trembling as she clamped her legs together much more tightly than they had been before. Relaxing again, he realized that he must have spooked her, so he uttered some soft, reassuring grunts as he again advanced on her.
Although she was still frightened nearly beyond all reason, Inga had begun to conclude that he was not thinking of eating her. She still didn't want him so close to her, but she now knew that it was only curiosity that led him there, and that if she was careful, he most likely wouldn't intentionally hurt her. Still, it wasn't a very comforting thought, considering the fact that with such powerful limbs as his, he could easily hurt her without meaning to. The only way she could be ensured of safety would be for him to go away, but how could she get him to do that without having him attack her out of fear? He'd already shown through his cautious advances that he wasn't too sure that she wasn't a threat, so if she tried to shoo him away he might retaliate in a way that wouldn't be good for her health. Again, despair crept into her mind as she knew that she was entirely at this creature's mercy. She could only hope that he would lose interest eventually and go away. She would just have to do her best to appear as passive and non-threatening as possible.
"Oh God," she moaned as he again crouched in front of her and began snuffling against her crotch. "Please stop..."
Either he didn't understand, he didn't care, or it was both, because he didn't stop. Instead, he lifted one of her legs with his meaty hand and began sniffing along the pale skin, seemingly enthralled by the smells he found on her. He pressed his nostrils against her toes and grunted excitedly as they wiggled in response. He let out a strange, almost laughing kind of growl as he poked at her foot and she shrieked at the ticklish sensation and tried to yank it out of his hand. Gripping her leg behind the knee, he lifted it away from the other and again turned his attention to her wet panties. He seemed to be interested in the smells he found there more than the ones he found anywhere else. Inga stifled a gasp as he eagerly pressed his face against the puckering folds of flesh, separated from him only by a flimsy stretch of cotton fabric. He began rubbing his nose against the moistened cotton, and Inga let out a whimpering, plaintive cry. She wished he'd get tired of this and go away. Her face had become flushed and warm, even though she knew that he was only an animal, and it wasn't as though he was a man poking around down there. However, she took little comfort in the thought when he made a wriggling, tentative lap at her with his firm, red tongue.
"No!" she shrieked, unable to resist her urge to flee any longer. "Stop it! Go away!" She shoved at his head with her hands, and as he let out an alarmed grunt and lurched backward, she stole her opportunity to escape. Screaming in fright, she darted away from him and plunged into the thickly grown darkness of the woods. She knew that she was running away from her camp - and away from her knife - but right now her only desire was to get as far away from that thing as she could, and she figured that he would be less able to follow her if she was in amongst the bushes and closely-set trees of the forest at the mountain's base. Unfortunately, running through such overgrown conditions was all but impossible in her bare feet, and she didn't get far at all before they had become scratched and bruised so painfully that she was forced to slow down. She kept running into brambles and scrub, and it wasn't long before her scant clothing had become torn and her skin painfully scratched. She'd never had to run so desperately through wilderness before, and she couldn't help wondering if this was how a hare felt when the eager jaws of a wolf were only paces behind it.
At first she thought her flight had been successful, but a growing clomping sound behind her soon alerted her to the fact that there was a large animal with large feet swiftly approaching her. Stifling a sob of despair, she could only plod on helplessly, ignoring the throbbing pain in her abused feet and staring about wildly for any trees with limbs low enough for her to climb them. Most of those trees had been at the forest's edge, however; these were all extremely tall and unclimbable, and as her pursuer came swiftly up to her from behind, she knew he was going to win, and she would never be able to outstrip him in his own turf.
Relinquishing all hope of escape, she collapsed onto the leaf-litter on the ground and covered her head with her hands, sobbing bitterly as she curled up into a little ball and waited for the agonizing kick, scratch, or hard-handed blow that was sure to come. The sasquatch ran up alongside her and slid to a halt, grunting and snorting from his exertions, but eying the object of his chase with delight in his dark, remarkably bright eyes. Why, that had been ridiculously easy! Was she truly this helpless? How had such a creature managed to survive to adulthood in the harshness of the woods?
Cautiously and gently - so as to avoid causing her to run away again - he knelt down beside her and placed a soft, warm hand against her shaking shoulder. Inga immediately stiffened, but she made no move to strike at him, or even unbury her face for that matter. She simply trembled and curled her legs underneath her shaking body even more tightly, and she whimpered pitifully at him.
A mixture of strange emotions was swirling inside his head. Something about the way she smelled and looked truly excited him; he had felt the same way about some of the females of his own kind, but had been too young to court them at the time. He was also pleased by her apparent inability to injure him thanks to her frailty and timidity. She was a fragile thing, and judging from the way she trembled and left herself vulnerable to him, he could see that he had frightened her badly enough to leave her just as vulnerable to predatory beasts if he were to leave her as she was. Perhaps instead he ought to take her back with him to his den. Perhaps he could teach her that she would be safe from harm while she was in his possession.
The idea of possessing her gave him an instantaneous thrill - so much so that it actually aroused him. He stared down at her in surprise as he felt his cock stiffen and swell in response to the mere sight of her. So that was it. He now understood why he had found himself so unable to tear his sight away from her. He wanted to take her to be his mate. The idea felt so natural and obvious that all at once his doubts and hesitation melted away. Of course he should take her back with him. Where else would he take his mate?
Letting out an eager growl, he curled one hand around her middle and gently pulled her upwards. Gasping and shrieking in terror, Inga flailed her arms and legs as she suddenly found herself up in the air. The sasquatch only grunted affably at her as he hoisted her over one shoulder, and then he turned and began marching into the forest, leaving her campsite farther and farther behind them as he carried her away. Inga screamed and began to beat at his back with her fists and kick her legs wildly, unable to figure out just why he was carrying her, but knowing beyond all doubt that she had no desire to find out. Her captor's only response to her kicks and punches was that strange, laughing growl of his. It seemed almost as if her antics were amusing him. He picked up his pace a little, and Inga soon forgot about struggling as she instead clung desperately to handfuls of his fur in an effort to keep from being thrown off his shoulder onto the swiftly passing ground below. She continued to yell and scream, but her cries had no more effect on him than her beating and kicking had, and before long her voice fell as still as her struggles, and she could only cling to the soft, shaggy fur of the sasquatch and allow him to carry her to wherever he intended to take her.
After what seemed like hours, they arrived at the entrance of a small, granite cave. It bore its way into the skin of the mountain like some kind of parasitic worm, and the sasquatch seemed well at ease as he picked his way down the steeply sloped ruts and platforms into its darker depths. He was careful to keep from scraping any part of her against the rough surfaces of the rock, but Inga cared little about his gentle handling, considering the fact that she was being dragged here against her will, wherever here was. They soon found themselves in inky blackness, and in the darkness Inga could feel every one of her other senses heighten in alert. She could hear the sounds of his grunts and footsteps as they echoed off the cavern walls and ceiling, and she smelled the pungent musk of his skin and fur even more strongly than she had outside. She felt his callused fingers grip her backside tightly as she lay across his shoulder, and she shuddered and gripped his fur even more tightly. What was he going to do with her here? Was he planning to eat her after all?
All at once, they stepped into an offshoot of the larger cavern, and Inga found herself immersed in an orange, soft, flickering glow. She craned her neck to one side in an effort to see around the back of the sasquatch and deduce the source of this light, but from the smoky smell and crackling sounds, she knew at once that it was a fire. Fire? Was there really an animal other than humans who made use of fire? She got her answer when, after grunting triumphantly, the sasquatch walked around the smoldering remains of what could only be an intentionally-lit fire, and he gently laid his prize down upon a bed of old animal skins and moss. Guessing from the strong musk she could smell on this bed, it belonged to her abductor, and she again shuddered as the smell reminded her all the more of how near to him she was. She watched fearfully and motionlessly as he trotted over to the other side of the room and grabbed an armload of leaves and branches from a large pile of them that had been shoved against the far wall. He brought the dry fuel back to the embers of his centrally-located fireplace, and he dumped it all upon the glowing coals, blanketing out their light and plunging the both of them into total darkness.
Inga frantically scrambled backwards as she heard the sasquatch pad softly toward her, but she quickly backed herself up against an uneven, cold rock wall. She moaned in despair as he dropped to his knees in front of her and began pawing and stroking her all over her body. Surely he was working out the best bones to snap so as to keep her from escaping him, she thought wildly to herself. As his hands made their way to her neck, she sobbed loudly. The killing blow never came, however, as his eager hands roved away from her neck and up to her face, feeling the features there with an almost loving gentleness. Inga shut her eyes tightly and turned her head aside as she felt his hot breath draw closer to her face. She shuddered as it tickled her ear with its warmth and strength, and she whimpered as he pressed his nostrils against it, raising the intensity of the sensation to an almost unbearable level. Crying aloud, Inga pushed desperately against the furry chest of the beast, finding with no small degree of despair that he was not as easily dissuaded as he had been outside. His only response to her resistance was to grasp one of her wrists in his massive hand and raise her fingers to his face, snuffling deeply at them and grunting interestedly.
Inga cringed helplessly as the glow slowly began to return, and then all at once it jumped to life, illuminating the sinister features of the sasquatch and allowing her one more sense with which to regard and fear him. The sight of his shadowed, sloping brow as it hunched and bowed in response to the things he discovered as he sniffed and stared at her made her fairly weak with fear. Why was he doing this? What could possibly be so interesting about the way she smelled that he'd carried her all the way back to his nest? If he wasn't going to eat her, then what WAS he planning to do with her?
Removing his attention from her hand, the sasquatch dropped it and began prodding and rubbing against her chest instead. Inga felt the probing curiosity of his fingers as they traced the outlines of her breasts, and she fought hard against the urge to kick and punch at him again. In such close quarters, there was no telling what he was liable to do if she startled him. Still, she couldn't stand having him grope her like this. It felt as though she was being shamed and violated, even if he was only a naïve animal.
All at once he discovered the neckline of her undershirt, and it surprised him. Was there still some unshed skin that needed to be removed? He looped his index finger underneath the boundary of her shirt, and he gave it a firm tug. He was surprised to find that it ripped very easily, and although the female let out a frightened squeal, there was no blood, and it didn't seem as though he'd hurt her. Eager to see what she looked like beneath the flimsy barrier of her unshed skin, he grasped fingerfuls of the fabric and yanked them apart. In moments he had torn the white, sleeveless undershirt completely away from Inga's body, and she screamed as her arms flew to her breasts and her cheeks flushed with shame.
"No!" she screamed, shaking her head violently from side to side as he unceremoniously dropped the shredded garment beside him and reached an arm toward her trembling hands. Ignoring her loud cries, he easily grabbed one of her wrists and pulled it away from her quaking body. He did the same with her other arm, and Inga bemoaned the unyielding strength of his thick arms. She'd been as unable to resist them as she would have iron bars. Shrinking away from him as much as she could considering his tight hold on her wrists, she turned her head to one side and cried aloud as he leaned in closer to inspect her bared breasts.
He let out a surprised grunt. Why, they were teats after all! He marveled at the smooth roundness of them as he cocked his head to one side and eagerly drank in their shape with his eyes. Her small, pinkish nipples had long ago hardened from the chill of the lake water, and they stood pert and lively upon small, similarly-colored rings of flesh. They rose and fell unevenly in response to her quaking and sobbing, and the tantalizing movement aroused more than a little excitement in him.
Without hesitation, he pulled her toward him and promptly gave one of her nipples a lick with the tip of his tongue. She squealed in protest and began to struggle, so he simply pulled her even more closely and took one of the bouncing mounds in his mouth, sucking it fondly as he flicked the end of her nipple with his wriggling tongue. He loosed his hold on her hands and gripped her under her arms to rein in the bucking of her body, and he allowed her to scream and beat at his face as she pleased, realizing with amusement that her efforts were no more painful than the tap of a baby to him. Enjoying the salty taste of her bared skin, he growled contentedly against her breast, closing his eyes and suckling the curved mound gently but firmly. She had begun to cry again, and he felt her warm tears as they dripped off of her cheeks and landed upon his brow. Perhaps he was being too rough with her. Reluctantly, he relaxed his lips and contented himself with licking against her trembling skin instead. Although she had no fur in which to bury his face, he found a powerful degree of enjoyment in simply tasting the bare skin of his new mate. She was milky white and pale, but her skin was soft and pleasant to touch. He ran his hands up and down her back as he lifted his head and began to lick at the tears that were still clinging to her reddened cheeks.
Inga pushed desperately against his chest as she felt a new, even more terrifying fear take hold of her than any up until now. This creature didn't want to eat her; he wanted to make her sleep with him! The horror and terror such a notion evoked in her was nearly mind-breaking. She wailed and screamed as she began to struggle again, and her aggressor only let out a determined grunt as he pushed her down onto her back and easily pinned her arms above her head with one of his powerful hands. Staring at her panic-stricken face with dark, gleaming eyes, he let his gaze wander down the contours of her quivering body until his eyes fell upon her panties. There was something about their difference in color that made him wonder if they were more of her unshed skin. Deciding to investigate his theory further, he rubbed against the stretchy upper boundary, and he let out a triumphant grunt as he found them yielding and separable just as he had with her undershirt. Releasing her arms with his other hand, he seized the soft cotton fabric and ripped it away from her, causing Inga to scream and sob pitifully at him. In her despair she wasn't even able to struggle anymore; she simply covered her face with her hands and tried desperately to blot out the frightening sight of him looming over her. No ... she didn't want this. She wanted him to stop. Why wouldn't he just go away and leave her alone?
Realizing that he was terrifying her, the sasquatch began to stroke her belly with soft, gentle caresses, murmuring low, reassuring grunts at her as he leaned in beside her face and nuzzled her hands with his snuffling nostrils. Inga pressed her fingers against the leathery skin of his nose and cheeks and she pushed against him weakly, sobbing more loudly as he responded by licking against them and allowing a few hot globs of drool to ooze onto her cheek. She was so disgusted, and so very, very afraid. He was so powerful and large; she could do nothing to escape him. She'd never felt so helpless and frightened in her life. She wished she would faint so that she wouldn't have to remember later what she knew he was going to do to her at any moment. How could this have happened? How could a pleasant hike in the mountains have turned out so horribly, horribly wrong?
Deciding that her enfeebled attempts at pushing him away meant that she was close to succumbing to his desires, the sasquatch growled softly and turned his attention back to the newly exposed mound between her legs. He stared eagerly at the small patch of fur that he found there, and he began stroking it with one finger, reveling in the springy way the short hairs bounced up again as they escaped the pressure of his touch. Gently and carefully, he gripped her lower thighs and began pulling her legs apart. Inga tried to clamp them shut again, but he was far stronger than she was, and he easily overpowered her. She moaned in despair as he fell to his hands and knees and lowered his head to her uncovered pussy. She couldn't stand it. How would she ever live with the shame if this beast forced himself on her and she somehow survived? How would she ever be able to explain to others what had happened to her? She covered her face with her hands and sobbed piteously as the sasquatch took a few long, much-anticipated sniffs of her most delicate region. He savored the pungent aroma, and he growled excitedly as he felt his penis harden and jut insistently out of his fur in anticipation. He wasn't going to be satisfied by simply sniffing her, however. He wanted to taste her too. He sat back on his haunches and tried to ignore the pulsing between his own legs as he cupped her buttocks in his hands and gently lifted them off the ground some twenty inches or so. Inga didn't uncover her face, but she trembled more violently just the same. He wondered if she was still afraid, or if she was just as excited as he was. He let out a soft growl of arousal as he dipped his head down to her fragrant pussy lips and began to lick them.
At first, Inga cried aloud at the strange sensation of his hot, moist tongue as it eagerly lapped against the sensitive skin of her pussy lips, and her hands flew to the leathery skins of the bed beneath her as she jerked her hips and tried to shy away from his roving tongue. He had no intention of letting go of her, however, and he tightened his grip on her ass and pressed his face firmly against her pussy, nuzzling the taught bud of her clitoris with his nose as he firmly stroked her tightly puckered opening with his tongue. The sensation was so intense that Inga screamed and arched her back involuntarily, her grip on the animal skins so tight that she actually punctured the top layer with her fingernails. She had never felt anything like it before in her life, and it was so overwhelming and frightening in its strength that she was unable to do more than cry aloud and toss her head in protest. Her legs dangled limply over the creature's hairy arms as he firmly and methodically licked against every soft fold and crevice of her moistening pussy, eagerly slurping and suckling at the juice that was beginning to flow there.
Inga had never felt more ashamed and frightened in her life, and yet, at the same time, she'd never felt anything so incredible and wonderful, either. The heat and pressure of his tongue as it caressed and massaged her most private area sent goose pimples racing across her skin, and she moaned loudly as she fought desperately against herself instead of her attacker. Why did it feel so strange? Why wasn't she writhing in pain and horror? She didn't know how much more of this she was going to be able to take.
However, the sasquatch was merciless in his task, increasing the pressure and frequency of his licks, and grunting a strange, husky kind of grunt as he buried his face in her wetness. Without realizing it, Inga began to swivel her hips back and forth in response, and her breathing became shallow and labored as she felt a peculiar tingling begin down between her legs and slowly warm her body, a bit at a time. Instinctively, she knew that if she increased the activity down there, things would only get better, and as she nearly forgot all about resisting, she lifted trembling hands to the top of the beast's head and clutched at fistfuls of his hair as she pressed back against his merciless tongue. Her moans were no longer moans of despair and fright. Inga was slowly approaching a peak of pleasure, and she was no longer able to dwell on anything else. She wanted this release; she needed it. She wrapped her legs behind the creature's neck and breathed all the more heavily as he eagerly complied with her silent pleas for stronger attention. His tongue thrashed violently against the resistance of her opening and undulated rapidly against her engorged clit. She cried aloud as the pleasure this aroused went ricocheting through her bucking frame, and she tightened the grip of her legs around his neck.
"Please..." she half-whined, half-panted. "P-please don't stop! Hah ... ahn ... ah!"
All at once, it felt as though an explosion of euphoria had just gone off between her legs, and Inga bucked wildly against the wriggling culprit as she let out a high-pitched scream of ecstasy. Her muscles jerked and spasmed as the pleasure radiated throughout her body and sapped it of its strength. With a panting moan, she fell limply away from the face of her attacker, and he allowed her the relief of the removal of his tongue. He gently guided her shaking legs back down onto the bed, and he locked his eyes with hers as she panted and trembled before him.
Unable to meet his gaze any longer now that the warm glow of her pleasure was slowly but surely ebbing away, Inga dropped her eyes and allowed them to settle on a sight that they hadn't closely scrutinized before. There was a thick, rigid protuberance jutting its way out of the shaggy patch of hair adorning the creature's groin. It was a kind of brownish-purple in color, and it was glistening as though it had a thin film of moisture all across its veiny, textured skin. If she had to wager a guess, she'd say that from base to tip, the size of this thing's penis was easily ten or eleven inches, and nearly as thick as a summer sausage. All her pleasure and enjoyment from before immediately fled from her mind, and only horror and fear were left in their wake.
"Please!" she shrieked as she struggled to scramble to her feet. "No, please! Not that!" She succeeded in righting herself and leaping to her feet, but it was as far as she got. She screamed as she felt his rough hands seize her waist and yank her backwards, causing her to crash into his wide chest and feel the heat of the pulsing organ behind her back, which only made her panic mount to even greater heights. "Oh God, please no!" she screamed, shaking her head violently and straining to push herself away from him as he again shoved her onto her back and pulled her backside up off the bed. "Please no! Not like this! I don't want my first time to be ... oh God, no!"
Whether he understood her protests to be what they were or not, the creature was by now too far gone in his own amorous desires to pay them any heed. Grunting a harsh, thick cry at her, he grabbed her thighs in his massive hands and eagerly pulled them toward the bobbing head of his thick, rigid cock. Screaming in terror, Inga could do nothing to stop him as he shoved the meaty firmness against her wet, slick opening, growling contentedly as he breached her virginity and embedded several inches of himself inside her. The sudden pain of this act sent daggers through her spine, and Inga screamed more loudly than she'd ever screamed in her life. She screamed and flailed about as he clamped his hands around her waist and shoved more and more of his throbbing, straining cock inside of her. When he had embedded some six or seven inches inside, he found more resistance than simple tightness barring his path, so he contented himself with his current depth and slowly withdrew his impatient cock from her hot, tight pussy. He noted the red smears of blood on the veiny shaft as he withdrew it, and he realized that she must be in pain after all. Still, she was his mate, and mating with him was part of the bargain. He would simply have to take care to be gentle with her, and she would soon grow to want his cock inside her as much as he wanted to put it there. Grimacing with pleasure, he again pushed inside, enjoying the way her muscles tightened around him as he entered.
"It hurts!" she shrieked, shaking her head and clawing at his hands. "Please! Oh please, stop!"
He didn't stop. Instead, he slowly began a sequence of pushing himself into her, and then pulling back out again. The pain this movement caused Inga was incredible, and she could only writhe and scream at him as he slowly quickened his pace and used his grip on her hips to guide his penetration. Every so often he would growl that soft, gutteral growl of his.
It felt so good ... it felt amazing to mate with her, and he knew that he would want to repeat this activity many, many times. Her petite, milky breasts bounced in time to his thrusts, and he found himself mesmerized by their repetitive bobbing. Ignoring her cries and pounding fists, he slowly lowered her back onto the bed, never once slowing the frequency of his deep, forceful thrusts. He leaned over her, his back hunching upward again and again as he continued to penetrate her. He closed his eyes and licked forcefully against one of her bouncing teats as he gripped the other in his left hand. She was so very delicate and sensitive. It was taking all the restraint he had not to slam his cock into her with undue force. The warmth of her creamy skin and the intoxicating scent of her sex drove him nearly mindless with arousal. Growling deeply, he nibbled one of her nipples ever-so-lightly, eliciting a pained squeal from Inga, and causing her to strike helplessly at his face with soft, trembling hands. She was wonderful, and she was his.
Before long, he began to feel the heat of his impending climax deep within his loins, and he growled more loudly in response. Releasing her sore breast from his suckling mouth, he towered over her and stared lustily down at her frightened, pleading face. Tears again. Their presence somehow made it past the feverish intensity of his arousal, and they moved him to pity. Although it went against everything his body wanted, he slowed the pace of his thrusts to a crawl, and he gently lowered himself against her, grunting softly as he wrapped his arms behind her back and cradled her sobbing face against his chest.
Inga was nearly beside herself with shame and pain, and she could only cry and convulse against him as he held her fast. Why was he doing this to her? Wasn't he satisfied enough with his own kind? How could any animal be so cruel? Eating her for food was one thing, but raping her was something far more sinister and inhuman than even an animal should be. Oh why had she gone on this trip alone? She'd have given anything for even the most obnoxious of people to barge in on them now, so long as they could get this beast to stop.
Although he maintained his gentle pace for several minutes, the sasquatch soon grew impatient with it. Her trembling body felt so warm against his, and the way she pressed her fingers against the thin fur of his chest made him nearly mad with desire. He could endure it no longer. Uttering a long, groaning growl, he cupped his hands over the top of her head and held her fast as he began pumping into her with hard, urgent thrusts. She screamed in his ear at the pain this caused, but he didn't dare stop now. He was too close to release for him to listen to anything but his cock any longer. As he pounded her with an increasing, frenzied pace, his grunts and growls became louder, stronger, and more fierce. Within seconds, his cries had become so loud that the entire cave echoed with them, multiplying their intensity and filling Inga with a fear more maddening and powerful than anything else. She could feel the flecks of blood and other fluids as they spattered messily against her inner legs and his, and she felt the hard slap-slap-slap of his massive testicles as they collided with her ass cheeks. The wild fierceness in his surprisingly expressive face made her weak with fear, and she realized with no small degree of fright that he was nearing his climax.
"N-not inside!" she begged him, ignoring the knowledge that he couldn't understand her, and wouldn't heed her even if he did. "Please don't come inside me!"
The sound of her voice only seemed to have the opposite effect on him, though. He bared his teeth and snarled savagely as his thrusts became even harder and faster. Inga watched in terror as his eyes rolled back in their sockets, and with a loud roar of pleasure, he slammed his massive cock into her one last time. The explosion of hot liquid that filled her ravaged pussy rendered Inga all but incapable of speech, and she could only gasp and sob as surge after surge of the creature's semen erupted inside of her, only to come squirting out around him as it mixed with her blood and coated them both with splashes of white and pink. His roaring, snarling cry ebbed off into a deep growl as he continued to jerk and buck against the warmth and tightness of her overflowing pussy. It was the most incredible, overwhelming sensation he'd ever experienced, and he knew at once that he'd made the right decision. This female was an incredible mate, and he was never going to let her escape him. He had found a treasure worth far more than any number of tasty elk or fish.
At long last, he let out a long, growling sigh of contentment, and he slowly withdrew his softening cock from her sore, seeping pussy. He crept back a little and poked his face down into the mess, snuffling interestedly at the mixture of blood and cum that was now oozing out of her opening. She didn't strike at him now; she seemed entirely exhausted, as her arms lay limply on either side of her head, and her eyes drooped sleepily as she breathed short, heavy breaths. Grunting approvingly, he gently lifted her weary body off of the bed and clutched her to his breast as he lay down himself. His mate didn't struggle to get away from him; she only whimpered pitifully and trembled slightly as he wrapped his powerful arms around her and held her firmly against him.
Inga's legs quaked and shivered as they lay against the warm, sticky mass of fur that had only minutes before been pounding against her violated pussy. That same pussy was now oozing the evidence of her assault onto the beast's belly, but he seemed to be entirely unbothered by the mess. Sobbing quietly, Inga clutched handfuls of his fur as she buried her face in his breast and asked herself how she would ever be able to escape this beast, and if she did, how she would ever be able to live with the shame of what he'd done to her. Even these frightening, troubling thoughts were unable to keep her exhausted, numbed body from succumbing to the lure of sleep, however, and she soon lay sleeping quietly upon the chest of her new mate, who lovingly stroked her pale, damp head-fur with one possessive hand and gripped her about the waist with his other. He would let her sleep for now, but he knew that he'd want to go again soon, so he hoped she'd rest well in the meantime!