A Woodland Offering

I expect her to rise to her feet but she does not do so. She continues to crawl, animal-like, toward me as if she is being drawn to my scent. Her eyes never leave mine and they seem to have reddish tinge to them as she approaches. She is smiling, a sharp, hungry smile but not one without some touch of tenderness

I stiffen as I finally come within her reach, and my arms twist helplessly in their bonds. She breaks eye contact so that her gaze travels down over my body, an examination I almost feel like a physical caress down over the swell of my breasts, across my belly and down between my legs. There is a wet heat raging there that I have never felt before, not even with Justina. It is as if her obvious hunger and need is carried on the air, infecting me with a similar desire.

She looks at the slit in my long dress and the long stretch of leg that lies exposed. She takes in a long, savouring breath and I find myself parting my legs, revealing more to her, wanting to reveal all. She gaze travels up my leg, lingering at the reveal of my inner thigh. I am breathless with excitement. My legs feel weak and unsteady and I worry they will not support me. I do not want to appear weak before this goddess; I want her to see me as I am.

For the first time she touches me, the sudden movement startling me. I feel her hands, cold and strong seize each of my legs, just above my knees. She is kneeling before me, as if it is I who am deserving of worship. She looks up at me and again I am lost in the entrancing power of her gaze. Her dark lips part to be moistened by her tongue. It takes me a few moments to realise that she is, unbelievably, waiting for permission.

The truth hits me then; a truth that would never be accepted by the men of the village. None of the women brought to this glade are ever truly sacrificed, they are all claimed willingly. The fact that no woman returns is because no woman has ever refused the offer made to her.

I am shaking so much that I do not trust my voice to answer. Instead I nod, a slight gesture, but it is enough. She lets out another, long moan of pleasure, and then her hands begin to rise upwards, taking my dress with it. I feel the cold air of the night wash over my skin as I am revealed. The dress is pushed up above my knees, higher. I feel a breath of wind against my inner thigh which I realise is no such thing: it is her breath, cool and delicious, as she leans her face closer to me. I feel her breath caress the hidden folds of my private parts and I part my legs further, inviting her in.

My dress is bunched up above my waist but I do not care. I am completely revealed to her and I feel utterly wanton and unashamed. I feel face brush against the curls of hair between my legs. It is all too much, and I rest my head back against the tree, closing my eyes and surrendering to it as she takes in a long breath, savouring the scent of me. I can feel the air pass over the lips of my cunt as she takes it in.

I can hear my name being carried on the wind but I ignore it, there is nothing in the world for me now but the desire to feel the touch of her mouth on my skin.

"Rowan!" It is a man's voice, that last thing I want to hear now but I feel the woman pull away from me. I open my eyes to see Charles, wide eyed and clearly terrified, stride into the clearest, a flaming torch in one hand, a drawn dagger in the other.

The creature, for that is what she has become, lets out a hiss of frustration and fury and, for a moment, there appears to be little human about her. Rising, for the first time, to her feet she bares her sharp teeth at the intruder, her hands spread to the side, her fingers ending in dark talons. I see Charles waver as he senses her power but, good man that he is, he does not run. He circles around, the woman keeping pace, neither taking their eyes from each other.

"Charles, please," I begin but can go no further. I feel a chaos of emotions surging through me. "I didn't ask for this!"

"Hush now, it's going to be alright!" He hasn't looked at me yet, his attention completely taken with the circling fiend before him. "You're coming with me. There had been more than enough of this madness."

By this time his arc has taken him closer to the tree. The woman is further away and It occurs to me that she may flee back into the woods. Then, for the first time, I feel genuine terror. Not the fearful expectation of earlier, but a deep anguish that I will be left alone.

"It's my decision, Charles." I am trying to make him see reason to take me seriously but he continues to get closer.

"I said be quiet!", he snarls, "You're not well Rowan, I should have guessed when you rejected me. You need help, and I am here to see that you get it."

Turning, his arm slashes out in an arc above my head and I feel the rope around my wrists slacken off suddenly, allowing arms to drop down. I feel a wave of despair wash over me.

"I don't want this. Charles, for once in your life will you just listen to me and accept that I don't want this."

"You don't know what you want, Rowan, you never have. Now, be quiet while I deal with this... thing."

The woman is now standing perfectly still, her arms at her side and a slight smile on her dark lips. The animal side of her has submerged itself again and she appears serene and impossibly beautiful in her long black dress. She makes no move to either attack or flee. She simply waits and I realise with a surge of joy that she has no intention of leaving unsatisfied.

"Here," Charles snaps, bringing me back to reality, "take this" He is handing my a knife. It feels heavy in my hand and the sharp edge of the blade appears to be alive with the reflected light from the torch he carries. I stare it it, mesmerized for a moment.

"For God's sake snap out of this. Stay behind me and I'll ma..." His voice stops as if a heavy stone door has closed shut on him, sealing him in. I watch his eyes bulge in confusion as he desperately reaches for an understanding he will never achieve. He is a good man, I do believe this, despite his flaws, but he is an arrogant man and he should have listened. I have waited for this night for seven long years. He should never have stood between me and home.

And he should never have handed me the knife.

Cutting his throat was an easy decision to make.

I watch as his legs buckle and he crashes to the ground like a marionette with severed strings. I tell myself that he did not suffer, that it had been his decision to stand in my way. Not that it matters now. I let the knife drop from my fingers onto the grass and I watch as the grass around his body begins to change colour to a a deep crimson. Charlie's hand seems to reach out to the fallen torch, dropped just beyond his reach. The light in his eyes goes out in the same moment as the flames gutter out, and the strange, silvery light creeps back to cover the land.

I look up at the woman, the goddess, standing before me. She is watching me silently, her face unreadable. I sense that she is only herself realising for the first time that I am not some naive innocent unaware of what awaits me. She, like Charles and the rest of them in the village, do not know that I have spent the years learning and preparing for this night. To show her, I say her name, her true name, so she will know.

"Medeina." I whisper, and the name seems to echo around the glade.

She doesn't move and, for a moment I am lost as to what to do next. It occurs to me that I should go to her, but something tells me this is wrong. She holds me in her gaze before looking past me, over my shoulder, toward the dark oak behind me. And with that, I know what is required.

I nod my understanding and then retake my place on the tree. I feel the hard, uneven, familiar surface of the trunk press into my back as I raise my hands above my head, cross them and wait for what happens next.

I do not need to wait long. There is a stirring above me, and I feel the hard touch of branches as they move, enclosing my wrists in a tight knot. Trapping me again.

Medeina, huntress of the woods, takes her time as she walks toward me, her movements fluid and catlike. There is a slight smile on her lips as she closes the distance between us. I hold her gaze as she approaches. There is still fear, of course, but it is a weak and feeble thing drowned out by the almost painful sense of anticipation. Again, I feel her gaze travel down the length of my body and I shiver at the sensation.

Leaning in she brings her face so close to mine that we could so easily kiss. It would just take the slightest movement of my head to finally taste her. I resist. The claiming must be hers. I open my mouth to speak but, before I do, she presses the tip of one taloned finger to my lips. She makes a low, shushing sound with her lips, quietening me. She places her other hand on the trunk above my head so that she is leaning into me. She is taller than me by almost half a foot and I feel small before her.

Then, taking her finger from my lips, and with exquisite, tortuous slowness, she uses her talon to cut through the material of my dress, never taking her eyes from mine. The material parts easily with a soft ripping sound as I am slowly unveiled before her. I feel the night air steal in to caress my bare skin along my chest. Her finger moves lower and my breasts are revealed, firm with the nipples almost painfully erect. She lowers her gaze and I hear her breath catch as she drinks in the sight of my exposed body. I sense her hunger rising and I can do nothing but watch as she parts my dress down to my navel and lower until it meets the upwards slit and the material parts completely. I feel completely without defence, exposed and thoroughly helpless before her. I long for her to begin the ceremony but again, she is in no hurry. She begins to torment me, slowly, mercilessly, deliciously.

She begins to explore by naked body with her fingers, the sharp talons tracing impossibly complex patterns upon my flesh, swirls and circles, lines and curves, soft enough not to break the skin, but hard enough to leave faint scratch-marks that shine in the dim glow of the night. I writhe helplessly at her touch, the exquisite torment as sharp and as delicious as her touch. Her talons sweep over the swell of my breast and, as one of the cruelly sharp points brush over my nipple it sends a bolt of fire directly to my cunt. I cry out in frustration but she takes no heed, intent, as she is, on her task. I am being marked, signed for, but she is holding back and I long for her to throw away all restraint. Her talons circle around my naval, the sensitive flesh just above my groin. It is all too much, but I desperately want more.

I feel her sharp touch against the inside of my thigh. Again, I part my legs, inviting her in. At the last she relents and I sense her talons retracting and it is a very human hand that presses itself into the hot, wet parting between my legs. Her eyes flicker back to mine, as if seeking consent, and I nod by head. It would be impossible for me to do anything else. The feeling as she presses her fingers into me is so exquisite that I almost lose control of myself there and then but a sharp look from her brings me back from the edge

Her finger quickly finds my most sensitive part and I writhe helplessly as she begins to describe a circle around my nub. I lean forward, aching to taste her, and this time she does not deny me. She leans forward, her mouth so close to mine that I can feel her breath and then, finally, I feel her lips, cool and firm, on mine and I melt into a kiss. I am surprised that the kiss, initially at least, is so tentative, shy almost. He mouth is closed and there is something chaste and sweet about the feel of her mouth on mine. But then, I feel her lips part and her tongue darts out to run over my teeth, tasting me. I accept her willingly and I feel her body relax against mine. I feel the press of her body against me as our tongues meet and explore one another. She is still holding back and this excites as well as frustrates me. I feel her finger leave my bud in order to push inside me. my wet cunt eagerly accepts this second penetration.

Our kiss has become fevered now and I catch my tongue on the point of her teeth. This reminder of her true nature sends a tremor through my body, directly to my cunt. She breaks of the kiss and, for a heart-stopping second, I see the inhuman side of her take over. My disappointment when she regains control lasts only as long as it takes for her to begin to kiss my earlobe, before moving her mouth lower, over the tendons of my neck.

She withdraws her finger from my molten cunt and I feel her hand on my breast, squeezing and massaging. Her talons are back and I feel the sharp scratch over my sensitive flesh. Then she is bending low and taking my nipple between her sharp teeth and I groan in pleasure at her attentions. She is careful not to draw blood and yet she bites hard enough to cause me to gasp in pain. I feel her tongue flick against the tip of my nipple and I am so overcome with desire that I can scarcely breath. She is devouring me. feasting on me. savouring me.

She moves lower and I feel her sharp teeth take playful nips of the smooth skin below my navel. She kisses my pubic hair, seeming to savour the feel of it against her lips, her cheek,

Then she drops down to her knees and I feel her cool lips against the raging wet heat in the parting between my legs, her cool breath against the folds of my sex only increasing the fire. She lets out a long, low growl that it entirely animal and yet she retains control, continuing to tease and torment me with her gentleness. If my hands were free I would be grabbing handfuls of her dark hair and pulling her hard against me, but I can do nothing but endure the painful anticipation. Her tongue snakes out and I feel it brush against my sex. She is looking up at me and I can tell that she is smiling, enjoying every second of making me wait.

I open my legs and welcome her in, her mouth closes on my clit and her tongue gets to work. This is not gentle lovemaking but a hard forcing of pleasure. My moans rise up to fill the clearing and they only become louder when I feel her press a finger inside me, then another. I feel delirious, the rising tide of pleasure blotting out the world so that everything becomes centred around my cunt. It is too much, and it can't last long. I throw my head back in helpless ecstasy , and it is then that I notice, for the first time, that we are not alone.

I see figures in the tree-line standing silently watching us, as I had so many years before. I try to make out more details but it is an impossible task as, just as they come into focus, the pleasure between my legs erupts to wipe away any sensation of the outside world.

My orgasm rips through me in a wave that carries away any sense of rational thought. I convulse on the tree as she continues to drive me on with her tongue. I hear my own cries of release but can barely recognise them as my own, can barely recognise them as human.

And then I feel the tree release it's hold on my wrists and, my legs weak and buckling, I sink to my knees. She is there to catch me and again I feel her mouth on mine, her lips sticky and wet from my own arousal. She is not yet done with me, as I am not with her.

Together, we remove her dress, and we lose ourselves in the feelings of our naked bodies entwining. Her body is muscled and strong and yet soft and smooth under the touch of her hands and mouth. Her body smells of the forest and I take my time exploring her. She laughs as I take her nipple into my own mouth, biting down and it is a wonderful sound, She lies back on the grass, her dark hair spilling out around her as she allows me to worship her with my mouth, my tongue. I am guided by her groans of pleasure and the evidence of her own arousal is wonderfully wet on my tongue as I tease her into her own, keening, climax.

It is almost the end, I sense that, but there is no regret. The night has been everything I wanted it to be... almost. I know how this must end and, as she rises from the ground, a fierce hunger burning in her eyes, I know what is to come. I remain on my knees, naked before her as she takes me in a last embrace. My hair is swept back over my naked shoulder and I feel her breath again on my skin. I see past her into the tree-line and I see that our observers have not left. They wait silently without moving, their watching eyes shine softly in the moonlight. They are all women, and one of them is very recognizable to me,.

I feel Medeina's lips press against the space between shoulder and neck. her lips pull back and her teeth, hard and cruel, push deep into the sensitive skin of my neck. I scream in pain and yet I hold onto her as she takes from me. She throws her head back and lets out a howl of triumph into the night sky. She has embraced her animal side and her teeth are long, sharp and stained red with blood. It should be terrifying and yet I am awed by her savage beauty. I feel her mouth return to my neck as she continues to feed.

The pain subsides to be replaced by a slow, pleasurable, weakening sensation, I feel her lips move against my skin as she drinks, taking my blood in hungry swallows. I only resist when I feel her draw away. I weakly signal for her to continue, to finish. Her dark lips shine with blood and the look of animalistic hunger has been replaced by one of contentment. She rises to her feet and leaves me there, on my knees, beneath the stars. I cry in frustration and loneliness.

But I am not alone for long. Silently the figures in the trees move forwards to welcome me. Their faces are pale but happy. And leading the way is one so precious to me. Kneeling before me she takes my head in her hands, kissing me softly and the seven long years melt away. I say her name, and there is nothing in me but joy and relief. I know this is not the end, but only rhr beginning, and I am glad that it is Justina welcoming me to my new life. I feel her mouth move to my throat and, again there is pain, but it is nothing. I accept it gladly as my lover finally brings me safely home from the land of the living into the dark, eternal safety of the forest.

Where I will wait, along with my my sisters, for the next offering to be made.

Coda

The long summer day was finally surrendering to twilight. In the air high above the glade a lone air-plane traces a line of fire through an empty evening sky. The tree stood as it always had, waiting patiently in the centre as around it the world turned and aged and moved on. The nearby village has dried up and blown away, along with it's inhabitants, decades ago and the secret of the forest and of the glade has gone with it. What rumours persist have long been diluted to the point of vague whispers.

And still, the forest waits.

The woman emerges from the tree line and stands for a moment contemplating the scene around her. She is carrying a heavy backpack and her dark hair is tied back in a ponytail away from her hot, flushed face.

Shrugging the heavy pack from her shoulders she retrieves her water bottle, taking a sip of the warm water as she looks at the large oak tree before her. She had initially planned to camp closer to the river which she knows is only a mile further on, but she is intrigued enough to stay a little longer in the clearing.

Leaving her pack abandoned on the ground in the shadow of the tree line she makes her way across the open space of the clearing. Approaching the trunk she notices the dull iron ring hammered into the bark about nine feet from the ground. She stands below, gazing at it curiously. Then, she settles down with her back to the tree as she continued to sip from the bottle.

She decides to up camp here; it seems as good a place as any. But she was in no hurry. She sits and enjoys the peaceful atmosphere of the glade as the last, rosy shafts of sunlight fade into gloom. She notices the noise of the forest subside into silence. There is a strange emotion stirring into life within her. It is a strange sensation: not one that's oppressive, rather it is a feeling of expectation, as if she is waiting for something to happen. Something pre-arranged.