Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Time to go home,” he says.
Ornix sets me on Otto’s back, and takes the reins in his hand.
“Hold on,” he says. “We are going to set the fastest speed possible. Try not to make too much noise. We do not want to attract predators.”
I can’t imagine any kind of predator that Ornix could not best, but I respect his concern for me. We walk at first, and even at that gait, every step the horse takes reminds me that my ass hurts, my inner thighs are tender, and my pussy is so sensitive the pressure is almost too much.
“Ouch, ow, fuck, ow…” I mutter under my breath as we get underway. Otto is at a fast pace, and Ornix is running alongside his head. The forest doesn’t allow for very fast speeds because of all the narrowness of the paths carved by smaller creatures through the trees. This is not like I am used to back where I’m from, where trails are cut through nature to make it convenient and safe, or marked with stones and signs. Instead, there are gnarled roots and old growth smattered with bushes and saplings and ferns erupting where the canopy allows for it.
I use the stirrups to lever myself up off the saddle a little and prevent the constant painful contact of being ground against the leather. I am doing my absolute best not to complain, because I know I brought all of this on myself, and really it could be a lot worse if he wanted it to be. It might be easier if he were to tie me over the saddle rather than have me sitting in it, but I don’t suggest that. I just try to deal with it, approximating riding.
While I struggle to stay on the horse and Ornix navigates through the forest at high speed, leading the way for our little party, I suddenly get the very strange feeling that I am being watched.
All the hairs on the backs of my arms and the back of my neck start to rise. Something is looking at me. Something is approaching, rushing up behind me. I look around, but I don’t see anything. All I see are dancing shadows, moving back and forth with the dancing leaves above that are being blown by a night wind. But I still feel something drawing closer, so close now it threatens to overwhelm me completely.
…Melissa.
My name is spoken by a shapeless void that hovers all around me, somehow near, but also not present. It is a voice that sounds like it belongs to someone I would trust. A voice with weight and gravitas.
What are you doing with this dragon? You’re weak. You’re nothing. You’re a human sacrifice. He’s fucked you and he’s going to kill you. That’s what dragons do. They eat virgins.
I stare into the rushing trees and I try to understand what is happening, why these terrible things are being said, and what they’re being said by. And then another voice enters the fray, another creature rushing up to surround me even as I ride through the forested dark.
She’s too stupid to know that a creature like him could never love a thing like her. Look at her, meaty and round, all that flesh, not a single scale, no majesty at all.
Ugly beast.
Stupid human whore.
He’ll use her and throw her away. She’s worth less than a rag, soaking up his seed, and for what? She thinks she’s immortal now? Stupid wretch.
I am surrounded by terrible voices saying the kind of awful things I would say to myself in my worst moments, and doing it with vehemence and spite that makes my stomach flip with fear. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I put my hands over my ears and I almost fall off the horse while screaming.
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
Ornix pulls Otto to a halt immediately and comes back to me, reaching for me.
“What is happening?”
There are tears running down my face. I didn’t realize that until just now. They have been streaming for a while, I think. My nose is stuffy and my eyes feel puffy and there is a weight inside my belly that just doesn’t feel right.
“Talk to me, Melissa,” Ornix urges.
Don’t tell him. He’ll think you’re crazy. He already thinks you’re weak and human. The voice surges back, circling around my head as it speaks.
“I don’t know, I…”
He reaches up, his hands on my thighs. “Talk to me,” he says. “You can tell me. What is wrong, I need to know.”
If you tell him, we’ll kill you, the voices chorus together.
That threat makes me speak. I don’t like being threatened. One thing to say all the worst things I ever thought about myself, but something else to try to keep me quiet. I reject the implied order.
“I can hear people saying things to me. I don’t think they’re really people, but the things they are saying…”