The Mad Dog of The Apocalypse (pt.13)

“Please don’t…” he whispered.

Idly, she traced a claw pad along his chest, following his scars.  Slowly, one after the other, she followed them.  Oddly, he found the motions mildly relaxing.  His breath slowed and a kind of acceptance fell over him.  A sad, seemingly genuine smile crept across her face.

“I am sorry.  So long…” she whispered.

He sighed.  Yes, so long, Rachael.  It was nice, he thought, to meet his end in the presence of another, at the very least.  He would at least be spared the indignity of dying alone, for what that was worth.

“It’s been so long…” she murmured as she continued to trace.

Bending down above him, her body blocked out what little light penetrated the room.  He could feel her placing kisses, gently, on his abdomen.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible.

Another kiss.  Another soft whisper of, “I’m sorry.  It’s taken so long.”

Again and again, she repeated her apologies.

He realized slowly as she continued that each kiss was planted on one of his scars.  With the last kiss, planted on his missing leg, her mood changed.  She pulled both his arms together, lifting them above his head, and used a single paw to hold both his hands together between his pillow and the headboard.  Though undeniably strong, so much so that he could never hope to break the grip of his single paw with both his hands, her palm and pads were soft and warm, and not in the slightest bit uncomfortable.  She even interlaced her fingers with his, in a manner more fitting a lover than an attacker.

“Ya ready, Gimpy?!” she asked, mounting him hard enough to make the bed shake.  Their loins met, her hot, slick womanhood laying atop and splitting its lips over his surprisingly firm shaft.  Her hot fluids drooled over his member, preparing it for entrance.  Depressingly, he knew they could both feel him becoming even firmer under her weight.  “We should never have waited this long.  I coulda had half a dozen of your kids by now!”

“You could have dragged me away the moment you saw me,” he said, “And you could have run here at a dead sprint, but you’re the one that chose to walk.”

“I know, coulda, shoulda, woulda…  But I tried.  Really, I tried.  I did,” she admitted, sliding up and down across his ever-hardening member, “Well, we’re here now and that’s all that counts.”

With a surprising amount of care given the size of her paw and sharpness of her claws, Rachael reached between her thighs with her free paw to where her smooth sex firmly pressed his manhood flat.  A paw pad gently rubbed the sticky commingled fluids of their arousal together, basting his engorged head.  He shuddered in pleasure that rippled through his hips and made his cock pulse violently under her touch.  It wanted inside her badly, to be devoured by her womb, to reap his soul from his loins, and he was beginning to want that as well.  Maybe even need it.

Rachael lifted her core up just enough to angle his cock from the horizontal to the vertical.  He swore he had never been this big before in his life.  The hellion was having an aphrodisiac effect on him.  To be sure, it was not as strong a manticore barb, but it was very much present.  And unlike the barb, whose effects would last only for so long before fading, this woman’s effect seemed to be coming from the ever renewing resource between her thighs and might last as long as she willed it.  She would use him without rest until she done and satisfied.

Gently, she lowered herself down onto his cock’s head, using two of her fingers to spread her petals wide.  He doubted it would have fit, otherwise.  Slick warmth engulfed his tip, and then, oddly, discomfort as it pressed against a wall of soft flesh.  With a sudden shock, and then shame for having felt such shock, he glanced up to the monster.  Her eyes were screwed tightly shut as she chewed on her bottom lip.  She didn’t appear to be in discomfort so much as she was concentrating intently.