Hey folks! This is my first posting here, and I'm just going to put this story all in one chunk separated by 'chapters' but they are not very long.
This story is pretty extreme and contains non-consensual themes, be advised.
Feedback and comments are most welcome!
Tales From the Morass, vol. 1
/--1--
Kara hummed a quiet tune as she walked down the forest trail. She carried a wooden frame on her back like a backpack, filled with coffee, furs, wine, and other nice things from town. A bow was slung over her shoulder. She moved like a long shadow, quiet and bending this way and that, her feet making no sound on the grass as she passed. She was going home.
Sarah, her wife, would be waiting for her. Maybe on the porch; maybe in the garden. She would be wearing that cute apron... and little else. Sarah knew Kara liked to take her right away after a long hunting trip and visit to town. She would have just shaved down there too, just the way Kara liked it... Sarah was such a good housewife. Gods, Kara was horny. Her pussy tingled with anticipation. They would snuggle at night in bed too. Kara smiled.
She could see the chimney now through the trees. No smoke; had Sarah finished cooking? kara unslung her bow and started wiggling out of the wooden frame on her back. Some of her long brown hair got stuck in it and she untangled it absent-mindedly as she approached the cabin. "Sarah!" she called, "You'd better not be wearing anything under that apron!"
There was no answer.
Perturbed, Kara stopped calling. She gently laid the frame on the ground, and gripped her bow as she slunk forward, unconsciously stepping light and silent. Her eyes darted this way and that. She could see the cabin now. The door was open.
Sarah was gone.
The inside was in disarray; a chair was broken and the table overturned. The bed was slashed. Recently, Kara thought. She went back outside and inspected the ground carefully. There was a ripped apron by the trees. She'd tried to run for it, at least. Good girl, Sarah.
Four men. Their leader was a big woman by the way the marks read. Two days ago.
Kara went to the little shed in the back. It was unmolested. She went in and came back out with two long knives which she strapped to her thighs, and many arrows.
The men had gone Southeast towards the morass, carrying something heavy.
Kara went hunting.
/--2--
The tracks were clear, deep, and easy to follow. They had made little attempt to hide them (and probably did not know how). City folk? Bandits? No, probably deserters, wandered down from the front and hungry. Hungry for women like Sarah. For her smooth white skin, pale breasts...
Kara frowned and moved faster. She went through the early evening until it was too dark to read the trail clearly; there were no roads here, just deer trails. She slept fitfully and when the sun began to throw its colors over the forest leaves, she was already up and pacing, thinking about what she would have to do. Avoiding thinking about what she might find.
About two hours before noon, she reached a large tree. She knew it, it was a kind of landmark. Once it had been used for hangings; old ropes could still be seen rotting in the upper branches. Now birds lived there, and it was noisy in the early Summer. But Autumn was approaching fast, and Kara had little time to think about birds. She had a dilemma.
The tracks split here. In fact, there had been another group here waiting at the tree, and they had all mingled. The ground was stamped and fires had been made for cooking. A discarded shield, cracked and split lay where it had been tossed carelessly. Kara eyed the markings. Imperial. Not of the Kingdom. So they were not local and wouldn't know their way around.
But the problem was this: the ground became stony around the bog's basin, and tracks more difficult to follow. It might be some time before Kara could single out the people she'd been following. One group had clearly gone down along the southwestern rim of the bog; another had gone southeast, to the firmest part of the bog where a careful man might cross with good light and a sure foot. But there were no other clues for Kara see. She thought there might be about four in each group, and armed.
Kara bit her lip, until it almost bled. The bog crossing would be difficult while carrying burdens, especially if they were struggling. She chose the southwestern path along the rim of the bog.
She stalked until twilight descended; the bog lay on one side, steaming, always moving just out of vision. It was quieter here than in the woods. But the rocky way Kara followed had been marked by dirt and garbage, possible to follow for an expert like herself. But little else could be gleaned from their passing. The light failed and Kara was about to sit down in frustration (she knew that missing something in the dark could be fatal, as much as she wanted to push on), when she noticed the gleam up ahead, maybe a mile down the way.
It was a little hut with a candle in the window. Slowly, as Kara approached in silence, sounds of violence drifted over to her. Some men were laughing, and someone was grunting rhythmically. A woman was saying something. Definitely a woman, and definitely not Sarah. Kara forced herself to stop and crouched, listening intently and scanning the surroundings, her keen eyes piercing the places she would be hiding with a bow on watch if she were a wicked person. But there was no one. Clearly they did not expect to be challenged, as they had met little resistance.
Until now.
Kara readied her bow and got an arrow out from her quiver, and stealthily crept up to the cabin. The candle was in the window on the side facing the bog, so Kara went around to the other, darker side, which also had a small window; there was a wooden shutter, but it was not fastened and was open enough to see the horrible interior. Kara stifled her gasp with her hand and felt her stomach knot.
There were two men standing along the wall. Their pants were down and they were stroking their horrible members and laughing, absorbed in the show.
A tall and pale woman with very fair skin and long, jet black hair lay on the bed, stripped naked. Her breasts were topped with dark nipples jutting out from dark areolas which stood in stark contrast to her white, white skin. She had wispy black pubic hair, almost like a teenager. But she was no girl. It was Cilia.
Kara had seen her, twice. She was an older (to Kara) woman. 30, maybe. 10 years older than Kara and her wife. But very beautiful in a cold way, with fine features. In town they called her a witch and shunned her. She came to these parts two Summers ago, from elsewhere. Some said the Southern Isles, others from the Imperial Court. Last winter, Kara had seen her turned away from the apothecary in town; she was trying to buy Willow bark, which was good treatment for headaches. Kara went in, traded for some, then left it in a little basket on the path outside of town which Cilia had come in on. Two days later, Sarah found a small brooch with a beautiful purple flower cleverly embedded in it upon their doorstep. Sarah liked to wear it when Kara was there, and on holy days.
And now here she was, in what Kara supposed must be her hut, lying on her bed being raped. A tall and strong woman, their leader by all appearances, was sitting at the head of the bed holding Cilia's arms down as she struggled. Another man was fucking her pussy covered with fine black peach fuzz, and grunting noisily, encouraged by the others. Cilia was moaning and gasping as she tried to resist; her voice was low and not high like Kara would have thought.
"Give it to her, Gax, fuck her up. See that, boys? This bitch is in heat!" The horrible leader said, clearly into it as much as them. "Look at those white tits bounce! Fuck."
Cilia's breasts, while not massive, were larger than Sarah's, and several sizes larger than Kara's own small ones, and the bounced as the man pounded her pussy.
"Fuck, fuck... I'm gonna cum!" he shouted in the least creative way imaginable.
"Fill her up! Show us why they call you Big-balls Gax!" shouted the leader, smiling. Her own top was open, and Kara could see her nipples were hard.
Gax did have large balls. His cock pulsed and twitched as he grunted loudly. Thick and sticky white cum filled Cilia's cunny and some spurted out, overflowing. Gax grunted again and pulled out his wet dick. Viscous sperm oozed slowly out of Cilia's pink and violated pussy.
"Oh yeah, fuck! Look at that hot cum in that tight cunt. Who wants to coat their dick for round two?" The leader leaned forward and sucked on Cilia's dark nipple.
One of the men along the wall stepped forward. "Sloppy seconds! Fuck yeah," he grinned. He grabbed Cilia's flailing legs tightly and spread them. He started aligning his cock. He peeled back his foreskin to reveal a throbbing dark pink cockhead, and scooped up the leaking cum on his stiff prick. He slowly slid it into her now slippery pussy.
It was at this moment Cilia glanced at the window. Her eyes met Kara's. She flicked her gaze to the candle in the window. She blinked hard, and nodded slightly to the candle. The leader was busy on Cilia's dark brown nipple, and the men were all focused on the rape. No one noticed, they were intent on her wet and cum-filled vagina and the squishing noises it now made.
Kara understood the signal and readied an arrow to shoot the candle out. Whatever magic the witch might have ready, she hoped it worked.
She nocked. She aimed. She loosed.
The arrow flew true and shot the candle right out of the window, breaking and extinguishing it in mid-air. Immediately chaos erupted.
The leader sat up and looked around wildly. One man saw Kara and opened his mouth to shout but she had already loosed again and he dropped without a sound, an arrow through his skull. The other man lunged at her and she dropped the bow, pulling a knife from her thighstrap and sticking it into his hand. He yelped and fell backwards, but lunged again and grabbed Kara, pulling her halfway through the window. Her top ripped, her wife's needlework never intended for this tug of war, and her small breasts were exposed as she struggled to escape his grip.
The leader rolled Cilia off of the bed onto the floor and stood up, without bothering to cover her open breasts, and grabbed a wicked looking morning star from where it had been leaning against the wall. She grinned at Kara. "Gonna fuck your skull before and after you're dead, cunt," she grunted.
Kara struggled against her wounded assailant, but he was too strong, and she was exposed hanging halfway through the little window. The leader raised her weapon to cripple Kara without killing her.
The blow never fell. A giant tentacle-like shape burst through the far wall where the candle had been, crushing Gax flat and dead, and wrapped itself around the leader. She had time for one shocked shout before she disappeared out into the dark. The man pulling Kara dropped her onto the floor in shock and was turning around to face the gaping hole when two smaller tendrils snaked around him and pulled him out into the air. Kara covered her mouth with her hands when she saw his silhouette separate into two and vanish into the bog below. She lay on the floor and prayed, saying the words again and again, closing her eyes tightly.
"Prayers will not help," said a voice, not unkindly, low and calm.
Kara opened her eyes and stopped rocking. Cilia was there, kneeling next to her, naked, still moist. Her pretty black hair hung loose now around her breasts. She helped Kara's head gently into her lap and stroked her hair, soothing her with her level words.
"What..." Kara shuddered.
