Company of Lust Ch. 03

Cheyna watched the couple mate from her hiding spot in the trees. She had been wandering numbly about in the woods, in search of a quick death when she had stumbled upon them. For she had been exiled, kicked out of her pack for the double sin of being barren beyond her eighteenth year, and a charge of witchcraft.

The feeling of loss and isolation had been crushing: at that point she was almost ready to just curl up and die. After being expelled naked and weaponless from her pack, she had simply run aimlessly for three days. Galloping directionless, without plan or even a conscious thought, she had paused only a few brief times to drink at streams and nap fitfully in the boles of trees.

Without the presence of her pack, she felt useless, utterly worthless. Before her exile, she had never spent a single night in her life without her pack in range of her voice, but now she was utterly alone in the world. There didn't seem to be any point in living.

Then she had heard the sounds of rutting- the moans of a woman and the grunts of man, and almost against her will she had found herself creeping through the forest to find the source.

The red-headed woman had been leaning over, hands splayed on a fallen log, her legs spread wide, as the man entered her from behind. Both were big specimens, far bigger than any of her pack members, even the Alpha- but size alone was of relatively minor consequence in the pack. Speed, stamina, stealth, ferocity- all counted for more. The strength of the pack was in its teamwork.

Still, Cheyna lusted after the woman's long, shapely legs, and her breasts were large and full. They danced and jiggled as she received the thrusts of her partner. Downwind of the pair, Cheyna could smell the tang of the woman's excitement on the breeze.

If the woman was desirable, the man was something else again. The Lyceni produced mostly female offspring, and those that were whelped were typically weak and runty. Few lived to adulthood. So they raided their neighboring nations for males to keep the packs strong.

The men were slaves- branded property of whichever pack captured or traded for them. They were called limpers, for each had a foot cut off to prevent escape. Most were of the Lapiths, the small, dark folk who bordered the Lyceni lands on two sides. But this was a man of the high mountains, young and strong and virile, and would be an incredibly valuable prize. Maybe even enough to bring her back from exile.

The lovers shifted position now, and the woman laid flat on the ground, throwing her legs open wide. Cheyna had a clear glimpse of the glistening pink gash of her cunt. She also noted that the woman's bush was very small and, as if it had been deliberately shaped. Likewise, there was no hair under her arms. Even the hair on her head was close-sheared, as if she were a sheep.

Cheyna wrinkled her nose in surprise: such notions were alien to her. The man knelt down between her legs and began to taste her. This too was foreign to Cheyna- that was a pack mate's behavior, one warrior to another- not the prerogative of a limper.

Cheyna decided to get a closer look, moving silently through the trees. By the time she settled in to a hide not a stone's throw from the lovers, the man had moved to enter the woman with his member.

Cheyna watched in envy as he pumped into her with all his strength, muscles flexing all along his body. The woman's legs were still wide-flung, and her feet fluttered wildly. He fucked her hard and strong, and Cheyna reached down to her own sopping cunt, scratching at the itch that was burning into her sex.

Then the red-headed woman's' hands came around to clutch the man's ass cheeks, and Cheyna sensed and smelt magic as both hands flashed in a bright yellow glow.

Cheyna didn't know what the spell did, but she saw both their heads simultaneously arch back in mutual pleasure, and they cried out together in orgasm.

The woman was a witch, too, Cheyna thought in excitement. Then she watched in astonishment as the man pulled and stood above the red-haired woman, his glistening rod pumping out gush after gush of semen onto her chest, which she received eagerly, rubbing the hot sticky fluid against her pleasure mounds.

Cheyna was speechless for a moment, the stepped forward out of the woods in righteous indignation.

"Blasphemy!" She yelled. The waste of such valuable seed, which should be used to strengthen the pack and the people, was an inconceivable sin to her.

The two lovers turned in astonishment to face her, and Cheyna only then realized what she had done. She turned and vanished back into the trees.

For the next two days Cheyna followed them. The mountain man was a decent woodsman for one not of the people, but nowhere near her league. She had stolen right into camp twice. The first time she had collected food, a spear, and a blanket of soft wool. The second time she took what they had obviously left out for her: a knife, a set of flints, a water bag, a belted tunic and a small pack of food.

She had thought the two might try to trap her, but so far they had not.

Cheyna was amazed at how often the two lovers rutted: several times a day, and several more again at night in ways and positions she had never imagined. It was quite apparent they were not trying to procreate: as often as not the man shot his load onto her body, or into another orifice entirely.

Cheyna was fascinated and captivated by their behavior. She desperately wanted to lap at the puffy, red-fur trimmed lips of the woman, or to ride the rigid member of the man. She even thought she might like to take him into her mouth as the red-haired woman so often did- both seemed to enjoy that so much.

Cheyna had hastily carved herself a smooth wooden dildo with the knife, and she thrust it feverishly into her own cunt every time she watched the others fuck, pulling at her own smallish tits and clitoris as she frigged herself.

But now she was starting to get...worried. The two were proceeding along a trader's road- more of a path, actually, carved by the wagon's of the traders and slavers that travelled in caravan's through the mountains each spring.

But those caravans were protected by large parties of mercenaries, and followed established routes by certain rules.

These two were not traders, and would likely be considered fair game: they were trailing a handful of horses, some of them packed with good steel weapons and armor, which were invaluable in the hills, where iron and even stone were much more common.

And they were entering centaur territory.

The Lyceni and the centaurs were mortal enemies. It had been the centaur god Kallis who had slain the goddess Lycene less than two centuries past: the Lyceni had lost their shape-shifting abilities forever, and the packs now ran on two feet only.

A lesser folk would have withered away and passed, but Lycene had inured them to hardship, and they had continued in the old ways despite the loss of their goddess and their magic.

But there other, even older sorts of magic in the hills and forests, and Cheyna had been attuned to them since birth. She could see and hear things that her pack members could not, and sometimes the trees talked to her. She could make the mark of an eye on a tree and see out from it even when she was miles away. She could befuddle foes, and entice prey into traps. She could heal wounds and sickness, and knew things about plants and herbs that were taught by no Lyceni.

Some members of her pack were mistrustful of this, and a few even shunned her. So when her eighteenth birthday was past and gone, and she had yet to produce a child despite numerous turns with the limpers, her Alpha had turned her out, without any provocation.

The thought of it, the unfairness of it, made her angry. And her anger turned now towards the pair of idiots wandering down the middle of the road when centaurs were pacing them now on both sides.

There were three on the slope above, to the left of the road, and two more beneath it. They bore the bows and lances of their kind, and it took all of Chenya's stealth to remain unseen as she trailed the three above.

Then she saw how the centaurs would play it. In the road ahead, another two stood in the center of the road. The two lovers rode right up to them as the ones on each side started to close in.

Cheyna still wasn't sure that it would come to bloodshed until one of the centaurs in the road lowered a lance with a bloodthirsty cry and charged.

The war cry was followed closely by a whoop of pure joy, and Cheyna saw the mountain man spur his horse forward, raising a huge hammer on high. Then she had to focus on her own attack.

She sprinted down the hill and leapt high over the withers of the nearest centaur to land with both feet square in the middle of his back, the spearhead ripping through his human torso. He had been in the act of aiming his bow, and the arrow shot off weekly into the air.

Cheyna cursed silently: as the centaur began to fall, the haft of the spear was ripped out of her hands. She pulled her knife and leapt towards the next man-horse, who had just realized something was wrong up the hill behind him. He turned and saw Cheyna just as she was leaping at him. But she was too fast, and her knife slashed through his throat before he could get his horse-body turned all the way around. .

But she had lost the element of surprise now, and last of the three was already lunging back up the hill at her, his lance leading the charge. She dodged behind a tree, and they began a deadly game of cat and mouse around its bole. His lance gave him a huge advantage in reach, but she was much more nimble, especially given the slope of the hill.

She kept circling, darting this way and that, until she had him where she wanted him, on the downhill side and turned partly sideways. She feinted in one direction then swerved all the way to the other side of the tree and leapt.

But the centaur was surprisingly fast himself, and he dodged in a sort of hopping motion, and she sent flying past her target downhill.

She controlled her fall and turned it into a graceful roll, but she could already hear her foe coming down the hill after her. She looked for another tree and realized she was all the way down the hill and into the road, and she backed away from the tree line as her opponent came crashing the last few feet down into it.

But he took one look around and saw the carnage: he was the last of his war party standing, and with a despairing cry he turned and galloped away, veering off into the trees.

Cheyna looked around and saw that her new pack had been victorious, and she started to throw her head back and howl. Then she realized that somewhere along the course of the battle she had caught an arrow: it had gone almost entirely through her, and only the fletching was poking out of her chest, their feathers covered in her blood.

"That's odd." She thought. "I don't remember that happening."

Then the world went cold and black.

The first thing she was aware of was a curious tingling feeling passing all through her body in a series of waves.

Then she was aware of the sensations coming from her vagina: a warm, wet mouth was gently nibbling on her nether parts. She moaned in pleasure and reached a hand down. Her palm was met by short, bristly hair, and she opened her eyes for the first time. The red-haired woman looked up at her and smiled as she engulfed Chenya's in her mouth.

The red haired woman's head and shoulders were rocking back and forth, and Cheyna saw over her shoulder the face of the other lover, looking down at her with a friendly grin.

"She sure does know how to make a little cut feel a whole lot better, don't she?" The man asked.

Cheyna, speechless, just nodded. Her eyes were wide. She was lying on her back on a large bearskin, totally naked. She raised a hand to where the arrow had been sticking out of her body, just below her left breast, and her hand felt a tender spot.

"We've still got a little more healing to do, my dear." The red-headed woman said. She had a deep, husky voice.

Cheyna could sense the question hidden in the statement, and she nodded and smiled slightly. "Yes, I would like that." She reached down and pulled gently up on the woman's chin, urging her upwards.

The red-head complied, crawling forward on her hands and knees to kiss her on her lips. Her breath was sweet and clean, and Cheyna reached up to cup and massage one of those huge breasts.

"Would you like to have Braken help us with the healing?" The woman whispered, and Cheyna nodded.

The red-head resumed her kiss, but slid her body off of Chenya's and took up a sideways angle. Her hand came down to gently pinch and pull at Chenya's hard, pointy nipples.

Cheyna felt the man Braken move between her legs and gently pull her knees up a little. She knew she was wet and ready, and she gasped as the knob of his cock explored her slit with a gentle up and down probing motion. When he entered her, she came almost immediately, before he was even halfway inside, and she felt the red head cast a spell, somehow using the power of the orgasm to heal her further.

"Let me taste you." She whispered hoarsely, and the red-headed woman quickly obliged. She twisted around to face the man pumping away at Cheyna, and then knelt down to poise her cunt lips above Chenya's mouth.

As the object of her desire neared, Cheyna stuck out her long tongue to savor the tang of the red-heads' juices. The long, thick cock plumbing her depths made it challenging to concentrate fully on her task, but she soon had the red-head squirming above her.

The pain was gone now, all that that remained was a sense of intense pleasure, and she felt a second orgasm building quickly as Braken steadily increased his pace.

She smiled around the mouthful of pussy in her mouth: she was pretty sure she was going to like her now pack just fine...