Chapter 22 Landslide Origins #2
Taking myself in hand, I stroke myself as I kneel down between her legs. But instead of guiding my throbbing cock into that tight crevice, I lift her foot up to my mouth.
She pouts like a greedy child.
“You might get rock hard from sucking my toes, warrior, but I do not.”
Ignoring her, I jerk my fist up and down my rigid shaft and close my eyes as I lick the foot’s arch. I have always adored this part of a woman’s body. When I touch and suck a female foot, it makes her seem like a beautiful goddess in my mind.
Her throaty purr demands I pay attention to her.
“Do as I command before I lose patience.”
Leaning over her, I bend my head to lick the narrow cleft and hooded clit. It shocks me when I feel how silken soft the red bush is. No stray hairs come loose or stick on my tongue. And the juice in the cleft tastes coppery with blood.
She stares up at me and licks her mouth as I lower myself into her.
I have control in everything I do. I will ride this bitch until she begs me for mercy.
I do not care how tight and wet her love passage feels to my rampant manhood.
I am the stallion, and she is my mare. My will is to dominate her into submission.
The heat in the tent gets humid as I drive myself deep, but her eyes don’t even wrinkle with discomfort as she takes every part of me inside her. I nearly lose myself once I am balls deep inside her cloying quim, but her skin is cold enough to make me concentrate.
Am I plowing snow or fucking a woman? Still, her moist canal clasps my cock so tight that the pressure starts to build.
“You like that, kultaseni?” I am panting in the close heat inside the tent.
I can feel the sweat dripping down my ass and over my balls.
This strange woman is no sweetheart, but kultaseni is the word I use when I am fucking any woman.
It’s the best way of never getting the names mixed up. “You want me to fuck you harder?”
I keep my strokes long and slow, making sure her clit is always touching the shaft of my cock.
I do this by maintaining the perfect position.
When she least expects it, I grind into her with a burst of speedy thrusts.
The only way this woman can stop herself from cumming all over my addictive girth is by pushing me out of her.
And that is the last thing she will ever want to do.
I can tell her pinnacle is close. The harsh gasps of pleasure lets me know how bad she needs this. “Ah-ah-ah, juo, juo.”
Her orgasm climbs upwards, getting stronger and stronger. I stay hard even after I cum, so I feel it is safe for me to spunk my load.
And then she bites me. I am frozen by the pain. It is all the more deadly because I am enjoying my orgasm at the same time.
She falls back on the cushions, spent and full of happiness.
“Juo, warrior. I knew you were a delicious fuck. And now I am going to give you a special gift—a gift that will allow us to do this together forever.”
Cutting the plump mound of flesh over her breast with one sharp fingernail, she invites me to feed on her. I take only a sip, but the poison spreads quickly throughout my body like molten lava.
One by one, seven warriors are hobbled in the pen and dragged into the tent. Crawling over to Artim and the fluffy white bjelkier, I rasp, “I am starving. I must eat. No, I must drink…!”
Artim shakes his head. “She keeps us weak so that we must remain her sex slaves. Drinking the blood of human females would make us too strong, so she denies it to us.”
Artim is right. All I can think about is a woman’s blood. I crave it like a horny boy who just got his first gákti.
“Can’t we just jump over this pen and run away?”
Theron was the second man to have gone inside the tent. She bit his neck, but there is only a red mark there now.
“Hei,” the shorn, pale-skinned warrior called Ifan says no; he looks like he has very little blood left.
“She is able to sense it if we stray. And what if we get stranded out in the sunlight? It knocks us unconscious. If the sun comes out from behind the clouds, it can cause us to burst into flames. She casts men out into the daylight when they fail to please her.”
Only Heikkinen is left. My brother from our father, the chief.
“If I get the chance, I will distract her. Seize the chance and leap over the fence. Hide under the snow when the sun comes up. Make your way back to the village and feed. But you must be gone by the next night. She will come looking for you.
“We are men!” Weak and pale, Rundas growls. “We are not pets. That bitch is a common wurdulac. A bloodsucking upyr.”
“Are we all in agreement? We will flee when our brother-warrior cleaves her belly open.” Theron wants to know.
We all nod, even the weak youth with fair hair falling over his beardless face. What choice do we have?
The tent flaps open again. That damn redhead is insatiable! Curse her.
Two wolf warriors approach the pen with the leather thong hobbles raised above their heads.
“You.” They point to Heikkinen. “Stand up. Hurry. The dawn is coming, so you better come fast.” They snigger at the double meaning.
Bumping his fist against my loosely clasped hand, my brother whispers. “Run for your life, little brother. Take the others with you. Seven has always been a lucky number in our tribe. Say farewell to my wife for me.”
We don’t weep or have any regret about his sacrifice. We are warriors. We were trained to hold our lives cheap from the cradle to the grave. And if we die with a sword in our hands, we will live forever in the gods’ hall in the sky.
Heikkinen tells the guards, “No need to hobble me. I’m coming.”
Gathering my strength, I feel the small amount of blood the woman gave me sloshing around in my veins. It will do until I can get some more.
And when the seven of us are strong again, we will trek as far away from this cult of blood and death as we can go.
I imagine Heikkinen drawing the puukko he keeps hidden under his cloak. He is a large man. He will drive the knife into the woman’s belly using all his weight.
A keening wail turns into ghoulish shriek inside the tent.
We seven men, we run.