Camille and the Sphinx
© 2012 by Strega
Camille and the Sphinx
Camille cursed as she slid down the stony chute. The pit trap had been expertly concealed, and failing to spot it was a mistake that might cost her life. The only good news was the lack, so far, of a lethal aspect to the trap. No blades, no spikes, no gelatinous cube waiting to paralyze and absorb her. Not even a simple vertical drop long enough to shatter bones. Just stone smooth as marble, sloped too steeply to stop her slide.
Then suddenly a curve to the pit. Still moving too fast to stop herself she was spat through a door that nicked shut behind her. Camille tumbled across a stony floor, dissipating the impact with no more than a scrape or two.
She got her bearings. She was in a large and nearly empty room, lit only by the dim light entering between the bars of a portcullis. Stone statues lined the walls, animal-headed people interspersed with winged lions.
Then one of the statues moved. The largest lion stirred, turning its head. Dispassionate amber eyes glowed in the shadows, and a single word rumbled up out of a mighty body.
"Thief," growled the sphinx, and stood up. Six feet and more at the shoulder it stood, and Camille looked for a way out that didn't involve fighting a two-ton cat. That just made it rumble a laugh.
"There are few ways out of this room, thief. Note the grate by your feet." Sure enough there was a metal grille there, stained with what were probably the cat's droppings. A whiff of stench from below confirmed that.
"That is one way. The way most thieves leave this room, when my stomach is done with them. The portcullis is another, but you don't look strong enough to lift that."
She'd used the time to scout for another escape route, with no luck. Maybe there was a secret exit, but searching for that would take time the sphinx would not likely allow her.
It did not attack, though. The great mane rustled as the sphinx watched her, and a tail thick as her thigh hissed along the floor as the cat flicked it restively.
"Hmm. Thief, I have an offer for you."
Camille backed between two statues as it took a step forward at last. Her dagger was not much comfort when each of its sheathed claws must be as large. More and more of the light was blotted out as the sphinx approached, his wings spread from wall to wall.
"What offer," she mumbled.
"If I eat you — and I could swallow you in one gulp, as I have other thieves — in perhaps half a day you would leave through that grating. Flesh, bones, that leather armor, all grist for my mill once I took away your weapons." It licked its chops noisily. "I do like a wiggling thief in my gullet. But I am a magical creature. I do not need to eat often at all."
There was no room to retreat. Darting left or right might take her out of reach, but that would surely cause it to dart out a paw the size of her chest. Provoking a reaction like that in what amounted to an enormous cat must be her last resort. That way led to an evening spent in the sphinx's stomach.
"What offer," she repeated.
"My blood rises after my long rest," the sphinx said with a sharp-toothed grin. "And I have always liked the look of a well-toned human woman. Stay with me for as long as it would take to digest you, and I will lift the portcullis so you can leave."
"You can't possibly mean—" she began, and a huge paw snapped out too fast for the eye to follow. She'd held out the dagger as a feeble defense and it was struck from her hand by the blurringly quick swipe. She had others, of course, but she didn't reach for them.
"But I do," rumbled the cat. "Strip, and come to me. You are not the first I have made this offer. Some accepted, spent the night, and perhaps even enjoyed themselves before I let them leave. The ones who refused…" The massive cat glanced at the floor grating.
"How do I know you will keep your word? That you won't have your way and then eat me?"
"Oh, I've given you no word, thief. But this is my place to guard, and ultimately I may decide to spare you. As I see it you have little choice."
And he was right. Camille stripped, there beneath the amber eyes of the sphinx. When she stepped forward he sniffed her all over, checking for hidden weapons or poison. Only when he was done did a wash of sandpaper-rough tongue scrape her breast. A soft-padded paw clasped her close, but his jaws did not gape. Instead he smiled.
"Very nice," rumbled the cat, and sprawled out on his back. "You may proceed as it suits you."
He had not lied about his blood being up. Already he was unsheathed and erect, not to mention intimidatingly large. Not so much in diameter as length though. Camille moved close and gripped his shaft with one hand. Hard and hot, sure enough. She climbed onto his belly, facing south, and lowered her head.
Even as her lips enclosed the peculiarly thorny head of his lion-cock and her free hand stroked heavy balls a wash of hot, rough tongue slid over her sex. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad…
Twelve hours later Camille was sweating and exhausted. Fourteen times, by her count. Fourteen times the great cat had come. Six times in her mouth, four times in her hands or between her breasts. Three times she'd straddled him and impaled herself, as much as she was able. His barbed cock was too painful for a fourth go, though the spines were not as rigid as she'd feared.
And lastly, as even the cat had seemed to tire, she had finally slid off his belly and lay flat as he rose to mount her. That was the only time she screamed, as by accident or intent the sphinx's long, hard shaft slid into her anus. The scream did not stop him. Once mounted he pinned her with a paw and thrust like some great clockwork piston until that hole was as stretched and sore as the others. Thankfully, as with all the other times, the sphinx was quick to snarl and ejaculate.
Camille lay panting on the cool floor. What felt like a pint of sphinx seed sloshed in her belly and each of her other holes dripped the stuff. Only now did she wonder if some magical virility would see her pregnant with his cubs. He was not her first nonhuman lover. She'd slept with half-orcs, elves and even a few of the furrier humanoids, all strictly mundane creatures. But a sphinx? She must be one of the few who had bedded one.
"Very nice," the sphinx rumbled once more. The sandpaper tongue that had brought her to four yelping climaxes of her own gave her pussy a last lick. "I will be sorry to see you go. Go you must, though. Dress, but leave your pack. It stinks of things looted from this place."
Muscles bunched beneath his tawny pelt as he lifted the portcullis with one paw. Camille staggered as she ducked under it, and one last time the hot tongue tasted the back of her neck.
"Come back any time," the sphinx purred as she wobbled her way into the escape tunnel.
The clang of the falling portcullis made her jump. It did not drown out his final words, though. She faced the shadowy, great-maned silhouette beyond the bars as he spoke.
"All the pits in this place lead to my room. You may of course choose to keep searching for things to sell, and then we might meet again. Perhaps I will make you the same deal the next time, if you leave me a day or three for my ardor to recover. Perhaps that time I will force you. Or perhaps you will simply leave via my room's other exit. We shall see, heh, heh, heh."
Camille left the old tomb on unsteady legs. It wasn't the first time she'd triggered a trap and been injured as a result. She thought she preferred the spiked pit or dropping stone to a horny sphinx, though.
Outside the ruins she found a stream and pause to wash dried sphinx seed from her hair. Only then did she smile.
She hadn't come out of it entirely empty handed. The instant she realized the pit trap was not designed to kill her she had suspected capture and swallowed the most precious of the gems she'd pried from various settings. Accompanied by lion goo, but less digestible, they would make their way through her, eventually to be recoverable.
Second, the traps in the ancient place presented an amusing opportunity. By a carefully careless word or two in a bar or at the jewel smith she could send a rival thief or three straight into the sphinx's lair. If Arnaud One-eye or Colis the half-orc's final contribution to the world was to make the sphinx belch, she would not shed a tear. That assumed of course the cat was narrow-minded about his lovers and would not instead make them the same deal it had her. Either way was fine with her.
And then there was Ruby, her most hated rival. The thought of the snooty little halfling stretched around the huge cat's cock brought a grin to her face. Ruby would take the sphinx's deal, sure as hell, and when she limped from the cat's den with her holes dripping and sore Camille would make sure the city heard all the details.
Lastly, there were certain noble women of sophisticated taste who, if rumor was to be believed, were always looking for a touch of novelty in their love lives. It was not outside the realm of possibility that she might sell her tale to one or more. The sphinx might be grateful if she arranged him the occasional lover, for a good profit of course. Such gratitude could serve her well if she ever ended up in his lonely chamber again.
With her hair damp and her stride still wobbly, but with a smile on her face, Camille set out on the trail to the city. It wasn't the first time she'd offered her favors to escape from a job gone bad, and not even the first time she'd been fucked within an inch of her life as a result, but whatever the sphinx thought of it she decided the profits made from her night's work to be well worth the cost.