Feathered Dominants

The boy who stumbled back into town, clothes torn, eyes hollow, set tongues to wagging.  The entire village was outraged, and argued over the right tactic to take to punish this monstrous infringement.  They formed a posse and spread out across the northern wood, moving in a staggered line across the mountainous foothills, hunting the culprit.

You knew better.  Harpies can only be hunted on the highest peaks.  Your mistake was going alone.

You heard only a rustle of air when he descended on you.  His claws bit into your shoulders, wrapping around your arms, talons piercing deep.  Your body twisted in the air, feet kicking, and vertigo sucked your stomach down until he finally deposited you on a sheer promontory.  

You dared not draw your dagger while in the air.  You draw it now, but looking beneath you, you see the deadly truth that the poor, ravished boy before you saw - there is only one way down.

You can’t kill the beast.  You have to bargain.  His wicked grin says he knows it, the dancing of his bone-colored eyes, and the way he reaches down to rub at his dark, flushed cock.  His nakedness makes you cringe against the cliff face, but there is no escape from that lascivious gaze.

“You’re cute,” he says, trilling softly like a bird behind his words.  “Oh, very pretty.  I might keep you.  Especially if your hole is sweet…” His wings rise and fluff, blocking your view of the drop.  His cock stands out hard now, leaking at the tip, strangely shaped but recognizable enough.  You swallow.

“Which will you give me first?” he wonders, taloned feet scraping slightly on the rock as he shifts closer.  He’s hunger-lean, leading with his hips.  The wild beauty of his form is marred only by a handful of scars.  “I’ll be taking all of them, of course… see which I like best.  You probably want me to fuck your mouth, though.  If I fuck your ass first, it’s disgusting.  Unless, of course… you like that.”

You angle your dagger downward, at that turgid, swollen length, threatening him without a word.  He merely laughs.

Fast as… well, fast as a diving hawk, he seizes your wrist and twists the blade free.  You are pinned before you can struggle, and his strength is far beyond his frame, wiry muscles like steel nailing you against the rock.  You gasp, and he claims your mouth.  His kiss tastes of raw meat and metal.  His cock pokes hard against your belly.

“Maybe you like it disgusting,” he trills, biting your lower lip hard, earning a grunt of pain.  “Maybe you like to be a dirty little whore.  We’ll see.  I’ll find out.  Your body will tell me the truth.”

“Mouth!” you blurt out, head spinning from those threats.  “Just… please, I’ll suck you.  Just carry me down.”

“You’ll suck me,” he agrees, smiling like the devil himself.  “You’ll swallow my seed and then you’ll climb in my lap and use my cock.  You’ll kiss me and moan in pleasure while I mate you.  And when I’m done, MAYBE I’ll take you back safely to your idiot kind.  Maybe,” he reiterates, one hand in your hair, forcing your head back so he can scent and nip at your throat.  “Or maybe I’ll keep you a while longer.  You’re prettier than that little goatherd.  Sturdier, too.”

His hands find buckles, his claws tear fabric.  Your skin chills, exposed to the wind, until his wings engulf you.  Then there is only heat - the struggle, the bite of rock into your knees, the thrust of his cock and the pull of his claws in your hair.  He tastes feral, and he’s rough.  Your throat is bruised, and it burns when he cums in you, forcing you to drink down the thin, salt-bitter fluid.

When he finishes, you’re in no mood to take any more orders.  But he settles against the rock face, preening, rubbing his spit-slicked cock.  A glance behind you makes your choices stark. 

You climb into his lap, into his arms, into his purr of triumph.  It’s a long way down.

The rock is unyielding and bites you when you slump forward, scratching grooves in your head that seep blood.  Your knees have already scabbed.  This high, there’s no warmth in the shadow of the cave, and you shiver in your torn clothes as you try in vain to find a comfortable position on the undressed stone.

Your captor stalks past you, feathers ruffling.  If your hands weren’t bound, rough hempen rope sawing grooves into your wrists, you might try to pull those feathers out by the handful.  As it is, you have no option but to sullenly train your eyes on the ground when he turns to face you.

He is beautiful, his face aqualine, his feathers resplendent in white and gray with delicate lines of black.  He is as wild as the true raptors who circle these peaks.  His eyes contain no pity for you.  They give you no hope about your future.

“If you try to escape, I’ll throw you off the edge.”  His voice is oddly rough, like he doesn’t use it often, or like it’s better suited to a predatory screech than human speech.  “You’ll do as you’re told, or you’ll be punished.  You’ll earn your food and keep.  If you don’t work hard, I’ll eat your liver while you watch.”

“Fuck you,” you breathe, unable to contain your rage.

“Later,” he says coolly, and your stomach flips.  He approaches where you kneel, plants one taloned foot on the back of your neck, and neatly shears through the rope around your wrists.  Your hands flood with feeling and pain.  You can get up now, when he moves off, but your ankles are still hobbled.  “Are you hungry?”

You stand mute, but your stomach betrays you with a loud gurgle.  You grimace, but he only nods toward the entrance of the cave.  “Gather firewood.  Feed the fire, and I’ll feed you.”

Outside the cave, the wind howls against the mountain face. Beyond it is a sheer drop, and a narrow path that leads in the wrong direction - up the mountain, not down.  Still, a slim chance is better than none.  You slink to the entrance and pause, but he does nothing to prevent you from edging your way out.

The wind instantly numbs your fingers.  This high, snow kisses the variations in the rock face.  The trees bear cones and needles, and the litter is sharp and crunchy under your bare feet.  The rope doesn’t let you move faster than a shuffle.  If you can find a sharp rock…

The mountain has plenty of rocks.  You manage to wear through the rope, and run for the nearest slope.  You are greeted by a long and treacherous slope, far too steep to descend, gravelly and prone to giving way.  Ignoring the pain and numbness in your feet, you cross jagged tor and find a craggy drop on the other side.  That leaves only one direction… up.

He finds you when you pause for rest, trying to rub feeling back into your frozen and battered feet.  You scream, kick, and struggle, and it makes no difference.  He doesn’t need your help to get you back, talons hooking under your arms and bearing you aloft.

There is no wood for the fire.  You didn’t obey your orders.  He gives you no warmth, no padding for the cold stone, and no food.

Hours later, frozen and near-senseless, you try to sneak closer to him as he roosts in a nest of furs.  One black eye snaps open, and you have no answer, no excuse beyond your utter misery.

“You may join me in my bed,” he says.  “But there will be a price.”  His feathers ruffle.  They look soft.  His body is lean and hard.  His cock is soft against his thigh.

Outside, the wind howls.  He simply watches you, letting you do the work of convincing yourself.

You have to survive tonight.  Survive tonight, and you’ll be able to try to escape again tomorrow.  Surely, you can handle a night with this creature.  Surely…

He doesn’t smile when you crawl, shaking, into his nest.  But you imagine a gleam of triumph in his eye.  His wings envelop you in warmth and darkness, and even as you shudder, the relief he offers is something you desperately need.  You can worry about the rest later.  You can waste your time debating if what he gave you was worth what he took.

Tomorrow.