She lived at the edge of the world. A small rocky inlet, a rough stone outcropping, these she called home. The surf beat against the rocks, the surge and ebb of tides as comforting in their routine as the moon and stars moving across the skies at night.
If anyone knew of her, or her origins, no word had crept from this small slice of the world. Some, in the town miles away, may have heard a rumor of a beautiful witch woman who lived at the edge where water and land came together, and the equally strange creatures it was said she consorted with.
In the full dark of the night, when the moon was dark and the stars grew bright and hot, she slipped from her small house, skyclad. Her full breasts rose and fell with each breath as she moved, surefooted, to the edge of the sand. Slowly, not feeling the chill of the water, she stepped into the gentle surf. She stood in the water, and cast her mind out, out and down to the deep.
In a short time, a ripple came from far out on the open sea. It came to where she stood, knee-deep. The water slapped up her legs, danced up to her breasts, to pearl and slide down swollen nipples and slide back into the sea. Of a sudden, parting the water, a long white tentacle appeared. Slithering across the surface, it contacted her leg. Sliding around the slim leg, and clambering up, up until the very tip rested at the cleft between her legs. A second tentacle joined the first, then another wrapped around her other leg, pulling her forward, deeper. There, just below the surface was his head. His mouth open and sucking. Waiting. She shivered.
The tentacles drew her closer, a willing sacrifice, until the giant head was just before her. Her legs were pulled far apart, farther than was really comfortable. She could feel the suckers attaching to her flesh, many around her breasts, and two of the largest attached firmly to her nipples. The pulling mimicked a mans sucking mouth, and a moan came from her lips. With the blood flow cut drastically, her breasts began to swell, rounded and ruddy red.
Despite hating the cold, slimy feel of the arms holding her in place, she knew her duty, her obligation to submit each month. And each month, it never failed to stimulate a response deep inside of her. Her cunt throbbed, and soon a steady flow of woman juice accompanied her moonflow, sliding down her legs and coating the tentacles holding her open. She felt a gentle tug, and her feet lost contact with the oceans sandy floor. She was tipped, her body canted backwards, supported around arms and neck and head by strong tentacles.
Another shiver passed through her as the sucking mouth of the sea beast latched onto her mons. It completely covered her, from ass to belly button. One tentacle surrounded her head, pulling it back, and she watched the stars whorl overhead. She felt the snaking tongue begin to reach inside of her and lick. Simultaneously, a thick appendage began to slide into her rectum. It was useless to cry out; she had in the past but a tentacle slid from her neck into her mouth and down her throat. That experience had terrified her enough to not make that mistake again. A soft grunt escaped…the cock..for that was surely what it was, was thicker than ever before, and longer. Her anus throbbed in agony as the monster cock began to slide in and out of her ass, each penetration deeper than the last. The tongue lapping inside of her cunt began to swell as it always did, having tasted her moonblood, and it too began to pump in and out of her. She closed her eyes against the dual fullness, accepting it as she always did. She could feel her arousal building despite…surely not because of…the pain. Her hips began to buck in rhythm to the monsters penetrating shafts, and suddenly, her orgasm broke free. The tidal wave within her belly erupted with a fierceness that was greeted with obvious joy from her sinuous lover. The busy mouth of the beast slurped her flowing juices, the tentacles undulated along her captured body. Wave after wave of intense pleasure overtook her. As the last ripples died away, her lower body throbbed with the release.
The sucking began in earnest then. All her juices were thoroughly drained from her, and once again she was brought to orgasm. It was during the second orgasm that a thin tentacle worked its way deeply into her womanspace. She felt the pain in her cervix at the breach, then the tickling in her cramping belly as the last of her moonblood was scooped directly from her womb.
With the onslaught of female blood, cum, and hormones, the thrusting appendages grew stiffer, the sucking became painful as the maw drew again and again at her body. Her clit was captured by a sucker that pulled and tweaked it fiercely. Her mouth opened, but the scream locked in her lungs, when finally, the thrusts slowed, stopped, and withdrew. The sucking maw backed away, and she was carefully raised to stand once more on the ocean floor. Her knees were shaky, and she was thankful for the steady grasp of the tentacles.
They began to withdraw, but this time, one last tentacle, the one which had suckled at her left breast, rose up and caressed her cheek. It was unexpected, unprecedented. Tentatively, she placed her hand over the gently caressing tentacle tip. The burst of power between them had her rocking back on her heels, and a soft ‘aaahhh’ escaped her lips. The teasing tip traced those lips, slipped into her mouth to touch and pull on her tongue, her teeth, the insides of her cheeks.
The careful touches, so lover like, were as shocking in their intimacy as the maw was in its ferocious attempt to garner all her fluids. The sharp contrast between the two puzzled her, even as she smiled. As the beast began to ease away, the last tentacle drew back and away, yet seemed to reach for her, longingly. She wondered what her next moonblood cycle would bring.
She walked along the edge, where water met sand. Clearing her mind, breathing in the cool evening air. Absently her mind catalogued what she saw as she passed; the sea-grass was near harvestable, there were pieces of lumber by the high tide line to collect tomorrow for the garden bench she needed to build, and the rose hips were full and lush this year. She anticipated the fall when she could harvest them, making a wonderful tisane to ease her winter blues.
She stepped over the strange marks in the sand before fully realizing their import…drag marks. Something big had fallen and been dragged into the surf. She stared out into the calm waters. Nothing stirred as night began cupping the water, edging ever closer to her. Turning away, she looked up the beach. Ten, fifteen, thirty steps up she found it. A pool of nearly dried blood. Hoofprints. Man tracks.
Looking back towards the ocean, she surmised that his horse had been injured, or he was. Somehow the injured horse had been led, or fallen nearby. And her lover had feasted well.
Had it eaten the horse and the man?
Cautious now, she headed for her little cottage. The door was open, yet she knew she had closed it tight…she had once spent endless hours coaxing a skunk from within when she hadn’t closed it completely, and had vowed to never make that mistake again. She hadn’t. And yet, the door was unmistakably open.
Slowly she edged into the dimness of her gathering room. The fire was down, and barely lit that side of the room. As she crossed towards it, a strong arm wrapped around her throat, a second around her waist. She stiffened, then relaxed into the grip. Wild things sensed fear. She would stay calm, despite her heart beating wildly beneath her breast.
“Who are you?” came his gruff voice.
“A woman.” she responded in her softest tone.
The arm around her tightened, a hand came to find and fondle her tit, pinching at the nipple that hardened for the first time at a man’s touch. A ‘mmmmmm’-ing noise came from him, more of a rumble than pleasure, but she was unschooled in the ways of men.
What did she say to that? But before she could respond, she was pushed away, and spun about. She looked into deep blue eyes, a rough face grizzled with several day’s beard growth, mistrust written all over his face. She placed her arms out to the sides, palms up. She slowly backed up, and turned to freshen the fire. He followed. Took her chin in his hands, examined her face.
Sea green eyes stared calmly back at him, while her black as night hair curled fetchingly around her face, and cascaded down her back, nearly covering her well-rounded ass. Full breasts pushed against her coarse-woven top, the soft swells a creamy contrast to the rough fabric. She had seen him wince when he reached for her chin.
“You’re hurt. I can heal that, if you dare let a woman such as I touch you.” This was a near-taunt, and had the desired effect. He drew back, brows furrowed. As he submitted to her ministrations, he continued to look at her.
“I will take you to my bed.” He pronounced.
“You will sleep.” she responded.
“After.” he replied pulling her towards where he lay on her bed.
When the moon rose over the water, she heard the call in her head. She disengaged herself from the arms of the man, her first human lover. She felt an ache in her cunt from his cock, so different from her sea lover. The sea was cool, and slippery, and His was hot, so hot, throbbing and silky. Her nipples rose in the chill of the air, but unerringly, she made her way to the water, lost in thought.
Rarely had he summoned her when it was not her moonblood time. Yet, here he was, and she shivered as his cool tentacles wrapped around her legs, crawled up her body, circled her breasts, raspy and sore from her lover’s beard. The sea creature pulled her hard from her feet, and she gasped as the maw attacked her swollen cunt. The tentacles which usually were so lover like, giving her passion and fulfillment, whipped at her flesh, painfully squeezing her breasts, the very tips of the tentacles pinching her nipples harder than they ever had before. The grip was punishing, hurtful, and for the first time she felt fear, and tried to pull away.
He would have none of it. The maw sucked at her exposed womanflesh, driving her up and over into passion like wildfire. She felt like she had been stung by a rayfish, so fierce and brutal was his attack on her. The thrusting was not slow, letting her adapt to the size of the beast, not caring as was his wont.
This was nothing short of rape, and her anus and pussy bore the brunt of the assaulting creature. Her legs were pulled apart so hard she feared she would be ripped in two. The sucking was so hard she felt he would suck her inside out. The pull on her clit was making her moan with pain…and yet behind the pain, just behind it, was a dark, deep lust, coiling within her. As the two appendages continued to batter her, one buried deeply in her ass, the other thrusting hard in her pussy, she began bucking, seeking more, still more. Her moans were louder now, not cries of pain, but pure, animal lust. As her orgasm flooded her, she arched, rigid in the beast’s grasp, feeling his probing organs swell and fill her fuller than ever before. Twin geysers of his spray filled her, a thick and foamy release. This had never happened to her before! She felt bloated with it. Her breasts throbbed in time with the squeezing on them, the tentacles pulled hard on her nipples, and for one moment, she feared her death at his desire was a foretold conclusion. She felt the anger in him swell, then, with a final surge and gush, his release seemed to calm him.
She was his.
As it was ordained.
It was mid-winter before she understood.
The man she’d nursed to health during the late days of summer was long gone. A warrior never stayed long in comfortable surroundings, and there were always wars to be fought. He left without promises of return, as neither believed in falseness. She had been saddened by the loss of him. His warmth in her bed at night, his humor in her simple ways. His helping hand in gathering wood for heating the cottage in the cold months ahead, when storms would rake up the coastline, and toss waves and sand against her sanctuary. When she awoke that autumn day, snow was spitting from a leaden sky, the hearthfire was burning brightly and a small, handcarved wooden bracelet lay at her place on the table in the gathering room. She knew then he had gone.
Routine comforted her. Harvesting the garden, hanging her herbs, creating her potions and putting up provender for the dark months kept her busy until now.
The snow had blown and piled by her garden wall, head high in places. She had trekked to the water’s edge, but her sea lover was not near. She turned to go back to her cottage when the vertigo hit her. Falling to her knees, she retched violently. After a time, the feelings passed, and she rose unsteadily to her feet, and made her way home.
No. It could not be.
Yet, as one day rolled into another, she watched her belly grow big and round with child. She knew by mid-Spring she would be delivered. She shivered, and not with cold. Alone, giving birth to a child. How would she manage? Who would help her? The townsfolk never came here; the new road bypassed this jut of land completely. She had always preferred that, but now, alone, she was frightened for the first time of her isolation.
Again, routine became her salvation. Beating the dampened sea-grasses to release the rough fibrous insides, she twisted and rinsed them until the fiber was maleable. This she spun into a coarse thread, eventually making spools and spools to be woven into the fabric for her clothing. It was a long, tedious project, and kept her mind occupied when panic threatened.
Again and again she went to the sea, but he never responded to her calls. She recalled their last, violent encounter, the same night her human lover had taken her for the first time. Perhaps that had been his way of saying goodbye, and she was truly alone.
Still, she had the sense of him biding his time. For what, she did not know. There was a feeling in the air, and unless she cast a circle for clarity, she would be kept in the dark.
The fear of knowing was almost as bad as the fear of not knowing. Putting it off for today. Always to be done tomorrow. She, who never procrastinated, refused to move forward on this one thing.
The days grew perceptibly longer, her belly grew rounder, and simple things began to take on a special onus. Bending was nearly impossible, so great was her girth. Sleep? Impossible. She was uncomfortable, cranky, irritible.
The heatwave came one moon cycle after the vernal equinox, and was a mixed blessing. The heat sapped her energy. For several days she was lethargic, sitting or laying on the garden bench was all she could muster energy for. On the third day, she woke feeling refreshed, energized. Rising quickly, she threw open all the windows and doors to the cottage, airing out a winters worth of musk and gloom. The cleaning frenzy came on her unexpectedly, and bedlinens hung in the branches of the flowering apple tree, curtains waved from gleaming windows, and by days end, every inch of the little house was tidy and fresh.
Looking around, seeing nothing more that needed doing, she peeled off her sweat stained clothing, leaving the pile by the door. She walked to the ocean, naked but for the wooden bracelet her warrior had left her, and slipped into the chill of the water. She felt like she had come home again. Warm sun on her back, cool water on her legs and lapping at her distended belly, sand smooth beneath her feet.
Slowly, taking it inch by inch, she lowered herself into the cold and briny water. As it closed over her head, she felt her hair floating like a cloud around her. The pressure in her back eased, and the feeling of weightlessness was a wonderful relief from the burden of hefting around her enormous belly. Head breaking the surface of the water, she turned to face the shore, to feel the sun on her face. Eyes closed, she bobbed there, home in the sea.
The first touch of the tentacle caused her to gasp. He was here! The tentacles twined around her recumbent body, softly caressing her breasts, now huge with milk for her coming child. She felt the maw on her back, sliding around her to cup her hip, the lips sluicing around her, tasting her until it came to the mound of her belly. Slowly, the maw sucked her belly inside of it. The tickling was both sensual and silly. She drew her hands across the tentacles, touching for the first time, her sea lovers skin, rather than just succumbing to his touch.
Tentacles touched her face, mouth, eyes, ears, throat. Such was the sweet feeling on her belly from the gentle suckling that she missed the first clenching ripple.
The maw slipped from her belly to her cunt, and she felt a gentle pull as the sucking resumed. A slender tentacle from the inside of the maw entered her, stroking her inner walls, probing at her cervix. She felt it slide up and inside. A feeling of something moving inside her caused her to look…she could see the slim arm of the tentacle against her swollen belly. It was inside her…touching her baby!
The first hard cramp came as soon as the tentacle withdrew. She was held securely in her sea lovers tentacle-arms, cradled, soothed as wave after wave of pain crashed against her. The urge to push was forestalled by one tentacle across her mons. She heard the soft ‘no’ deep in her head. Again and again cramps hit her, and she felt torn apart by the fury of them. Finally the arm across her pussy was withdrawn, and came to wrap around her belly above the child. She felt the squeeze as it tightened slowly, and the need to push was finally approved.
She bore down with a fierceness that was so unlike her. The growl coming from her mouth was more animal than woman.
She gasped through the release of pain, then again it tore across her belly…
and with a pop, she felt something emerge from between her legs. A pause. A breath. Repeat.
The sound of a babies wail filled the now dusky sky. Cradled tenderly in a tentacle, she was offered to her mother. As she took the child in her arms, the maw returned to her womansplace, and eased the afterbirth from her. Raising the babe to suckle, she felt overwhelmed, tired but energized at the same time.
As she left the ocean, she looked back to where he waited just below the surface.
“Return to me”
She smiled. She would indeed return to him. She looked down at the child in her arms. Greeted with eyes of deepest sea-green, skin as white as the tentacles that had brought her into the world, they gazed at each other. Mother and daughter.
The legacy continued.
Beneath the cool spring waters, he lay in repose, watching the witch-woman and the babe. He raised an arm to his eye, examined the wooden bracelet. If he could have snorted in disdain, he certainly would have. Carelessly he floated the disk in the water before him, then, grasping it firmly, he headed out to sea.
On an island far away, a ragged, unshaven man lay in a hut made of woven branches. He rose from his nights rest to pace the shoreline, scanning to see what may have washed up in the night. Halfway through his journey, he spied it. A round wooden bracelet. It was above the high tide line, and how this had come to be here was as much a mystery as how he himself had come to be here. All he truly remembered was going to the waters edge after leaving this bracelet at his woman’s table. He’d woken early, and thought to take a brief wash before returning to the cottage. He’d felt something choking him, and he lapsed into unconsciousness. When he woke, he was here. Alone.
It was her daughters first birthday. Taking the toddlers hand, she walked her slowly to the beach. She listened for him, but rather than him, she found a coarse-woven bag made of a seaweed that grew far too deep to have come from these shores. As she lifted the bag, she saw that it was filled with oysters! Large, meaty ones, good for making a hearty stew. Large oysters such as these she never found here, for as with the seaweed, these grew deep within the ocean.
It was later, cracking the oysters to begin the stewing, that she found the first pearl.