A Hunter's Touch

Ishke at the Edge of the Universe Vol. 1: A Hunter's Touch

I've lost count of the days.

I woke up in the dark. All I could feel was the moist, squishy dirt against my face. After a few moments, I became aware of a dancing fire in the distance. I lifted my head, hair plastered to my cheeks and forehead, and scanned the horizon.

Twenty-odd centaurs sat on their fat haunches around a campfire, roasting an unidentified animal on a spit. A rather large unidentified animal. I gulped and lowered my head back into the mud. I realized I was quite naked, gagged, and pitifully hog-tied to a small flowering bush.

I began a quiet struggle against my bonds, vicious ropes that cut into the tender skin of my wrists. I rubbed one wrist so raw that I cried out into my gag, a cloth jammed into my mouth secured by another wrapped round my head. Although my cry was muffled, it was loud enough to alert one of the centaurs that I was conscious.

I saw him leer at me over the fire. He had fierce blue eyes and icy blond hair mirrored in his long, braided beard. He stood and nimbly picked his way over the mud and brush to where I lay. I continued to struggle, which seemed to please him. Several other centaurs rose to their feet. The blond centaur flipped me over onto my back to see a circle of smug grins hovering above me.

"What a prize, Magdolon," a centaur with coal-black eyes growled. "Those hips will bear you fine half-breed foals. They'll sell very well."

"Let me have a go at her," a gaunt centaur with a greasy braid said. His eyes pleaded with Magdolon. "I want to have a try!"

"Let me buy her from you," said the one with black eyes. "I'll give you all the meat I stole from the butcher in that last town. I'll throw in the girl I took, too."

"Shut up, both of you," Magdolon said. "That girl was far too thin. I want healthy foals. This maiden will serve me well." He ran a rough hand over my breasts, stopping to pluck at my nipples. Although I was frightened I could not help the biological response--I quickly became aroused. My nipples stood obediently like two soldiers at attention and I felt myself become quite moist in the nether regions.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a grotesque grin. I moaned and squirmed uselessly in the mud, trying to free myself. Magdolon chuckled.

"I'm going to have fun with you." He slid his hand between my thighs. I cried out again and tried to shake him off, but the more I moved my hips from side to side and made muffled moans into the gag, the more lustful the centaurs looked. I rolled onto my side and got a full view of the area between Magdolon's legs--his male parts bulged and stood straight out, long and threatening. Far too large for me.

"Get away, you two," Magdolon said. The other centaurs didn't budge as he plucked me out of the mud. I continued to moan and make muffled shrieks, which only seemed to excite Magdolon. He carried me to a grassy part of the plain, free of underbrush, and lay me on my stomach. I panicked as I lost sight of what was going on.

I felt rough hands on my buttocks, first squeezing them and then pulling them apart. I continued to squirm as Magdolon ran a finger down my backside and along my cleft, collecting its juices. I heard him slurp on the finger, then felt it slide inside of me. I screamed into the gag.

Suddenly, the finger slid out.

"I said, get back!" I heard Magdolon rear onto his hind legs, then a loud THUMP as he presumably kicked his companions. They whimpered and galloped to safety.

Magdolon returned, grumbling. I felt him kneel down over me. The heavy sweat of his equestrian body enveloped me. At any moment he would enter me and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

Just as I felt the tip of his enormous member slide inside me, I heard him scream. He fell backwards off of me. I squealed into my gag as someone hoisted me from the ground and threw me over his shoulder. Hot, wet liquid coursed down my face--was I bleeding?

"Stop moving! I'm trying to help you!" A gruff voice whispered. I didn't have much of a choice--I became still and stiffened, trying to make myself easier to carry.

The man picked up speed. It seemed like he ran for miles before reaching the edge of a wood. He placed me down gently on a bed of pine needles. Ouch--I was already sore down there!

It was too dark to see him as he unbuckled his tunic and stripped, but I prepared myself for the inevitable. At least he had to be smaller than the centaur's horse parts.

But he handed the tunic to me, then pulled a knife from his boot and cut my bonds.

"Put that on," he said. He turned around so that I could dress. I sat there, quizzical. This was all happening too fast!

"Well, put it on!" He muttered. "We haven't got all night." He tossed me a small leather pouch--my pouch! The one I had lost struggling with the centaurs when they kidnapped me!

I pulled off my gag with trembling fingers.

"Where did you find this?" I held up the pouch. The man glanced at it.

"It was lying near you. I thought it might be yours."

"It is," I said. Tears jumped into my eyes. "My journal, my figurine, the Trigger...I can't believe you--well, I can't go home without it!" But he wasn't listening. He was on the lookout.

I stood on shaky knees and slid my arms into the tunic. It was long enough to cover me like a dress. I looked at him and he nodded, avoiding my gaze.

"Let's go." He started off into the trees at an alarming pace. I did my best to keep up.

"Thank you," I said as soon as I managed to connect my thoughts to my mouth. "Thank you for saving me from that--that vile--"

"It's nothing," he said. "Just hurry."

I trotted to keep up with his long-legged gait. He must have been ten inches taller than me, lithe and willowy. His feet barely touched the ground; he made almost no sound as he walked. A huntsman, no doubt. I clomped along after him, heavy and clumsy.

"Where are we going?" I said, huffing and puffing.

"Here," he said.

I followed his gaze. To my surprise, a small cottage had appeared out of the wood. The man trotted to the entrance and pushed the heavy wooden door open.

"Well, come on," he said with an impatient nod of the head. As visions of fairy tale cottages danced in my head, I joined him. Together we stepped over the threshold.

The Hunter swung the heavy door shut behind us and we were engulfed by darkness. Suddenly a panic attack set in. What the hell was I doing? Fresh out of grad school with a Master's in Art History, I should have been working at a library or museum. I shouldn't be following a strange man into a dark house. I felt my breaths quicken, a cold sweat on my brow.

A tiny light flickered a few feet in front of me, then burst into flames. A warm glow from a wood-burning stove cast itself over the coziest room I had ever seen. The man stepped back from the stove and threw his match into the fire.

"Lie down," he said, and he gestured to the bed in the corner. A mattress stuffed full of hay, covered with a thick padded quilt and wool blanket. I wanted nothing more than to collapse on that bed and sink into nothingness.

But I remembered my pouch. My journal! The figurine! The Trigger! My heart dropped down into my belly. I drew near the fire and fumbled with the leather pouch the Hunter had tossed to me. I first drew out this journal, the first 30-odd pages of which had been ripped out of my own doing several weeks ago.

My anxious fingers then closed around smooth stone. Elation! I pulled a carved figurine no larger than my thumb from the pouch. Upon thorough examination, I concluded that the detailed chess queen had been protected by my pouch's thick leather. Not a hair on her beautiful marble head, smooth breasts, or nimble fingers had been harmed. I was so relieved that I kissed the little beauty right on her tiny lips.

When I looked up, my rescuer stared down at me. He did not seem amused by my excitement. Just very confused.

"It's a chess piece," I explained, holding it closer to the fire so that he could see. "In my universe--where I'm from, it's very valuable."

"I see," he said. But I could tell that he couldn't see.

"You've never played chess," I said. I slowly realized that I was talking to a woodsman, not a scholar. "It's a game. There are lots of pieces kind of like this one, but they each have a different purpose. You use them to fight a battle."

"A battle?" he said, still lost.

I was too tired to explain. "Thank you again," I said, standing. It really was a marvel how tall and thin he was. I had to weigh at least as much as he did. How the hell did he carry me away from the centaurs' camp? I'm not sure any modern man I knew would be able to do that.

The thought of the centaur camp sent me reeling. The entire ordeal seemed ages away.

"I think I'll lie down," I said. And I did.

But after lying awake for ten minutes, I knew I had to write all this down. I've been working away at the pages for hours as the Hunter sits in a rickety chair before the fire, stoking the logs. These people really know how to have fun.

Yesterday I was writing in this journal from the comfort of my futon. My cat was curled up beside me. It was raining, a dreary waste of a day.

I'm writing now in a cottage in the heart of a wood filled with medieval fantasy beasts.

I want to go home.

I don't remember falling asleep. I woke to the sound of the Hunter splitting wood.

I rose from the bed, every inch of my body in protest. But I felt compelled to go outside and lend a hand.

"Let me help," I said, and grabbed a smaller mol from beside the enormous pile of tree trunks by the cottage. The Hunter stepped aside and I swung the mol fiercely. The trunk he was about to split gave way to two perfect chunks. I kicked them aside and he prepared another trunk for me.

"I grew up on a farm," I explained. "But it's been years since I've done this. Feels good."

He looked confused again. "Did you marry into nobility?" he asked.

"No, I went to college. Well, yes. Something like that."

I swung the mol again. He allowed me to split several more blocks of wood before getting distracted by something behind the house. He got a wistful look in his eye and walked away. I watched him pluck a fistful of delicate white flowers from a bush and return to me, cheeks flushed.

"Here," he said, and shoved them in my face. I backed away quickly.

"Wow! That's nice, but--I'm allergic to flowers," I said. He lowered his bouquet, embarrassed.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't touch them or breathe near them. You don't wanna see what will happen if I do. My eyes swell up and get really red. I look like a snake."

He tossed the flowers to the side, disappointed. "I thought you would want to braid them into your hair," he said.

I laughed. "What kind of girl do I look like to you?" I swung the mol again, splitting the wood into more perfect chunks.

Writing this now, I feel terrible. He was trying to be nice and I blew him off.

But there are more important things to write about.

Like how the centaurs came back for me.

-

I was lying on the bed while the Hunter went to get some water from the river. I had no idea how long he would be gone. If there's anything I've learned about these medieval universes, it's that a simple walk to get water could be five miles or more. I have trouble getting off the couch to walk to the Five-and-Dime for a frozen burrito.

I languished in the Hunter's bed, really enjoying myself. I'd been in this universe for what seemed like weeks, and the entire time I had been sleeping in alleyways and haystacks in barns. I basically slept wherever I felt safe. Men in these worlds have no problem with snatching a woman and ripping off her bodice for a roll in the hay, whether she wants it or not.

Although it is pure danger for me to travel alone, and although I am hasty to avoid any confrontations with these men, for some reason the thought of struggling against pure testosterone-driven muscle keeps me up at night with my hand tucked under my dress, moaning to myself. Is there something wrong with me?

I was lying there on the Hunter's bed when I realized how good it smelled. It didn't smell like soaps or shampoo. It didn't smell like aftershave, something I've always associated with being an attractive scent for a man. It smelled like sweat and pure pheromones. Puzzled, I buried my face in the pretty patchwork quilt. I was toying with whether I would have time to start stroking myself before the Hunter came back when I heard hooves on the packed dirt outside the door.

Luckily, my first instinct was to roll under the covers in the bed. The Hunter's bed is just a quilt over hay placed on slats low to the ground; I buried myself in the hay and pulled the quilt over myself. It seemed to lie flush to the sides of the bed, so it was doubtful that anyone would be able to tell I was there. I fashioned a little eye-hole and attempted to slow my breathing, but all I could think of was last night--Magdolon's throbbing horse parts casting a shadow on my vulnerable nakedness.

I pictured Magdolon holding me down, sucking my tits viciously, biting my nipples until they bled. Thrusting himself inside me over and over as I struggled helplessly. His centaur friends taking turns tugging at my breasts as they stroked themselves. Lying in the Hunter's bed, I tried to control my breathing. I was terrified, but my body's automatic response was to become very wet and aroused. This was more terrifying than everything else.

Through my eyehole, I saw Magdolon's sneering face appear in a window. He clopped around to the other window and got a good look at the place. Then he disappeared. I heard no hooves--nothing. Perhaps he had gone?

BANG! He kicked in the door with his back legs. I almost gasped, but clapped a hand over my mouth to catch it. I heard his slow, heavy steps and waited to be discovered. I waited for the ensuing struggle. Would he throw me onto his back and ride off with me, or take me right there on the dirt floor? There would be no way to stop him, whatever he decided to do with me.

Haunches stepped in front of my eyehole. Sweaty haunches. Soon those haunches would rest on my abdomen as he fucked me.

"Hey!"

The Hunter's voice! Magdolon whipped around and I could see the Hunter standing in his doorway, water bucket by his feet, crossbow raised. I lowered the covers, waiting for one to slaughter the other.

Magdolon's voice had an effortless layer of sleeze over his attempt at charm.

"My good man! I am looking for my woman. She was stolen from me last night and I have come to reclaim her."

I risked a peek from under the covers. Magdolon stood with his hands raised in a surrender. He was so close to the bed that I could see flies buzzing around his tail. The Hunter stood at the door, crossbow raised and muscles flexed--ready to kill.

"What would I want with a centaur woman?" the Hunter said, eyes aglow. Magdolon chuckled softly.

"She was not a centaur woman, but a human. I won her fair and square in a bet," he said before the Hunter could protest. "She took something that belonged to me--a beautiful white figurine of a woman. She bet that she could outdrink me for it. The terms were that if she lost, both she and the figurine would belong to me. She lost that bet."

In hindsight, it was pretty bad idea to make that bet. I figured that horses couldn't metabolize alcohol. I was wrong. Maglodon drank like a fish. The next thing I knew, his band of equine rogues were ripping my clothes off in an alleyway, binding me tight, and throwing me over his back to ride off into the night.

"Get out of my house," the Hunter said.

Magdolon sighed charitably. "I would love to leave this...humble dwelling. But I'm afraid I smell something very familiar. It smells a lot like my woman," he said. "The scent seems to be coming from somewhere in this house. And I won't leave unless I take her with me."

I heard several whizzing noises, then a grunt from Magdolon. He grabbed at his chest. I pulled the blanket back and was shocked to see arrow tips poking through between his shoulder blades. He stumbled to the side, then collapsed onto his haunches and rolled forward. The arrows pierced further through his body.

I shrieked and jumped from the bed. the Hunter slammed the door behind him as I tried to run past him to escape.

"Get in the bed," he grunted. I tried to duck under his arm, but he grabbed my shoulders and dragged me across the room. I kept screaming as he threw me onto the bed.

"I'm sorry about this," he said, and pulled up the tunic he gave me to wear as I struggled and shrieked. He put a hand over my mouth. "Let me help you!" he said, but I was out of my mind. "Don't you get it? His friends will be here any minute. They'll know something is wrong. They'll smell you. We have to do this."

I struggled harder, but he managed to flip me over onto my stomach and pull down his breeches. I saw a flash of Magdolon trying to rape me before, and screamed louder against his palm.

"Trust me, I don't want this any more than you do." He took a deep breath and plunged himself inside me. I let out a scream that quickly became a moan of pleasure. What was this? I was being raped! Why was I enjoying it? But I was--I truly was.

I rocked my buttocks against his hips. Couldn't he go deeper? He thrust in and out quickly, over and over. I strained to look back at him. His eyes were screwed shut. He didn't seem to be enjoying it. His hand still over my mouth, I let out another muffled moan. His cock felt just right as it slid into me, and every time it slid out I wanted more. That yummy friction was driving me wild, I was about to come--

Suddenly he exploded inside me. It felt like fireworks as we came together. He filled me up and I almost couldn't take it. I blacked out a little from the intensity, gasping for air.

The Hunter pulled out quickly and wiped himself off on the blanket. I sucked air into my lungs and rolled onto my back, searching for words.

"You....you--"

"I'm very sorry," he said. Still naked, he leapt from the bed and tiptoed to the door. I stared...that body. He wasn't skinny at all--muscles laid tightly over bone...he looked like a god! He had the door cracked and was looking out into the night. He snapped it shut and returned to me.

"They'll be here soon. Stay hidden," he said, pushing my head under the quilt. I heard a sickening sliding noise as he moved Magdolon's body to the corner. I raised the quilt a little and watched the Hunter shovel hay over the dead centaur. I lowered the quilt, shaking.

The Hunter just simultaneously raped me and gave me the most unexpectedly amazing sex of my life and now he wanted to hide me like the ugly girl he pity-fucked? I felt like the most backwards person in the universe. I had always considered myself to be a feminist. Why the hell did I just enjoy what happened? Had this ever happened before? Was this why men thought rape was okay?

As I reconsidered my affiliation with feminism, there was a rough knock at the door. I peeked from under the blanket and was rather disappointed to see that the Hunter was wearing his breeches again. He pulled the door open, crossbow at the ready.

"Hello there...why the hostility?" I recognized the voice of Jorel, one of Magdolon's buddies.

"You'll have to forgive me," the Hunter said. "Another centaur just came by, and he threatened to kidnap my wife if I could not produce some wench that he won in a bet."

The other centaurs laughed. Wench? That bastard...

"I can smell that our friend was here. And we are indeed looking for his human woman who was stolen from us," Jorel said. "Perhaps you have seen her? Large, supple breasts...wide birthing hips. She has a sensational body. None like it in the land."