Devouring His Kitty (full story)

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Devouring His Kitty (full story)

Postby AmethystMare » Wed Apr 25, 2018 8:20 am

Flint and Gwyn are in trouble and, in search of an escape, make a pack to evade the law in the most erotic way possible...

What better way to end one's life, after all, than in the jaws of their partner?


This tale was written as a 2000 word Iron Author commission. I hope you lads and ladies also enjoy it! I've attached the file also, if you prefer to read that way. Editing to add that this story contains sexual content along with hard vore.

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Devouring His Kitty


“There’s no way we’re getting out of this shit.”

Gwyn leaned forward, snorting a fine line of crushed powder into her left nostril. Slamming her paws into her thighs, she gasped, pupils dilating.

“Fuuuuck me!”

Flint grimaced, but couldn’t help but smile fondly at the feline who had turned his life and his kinks upside down. He’d known all along that her penchant for exploring harsher and harsher kinks and any sex she could get her paws on came from a bad place in her life, but he’d never stopped her. Perhaps he should have. Or perhaps not, as it was other things that had finally called an end to their lust for life.

Lying stretched out on the living room floor, the tatty rug ending at his shoulders, Flint twisted his lips. Cross-legged before the coffee table – which had once been serviceable – Gwyn mewled as the drug took hold, sending her off into a high that she had admittedly only experienced a few times before.

She said she’d stop when he was gone. But it was never going to be like that.

“So you gonna go through with our deal or not then, kitty-cat?” Flint demanded, paws shaking. “Cause I can’t just wait here forever. You remember our deal, don’t you? One last round to beat them all?”

His paws did not shake because he was anxious, but rather from what he’d taken to injecting himself with on a near enough daily basis. Hard drugs were easy to come by in the big city and few had long-term effects if a fur was careful enough about their use, but the possession of them was what got you. Everyone wanted to get their paws on what was unobtainable and, with his contacts in the tattooing industry, Flint had gotten his paws on some shit that everyone wanted in on.

So, why not make their own call – since, of course, he’d dragged Gwyn into the whole sorry mess too – on what to do about their lives or lack of going forward? If they wanted, their fates could be in their hands and, well, there was always one final kink to be explored.

“Of course I do,” she purred, returning to some sense of herself as she wound her naked body over his, brands and piercings standing out beautifully against her white fur. “And I would never go back on a promise to my favourite wolf.”

Gulping, Flint wagged his tail weakly, daring her to do it with his eyes as words failed him. She stared him down, eyes locked with his in a challenge that no other male in her life had been able to face before they’d somehow fallen into one another’s paths. And neither of them would have changed it for the world, even if this was what their lives had ultimately come to.

The feline splayed her paws out flat atop his naked body, laid out before her in all its glory. Despite the speed bumps in his life, the wolf’s body was still in its prime, the fur cropped perhaps a little closer to his skin than she would have usually found desirable and roughed up in patches. But he was not the one to be coveted in the moment as he rolled the feline onto her back, drinking in her body with his eyes, the brands and piercings that had marked their time together. Flint rumbled a growl. He’d have to be careful to avoid those.

He licked his lips as he ran her eyes over her body, the feast of her that he was just about to devour in the most loving way a partner in crime could.

“Aren’t you a spread...”

It wasn’t a question that she wanted to answer as he bowed her head over his torso, nuzzling and licking down the line of her chest. His cock hung softly on his thigh, requiring more stimulation to become hard after his castration, the scar neatly buried by the fur between his legs. Giggling to herself as the drugs kept her flying, Gwyn ran her paws down his arm as he retreated, letting him take her in one, final embrace that would be the most intimate of all.

For, closing his teeth around the branded part of her thigh, Flint bit hard and teeth, teeth piercing flesh and digging into muscle. As he allowed her blood to seep into his mouth, the feline shrieked and lunged for him, but her trembling paws only ran through the fur on his head over and over again, seeking comfort that he was only too willing to supply in her final moments.

After all, she would be his final meal.

Twisting his head, he dispassionately tore loose a chunk of flesh from her thigh, dragging it loose like a wild wolf would a deer in the cruel clutch of nature. The drugs kept her on the edge of what her brain could tolerate, pain dancing with the high as she panted heavily, clutching at him as if her life depended on it. Rather, her death did.

He threw his head back to swallow, barely chewing as the chunk of meat that was Gwyn slid down his throat, leaving his muzzle slowly reddening with blood. He licked his lips, tasting her most primal essence on him and rumbled a soft growl at the taste.

Perhaps he should have tried devouring her sooner if she tasted so sweet. Though he had to care for her too and, running a paw down her untainted leg, Flint stole a lap of her pussy, reminding her of pleasure.

“Do you want to stop?”

His eyes narrowed as if he was actually afraid she would say yes. But the feline was yet to disappoint him.

“No,” she growled, gritting his teeth. “This is it. This is the ultimate sacrifice...for you.”

“I’ll never forget it. Not until it’s my time to go too.”

And, with that, her fate was sealed, permission given to devour her as he would. Murmuring to no one in particular, Flint bit into her thigh again, widening the wound he’d created. Though she twisted and mewled pitifully, Gwyn did nothing to stop him, but submitted to him desires, letting her destiny carry her on to a soon to be found end.

Flint groaned and lapped her blood from his muzzle as chunk after chunk of raw flesh and sinew slid down his throat. Was that how his ancestors had felt when they fed off a kill? Gwyn was hardly a kill claimed on the plains, but she was something more delectable – a partner who had requested to end her life in a way to give him the sustenance to live.

Her blood made her thigh slippery to hold onto with his paws and even his claws, so Flint moved up her body, nipping sharply at her stomach to draw a droplet of blood to the surface. Such a fine, flat stomach could not be left unattended and he worked his jaws carefully to take a hunk of flesh and fur between his teeth, his jaws no longer able to close around her whole midriff like they should have been able to. He could only open them so far, but it was more than enough to crunch through her stomach and snap a rib as he tore up, piercings clicking against his teeth.

What should have brought her pain sent her mind spiralling into pleasure as the wolf dug into her stomach as if it was a gourmet meal, dining on muscle and fat alike with relish. Slurping on a sliver of what may have been an intestine, Flint held her paw as the food disappeared down his throat with a hearty gulp, throat working to fill his stomach.

Delicious.

Gwyn’s breasts would always be remembered as the most delectable part of his meal. Wrapping his tongue around each nipple in turn, he tore them sensually from her body, leaving the bleeding holes to gape while he savoured the flesh. Rolling them around the inside of his muzzle before finally allowing them to slip down his throat, he turned his attention to her pierced breasts, teeth closing around each and every one to rip them free as swiftly as they had been created in the first place.

She twisted and squealed as more and more blood darkened the rug around her, trickling onto the once fine hardwood floor in a stain that would be found much later when the police arrived. But that didn’t matter in the moment as the time of her death and devouring was for the two of them and them alone. No one else could ever take the joy from Flint as he swallowed each mammary gland, letting them sit heavily in his stomach as he moved on to dine on finer and finer portions of her anatomy.

Though she felt pain and her grasp on life slowly grew weaker and weaker, Gwyn’s heart swelled with warmth and love for the wolf that had shown her so much in the darkest times of her life. It really was the perfect end to be eaten by him, the wolf she could never had admitted aloud that she was completely and hopelessly in love with.

Maybe in another life, those words could have been said.

As the light faded from her eyes, Flint spread her legs, the flesh of her thighs brutally torn into, and lavished his final attention on her pussy. Pushing his tongue into her cunt as he bit into her pussy lips, Flint moaned and relished her essence, the kitty yowling softly and pawing at his head, fingers falling to the sides as she could no longer maintain the strength to touch him. Weakness filled her muscles and a tiredness that made her unable to even open her eyes sank into her bones, an erotic thrill shooting through the remnants of her mind that were still functioning as the world became beautifully darker and darker. Her lover growled and murmured his appreciation of his meal as he dined on her pussy, taking his time demolishing her inner thighs like a wolf that had not eaten in several moons.

The last Gwyn saw was Flint with his head buried between her thighs, tongue flicking sweetly up and over her clit as he gave her the final release that she had craved for oh so long.

The release was fleeting.

Her lips parted in a final wisp of breath and then she was gone, nothing more than meat for her lover to devour as he pleased. Sitting back, Flint swallowed a flavourful scrap of meat from her crotch, enjoying the sensation as it pushed down his throat as if her body itself was eager to be devoured. But, when he saw no life in her glassy eyes, he ran his fingers over her cheek and closed her eyelids with a touch lighter than a feather.

“It was an honour, Gwyn.”

Though he could not be sorrowful – it was Gwyn, after all, and he had fulfilled every need of hers right down to the final, exotic one that brought all else to an end. She wouldn’t have wanted him to grieve over his dinner either.

Glancing out the window at the full moon hanging in the sky outside, Flint threw his head back and laughed, the humourless sound echoing eerily off the walls. He’d never hung any pictures and even the curtains on either side of the living room window had been given to him by his family many years ago. Gwyn had been the most personal part of his home.

The place was emptier without her.

“I will join you soon, kitty-cat.”

Kissing his fingers, he touched them to her lips, only then leaning in to finish what was left of her. It was what she would have wanted him to do, after all. And he’d say what had been left unsaid between them in the next world, he was sure of it.

With her blood on his lips, soaking into his fur, Flint whispered in her ear.

“Wait for me.”
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28 Days (full story)

Postby AmethystMare » Wed Apr 25, 2018 8:26 am

A gryphon receives her monthly tribute but finds that he is of more use to her than simply becoming dinner...


This story is an older one that was written as a commission (I'm wincing slightly at how my style has come on since then, but I'm not the type to delete old work! Just shows the improvement since!). I hope you guys enjoy it as much as the gentleman commissioner did!

This contains sexual content along with hard vore!

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28 Days


The hillock was the highest point in the flat lands and broad sweeps of luscious, green grass stretched into the distance as far as the eye could see. Several tributaries fed into the main river for the region, which meandered lazily through the fields and copses of tough, bristling conifers; if one followed its path downstream, they would eventually come to the estuary where it poured into the ocean – a much more dangerous environment than the calm grassland, or so its residents would claim. Near the river was the largest of the villages within walking or riding distance of this particular hillock, tendrils of smoke curling skywards from the open fires and staggered chimneys, composed and tended to with the materials of the land. At the pinnacle of the hillock, a yawning cave had been carved out of rock and earth with a precise deliberateness that suggested intelligent craftsmanship and, in the entrance to this dry and comfortable abode, laid a striking gryphon.

She preened her copper feathers meticulously, her leonine tail flicking lazily over the sun-warmed stone. The front of the cave was the ideal place to enjoy the warm rays, although the gryphon was laying outside for more than simple pleasure that day: she was waiting. The gryphon had lived alone since taking up residence in the cave, but she could not say that she was wanting of company; she had an excellent deal with the villages and was expecting a much-anticipated visit from one that she had developed exceptionally warm relations with. There was a certain use for the tall, wooden pole at the entrance to her lair, after all, one which she looked forward to greatly. Peering over the ledge, she clacked her dark grey beak excitedly as her visitors finally made an appearance with her awaited monthly tribute in tow.

Five women on horseback, clad in heavy, grey cloaks, which guarded them against the morning chill, approached the cave at a steady, cautious walk, craning their necks skywards to see their friend, the gryphon, waiting for them. The tribute, however, was bare of hair from head to toe (regardless of the nip in the air), stumbling behind the trotting horses with his hands bound too tightly behind his back. The ‘leading rope’ around his neck tugged and pulled painfully against his windpipe, more of a noose than a lead if he had mind to put a name to it. He followed meekly with his head lowered, though the young man had some meat on his bones, which the women of the village hoped would be more appealing for the gryphon than some of the scrawnier specimens in stock.

“Greetings, my lady,” they called out respectively. Their smiles, however, betrayed their closer relationship with the feral protector.

“Greetings,” the gryphon replied formally, rising and smiling warmly with her sharp, orange eyes. “I trust your journey was well?”

“Very well, thank you,” the woman in front said, lithely leaping from her snorting, bright bay mount. “There were some excellent catches found within the traps today, so we will eat well tonight.”

The woman at the rear of the group dismounted last and led the man dispassionately over to the sacrificial pole, lashing his arms high above his head to the sturdy wood. She then left him tied there like a piece of meat or even cattle, squirming self-consciously in the vulnerable position. If any predator, such as the gryphon, had then taken it upon themselves to slit his throat or stomach – whatever pleased them – he would have been powerless to forestall his most untimely death.

Ignoring the man, the women clustered around the gryphon, catching up on the news and engaging in close, if careful hugs with the gryphon, who extended one or the other of her large, feathered wings in lieu of her dangerous talons. After chattering politely about their lives in the village and the latest dramas, the village women turned the conversation back to the gryphon, ensuring that their attention was centred upon her, although there was less of interest for the gryphon to discuss, considering her relatively solitary life. Swallowing nervously, the male behind them strived not to shiver and felt as if he had faded entirely into the background of the scene – he hoped against hope that he would be forgotten.

“And how have you been? Have you been comfortable during this last colder month? We certainly felt the chill,” one lady asked anxiously, surreptitiously giving the gryphon the once over as if to check that she was in the peak of health. “We could supply another gift, if that would be pleasing to you. Another from the cream of the crop, of course.”

“Yes, it has been a rather bitter month and I expect that winter will be upon us in due course,” she answered. “And, though I thank your kindness in offering another tribute, I am sure that this one will suffice. It does look especially delicious this time!”

“We are pleased that you think well of it,” the leader bowed respectfully, positively glowing with pride. “We hope that it is as delectable as it appears.”

“And how is dear Yvonne?” The gryphon questioned, fluttering her wings anxiously as she queried after the welfare of a friend who had been going through some difficulties in her pregnancy. “Did she birth yet?”

“Yes!” The ladies lit up, their smiles glowing. “A strong, healthy girl, birthed six days ago. Kicking and screaming for every meal! She knows exactly what she wants and that is a very good thing.”

“Ah, she will be an asset to the village indeed,” the gryphon crooned. “Please give her my congratulations and best regards for her wellbeing and that of the child.”

They had been speaking together for quite a while before the gryphon coughed subtly, ruffling her feathers and glancing pointedly in the direction of the male, clearly indicating that she would like to enjoy her gift in peace. Taking this as their cue, the women stepped forward a final time to say their goodbyes, hugging the gryphon warmly and waving their farewells even as they mounted their horses and walked them leisurely back down that well-trodden, sandy track, layered with many years of hoof prints. One of the ladies paused to wag a teasing finger at the tied up boy, telling him to “be a good meal”, which he flinched at, tears welling up in his eyes as he struggled to maintain his composure, or what remained of it. The group retreated at a relaxed pace, talking amongst themselves and halting at the foot of the hillock to wave one last time; in turn, the gryphon clacked her beak and extended one copper wing, sending them on their way with good wishes.

When the hoof beats faded from earshot, the gryphon stretched out her whole body and yawned like a lioness, extending her claws and cracking the knots from her back with a soft moan. If she could have smirked with an eagle’s beak, she would have taken full advantage of the facial movement, but, being matters as they were, she narrowed her eyes and turned to face her tribute directly. Chuckling under her breath, she strode dominantly towards him and traced her tongue over the edge of her beak, raking her gaze over his fine body with an appreciative but critical eye.

As his eyes were closed, the boy sensed the gryphon stepping closer to him, small tremors vibrating through the ground as she trod forward, for she was the twice the size of a powerful cart horse. Clenching his teeth, he risked a peek beneath his eyelashes and whimpered, seeing her beak mere inches from his face, slightly parted with the faint aroma of meat emanating from within. Disgracefully, his fear trumped him and he emptied his bladder in terror, certain that she was going to snap his head off immediately. It was too soon! He didn’t want to be eaten! But he had no choice... It was his duty.

Patiently and with an expression that said, “I’ve seen it all before”, she waited for him to finish voiding his bladder, the urine splashing between his spread legs as he tried to angle his body so that as little as possible sullied his skin. When he was quite done, hanging his head in shame, she ruffled her feathers and clicked her talons together, staring at him with one, large eye.

“I’d advise you not to dirty yourself further,” she said coolly, gesturing at the puddle of urine with a disparaging talon. “I caught a most splendid buck this morning, very plump, so I am not interested in taking my fill of you now.” She paused, poking his shoulder experimentally with her beak. “You shall have to wait a few days until I wish for my next supper. That buck was a truly splendid specimen. Such fine antlers. Of course, I would never have caught a doe – she might have been carrying a fawn and only males are truly an expendable source, as I am sure you are quite aware of.”

He gulped and nodded, showing his acceptance of that fact: he was very aware of the fact that he was disposable and, even if he had earned a short reprieve from becoming her dinner that day, he would soon rest in her stomach and become a part of her body. Reaching up towards the tight rope binding the human’s hands above his head, crossed over so that one wrist lay on top of the other with the coarse rope cutting into the skin, she rumbled deep in her chest, making him flinch back instinctively.

“If you do make any attempt to escape,” she said coolly, “or be anything other than a polite guest for the duration of your stay, I will take no qualms in applying the suitable repercussions for your behaviour. You will not enjoy these repercussions. Eating you is not the worst thing by far that I can do to you. Do you understand, boy?”

Gulping, the male nodded his head fervently, his neck aching from the pressure of the stiff wood. Bobbing her head in turn, though her movement was accompanied by a gleam in her eye, the gryphon caught the rope between the two halves of her beak. She sliced through it with the sharper edge, ripping the rope like she would rend the flesh of a stag from the bone, tearing off strip after strip to satisfy her hunger. Groaning, the man tumbled to his knees, scraping his bare shins on the stone, and surreptitiously rubbed his wrists to encourage some circulation back into the sore, vividly pale strips of skin.

“Good. Now that you understand your position, let us retreat into my cave and I will put you away for the night,” the gryphon said approvingly, turning without preamble to stalk into the shade.

Rising silently, the human withheld a sigh and followed her without a word, his hands trembling as he crossed them behind his back automatically, submitting as he had been taught. His eyes fell to the tufted tip of her tail, which flicked to and fro in an indication of contentment, or so he thought. She seemed to have no qualms about covering the area between her thighs, being a free-roaming feral, and lifted her tail in accordance to her mood, her plump, black sex all too obvious to the young male, who could not drag his eyes away once he had dared to look.

Swallowing nervously as he tailed her through the shadowy cave, he imagined running his tongue over her smooth, hairless slit, the folds pressed to either side of the vulva. It reminded him so much of the mares that he had taken care of over the years, especially the size... There was a spicy, intoxicating aroma in the air and he inhaled deeply, half-closing his eyes as he snatched the scrap of pleasure, running his tongue across his dry lips. Against his will, he felt his cock engorging with blood, hardening into an impressive length for a human, although he had never been told that he had anything worth using between his legs. He blushed furiously and sought to focus on the jagged shards of rock digging into his vulnerable feet, but nothing was able to distract him from the gryphon’s hypnotically swaying rear.

He hardly noticed his surroundings as the gryphon led him to a large, perfectly circular chamber with a fire pit in the centre and a heap of bedding in the corner, which he vaguely realised was man-made – another gift to her from the villages? As she was bound to sooner or later, the gryphon made as if to give him another order and stopped in her tracks, fractionally widening her eyes in surprise. He gulped loudly and hung his head so that his chin rested upon his chest, legs slightly spread so that he was all too exposed for his liking, but what could he do? Maybe she would decide to eat him immediately after everything she had said. Would it be a quick death? Maybe he had disappointed her...

“See something you like, boy?” She started as if unsure of his reaction. Surely no prey animal had looked at her in that way before...

He shook his head worriedly and stayed stock still as if to refrain from provoking her further than he had already; he was not about to take undue chances with a large predator in close proximity. She cocked her head at the human, more curious than affronted with regards to his physical arousal, sniffing the air lightly. There was a subtle yet strikingly different scent emanating from the male’s skin and she inhaled to take in the assortment of scents, sifting through them and lashing her tail in deep interest.

“Seat yourself,” she said abruptly, lowering herself on to the ‘bed’ at the side of the chamber, leaving the human with no option but to kneel awkwardly on the hard-packed dirt floor, shifting uncomfortably under her stern gaze. “Now, is there something afflicting you? What has caused you to become aroused?”

“M-my lady, I am so sorry – ” He blurted, shaking terribly.

“Never mind that,” she cut across him, rearranging some kindling sticks in the fire pit. “Explain. What have you to lose at this point?”

My life? He thought bleakly in silent reply, not daring to say it aloud. He shuffled awkwardly, his arms beginning to ache from holding them stiffly behind his back, shoulders pulled painfully taut. He had never heard of the gryphon conversing with her meals before...though the males had never been given many opportunities to talk, as they were kept too busy in the village. His job in particular had been time consuming.

“M-my job in the village was to s-satisfy the mares,” he admitted with a deep blush, keeping his eyes averted from hers as his stutter grew more pronounced, nerves getting the best of him again. “I had to p-please them with my t-tongue.”

“So you were one of the stable boys. Did you ever please them with your member?” She asked curiously; if anything, his blush deepened and he shook his head rapidly.

“N-no, no, I, I could never have pleased such wonderful mares with my little dick,” he muttered, wriggling anxiously. “I had to practice on the m-mules and donkeys before I was permitted the h-honour of taking a single one of the m-mares to c-climax. Only a t-t-tongue would suffice.”

“Ah, of course,” the gryphon’s eyes warmed. “My friends do care for their horses so and they must have the best treatment, only the best. Describe how you would please them.”

Giving a low groan, the man shook his head, wishing to deny her order. Sweat broke out on his skin, trickling coolly down his spine; he clenched his teeth and arched his back as if trying to shrug it off.

“I...I...” He stammered awkwardly, trying to phrase things in an appealing manner. “I’d lick up over the m-mare’s vulva first of all and tease her. Every mare enjoys it differently, so I would tune my actions to her desires. The lead mare of our lady Katherine, she would like to be built up to orgasm slowly, with me flicking my tongue over her folds and thrusting it inside to finally bring her to a climax. She would push back against my tongue when she wanted to be brought to another orgasm, which of course I would oblige, my lady.”

Hm... It appears to be quite skilled then, the gryphon commented privately. And that nasty stutter is less pronounced when it speaks of this.

“Was there any special reason for this act to be carried out with such frequency and intensity?” She continued her questioning, her feminine folds moistening with arousal at his description, even if it had to be coaxed from him.

“The l-ladies, our ladies,” he amended hastily, speaking for all males in the village. “Our ladies know that the mares...and stallions...are far calmer in their stable environment if they have regular orgasms.”

“The stallions also?” She probed delicately, delighting in his delicious squirm.

“Yes, the s-stallions too,” he muttered, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. “For the comfort of the mares, it is beneficial for them to be prepared sexually before the mare is presented to them. There were fewer stallions in the stable, but I was ordered to please them too before mating, ensuring that their shafts were hard and ready to breed. Sometimes they needed me to make the stallion ejaculate so that the semen could be collected. I don’t know what they collected it for though, as the mares seemed to enjoy being bred. At least...to my eyes, I mean...”

“That is most interesting... Did you enjoy this job?” She queried but his throbbing hard-on, which had not softened at all, spoke for him.

“Oh, yes, my lady!” He exclaimed, lighting up for the first time during the course of the interview, embarrassment draining away. “The other males were very jealous of my job and the horses that I pleasured. If our ladies had instructed me to take up another position, I would have done it without question but would have dearly missed the mares and their soft, earthy scent. They were beautiful,” he added sincerely.

The gryphon purred quietly, pleased with his answer; it certainly seemed to be attracted to its task in life and that was an admirable quality in any being that knew and understood its place. Some males would have hated the position in the village and fled screaming in terror from her, only to be cut down as worthless in either situation, not worth the sustenance that was unfortunately necessary to keep them alive. Seeing the gryphon become lost in thought, though he was unaware of the reaction his original description had roused from her, the man stifled a cough, staying as still and silent as physically possible.

“But I could make them orgasm multiple times in an hour,” he said as an afterthought, a hint of pride slipping into his tone. “I was the only stable boy to ever be able to do that, as our ladies informed me.”

“It is a shame that you were not high enough to serve my friends in the village,” she murmured at last, her eyes taking on a dreamy, faraway cast. “I am sure that your services would have been much appreciated by some of them in particular, but perhaps your calling lies solely with beasts?”

“Oh, no, my lady,” he said, starting a little in surprise. “I was often called upon to please our ladies, but there were other males who served them solely, so I did remain in the stables for the majority of my useful life. But the mares are why...” He trailed off and blushed. “I... T-that is why I found your scent and a-appearance there so...arousing. It reminds me of the m-mares...and w-what I used to do there.”

“B-but I’m not suggesting that y-you would want to use me in t-that w-way, m-my lady,” he added hastily, his stutter returning with a vengeance.

Falling into silence once more, the gryphon pondered the implications of what the man had said; it had been a long while since she had any sort of conversation with her prey. Even if they remained stoic and proudly silent when the ladies from the villages had presented them to her, they had dissolved into quivering, whimpering wrecks as soon as they had gone from sight. They screamed and cried and claimed that she was a savage, brutal beast, which was not true at all. It had led to more than one being gagged and thrown into her larder, if not devoured on the spot simply to put an end to the incessant noise they made! This one, however, spoke to her like the intelligent being that she was and his original fear and embarrassment was understandable. She was formidable, she thought smugly, sweeping her long tail along the ground.

The spicy scent in the air had grown noticeably stronger and the human snuffled at the air; it reminded him of the cinnamon buns that the ladies had baked. Sweet, delectable treats that he had never had the opportunity taste, although he suspected that they were truly delicious. The scent was intoxicating and it slowly dawned upon him that it was, in fact, the gryphon’s natural scent, perhaps intensified by the enclosed space they were in. He shook his head, swaying from side to side as a deep ache spread through his legs, but he did not dare move to a more comfortable position for fear of angering her or losing her company. She might have been his executioner, but he could not deny the attraction she held for him. Oh, if only he could be of service to her...

The gryphon, however, found herself in an unusual position. She felt no need to converse with the human as she fell into deep thought, the tingling between her legs impossible to ignore, roused into agitation by larder stock, of all things! She never, ever had sex with her prey – what a ridiculous thought! Prey was to be eaten, food and not in any way a worthy sexual partner. Especially a male of a different species. But a wandering drake had not passed by her home in many years and she did so long to feel passionate, raw sexual stimulation again... Could this human satisfy her stringent desires? Was it worth a test run?

“What is that smell?” She asked delicately, recalling the faint but noticeably aroma that she had detected from him a short while ago, leaning towards him. “Did my friends have you bathe in something before you were presented here?”

“No, no, I have only bathed in clean water today,” he said, a little confused. “I am sorry if it is an unappealing scent, my lady.”

“Quite the opposite,” she murmured, getting to her feet and padding towards him, eyes intent.

Perhaps she had allowed her imagination and primal need to control her senses, because the scent suddenly seemed much fainter and nothing unlike that emitted by a normal human male. Ruffling her feathers, the gryphon signed and clicked her beak, feeling the chill acutely in the still air of the cave; absent-mindedly she considered adding a series of smaller tunnels to her system of chambers, which might allow the air to flow more freely without permitting the bitter weather entry.

“Take the firewood from that pile,” she instructed the human, inclining her head to point to the neat bundle of sticks and sturdier logs and branches – all gathered without causing damage to her surroundings. “Light a fire in the pit.”

Staggering to his feet, he shuffled over to the wood pile, not thinking twice about questioning her order; as far as he was concerned, the gryphon as good as owned him. After piling the wood in the pit, placing the logs carefully so that the tongues of flame would not leap from the hollow, he scraped together some twigs, rubbing one between the palms of his hands with the base resting upon a pile of kindling. A spark caught and the fire hissed into life, swallowing the little twigs whole before launching hungrily upon the logs and branches, crackling and hissing as if demanding more. Satisfied that he had completed the task adequately and swiftly, he looked to the gryphon who nodded and gestured to where he had knelt before. Drawing on a flicker of confidence, he sat cross-legged upon the fire-warmed stone, hoping that the gryphon would not mind his change of position too much. He did not think his knees could take a great deal more pressure and he doubted if the gryphon cared for his personal comfort.

“What is your name?” He ventured, growing bolder as the fire flickered and danced before them, the gryphon settled down as close to the flame as he was, but on the opposite side of the pit.

“Arianna, but that is none of your concern,” she yawned lazily, resting her head upon her crossed forelegs. “I expect you to address me as ‘my lady’, as before, for the duration of time in which I find your company interesting.”

Sighing softly, the male was once again reminded that his time alive was very much limited. He slouched back and watched the smoke curl upwards, twisting and turning into wonderful and fantastical shapes, somehow funnelled out of the cave by a narrow channel in the roof, which must have led to the outside world. He wondered if he would ever see anything outside again. As used as he was to hard work, the man did not notice a light sweat forming on his skin, beads of moisture trailing down his bare flesh. He was sitting too close to the fire for normal comfort and his pale skin flushed with heat, though his eyes were closed blissfully; normally he was too cold for comfort in nothing but his skin, because his old calling had never called for bodily protection except in extreme weather conditions.

Drowsily, the gryphon stirred, a strong aroma reaching her sensitive nose. She inhaled deeply and emitted a low, rumbling murr; it was nothing like cooked meat, but it had the same quality that made her salivate, hunger rousing in her belly like a wild animal. Glancing towards the human, she was startled to realise that the mouth-watering scent was coming from him as he warmed and sweated by the fire – how unusual! Curious and taking advantage of his idyllic state, she smoothly gathered her hindquarters beneath her, stood up and paced around the fire pit, towering over him ominously.

He yelped when the large beak bumped into his shoulder and she sniffed all over his body, pushing at his arms and sides, wordlessly commanding him to turn for inspection. Shivering, he tried to be pleasing but could not prevent his body from trembling, certain that she had decided to eat him even if she had already consumed her fill that day earlier, if what she said was true. A creature as beautiful as her could be prone to gluttony as and when they desired. The gryphon, on the other hand, was fascinated by his scent – she just couldn’t place it. It incited some deeper need within her gut, her mind rewinding to everything the human had said about pleasing the mares, everything that he had been able to do with his tongue to stimulate them over and over again...

“A-are you going to eat me now?” He squeaked unexpectedly, his voice operating at a higher pitch than was normal.

“Not yet,” she mused, pushing her head into his crotch so that he fell back and inspecting the particularly strong scent there, touching his balls with the hard, smooth curve of her beak. “Tell me why you smell this way. None of my previous tributes smelled like you. It is most peculiar.”

“Oh!” He said, his cheeks turning a brighter shade of red that was not caused by the fire. “Our ladies have had me on a special diet for the last...six weeks. I thought it was to make me f-fatter...for you...but now I am not so confident that that was the sole reason...”

“They had you on a special diet? What for?” She demanded, flicking her tail in agitation: she did not like this new development. “Why did they have you on a particular diet, which was not simply to increase your body mass? Tell me.”

She smiled inwardly as the male squirmed, anticipating some delightful titbit of information rather than a dangerous or disgusting revelation; she had thought for a moment that some offense was being made against her and the human’s flesh would not be worth eating at all, tainted by potions and unwholesome substances. But her friends would never do that and she calmed quickly from her agitated state.

“T-they have been teasing me for w-weeks about m-my...‘d-date’ with you,” he admitted, rubbing his hands together nervously, his stutter partially returning. “I thought there might be more...uh...sexual reasons for the diet, thinking of what I u-used to do...and who you are...”

“Give me a list of the items fed to you on this ‘diet’,” she purred, hoping that his convoluted guess was correct.

He reeled off the list from memory, half-closing his eyes in concentration. As he read, the gryphon’s palatable pleasure grew stronger and stronger and she preened her wing feathers in contentment. It became obvious to the astute and knowledgeable gryphon that her friends had fed her meal a particular, calculated diet of roots, berries – along with the general harvested vegetables and grains – that all had one thing in common: they were well-known for their aphrodisiac qualities. So...if she wanted to...she could take advantage of this male’s oral skills since her body was responding to his wonderful secreted scent.

How kind of them to think of me! She thought with a cat-like purr. However, this course of action will require consideration. Having sexual relations with prey does not seem appealing. I shall have to see. But he cannot be placed in the larder after this revelation.

“Come with me,” she said without explanation, the male scrambling up with a perturbed expression, although he was relieved to still be alive and with all limbs present and accounted for.

Trotting behind her obediently, the boy was taken into a smaller, colder chamber with a heap of straw in the corner. Folded neatly upon one end of the straw pile were some folded clothes, mismatched, torn and worn through in places. The gryphon caught him staring longingly at the battered clothes and poked him in the small of his back, shocking a yelp from him.

“Do not clothe yourself,” she said clearly, prodding the cloth with one talon. “These are to ensure that you do not become ill due to cold, so cover yourself with them when you sleep. There is nothing worse than meat tainted by sickness.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to have a bad flavour,” he said doubtfully before understanding what she had actually said. “But it’s not past midday!” He protested loudly, forgetting himself in his disbelief.

She regarded him and turned about, pausing at the entrance of the small chamber to consider him thoughtfully, his outburst interesting her.

“Then I suggest you sleep now,” she said finally. “I might have use for you come nightfall.”

*

Though he tossed and turned, straw scratching his skin, the boy eventually managed to sleep fitfully, dreams of lustful gryphons and screaming humans drifting in and out of his mind. In one of the better dreams, the gryphon – the object of his unprecedented lust – pinned him to the floor in an elegant chamber, filled to the brim with plush furnishings and plump, soft cushions. It was a dwelling that he thought fit for a queen and he kneeled behind the gryphon, who lifted her tail readily, demandingly, for him, allowing him to caress and tease her feminine folds with the tip of his narrow, fleshy tongue. Her juices were both sweet and spicy, a feast for the senses, and he delved his tongue inside her luscious, warm depths, seeking out that knot of nerves inside her cunny that would make her shudder with pleasure. On the straw bed, his body relaxed and the dream slipped away from him as he tugged the clothes, which he was using as several thin blankets, up under his chin. Sighing wantonly, he slipped into an exhausted, silent unconsciousness as the weak sunlight outside the cave faded, the moon staring solemnly down upon the occurrences of the land.

“Wake,” a strange voice prompted, an edge of disgruntlement in the female tone, drawing him up from the languid, dreamless state that had eventually graced him.

“I’m awake!” He started, throwing the clothes off his body and leaping to his feet, only to bump straight into a copper-feathered wing. Embarrassed and shivering from the sudden onset of cool air, he stood up straight, arms slightly away from his sides as if presenting himself for her viewing pleasure; he was well-trained in keeping his body open and available at all times. The gryphon nodded approvingly and fluttered her wings, an air of excitement in her taut muscles and expectant posture, head cocked speculatively.

“Good,” she purred, bringing one wing forward so that a feather rested beneath his chin, lifting his head up so that she could take in his expression (human faces showed so much!). “Come with me to the main chamber.”

As nervous as he was, the man did not feel afraid as he did earlier; there was something in her that reassured him that he was not about to be eaten alive, swallowed whole as he suspected she devoured her prey. Her spicy scent was as strong as it had been in the early afternoon, enticing him forward so that he walked close behind her, able to feel the tufted tip of her tail brushing back and for against his chest, very gently. When they reached the main chamber, the gryphon positioned him close to her ‘nest’, looking him over with a calm, speculative eye.

Circling, she picked a few stray strands of straw from his body, frowning at some dark smudges of smoke and dirt that had marred his appearance. He would have to do for tonight, but the gryphon made a mental note to have him bathe, under supervision, in the closest stream come morning. Butting him lightly in the stomach, she nudged him towards the nest, though he merely looked confused, stumbling over his words as he struggled to ask what she wanted him to do.

“Lay down,” she cooed softly, nuzzling his stomach. “On your back now.”

Complying, the man stretched out on his back, settling into the soft ‘nest’ with a gentle sigh; it was good to be so comfortable. The gryphon’s eyes lit up and she wasted no time in walking over her human, standing over him and adjusting her position until her hindquarters were in his direct line of sight. His eyes widened sharply as she stepped back over his head, her huge hind paws resting on either side of his skull and her alluring sex tantalisingly out of reach. Groaning, he strained upwards until she ‘sat’ down in a half-crouch over him with a little, wicked chuckle, bringing her sex within reach at last, though he hesitated, hands stroking her fine leg fur lightly. He stared pleadingly to her as if asking for permission and she flapped her wings, revealing her own eagerness.

“Show me what you can do with your tongue, boy,” she murmured, spreading her legs further apart for balance and to allow him better access to her sex. “Please me well, like you would please the mares and my dear friends in the village. I have seen how you look at me – put your lust to good use.”

He required no more permission or encouragement than that and attacked her sex with gusto, darting his tongue right into her folds and licking upwards against her sensitive inner walls. Dipping his tongue into her cunny, he moaned happily, slurping up her spicy, exotic juices with relish, and grabbed on to her legs tightly, fingers caressing her fur. Chirping at the onslaught of pleasure, the gryphon pressed back against his face, rubbing her damp folds against his lips, making him lick all the more eagerly. Briefly, he drew away from her sex to kiss her hind paws, worshipping them with light kisses and tickling strokes of his tongue.

When he returned his tongue to her fragrant, alluring folds, he touched a raised button of flesh that made the gryphon jump and gasp audibly. A...clitoris? That was something that he had not expected but certainly a pleasant surprise! Curious to explore what he could – he knew how to best stimulate many a woman after his many sessions with the village ladies and the mares – he circled it with his tongue, teasing the edges before diving in to press the flat of his tongue against it with gusto. Moaning and swaying, caught up in the thralls of electric pleasure, the gryphon half-closed her eyes, crooning her approval back at him.

It was wonderful to have such a skilled human under her, she thought lazily, wriggling her hips as his tongue explored higher, tickling her tail hole with a feather-light touch. That sensation was completely new to her and she shivered, feathers standing up slightly from her body, enjoying the feel of being caressed there with a warm, moist tongue. It was exactly what she had been looking for and she caught herself pondering if she could persuade her other meals to perform similar acts for her before consumption. It was an interesting thought. But speaking of ‘meals’, she knew of one particular way in which she could partake of her human’s body without causing an untimely end to his life...

Groaning as she pulled away from him, the human gasped nervously and looked up into the gaping maw of the gryphon; she had whipped around and now closed her beak over his skull, tipping her head back to let him slide halfway into her gullet, headfirst, in one practiced motion. He did not squirm, breath caught in his throat and heart hammering against his ribcage – was she eating him? Swallowing him whole? It did not seem like it, but the gryphon sucked on his body like a rare treat, purrs of delight rumbling up from her chest and setting the boy’s body into tremors. Her large, fleshy tongue with a sharply pointed tip bathed the underside of his body in a thick coating of saliva, sweeping over his belly and chest as she tasted him. Despite enjoying the experience and feeling a warm glow at the thought that he was giving such a beautiful, wonderful creature physical pleasure, he hoped that she did not find the taste of his body too appealing.

Placing him gently back into the nest, the gryphon ran her tongue up his body, flicking it against his chest to gain another small, teasing taste. He breathed heavily as the short time inside her throat had deprived him of air, regardless of how careful she had been; the gryphon thought that she would have to taste him from the feet up next time if she wished to keep him around for her sexual satisfaction. She would not want him to die of accidental asphyxiation! He would not even be worth eating afterwards.

“Now take me to climax,” she ordered, eyes glassy from pleasure, standing tall and demanding that he move to stimulate her.

Kneeling upright, he rested his hands on her shapely haunches and nuzzled into her sex, covering his face with her juices and searching for that raised bump at the edge of her vulva, her clitoris that had evoked groans of delight from her before. Finding it with the flat of his tongue, he flicked it rapidly, earning himself several loud, breathy moans from the gryphon who rocked back against him, edging closer and closer to climax. Determined to do everything he could for her, regardless of his inadequacies in the sexual department, he pressed the fingers of one hand together, squeezing them gently into her dripping passage, her juices slickening the path for first his fingers and then his knuckles to slide into her.

Shuddering, the gryphon squawked and flapped her wings, stirring up the lighter piles of stacked firewood. She cried out loudly as she was brought to orgasm for the first time in years, her whole body shaking and a couple of loose feathers drifting down to the ground, ecstasy ricocheting through her body from her head to the tip of her tail, which thrashed with a mind of its own. The human held on tightly to her leg, keeping up with her jerks and shifts the best he could, and prolonged her orgasm for as long as possible, feeling her cunny contract around his fingers, evidence that he was performing well for her.

Eventually, however, she had to come down from the wonderful high and she pushed the human away with a small, contented sigh, allowing him to fall sideways on to her nest. She followed his path and stood over him, looking him over appraisingly. Just imagine what she would have missed out on if she had not decided to test his capabilities in this manner! She knew that she would not be doing anything to hinder his sexual abilities when he was proving to be so useful; there was much, much more that he could do for her and, oh, did she have plans for him!

“Yes,” she murmured, settling herself down on top of him, her body much warmer than any blanket that she could have provided him with. She was very comforting and warm too when she was so close to him. “We can make a nice little arrangement out of this. Sleep now.”

“Yes, my lady,” he panted breathlessly, caressing her folds with his sore tongue as she slowly drifted into a satisfied sleep with her head close to his crotch.

Lulling her to sleep with languid laps of his tongue, the human squeaked softly as she rolled on to her side, nuzzling between his legs. In this unusual ‘sixty-nine’ embrace, she fell into a deeper, dreamless sleep and the human sighing happily for the first time since he had entered the caves. Her warm feathered and furred body pressed smoothly against him and he was struck by how safe and protected he felt by her side. He was sure that things would not go downhill from this point and that he was, as he liked to think now, hers: her human. Snuggling close to her and nuzzling into her folds, he brought her to orgasm multiple times throughout the night, not caring for his rest at all – he had all he needed.

*

Several days passed in this manner with the gryphon keeping her human in ‘his’ chamber at all times, except for when she had use of her services, which she took great care to utilise as much as possible. One afternoon, the gryphon was stretched out in her nest, drifting in and out of an afternoon nap, with the male sitting close by, hands folded loosely in his lap; he was simply content to be near her.

“Tell me,” she murmured drowsily, lifting her head. “Do you enjoy the life that you have been permitted to live here? I am curious as to how this arrangement affects the psyche of a prey animal.”

“My lady, if I could please you until the end of my days, I should be the happiest man alive!” He exclaimed, emotion lacing his every word. He wanted nothing more than to be allowed to live with her forever.

“I certainly expect you to, despite the end of your time arriving with greater speed than you expect, human. Your sentence implies that you expect a long life,” she said critically, fanning the fire into a fiercer blaze with a couple of strong blasts from her wings.

“My lady?” He asked uncertainly, looking at a spot on the ground between his thighs, his stomach sinking. “You still...intend to eat me?”

“Of course,” she said, looking as if to not eat him would have been an absurd suggestion. “Perhaps you are not aware of the details of my pact with my friends from your village?” When the man shook his head, still digesting the original information that he was going to die, regardless of what he had done for her, she continued. “I am obligated by the pact to consume you within twenty-eight days. Most of my boys are eaten straight away though,” she added thoughtfully.

“But why... I thought I was pleasing to you!” He cried out, backing away from her in distress. “You want to be pleased sexually – why do you not want me to do that anymore?”

“I could not imagine what my friends would think of me hoarding food,” she bristled. “The gifts they send to me are for consumption, not to be kept around, growing stale and sick. The longer I keep males, the worse they taste.”

She frowned as much as she could with her beak, the feathers on her broad forehead pointing out of place as the skin beneath them wrinkled. Despite the fact that she would never admit it aloud, she did not truly want to eat this male any more – he was far too useful to her sexually. She did not have the dextrous hands of her friends in the village or live in a pack like the wolves that she soared over, watching them hunt with systematic and lethal precision. That aside, she had no company and did not have the physical means to satisfy her sexual needs so why should she not keep him around? It would be a shame that she would not be able to consume him when she no longer had any use for him (as she did not think that he would taste very nice after a year or so of sexual service and would lose the meat on his bones) but she also thought that it would be a considerable waste to make use of his flesh so soon.

“I understand,” he whispered, his eyes welling up with tears. “I hope that you will allow me to please you until then, my lady.”

The gryphon’s stomach rumbled loudly and he looked up in alarm, thinking that the end had come already. Chuckling, the gryphon lethargically stalked from the room, paying him no mind at all; she was hungry but did not intend of disposing of him in the appropriate manner just yet. In a dark, damp cave at the very rear of her chamber system, she kept her larder, a few rows of steel cages, which one of the villages had thoughtfully crafted for her, holding the current, shaking stock.

“Hello,” she crooned, peering in at a terrified satyr, bound and huddled in the back of his cage, gagged so that all he could do was whimper faintly. “Let me take you from there. I think you will do very nicely roasted.”

He shook his head desperately, fighting his bonds although they were far too tight to break free from and cut into his flesh, aggravating his pale skin (he was also shaved nude) and rubbing clumps of fur from around his ankles, above the neat, cloven hooves typical of a satyr. He was not a large specimen as far as satyrs went, but he was perfectly plump and ripe for eating, in her opinion, of course. Hooking her talons through his cloth gag, she tore it away and he gasped, working his jaw to relieve the stiffness, the corners of his lips torn and bleeding.

“Please!” He gasped hoarsely, writhing on the ground at her feet. “Please don’t kill me! Don’t eat me! Don’t kill me like this! We know what you do to males – don’t make me go through this!”

“Oh, be quiet,” she said thoughtlessly, dragging him from the larder room by the bindings. “You will be a delicious treat.”

“No! Don’t do it! Just let me go – I won’t tell anyone about this!”

His pleas fell on deaf ears, however, and she dispassionately towed him over the rough stone, depositing him with a muffled cry right by the burning fire. The satyr broke down into blubbering sobs, rocking back and for on his back in a last, sadly futile attempt to break the bonds that he had worked at and worked at over the days that he had been locked within the little steel cage. The gryphon’s human sat up from where he had relaxed back against the wall, eyes wide with shock and pity for the poor satyr, who coughed and spluttered incoherently.

“What are you doing, my lady?” He asked, confused by the whole situation. The male had heard the ‘others’ in the back before but had never been given permission to investigate the cave beyond the chambers in which the gryphon placed him in, so he did not know any of personally or even by name. The satyr was a stranger to him.

“It is time for dinner,” she said blankly.

“Oh!” He said, comprehension fully dawning upon him. “I will leave you in...peace then.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Stay and watch. I have not given you permission to leave and I will make use of you when I have eaten, so I want you close at hand.”

Dragging the satyr over to the opposite side of the cave and an unusual fire pit, which was deeper and larger with two metal poles with Y-shaped ends driven into the ground at either end, she set the second fire ablaze, stoking the coals with a long, metal spit. Watching in horror, the human shook his head sadly at the satyr, trying to tell him with his eyes that the terror would be over soon and that he would not suffer, even if he could not say any of this aloud. The satyr’s eyes leaked tears and he spat on the ground, narrowing his eyes despairingly like a wild animal that had been backed into a corner.

“You idiot,” the satyr snapped at the human, who only looked on in bewilderment. Perhaps the goat-creature thought that he was a fool for willingly being with the gryphon? Maybe he was.

“Enough of that,” the gryphon clubbed him rudely on the back of his head, not allowing either of them opportunity to say more.

As the satyr groaned, she took the metal spit and held him firmly in place, prodding around his rear until the sharp spike found his anus. The satyr threw his head back and screamed, eyes bulging out of their sockets, striving needlessly to escape the pain, though the gryphon simply slowly and carefully impaled him upon the spit, treating him exactly like a piece of meat. The human shrank back against the wall, mouth agape and heart beating rapidly, thumping painfully in his chest; he could not imagine the pain that the satyr was going through. Why did the gryphon not kill him first? Snap his neck or slit his throat? Why would she do something so horrific to a living creature?

Giving a muffled cry, the human covered his mouth with both hands as the spit emerged from the gurgling satyr’s mouth like something from a tale one of the bolder males might have told to scare the youngsters on a dark, winter night. Pleased with how her preparations were coming along, the gryphon sank the cross bars of the spit into the satyr’s respective thighs, each jab earning her a muffled, tortured grunt; she did not want her dinner to slide back and forth on the spit as it would be most inconvenient for her. She rested the spit over the Y-shaped poles and grasped the hooked handle in her birdlike foot, turning him nonchalantly over the fire so that he would cook evenly, just as she liked to eat her prey.

“Watch carefully,” she demanded of the human, who she saw was looking away with a rudeness that she could not tolerate. “You might be of use in preparing my meals too, if you watch closely now to see how I best enjoy my meat.”

The fire crackled and the satyr’s eyes glassed over, muscles going into unconscious spasms, which the human fixated upon, imagining the red hot burn searing through his flesh, a slow death that could be counted in increments. The satyr cooked for several long minutes over the hot, hungry flame, his bare flesh patiently reddening and then browning – the human could not look for more than a few seconds at a time and his vision was blurred by his streaming eyes – to that penultimate shade, which told the gryphon that he was cooked just right. Prodding her meal’s side experimentally, she half-smiled with an open beak, licking the hard edge of it in eager anticipation.

Pulling the spit off the fire, she rested him on his back on the floor, some semblance of life still visible in the creature, although his efforts to escape were significantly less than before; only his muscles twitched in pain now. His large cock was limp against his thigh and she eagerly closed her beak around the base, tearing it off and swallowing the member whole as she licked her beak and looked beadily for her next choice morsel. The satyr did not cry out as she snapped up his balls, each hardly a mouthful for the huge beast, and the gryphon continued to pick him apart as the tiny spark of life remaining flickered and died into oblivion, the poor soul finally at rest. Faintly, in her mind, she wished that he had not succumbed to unconsciousness so quickly, as dinner was always more interesting when it had an interactive aspect, in her opinion.

Next to disappear down her throat was a crunchy hoof and then a whole leg, kicking in a muscular reaction that could not be constrained in the early moments after death. Blood spattered over the stone, crimson and spurting from the cooling veins before the gryphon devoured that portion also, exposing his ribcage and picking delicately at his organs for the most delicious morsels of flesh. Bones cracked in her powerful beak and every scrap of meat was swallowed whole, the gryphon very obviously lacking the ability to chew, although her eyes rolled back in pleasure at times when she located an especially tasty titbit. Gulping and pressing his cheek against the cold wall of the cave, the human tried not to listen, tried not to hear the sound of flesh being ripped from bone and tried not to understand the monster that she had become. He did not know the gryphon any more.

Licking her chops with relish, she sighed over the last bones of the satyr, crunching them in her beak and savouring the taste of the delicious marrow. Glancing back, she was surprised to see her human curled up in a tight ball, forehead pressed into his knees as he did not dare to watch her enjoy her meal. There was a flicker of annoyance in her chest, but it quickly dawned upon her that her eating practices might not have been the norm for him... Seeing another animal devoured piece by piece, when one was unused to the practice or taught to fear it, might be an unnerving ordeal. He shivered violently, lifting his head just a fraction when the noise of her eating ceased, wordless mumbles passing his lips: she sighed deeply and settled her wings more comfortably against her back.

“Surely you did not believe that I would eat in any other manner?” She queried, licking some of the blood from her beak.

He shook his head and held his legs even more tightly to his chest, lying on his side in a foetal position like a terrified youngling or a cub that had fallen prey to a nightmare. She huffed and fluffed out her feathers, frustrated at his reaction although, to be perfectly fair to him, he had not behaved as pathetically as some of the cage stock and had not mounted an escape attempt either: she could not fault him very much. But how could he see anything wrong in her meal choice? He knew what she ate before being presented as a gift to her.

“Live roasted meat is delicious,” she pressed. “Have you never tried it?”

“Why would I try it?” He whimpered at last. “You...you’re... How can you be so cruel? He was in terrible pain and you just didn’t care! Not one bit!”

“How did you think I ate?” She chuckled, tapping her talons upon the stone.

“Dead at least, or by swallowing them whole,” he muttered, staring away from her, the...murderess. She looked at him in disgust, snorting dismissively.

“Swallowing prey whole is many times more cruel,” she informed him coolly, as if she was speaking to a very small child. “Imagine it. If live food is swallowed, it will be slowly and painfully digested in my stomach. Although that might be an entertaining meal for me and I do partake of it upon occasion, it is far, far more painful than roasting or eating piece by piece. How could you think otherwise?”

“Okay...” He conceded grudgingly, shrinking away from her. “Then why can’t you end the lives of your prey cleanly and quickly so that they are dead before cooking or something else you like?” She drew her head back sharply, recoiling from the proposed notion as if it was something despicably unclean.

“Why should I lower myself to eat dead meat?” She hissed. “It’s worse than vile. If you like it that’s your prerogative but live cooked meat is the best kind of meat for me. It’s...orgasmic,” she concluded with a smug, little smirk.

“Regardless of what you think,” she said, making it quite clear that she did not think very much of his opinion. “I enjoy eating live prey very much – who could say no to an interactive dinner like that? It amuses me to see them squirm. Tonight’s dinner was a bit disappointing, to be fair.”

“But don’t you care for their feelings?” He made on last desperate attempt, imploring her to see the error of her ways; she stared at him blankly.

“Feelings?” She queried, tilting her head as she mulled it over. “But they are food – why should anything so trivial matter to me? Whether my prey is sentient and can think for itself or not, it is my right to do as I please with my prey. If I did not do as I pleased here, I would find myself asking the stag to be my dinner and bartering with the herd in order to acquire my dinner. This is the natural order and you should respect that.”

“So,” he ventured quietly. “In twenty-eight days...that will be me?”

“It could be,” she admitted lightly, as if she saw nothing wrong with ending the life of her ‘toy’ in such a brutal way. “It’s only twenty-one days now though, as you have been here for a week. However, as you have done better than expected so far, I shall give you one mercy.”

“One mercy?” He asked suspiciously, his brow knotting.

“Yes,” she paused. “I will eat you while alive, but I will do what I can to be merciful, if you continue to satisfy me sexually until that point. Do you agree to this arrangement?”

What real choice did he have in the matter? He would be eaten anyway and if he had the chance to escape the raw pain and suffering that he had seen in the satyr’s eyes... The male sighed heavily and bowed his head in acceptance of his fate.

“Good,” she preened, checking her feathers and talons meticulously for the remains of her meal. “Go to the chamber were you sleep and rest there. I shall take a flight.”

As she padded out of the cave, the human plodded along to what he had come to think of as ‘his’ bed chamber, even if he was spending most of his time in the gryphon’s nest and even if he did not actually ‘own’ the chamber at all. But, as he curled up in the pile of straw, he thought of the other males locked away in the larder and the pain and misery they were going through. He could help some of them even if he could not help himself – his fate was set in stone. Smiling grimly, he rolled over on to his back and closed his eyes to the world, willing the nightmare images to scatter from his mind before he succumbed to sleep.

He would not accept their fate just yet.
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Re: Devouring His Kitty (full story)

Postby Epicurus » Thu Aug 29, 2019 12:58 am

I find the gryphon fascinating but disturbingly cruel.

How would she react to prey that actually wanted to be eaten?
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