Finding the Coc in the Wood

Fleeing, she flits through the darkening woodland. Cold air a lash in the gash on her back. The thorn's bloody furrow digs springs from her eyes. She's swallowed in the deepening gullet of night.

She squints through brimmed tears, struggling to see her way as she chases the retreating light. The underbrush lacerates her feet and calves, branches seem to reach out to deliver their stinging slaps. She shields her face from the thrashing gauntlet. How hostile her beloved forest has become!

And foreign. She realizes the misdirected way of her flight. Through these alien woods, she has never tread. Deliberately so; its scurrilous reputation is known. But she dare not stop. And even if she desired to do so, routing the flight of her body would not be possible.

Dusk lurks and leers. Lengthening shadows contort into evil creatures stroking their erecting shafts, reaching out for her with branching fingers and luculent intent. She covers her exposure. Her nakedness, once an innocent freedom, now maddens her like a pox and blares like a beacon of invitation. Though frightening, the licentious visions reignite the warmth low her belly, kindled further by the rubbing of her pumping thighs.

The strange woods appear to open a pathway before her, a great hallway under a vaulted canopy. Does the same spirit that animated her tendril also possess these ancient woods? For even the trees seem bent on debauchery. The shadows' lance-like members pierce the hall's walls, knitting a profane tapestry of fucking limbs and trunks.

A heavy thud strikes her thigh and she stumbles. Her heart leaps in even greater terror: the tendril has found her! No, this assailant is new. The lust of the woods has burst up from the ground; a stout root strains toward her, ripping up dirt with each lunge. Thud! Her buttocks shudder under a heavy blow. She turns to see that another root has sprung up.

The first root prods her buttocks and the second thrusts at her front. She jumps forward, narrowly avoiding being crushed between them, and hurls herself back into flight. Ripping earth hounds at her heels. The rush of pursuit steams through her. Her body's arousal is a distraction and angers her.

Ahead, a jagged row of roots springs up from the ground. She weaves around them, trying to fend off their penetrative lunges. Her thighs are repeatedly struck with thudding blows. She yelps at each blow, wincing at the pain yet flushing with perplexing pleasure. The impacts' vibrations ripple through her, adding sweet fire underneath the heat from her exertion. Her lower mouth shivers with delight, growing wet despite the pain. Even because of it.

A vine whips a stinging lash across her breasts. The tears pour from her eyes. Other vines shoot out, whistling through the air to flick her breasts and buttocks and attempting to snare her arms and legs. One catches her wrist and nearly pulls her off her feet before snapping. She holds her arms tight to her chest lest they be caught, exposing her loins to the thrusting blows of the leaping roots. Her libidinous hole drips from the barrage. She abandons it to the blows; let the pain punish that wretched glutton.

Weeping, she careens through the eternity of the grasping gauntlet. Her burning skin is covered with hot red welts, her arms shield her bouncing breasts and her hands shield her face. Her erect nipples grow harder as they rub against her forearms. The barrage ceases the same instant she feels the ground fall away. She instinctively tucks her arms and legs tight as she tumbles down the slope, pummeled by every impact of the earth.

Her violent plummet stops in a sprawl on level ground. The abrupt end is a relief. Still bent on escape she scrambles to her feet. Only to stop cold. She has landed in a bleak and dusty fen void of greenery. What halts her flight is at the center. From a clutch of boulders protrudes a wizened tree, slumped; a knotty and limbless monolith.

The decrepit trunk rouses at her presence. Its many knots swell and from their sphincteric openings bulge eyes. More and more eyes protrude until the trunk is pullulating with the engorged, leering globes. They strain from their sockets, their pupils black sucking whirlpools, each drinking in her naked body.

She finds the wherewithal to move and takes a step back. The pupil of one eye spits out a long tongue. It strikes with a stinging impact on her left breast. She gasps from the pain, but her lower mouth floods. The tongue terminates in three strong fingers that roughly clutch her breast, stuck to her skin with its sticky saliva.

She yanks at the tongue, yelping as its strong grip tears from her breast. The tongue coils around her arm, fingers crawling over her skin as she desperately tries to extricate herself. More tongues leap out. They wetly slap onto her breasts, her thighs. One smacks onto the crest of her lower lips, striking that certain place and shocking her into a convulsion that drops her to the ground.

Abetting vines snare her wrists and ankles and haul her off the ground. She is suspended in the air, upright, arms and legs spread wide; horrifically exposed to the excessive gaze of the terrible, hungering eyes. The tongue between her thighs fumbles around her mouth, pinching her lips, sticking a finger inside her wet, wet hole. It pays particular attention to the hard knot at the crest, gleefully excited by her wailing cries and wild squirming whenever that spot is pressed.

She is utterly helpless. There is no escape from the powerful appetites of her assailants or the perverse delight of her treacherous body. The tongues lick every bit of her skin. The dirt from her tumble is wiped away and she glistens with a wet sheen of saliva. Heat floods through her and spills from her hungry hole.

The adherent tongues pull her toward the tree. Resistance is futile, she falls limp at the sinking realization. At least, as limp as she can. The eyes see her every twitch and twinge, quickly finding the most delicate places of her body and mercilessly pawing them. A tongue has wormed its way into her lower mouth and the strong fingers writhe inside, curling into a ball then flexing open.

A tongue devotes itself to the crest of her lower lips. It drums and kneads her, sending excruciating shocks through her body. It is too much! The tongue inside her grinds her spot against the tongue outside. That knot swells greater than it has before, it's pink hardness poking out from its hood. The fingers swirl around, pinching and flicking as she wails and thrashes.

Then it stops. She hangs limply, gasping. The tongues pull her closer to the tree. Weakly, she looks up to see her fragmented reflection in the many ravenous eyes. She drops her head. Notices a spot low on the tree unoccupied by an eye. From this gap protrudes an erect branch reaching up toward her, growing yet gaunt. Her mind rebels. She attempts to retreat into herself, conjuring the sights, sounds, and smells of her lovely forest and its cool freedom. But even as her body is dominated by the grasping tongues and vines, it is also possessed by its own brutal arousal. Her mind is yanked back and vividly anchored in her predicament.

The vines pull her legs wide, opening her to the bobbing limb while the tongues crawl across her tender inner thighs. She had almost released mightily under the attack of her knot, and the tongues' teasing is an agony adding pressure to a pleasure pleading to burst. Two tongues flick their fingers over her aching nipples, sending exquisite blades slicing through to her quaking loins.

She is pulled to the limb. Its tip nudges around her streaming gape. Though erect, the ductile limb hardly pokes past the eyes more than an handbreadth. The friction against her swollen lips is almost too intense to bear. Her body champs at the limb, desperate to suck it in. The tip finds her hole. The tongues yank her forward and ram it in. She sucks in a jagged gasp. A tongue leaps into her open mouth. It grasps her tongue, squeezing and tugging as it crawls deeper into her throat. She breaks.

Her lower mouth clamps into the limb as she violently quakes around it, the slimy eyes slip against her shuddering thighs. Her legs plead to close, begging to bear down on her pleasure, but they are firmly held wide. The infuriating bondage only adds to the furious intensity of her release. Her lungs lock as her rigid body strains to keep hold of the surging wave that thunders through her. Her vision darkens and her eyes loll: the moment is an eternity, immersed in searing ecstasy. Utterly spent, she falls limp. But the eyes and tongues and the limb inside her have not yet had their fill.

The tongues on her hips pull, moving them in a rocking motion. The limb squirms inside her, weakly thrusting in discordant rhythm to her hips' movement. Though spent, she remains excruciatingly sensitive, each jerk of the limb sends violent twinges through her body. Through her haze, she looks up at her rapist, wordlessly pleading with it to finish with her. The eyes consume her, gorging themselves on her image and flesh. Her act of submission pushes the tree over the brink.

The tongues contract, pulling her tight against the wet eyes as their fingers crawl all over her. The limb spasms inside her, spitting out a small stream of hot liquid. It twitches several more times, expelling a few more drops as it begins to shrink and pull out of her. The tongues lose interest and are sucked back into the eyes, popping off her skin. Her vine captors swing her away from the tree and release her, one limb at a time. She falls to the dirt.

The eyes retract into their knotholes, returning the lecherous tree to its prior decrepit state. Her ragged breaths are the only sound in the roaring silence of the bleak fen. She drags herself up from the ground. Dirt and twigs cling to her viscid glaze. The tree's emission drips down her legs as she shuffles forward on unsteady legs. She drifts from the fen and ambles out into the dark wood, stumbling into trees, due less to the darkness than the fog of her battered mind.

She plods on she knows not how long, oblivious to the night's chill. The woods are dead here. The trees grew unchecked and crowded out all light and life. Their corpses' fingers scratch at her as she passes, drawing angry red lines across her already marked skin. She hardly notices the molestation as she stumbles over decaying trunks and rotten stumps, numbly trudging onward.

Like a whispering breath, a ripple of moist warmth grazes her arm. This she notices. A scent drifts with it. Dank at first, then luxuriant; a rich sweetness of heady effect. She is compelled to seek the source. As she walks, she notices the dour woods begins to yield to life, the brittle conifers giving way to verdant willows, their leafy cascades flowing in the titillating breeze. The pain of her gashed back fades, as does the pain from the multitude of cuts and scrapes across her skin. The gentle grass under her tender feet is positively exhilarating.

The breeze wafts from a cleft in a lush knoll. Rhythmic exhalations sigh invitations to her ear as well as her body, seducing with the most delicate caresses. Her enrapt stride bears her to the opening. She senses the deep antre hiding through the embouchure. Basking in the delicious warmth, she realizes she has accepted the invitation. She enters.

------

Her story will continue in Part 4.