What Gods want
© 2004 by acougare (posted on BB)
What Gods want
Mosisha waited nervously. The King feared only one thing, Yrowlla the Tiger god. And the very thing he feared had demanded his presence at Temple this night of the full moon.
He stood still, it would not do to show fear before his court. His grip on the throne was tenuous at best. The Sikhs were waging war on Jagi to the west, when that nation fell his would be next.
A slight sound in the dim recesses caught his attention, a faint scent of musk and blood wafted through the night breeze.
In spite of his best efforts he twitched when the rough whisper echoed through the ancient stone hall.
“I see you are prompt King Mosisha, that bodes well for you, your father was not so quick to heed my request. Now you are King.”
Mosisha swallowed his anger at the arrogance of that statement. His father had been found in chambers, torn to pieces and half devoured. The guards had seen nothing, the door was locked and barred from the inside. The Courtesan that had been with him had gone mad, to this day she still babbled about the spirit that had done it. She was locked away, it was ill luck to put a mad woman to death.
The King of Jokamat knelt before his god. “What poor service might I honor you with?”
A chuckle slid across the cold stones. “I have a very small request, such a tiny thing. It should not trouble you at all.”
A stirring in the shadows caught the Kings’ eye. His God was stepping into the light. He buried his face between his arms, to look on the face of Yrowlla was to die a horrible death.
A stirring of hot breath on his neck made him tremble. King or not, Yrowlla could kill him as easily as the poorest peasant. The low rough whisper in his ear made him jump.
“Tell me King Mosisha, have you not three daughters?”
“Yes Mighty Yrowlla, I have but three daughters, I have not been blessed with a son.”
“Perhaps you have not been as faithful as needed. Could it be so?”
King Mosisha trembled. His life hung in the balance with the answer he gave. “I have done my best mighty Yrowlla, if it was to be that my wives bore sons it would have been by your grace.” A long pause made him even more fearful.
“That it might have been King, that it might have been.” The hot wind on his neck stopped. “Now, as for my wish this fine eve, send me your daughters, I wish a consort for my pleasure. I shall chose the most fitting and return the others to you unharmed. Mayhap no longer virgins, but unharmed. Bring the first to temple at sunset three nights hence.”
“Mighty Yrowlla, my daughters are all I have. I beg of you, please do not take them from me!”
A weight descended on his neck, a pricking of sharp points at his jugular vein. “Dare you defy me! I could come take them easily, I ask for only one. I am tempted to take all three if your insolence continues. Bring me the first in three nights, or I will take them all, and feast on your marrow for my troubles. I can be merciful, or I can be terribly vengeful the choice is yours.”
The weight vanished, in the corner of his eye Mosisha saw the foot that had pressed down on him, The ankle was reversed from a man’s, the toes short and wide, claws peeked from the ends. It had a striped furry covering, this foot was not human. Mosisha closed his eyes firmly so no more could be seen.
The next two days in the palace were filled with weeping and wailing. Hysterical women beseeched Mosisha to take his daughters away, to hide them far away that they may not be given to Yrowlla. It ended after one of the women cursed Yrowlla loudly and ran to the Harem chambers. A loud crashing from her rooms brought everyone running. When the door was opened nothing was found of the woman except one foot. The room was covered with blood, a large paw print on one wall was evidence enough. No more complaining was heard, just muffled weeping from the Harem.
The third day the somber procession wound its way up the mountain to temple. Zantha, the beautiful eldest daughter of the King walked head down between the guards. The paints and colors that had been carefully applied ran down her cheeks, washed away by the constant stream of tears. The long line stopped at the huge bronze doors of temple. Ming Mosisha swung the heavy stone weight against the metal. He shouted. “We come with an offering for the mighty fearsome Yrowlla, a consort, may he find her fitting for his pleasures.”
The doors opened wide, an elderly Priest waved King and daughter through. In silence they made their way to the main hall. The only sounds were the muffled sobbing from Zantha the evening wind and a distant chant from the monks.
The Priest left them when they entered the main chamber, the darkened room was still. Even Zantha was silenced in awe ... and fear.
The voice echoed off the massive stones of the room. “I see you have brought me a gift King Mosisha, I will sample it this eve, if it is not returned to you by sunrise I will have chosen. Now, leave us.”
Mosisha backed out of the chamber bowing. Zantha stood trembling, awaiting her fate. She thought about blood spattered walls in locked rooms, of Yrowlla’s legendary taste for human flesh. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, unwilling to look up as footsteps approached her. A scent of musky animal filled her nostrils, not unpleasant, but a telling sign of what was coming.
“Have you a name girl?”
The low voice with a sibilant overtone made her jump. “I , I , I am Zantha.”
“Very well then Zantha, you may look upon me with no harm to you. I swear it.”
She couldn’t do it, the fear in her bones froze her as a statue. “Mighty Yrowlla, I cannot, it is forbidden.”
He chuckled. “My lovely guest, who said it may not be done.”
“It was you, mighty Yrowlla.”
“And now I decree you may gaze upon me with no fear for this night.”
Trembling she raised her eyes to see He that ruled the night. She saw his feet first, wide, with striped fur, she noticed he walked on his toes. The legs, thick and heavily muscled, his knees bent backward. She lingered a short time at his hips, huge nirs hung low, the size of her fists. But no thosis was showing, a thick hump in the fur just above the huge nirs a hint of massive maleness. The narrow waist spread widely to a broad chest and wide shoulders. The head was very wide, muzzle short with six long whiskers over a wide fang filled smile. Above the wide black nose two slanted beautiful blue eyes twinkled at her. “And now you see me Zantha, it is late, come dine with me.”
She followed him shakily, knowing she would be his meal.
He was thinking she was not his meal for the eve, but she would be a most delightful dessert. Many months had passed since he had the company of a female. And that had been a female from the other side of his family tree. Not the most satisfying encounter, and one that took some healing time. He preferred women, they didn’t bite. Well, perhaps they did, but it didn’t leave scars.
They passed from the great hall and descended a long ramp into the bowels of the mountain. The evening chill gave way warmth. Zantha was regretting the heavy ceremonial robes by the time they entered a large chamber filled with sumptuous furnishings and wall hanging. A low table in the center of the room was covered with a feast even the King would have a hard time providing. It would appear the God lived well.
“Sit, if you wish food you do not see, ask and it will be brought for you.”
Zantha hadn’t eaten for a day, she’d been to distraught. Still very frightened her appetite fled.
Yrowlla sat at the other end of the table and fed with gusto. She watched him rip an entire deer hind quarter apart with his hands. The interior was bloody, red juices dripped on the fine cloth. She managed to find a few fruits and bread to nibble on, but ate no meat.
After he was finished he carefully cleaned himself with water from an enormous bowl. Drying he turned to her. “Come, sit with me.”
She was sweating by then, the robes were smothering her. Scraping up the courage to address him. “Mighty Yrowlla, may I refresh myself?”
He pointed at a small door. “There, you will find whatever you need.”
She did find more than she needed. A tiny waterfall in one corner was inviting, stripping off the heavy robes she bathed, a lump of fine Jin-Jin soap from Cathay invigorated her. If she was to die this night she would do so clean and refreshed. When she stepped out the robe was gone, replaced by a flimsy gown of diaphanous material. Finding nothing else she donned the gown and returned to the chamber.
He waited for her on a low couch, next to him was a smaller couch. He waved her to it. “Come, tell me of your life in the Palace.”
A decanter of fine wine sat on a small table, he poured a crystal goblet full and handed it to her. Zantha avoided strong drink, she had discovered early on she did not tolerate it well. But tonight? Any help was more than welcome. She took a sip, finding it excellent she drank half the goblet down. She felt light-headed immediately.
He laughed. “Careful, strong drink, small woman.”
She giggled, the wine had exactly the effect she had expected. “Excellent drink Mighty Yrowlla, fit for a God.”
He chuckled. “It is, an offering from the west. Now, tell me of yourself.”
One of Zantha’s reaction to strong drink was to chatter endlessly. She did so, for quite some time. Another was a loss of tact. At long last she looked at him somewhat unsteadily. “Now Mighty Yrowlla, why did you ask for me. If not for your meal, it must be something else. And that could only be for your bed. But I wonder, is it possible for this small girl to satisfy a God’s lust?”
He grinned, she sobered slightly, the view of many sharp fangs was intimidating, even when very inebriated.
“Shall we see little one?” He rose from the couch and walked to her, picking her up effortlessly he carried her to the enormous bed hidden behind curtains in the corner. Extending one claw he pulled the gown off her easily, she giggled. Laying next to her his hands began wandering the smooth skin of her shoulders, soon the soft fur was tickling her nipples, then sliding lower. She shuddered when he reached her womanhood. Unbidden her legs parted for the questing thick fingers. He nuzzled her neck while stimulating her, Zantha had never been taken by a man, but there were many ways for a woman to lose her virginity in a harem. She’d tried them all, some many times, a few would shock her father. This would not be the first furry lover she’d had, by far. Her body reacted on its own.
Yrowlla smelled her lust, his head drifted downward. Nuzzling and flicking vital places with his tongue. Zantha was on fire, it no longer mattered her lover could devour her in three bites, it only mattered that he not stop. His head went lower, lower, lower. And then found the place it was seeking, his rough tongue slid across sensitive flesh. Zantha shuddered at the exquisite sensations flooding upwards. In a few minutes she came in shuddering gasps as the broad head between her legs ministered to her carnal want. As she finished he moved up and over her, she saw what the hump above his nirs had hidden. A pale pink shaft the thickness of her wrist stood out stiffly, the end glistened with fluids. It began the short journey to her womanhood. Unafraid now she widened her spread legs even more to accept the gift from God Yrowlla.
As it began entering her she felt what she had not seen, the shaft was covered with ridges and knots. As he pushed it deeper inside her she groaned, the stretching was painful.
His expression was a picture of fierceness. “Take care small one, but I shall not be long. And I will take care.”
He began moving within her, hard firm strokes. Zantha was simply hanging on to him for support. She could do little else as he mated her. He was correct, she could hardly bear it any longer when he growled and pushed himself completely within her. She felt it filling her, his chos kept coming, more and more until it splattered out onto the bedding. And yet more came, she felt every bit of his thosis as it throbbed and twitched deep within her. From that depth came another bout of ecstasy unexpectedly, her grip on his sides tightened, she pushed back against his strength and joined him in lustful abandon. It ended far to soon. He collapsed on the bedding next to her, panting.
Later he took her again, this time she presented her back to him, he reacted more strongly, leaving a number of claw marks on her hips. She came with him, this time rolling over with him to hold the thosis within her. After some creative body motions he grew stiff again. She managed to get him on his back while she wrung the very last bit of joy out of the shaft.
The next morning he studied her carefully. “Zantha, it is time for you to return to your father.”
She couldn’t believe her ears, after the joy in the night he was sending her back! Her tone verged on insult. “You refuse me after the night we had!”
He smiled at her anger, he knew of a woman’s rage when she thought she had been rejected. “I asked for three small one. And, you may have a visitor in your chambers from time to time.” He stroked her breast. “A lusty visitor.”
She laughed. “I would be the envy of the harem if it were so.”
He led her to the great hall. She had bathed and dressed in the robes once more. The King was waiting for them with Dasna, Zantha’s younger half-sister. He fell to his knees. “Mighty Yrowlla, have you chosen?”
Yrowlla winked at Zantha and growled. “King Mosisha, I ask, I choose, I speak here. Take care you do not offend me.”
Zantha stifled a giggle. She moved close to Dasna and whispered in her ear. Relief replaced fear on the younger woman’s face, she peeked at Yrowlla. He smiled at her.
His voice belied his expression. “Take Zantha, I shall sample this one this eve. Be here on the morrow.”
That eve went as the first with much less apprehension for Dasna. Who managed to extract another session of passion in the morn before being returned to her unsuspecting father. She walked slowly, being somewhat sore from Yrowlla’s vigorous application of his thosis.
King Mosisha had brought his youngest daughter Antha, he feared she would be rejected outright. Unlike her lissome sisters she was tall and strongly built with breasts too large, shoulders a little too wide and legs too muscled for most men’s taste. Her face was attractive, but not the sharply chiseled fine featured woman that adorned the statues in the gardens. Zantha had spent the eve telling her youngest sister of the night she’d spent with Yrowlla.
Antha was a courageous girl of 18 years. Little frightened her, a lustful tiger-god was not among that which did. She stepped forward, unafraid to look directly at Yrowlla. After the others had departed she studied him closely. “You are handsome indeed, my sister was right. Is this eve to be the same? I am eager to sample what you have to offer, or is your thosis spent? ”
He laughed loudly. “No, my strong young lady. It is far from spent, it is as eager to share passion with you as you are to receive it.”
She chuckled. “That is fine news for me to hear, perhaps we may dispense with dinner and begin right away. It has been some time since I found lusty relief impaled on a thick shaft.”
His grin widened. “A female who plays no games, directly to the prey. As you wish then.” They walked to same path that her sisters had with him the two nights before. This time there was no table set, no dallying on the couches. Antha made straight for the waterfall, stripping her robes as she went. A quick refreshment in the water and out again. While as lusty as any she didn’t like feeling dirty.
He was waiting for her on the bed, the hump hiding his thosis enlarged in anticipation. He looked her over, she was more solidly built than her sisters, wide of hip, heavy of breast, a clean scent of lust emanated from her. She was a strong woman, he could relax and let himself go more without fear of breaking her.
She knelt on the bed. “Lay back.”
He did as she asked, curious as to what she had in mind. She moved over him, presenting her womanhood to him as her head moved down his body. He sniffed at her, a slight glistening on the dark hair telling of her excitement. His tongue went to work, she moaned, as her lust was being fed by his tongue she massaged the sheath around his thosis. Soon a pale pink tip emerged, then a short length of shaft. Her mouth engulfed the shiny flesh.
It was Yrowlla’s turn to moan, he’d never dreamed anything could feel so good. In a few seconds his thosis was fully emerged and hardening rapidly. He was sorely disappointed when she took her mouth away.
“Tell me if you near loosing your chos mighty Yrowlla, I do not wish to be drowned, and want this eve to be a long one.”
He growled in frustration, but agreed with her. “I will do so.”
She took him back into her mouth, he applied his tongue to her with vigor. They continued for some time. She moaned her way through three orgasms, while stopping each time he asked. At last he could take no more. Rolling her off he moved over her, she giggled and closed her legs. Yrowlla was not thinking clearly, he nipped at the soft inner thigh under him. She yelped and opened her legs wide. As he positioned himself to penetrate her she giggled again and guided him inside her moist warmth. Feeling himself sliding in he lost all control and slammed his thosis completely into her. She gasped, had it not been for the slippery fluid from her orgasms it would have been quite painful. He pushed once, twice, three times. Very hard, very deep, and very effective, chos poured out of him as he tried pushing further inside her. She could feel his fur flush against her womanhood. He could get no deeper, though he desperately was attempting to do so. His power shook her as a small dog a rat, she held his arms and took all he could give. Which was a great deal, a puddle formed under her rump, and yet more was being pumped in. Like her oldest sister an orgasm snuck up from her loins, as he finished she came with him, the effect was to pull a few more weak pulses of chos from his hardened thosis.
She watched his face, even twisted in lust, lips curled back, eyes closed he was very handsome. At that very moment she knew she had to be the one. Whatever it would require, she would do it. Afterward she lay against him, gathering her courage she finally spoke her feelings. “Mighty Yrowlla, what must I do to be your chosen?”
He threw his head back and laughed loudly.
She became offended, sitting up she moved toward the edge of the bed. “I see I simply amuse you, I will trouble you no more.”
His arm caught her at the edge of the bed. “I am sorry, I am not laughing at you. I am laughing because the request was all that was needed.”
She stared at him. “All you wanted was to be asked! Both my sisters feel the same way! Any of us would give all we have to stay with you!”
He smiled and licked her face. “They may come and go as they wish then, but you will stay with me. Would you mind sharing a bed with myself and your sisters from time to time.”
Antha recalled passionate shared encounters in seclusion where she and her sisters had taken other large furred lovers. Which was why he had not ripped her apart when he had taken her or her sisters. “Any time Mighty Yrowlla.”
“You may call me Ywolla my mate. “
She grinned and tweaked his ear. “I think Mighty Yrowlla is appropriate, now, just how many times in one eve can you do what you just did?”
He flipped her onto her belly and moved over her. She felt the stiffness of his passion probing her womanhood then sliding inside. She moaned and arched up to meet it. As her drove himself into her again he whispered in her ear. “As many times as you wish it Antha, as many times as you wish it.” She began moving with him, working her way toward another burst of ecstasy. His hot breath on her neck as he began moving faster intensified her passion. Soon she could feel it coming, and then ... Antha happily abandoned herself completely to the lusty embrace of the Tiger God.