a pack of hounds

@Vengeance

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  Nike had made her way south. Her memories were hazy, but they were coming back to her with a harsh slap to the face. Almight, her memories cooed. The Order. The Wolf. Fuck, what had really happened to her?

 The winds carried her south. South to a land that had been once familiar to her. A land that she would cuff in stride. She had been to the lands here before— her duty was to bed the Scion of the Nightwalkers. Had he still been here, then? Had Almight lurked any of the corners? Did he worry for her, too?

 It didn't fucking matter.

 Who she wanted, what she needed was to see the Boss of the Nightwalkers, not their sorry for an excuse of an heir. Almight never had the balls to claim her for what she could create. What she could bend at her will. But that night that she had met the Boss, she knew that he had what it took to carve out his army in history.

 Nike only wanted to be at the center of its history.

 So as she breached the Woods, she would leave her scent on the trees. Her glands would brush against the bark, only on the edges. I'm here, her brain cooed, her perfume lingered. Come find me.

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Please note, Veng is greedy and thinks everything that touches Blackwood is his as well. This isnt reflected in the rules of the site, nor is it true - this is just his mentality

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Someone was in the woods north of the Reach. Their scent permeated the air, calling him to come hither and find this piece of ass that was calling for him by marking her scent all over the faint glow of the fungus trees.

He smelt her the moment the sun had gone down and the chill of autumn air pricked at his skin. The harsh summer heat only lingered during the peak hours of the day, and so he began to wander a little more these days than remain in the shade of the misty woods. Almight, Morag and Eris had all fled somewhere. Cowards. He had given them plenty of time to find their way back to the mist since the shifting of lands and now, he had deemed them as lost and/or cowards. It was time to find fresh recruits - and this one, who was dancing through his woods, could be a potential soul to gather.

With a swipe of his claws on the marked bark he left his own trail. Ragged marks over the scent trail as he picked through the path. Only looking for the freshest marks as to cut through the bullshit trail. He recognized this scent, only faintly. He had met this one before, only briefly but her memory remained. “Nike-” He called. Those baritones echoing in the silent night. “What shall I do when I catch you?” A rhetorical question.

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  When she had gotten far enough, Nike had held herself up near the dead roots of a tree. She would stay hidden there, but the sound of his voice caught her ear.

 She would flee again. Careful, she would leave him only so much of her trail. A beast such as himself should have no issues finding her, wouldn't he? The part of this was that she, indeed, would like to be found. As she would trot through the woodland, she would yell backward; "It depends—"

 Nike took a deep breath in, praying that her answer would be the one she hoped for. "Is Almight around?"

  She'd fill the silence, slowing her pace down to make it easier for him. Easier to find her. "If not..." her voice lowered, a seductive, intrusive lilt took her cadence. "Then I am yours."

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Every little mark was picked through. He spent little time at them despite how tantalizing it was to get personal with the aroma. Moving on to the next so he could swallow up whatever distance was between them.

Every passing mark the scent was growing stronger, fresher, she was near and all he had to go was spot her. The wrong turn fed by the adrenaline coursing through his veins could lead down a path of failure and dear little Nike to slip through his jagged claws.

He followed her voice, her scent, believing he had found her as he rounded the roots of a tree. Brushing his shoulder against it. “That brat is nowhere to be found.” He said before gazing into the empty nest of roots, and a frustrated - and excited - growl slipped through those yellowed fangs; and off he went again on her trail.

"Then I am yours."

She was quick to say - and his excitement grew. The way she played the game was thrilling. His body reacted naturally to such a thing, to the seductress that intentionally drew him to her with breadcrumbs. With Morag no longer around it had been far too long since he had taken anyone in such a way... and already he was painfully hard. Mind focusing on a single thing as her scent grew stronger, and like the crazed, mindless animal he was, as soon as he saw her silhouette he moved in for the kill.

“I'm going to fuck you senseless.” He promised. Not an ounce of romance from him, and only the carnal desire for basic pleasure. His pace didn't break as he approached, wishing, demanding to touch her now as he aimed to brush up against her. Using his weight to move and guide her into the dance of adultery. Trying to tease her in turn by showing his strength and just what was coming her way, what she had beckoned for.

Almight was a fool and no son of his to have walked away from a bitch like this. He wondered and teased himself with thoughts of how she felt in comparison to Morag.

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  No where to found.

  She could not be more thrilled to hear such joyous news. And she could only feel the shrills of pleasure and excitement from her own body. Nike enjoyed this. The feeling of being hunted. The feeling of sending another so over the carnal edge just for a taste of her.

 His words, God his words, she couldn't resist. When he found her then, his blummering, disgusting shadow of a scent looming over him, she wouldn't hesitate. "You still hold law over Nightwalkers, yes?"

 Once her question would be confirmed, she'd pull herself in a downward bow, hips raised for him. She didn't want him nearly as much as she had wanted to create more. Her place was on a throne. The same for her children. She would secure a future, and the time had been now. Her place always belonged with these mongrels, the king of them all thrusting inside her. It was the perfect place.

 If she liked it or not didn't matter. She'd hate the scent of his rot and blood lingering around the creases of her hips, dripping from her cunt. It would be a stench that would linger, but that was the point, wasn't it? She would be staking her claim upon him, belly full of pups, growing to the top.

 "Take me," she'd breathe, her hips aching, tail swishing to the side for him. "And bring me home."

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“I still breathe, don't I?” He cooed in response. Many layers upon it to be dissected. He'd be dead, long dead before anyone could take the Nightwalker throne from him. They would have to earn it - it was not a gift after all.

He didn't need a reason for this little dance of hers. Nor would he question it. A moment of pleasure was more than enough to keep him fed into this little ploy of hers. Feeling more than capable of batting back whatever she could toss his way should this be some kind of trap or whatever.

And so he didn't question it when her ass rose into the air. Beckoning him to enter.

He wasted no time. Take me she said, and he was already mounted. Claws digging into the soft flesh between her thighs, threatening to tear her belly open she backed out now. In seconds he took the plunge. Filling her with him. The warmth of Nike wrapping around him and he wanted more. With fangs he reached out to her nape, getting a grip to solidify his position before the rhythm began. A harsh, hard tempo he kept up until his seed was spilling out - and even then he wasn't done.

There was much to catch up on during the silence that came from the shifting lands... and he would take her home as soon as Nike's legs could carry her there; only to repeat the same thing again. Until she was fat with his newest litter of mongrels.

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 There were no words to be spoken.

 He had already mounted her by the moment she spoke her words. A seething pain from the sharpness of his nails pinched against the junction of her thighs. No turning back. Nike was no fool— she knew what this meant. Heirs. If she couldn't provide Almight a litter, because he had been too much a pussy himself, then she would take one herself. Fortify something new.

 And she did.

 The stretch had been vicious. She hissed with pain. It was no doubt that he filled her completely, breaching the walls of her cervix. It had been too long. Too long since she had been drawn senseless and thrust into the ground like this. But this time she had a goal. A mission.

 Her legs would lock against the ground, supporting his weight the best she could. His thrusts were relentless. The grip on her neck was unforgiving. Surely she would bleed, his teeth were far too sharp to not cut through her skin. Everything comes with a price.

 He spared no effort. Even when he was finished, he kept going. A beast. Nike took it. She had no choice. He was no lover of any kind, just a machine that wanted to take. Nike saw that now. Saw him for what he was as he filled her to the brim of his seed. It was then that Nike realized that a man can be seen so intently from the moment he decided to mount a woman.

 She would go home with him once she could walk. Her legs ached. Navel scorched with pain. But she was not just a bitch. She was a woman. And she would take whatever he gave her, and spare not a single crumb.

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