The Sasquatch and His New Mate

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.