1. "He Speaks For Us"


    Date: 10/7/2014, Categories: Fantasy, Bestiality, Coercion, Consensual Sex, First Time, Hardcore, Male/Female, massage, Monster, Author: Drake Richards, Rating: 80, Source: sexstories.com

    turned sharply, weaving between houses expertly, guiding himself by the light of the moon and the drunken hymn. Before long, the alleyways emptied into a wide road lined by establishments marked with signs, most of which still had candlelight within. One in particular caught the stranger’s attention: a squat, two-story building filled with light, out of which poured sounds of merriment. The painted sign in front of it proclaimed “BUKING STALION” in bold letters over a carved horse. The stranger skulked backwards into the darkness of the side street, watching the tavern’s door. A woman stood outside, dressed in simple clothing. She spoke something to most men who passed her which did not catch the stranger’s ears, but he guessed it must have been a grave insult, for most men spat upon her, laughed, or shouted. As the minutes passed, most of the tavern’s occupants filed out into the night. The girl spoke to none of them, but leaned against the wall with her head down. Even so, the memory of insult lingered, and the men accosted her drunkenly as they stumbled away. Eventually, a heavily-muscled man in rough silk robes strutted out of the tavern. Seeing the girl, his face grew dark instantly. The man screamed at her incoherently and swung his arms about until the girl had fled down the street. “Nobody here needs your ‘help’, whore!” he shouted after her. The stranger emerged from his hiding spot in the darkness, causing the man across the street to jump in surprise. “Apologies ...
    for the ruckus, sir!” the man called out, bowing extravagantly. “Come in, sit by the fire and warm yourself.” The stranger’s hood regarded the man for some moments before turning and heading down the street. The man stood there, shocked. When the stranger had disappeared out of earshot, the man scowled at spat in his direction, then returned to the tavern. The stranger found her in a side street between two crumbling shacks. She sat with head bowed and knees close to her chest, rocking gently as she sobbed in long, hacking bouts. Like a shadow, the tall figure sat next to her quietly. He fished within his cloak and pulled out six golden coins, which he tapped against the girl’s frame. She jumped instinctively, slapping at his arm. The girl looked up at him. Her eyes widened, and her mouth stood agape. “Who are you?” she asked. The stranger did not respond, but merely picked up the coins where they had fallen and proffered them to the girl again. Wiping away her tears with one arm, the girl peered at the coins through reddened eyes. His gold glinted in the evening light, like a small mound of fire bathed in ice. The girl looked up at him again, shaking her head vigorously as she locked eyes with the darkness within his hood. “It’s too much, sir,” she muttered hastily. “Please, I can’t-” He grabbed the girl’s thin wrist gently, turning her palm up. With a cascade of flickering moonlight, they plinked into her hand one by one. The stranger slowly closed her fingers about the ...
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