Fright Night

The moon hangs low, and the wind howls through the desolate streets of Hallows Creek, bringing with it a sense of foreboding upon the small town. Shadows dance in the pale moonlight, and the air grows heavy with an otherworldly chill that sends shivers down my spine.

For as long as anyone can remember, has been a time of strange happenings and unnatural occurrences in Hallows Creek. Everyone knows it’s a night when the veil between the living and the dead seems to grow thin, when the past and the present merge into a nightmarish tapestry of the unknown, but the town of Hallows Creek has always offered something…more this night.

Children whisper tales of ghouls and spectres that roam the darkened streets, and the elderly warn of curses and hexes unleashed during the witching hour. Superstition and fear hold the town in its icy grip, and many dare not venture out once the sun dips below the horizon.

But for me, a curious young woman with a fascination for the macabre, is not a time to cower in fear. It is an opportunity to unlock the secrets hidden within the town, to unravel the mysteries that have plagued me for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was a young girl, I would lie in bed, heart thundering as I listened to the screams and cries that filled the air all night long. They didn’t sound particularly terrifying…more enthralling. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to explore the town’s one-night-only mysteries, but we moved away long before I ever got the chance.

Now I’m back, and no one knows me. I love that I’m now a stranger in this tight-knit community.

With my lantern in hand and determination in my heart, I set out to confront the enigmas that shroud in a dark, eerie embrace. Streetlamps flicker overhead, creating looming shadows of the houses. Branches from trees which line the walkways seem to twist and reach towards me. The stillness is eerie, and although my footsteps echo in the silence, I keep them slow as I venture into the heart of the town. Could it be something or someone is watching me from the shadows? The night is alive with the unknown, and Hallows Creek’s secrets are poised to reveal themselves on this most unsettling of evenings.

The cobblestone streets of town are preternaturally quiet as I continue my journey. To myself as a child, the stories of deserted streets after dark were just that – stories. Ones told by parents who didn’t wish to take their kids trick-or-treating, perhaps. But even as I hit my early teens, there were never any Halloween parties, just quiet celebrations at home and early nights for all.

I always wondered why. Did it have anything to do with the screams we heard after dark when we were supposed to be tucked up in our beds? And if the streets were dark and deserted, where were the screams coming from?

An owl hoots, cut short, cracking the silence only for a second as if even nature is afraid. It’s probably nesting in the woods. I shudder. The woods

We left Hallows Creek just after the when I was twelve, soon to be thirteen, and too curious for my own good. When I was sent to bed, I lay under the covers as normal, heart pounding as always, waiting for the sounds of the night’s satanic revelry to begin. Only this time, I wasn’t tucked up in my nightclothes, but fully dressed and intent on sneaking out. I was tired of waiting. Eighteen seemed so far away, too long to wait to get answers to my many burning questions. Every year, in the weeks leading up to , it was all anyone at school could talk about. For the weeks following, the school hallways were rife with gossip, speculation, and ridiculously over the top brags.

Eventually, once my parents headed to bed and the house quieted and the screams began, I crept out of bed and tiptoed to the window, carefully sliding it open so it wouldn’t creak. The cool night air hit my face, and I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. I grabbed a jacket and slipped out, climbed down the trellis, and landed softly on the grass below.

The nearby woods were dark and foreboding, but I pushed forward, hell bent on finding out what all the fuss and secrecy was about. The sounds of laughter and music came from the distance, and my curiosity only grew stronger with each step.

As I got closer, the flicker of firelight illuminated the trees and the figures dancing around it. I hid behind a trunk, watching as upperclassmen from school let loose, drinking and dancing without a care in the world.

But then, I saw something I wasn’t expecting.

A group of hooded figures emerged from the darkness, carrying a large wooden box. It was shaped like a roughly-engineered coffin, but my brain didn’t process that until much, much later. They set it down in the centre of the clearing, and as they opened it, my heart raced.

Inside the box was a girl. Dressed in a white nightgown, bound and gagged.

My curiosity turned into fear.

But I couldn’t move. I was frozen in shock and disbelief. The upperclassmen gathered around the box, cheering and jeering and chanting in some low foreign language. Suddenly, the girl let out a blood-curdling scream that pierced through the night, despite her gag.

I wanted to run, to hide, to do anything to get away from this horrifying sight. But I couldn’t move, my feet were rooted to the ground. As the chanting grew louder, the hooded figures circled the box, their dance-like movements becoming more and more erratic.

One of the figures turned and locked eyes with me. Terror flooded my body, but I couldn’t look away. The figure stalked towards me, and I knew I had to run. It was the menacing glint in the figure’s eyes that did it; that finally allowed my feet to come unstuck and for my legs to carry me away as fast as I could pump them.

I didn’t stop running until I was safely tucked up in my bed, with the window locked and my muddy shoes hidden away in the back of my wardrobe.

The next day, I told my mum about what I had seen, but she laughed and said I must have had a nightmare. According to her, she and dad had checked on me, and I was asleep in my bed all night long. We both knew she was lying, but I didn’t know why.

We moved out of town less than a week later.

I didn’t recognise the girl in the box that night, but in the five days following right up until our departure, I searched for someone who looked like her in the corridors at school. I never saw her again, but there wasn’t any talk of a missing girl either.

Which is why I came back. As soon as I turned eighteen and left for university, the only thing on my mind was returning to Hallows Creek for answers.

Now, each footstep echoes through the deserted town, creating a haunting rhythm that seems to resonate with the ghosts of the past. The occasional flicker of a lantern in a distant window serves as a lonely beacon in the darkness.

I reach the town square, where an ancient gnarled tree looms in the centre. The Tree of Whispers, standing for centuries, bearing witness to the darkest secrets of Hallows Creek. On , they say the tree comes to life, its branches rustling with the murmurs of the departed.

Drawing closer to the Tree of Whispers, I notice the air growing colder, and an unsettling sense of being watched washes over me. The shadows play tricks on my eyes, and the moonlight casts unearthly shapes on the cobblestones. Faint, ghostly mutterings seem to emanate from the tree itself.

With trepidation, I place my hand on the ancient bark, and the sounds grow more distinct. The voices of long-lost souls fill my ears, murmuring their secrets, regrets, and desires. It’s as though the tree itself is a repository of the town’s dark history.

As the clock tower in the square strikes midnight, a piercing chill runs down my spine. I glance at the clock, illuminated at the end of the street, and when I turn back, a ghostly figure has materialised before me, like a spectral presence from another era.

I jolt back, stumbling, but managing somehow to keep my footing. Is this real? Or imagined?

It beckons me closer with a gloved hand, and with a mixture of fear and curiosity, I follow. I want answers and I won’t stop until I get them - even if it means being led around town by a spirit or a figment of my imagination.

The figure leads me deeper into the heart of Hallows Creek, where the night’s mysteries unfold. has only just begun, and I find myself on the precipice of a journey into the unknown, where the past and the present collide, and the secrets of the town are poised to reveal themselves in the most haunting of ways.

As I follow the spectral figure through the dimly lit streets of Hallows Creek, the sensation of being watched intensifies once more, only this time it reaches a fever pitch, my skin itching like an army of fire ants are marching all over me. It’s as if unseen eyes are peering out from every shadow, tracking my every move. My heart races, and I can’t help but glance over my shoulder repeatedly, searching for the source of this sinister surveillance.

Maybe this was a bad idea, I think as we almost reach the outskirts of town, stopping near a rundown, deserted bar. It’s the last building on the street and the dense woodland from my nightmares looms in the background.

The ghostly guide leads me to a narrow alley beside the pub, where the darkness feels almost suffocating. It’s here that I encounter an unexpected presence – a mysterious masked man who emerges from the shadows. His eyes, though partially hidden behind an enigmatic full face mask, exude a strange mixture of intrigue and allure.

“Who are you, and what do you seek on this ?”

he asks in a voice that carries a hint of danger and an undercurrent of secrets.

Before I can answer, the spectral figure that had been guiding me dissipates into the night, leaving me alone with the masked man.

He takes a step closer. “Hallows Creek is not a place for the faint of heart, especially strangers and outsiders,”

he continues, his tone almost mocking. “On this night, the town’s deepest secrets come to light, and the spirits of the past walk among us. What brings you here, my brave wanderer?”

The masked man seems intrigued by my presence, and the atmosphere between us becomes charged with a strange electricity.

“I came back to Hallows Creek to uncover the truth,”

I reply, my voice steady despite the jittery feeling in my stomach. “I am not a stranger or an outsider. I used to live in this town and I saw something on my last that I can’t explain. I need to know what happened. Even if that means taking part.”

The masked man nods, his dark eyes glittering in the dim light. “The truth can be a dangerous thing, but it is also a powerful one. Come with me, and I will show you the mysteries of Hallows Creek.”

Without another word, he takes my hand and leads me out of the town. The woods loom closer, and a sense of foreboding builds like a pulsing knot in my stomach, as if warning me that something is waiting for us in the shadows out there. Something more malignant than the shadows of town itself.

As we walk deeper into the dense forest, the cool, damp air permeates my thin clothes and settles on my skin. The masked man’s grip tightens on my hand, and I can tell he senses the danger that lurks ahead.

We come upon a clearing where a group of hooded figures gather around a large ancient stone altar. Was that there before? Is this even the same spot?

I don’t remember. I was so distracted by the girl in the coffin, my eyes didn’t take in any other details. This is somehow even more terrifying than the coffin that I remember though.

They chant in a language I don't understand, though it’s uncannily familiar, and rustling leaves and twigs snap under their feet as they move in a circle around the altar.

Questions for the masked man burn my tongue, but I can’t voice them.

He pulls me behind a tree and whispers, “You must be careful. They're performing a blood sacrifice, and if they catch you, you’ll be next.”

My heart beats wildly against my ribcage as more hooded figures emerge from the trees and place a terrified young woman on the altar. She is bound and gagged, just like the girl in the wooden box from my memory.

I can’t believe what I'm seeing.

Blood sacrifice?

He has to be kidding, right?

I turn back to ask him, but he’s gone. Melted into the shadows, leaving me alone out here with…I don’t even know what this is. A gang? A cult? A ritual? A sinister gathering of serial killers?

A sense of foreboding floods me and that fight or flight instinct kicks in. I want to rush into the clearing, help that terrified young girl, but I can’t make my feet move. Just like before, I’m rooted to the spot, useless.

They never talk about freezing, just fight or flight.

And just like before, one of the figures turns and locks eyes with me. A jolt of recognition goes through me, and I just know that it’s the same hooded figure as last time. I can’t explain it – I just feel it with absolute certainty.

His hood drops back, revealing a mask. It’s not the guy who led me out into the woods like a lamb to slaughter and then abandoned me. This mask only covers the top half of his face. A gunmetal-grey skeleton shape bleeds down over his cheeks and has a fierce-looking top row of teeth. It makes me shiver, but not as much as the sinister grin he gives me.

Shit.

I gulp and the sound comes out so loud, making him grin even wider. I can’t breathe – it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the clearing. The chanting fades into the background.

Behind his mask, black orbs glow with menacing intent, and the intensity makes me take a step back. A twig snaps, the sound like a gun going off, and my heart leaps into my throat.

The skull mask man whistles shrilly, and then mouths “run” at me.

I don’t wait to be told twice.

I turn and sprint back the way I came, my heart pounding against my ribcage. The skull man’s laughter rings out behind me, echoing through the trees, and I know I’m running for my life.

Branches whip at my face and hands, and I stumble over roots and rocks in my haste to escape. The chanting grows louder and footsteps pound behind. It sounds like I’m being chased by more than one person, but I don’t dare turn around to check.

I push myself harder, knowing that I’m not fast enough to outrun them for long. My chest burns with the effort, and my muscles protest.

Just when I’m about to give up, a faint light shines in the distance between the trees. It’s small and flickering, like a weak beacon of warmth and possible safety. I force myself to run faster, ignoring the pain in my legs and the stitch in my side.

As I get closer, I see that it’s a campfire, and there are people gathered around it. Relief floods through me, and I stumble into the clearing, panting for breath.

“H-h-help m-me,”

I huff out, bending over to rest my hands on my knees and gulping in air.

The group around the campfire turn to look at me, and when I lift my head, I stumble backwards. All five people in the clearing also wear half-masks. Different to the first masked man tonight, and not the same as the skull man either. These are animal masks which cover the upper half of their faces and which look to be made out of real bone, fur, and feathers.

Their silence is more terrifying than their masks. The way they stand still as statues and observe me makes my stomach drop.

I need to get out of here.

Is nowhere safe?

One of the animal masked figures steps forward, and the glint of a weapon in their hand catches the firelight, but can’t make it out. Is it a blade? A gun? My heart races as I take another step back. I’m surrounded, being herded like cattle and toyed with like prey.

Turning on my heel, I flee.

As I run blindly through the woods, my mind races with fears and questions. Who are these people? Why are they wearing masks? And most importantly, how am I going to get out of this alive?

The footsteps pounding behind me fill me with dread, and I know that I can’t outrun them for much longer. My legs feel like lead, and my lungs burn with the exertion. I’m slowing down, and I know the end is near.

Just when I’m about to give up, I see a clearing up ahead. There’s a huge, dark shadow outlining a building of some sort, and a light flickers within. It’s faint, but it’s there, and I know it’s my only hope. Ignoring the pain and exhaustion, I race forward, knowing that my life depends on reaching that building. If it’s empty, I can at least bunk down for the night and wait these horrors out until the cold light of morning. If it’s not empty…well, hopefully whoever is in there will be a friend, not a foe.

As I get closer, a small cabin comes into view, nestled in a clearing in the woods. The light comes from a window, and I can see movement inside. Hope fills me, and I sprint towards the door, my heart pounding double time with fear, as well as the exertion of running for my life.

I burst through the door, panting and gasping for air, and I’m greeted by a ramshackle cabin that’s seen better days, but at least has a decent fire roaring in the grate.

“Hello?”

I call out. There’s no answer and the place seems deserted, but someone must have lit the fire, and I swear I saw movement within. Could it have been shadows from the flickering flames? Maybe…

“Can you help me?”

I call again. No answer.

I take a few tentative steps into the cabin, warily looking around. The sparsely furnished room has a few basic pieces of furniture and a small kitchen area. The fire crackles merrily in the fireplace, casting shadows on the walls.

Creaking behind me makes me spin around, heart racing. Standing in the doorway is a figure silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through the open door. Fear creeps up my spine, forcing me backwards.

The figure steps closer, towering over me, and when the light from the fire hits, I see that he is wearing combat boots, ripped jeans, and a mask. Nothing more. His chest is broad, his abs defined, and he has arms and shoulders that feature in more than a few of my fantasies, covered in sprawling black ink. He holds something in his hand, but I can’t work out what.

His mask resembles a wolf, coming right down to his upper lip, with sharp teeth glinting sinisterly in the firelight. I gulp, backing away until I’m pressed up against the wall, trying to deny the way my body is reacting to him.

I’m meant to be terrified, not turned on.

The wolf-masked figure stops a few feet away from me, cocking his head to one side as if sizing me up. His dark eyes glint with a fierce intensity, and I can feel the weight of his stare on me like a tangible thing, pressing me down.

The figure doesn’t move, just stands there, looming over me like a predator. His eyes bore into me, and I tremble.

Swallowing hard, I try to think of a way out of this. I need to get out of the cabin, away from this wolf-masked man. But my legs won’t move, I’m frozen in place, too scared to even breathe.

He takes a step forward, slamming the door closed behind him with a bang that makes me jump. The weapon in his hand is clearer now. It’s a knife, gleaming dangerously in the firelight.

My muscles tense, and I know that I need to do something, anything, to defend myself. But I’m not a fighter; I’m not even remotely strong or skilled in combat. I’m just a regular person, caught up in something I don’t understand because curiosity got the better of me.

He steps forward until his breath grazes my face. He smells like the woods, earthy and musky, and my stomach churns with fear…and something else. I tremble.

“You didn’t run fast enough, little hare,”

he says, his voice a low growl that suits the wolf mask he wears a little too well. “Now we get to have some fun with our prey.”

“W-w-we?”

I breathe out, terrified, but alive.

The wolf-masked man chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine, washing away some of my fear. Some. Not all.

His hand reaches out, brushing my cheek with his long calloused fingers, and the cold metal of the knife drags against my skin.

“Oh yes,”

he murmurs darkly. “We. You have stumbled upon our little hunting party, my dear. And you, my little hare, are the prize.”

I try to pull away, but his grip tightens on my arm, and the knife presses into my skin.

The man leans in, his hot breath ghosting across my cheek. “Don’t worry,”

he whispers. “We’ll take good care of you. And you might even enjoy it…eventually.”

My heart races as the words register in my mind. Enjoy it? How could I possibly enjoy being hunted like an animal by a group of masked strangers? Panic sets in, and I struggle to break free from the wolf-man’s grip.

But he’s too strong, too skilled, and he chuckles as he restrains me effortlessly. “Don’t fight it, little hare,”

he murmurs in my ear. “…Or do. It will only make it more fun for us.”

A cold sweat breaks out all over my body. Coming here, back to the town was a mistake. But I also know that I can’t give up, not yet. I need to find a way out of this, to escape from the clutches of this predator.

As the dark-haired wolf-man pulls me towards a door beside the fireplace that I didn’t notice before now, I wrench my arm free and dart towards the kitchen. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it. Something, anything, that can help protect me. He has a knife. Maybe I need one too.

My eyes scan the room frantically, darting from one corner to the other. Then, they land on a heavy cast-iron skillet on the counter. I grab it with both hands, feeling its weight and heft, and turn back towards the wolf-man.

He’s still advancing towards me, an amused grin on his face that’s sexier than it should be, but I don’t back down. Instead, I charge towards him, raising the skillet high above my head. He crashes into me, tackling me painfully to the floor, and when the back of my skull connects with the unyielding wooden floorboards, stars burst before my eyes. The skillet falls from my feeble hands with a clatter, and the wolf-man pins me down, looking furious.

“Now look what you made me do, little hare. I didn’t want to hurt you, but you left me no choice.”

I squirm beneath his weight, trying to free myself, but it’s no use. He’s got me trapped beneath his muscular, hard body. I struggle to catch my breath, but I can’t deny the wetness pooling between my thighs.

Is this…is all of this what is about? Or have I stumbled upon something else? Something even darker and more sinister than young girls being thrown in coffins and rituals involving blood sacrifices?

The wolf-man leans down, his teeth grazing my sensitive skin, drawing a whimper from my lips. I’m on fire with my need for him.

“You’re mine now,”

he growls, his voice low and menacing. “And I’m going to enjoy every moment of it… At least until the others join us.”

My stomach churns with fear, but at the same time, something deep within me stirs. It's a primal, animalistic urge I’ve never felt before, something that's both terrifying and exciting at the same time.

The wolf-man leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “Do you want me to stop?”

he murmurs.

I should say yes, I know I should, but the words die in my throat. Instead, I arch my back, pressing myself closer to him, feeling his arousal against my leg. I’m not sure why I’m reacting this way, where this strange mix of fear and desire has come from, but I can’t deny the way my body responds to his touch.

He chuckles darkly, as if he can sense my conflicted emotions. “That’s what I thought,”

he whispers, his hand sliding down to cup my breast. “You’re going to love this. Trust me.”

I should be fighting, struggling, trying to get away. But instead, I find myself giving in to the sensations he stirs in my body, the way his touch makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never felt before.

As he explores my body with his hands and mouth, I get lost in the moment, swept up in the sensations crashing over me. It’s only footsteps approaching, the sound of more masked figures entering the cabin, that the realisation that I’m in real trouble hits me like a ton of bricks. I need to get away, to find a way out of here, but there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and the wolf-man has me pinned down with his body.

How did I get myself into this mess? Why did I have to be the curious hare? Why did I let the wolf-man lure me into his trap? And why is my body reacting with desire to his touch instead of trying to get away?

The other masked figures settle down into chairs, making themselves comfortable, and the wolf-man leans over me. He still wears his mask, the eye holes allowing me to see his glittering black eyes.

“Now, now,”

he murmurs, his voice amused. “No need to be shy. This is your big night. Hare’s on the menu, and we’re all famished and ready for a taste.”

Before I can answer, he kisses me, his lips hot against mine, his tongue probing deep into my mouth. I shudder beneath him, my whole body responding to his kiss, my mind spinning with desire as my fear takes a backseat.

The air around us becomes charged, and I sense, rather than see, our audience leaning forward in anticipation.

“I thought you said the others were joining us,”

I whisper, my breath hot against his lips.

“Oh, they are,”

he replies with a chuckle. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t get in on the action first, does it? I caught you in my trap, little hare, so I earned the first taste.”

I shudder as his hand slides smoothly over my body, his fingers dipping below my shirt, caressing my skin. “Yes,”

I whisper, trying to ignore the desire rising in my stomach. “That makes sense.”

His lips curl into a smile against my skin, and his teeth graze across my neck. “Good girl,”

he murmurs darkly.

His teeth sink into my flesh, hard and fast, and my whole body convulses with the pleasure of that single, simple act. As he sucks at my neck, that same sharp pain comes again, but this time, it’s more intense, more amazing, and I push my shoulders back, wanting more, wanting it all.

It’s not enough for the wolf-man, however. His teeth sink in again, and this time, I swear I feel them against my collarbone. I moan with pleasure as his tongue laps against my skin, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly.

“Yes,”

I whisper, again and again. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

I’m panting by the time he moves away from my neck, my body convulsing with pleasure, my mind spinning with the intensity of it. The wolf-man straightens, his eyes glittering with amusement as he looks down on me.

“You look delicious, little hare,”

he purrs, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m so hungry, I could eat you up.”

His words make my stomach clench tightly, and my desire for him rises in my chest. There’s something so primal about his actions, so animalistic, and his promise to eat me up sends a wave of scorching heat racing through my body like wildfire.

But just as I’m about to give in to my urges, to press myself up against him and beg him to do just that, a pair of hands grab him from behind and yank him off me.

I blink in shock and try to figure out what’s going on when I’m pulled to my feet. Gasping at the suddenness of it, I’m shoved forward, almost falling to the ground, but I’m saved when I’m caught up in the waiting arms of another masked man. He wears a goshawk mask, adorned with real feathers and he’s dressed the same as the wolf-man, bare chested and wielding a knife, which he uses to make short work of removing my clothes. The material floats to the ground in tattered ribbons until I’m naked before him, his gaze heating at the sight of me.

The other masked figures have arisen and surrounded me. They’re almost identical in their attire, but they’re unarmed and each wears a different mask. A fox. A coyote. An owl. And the wolf-man. Five in total with the goshawk, who drops the knife to the floor and steps towards me.

I hold my breath in anticipation of what comes next.

The masked figures behind me circle around, moving in closer, preparing to pounce. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do when the goshawk takes a step towards me, closing off any escape route. The coyote, owl, and fox close in on me, and I’m trapped between them with my back to a wall. The wolf-man stands in front of me, his eyes locked on mine, a wicked smile playing across his lips.

“Now, how should we do this?”

he asks, his voice low and dangerous. “Should we just take turns, or should we let the little hare have a choice?”

“Please,”

I whisper, my body shaking with a need I refuse to identify at his suggestion of taking turns.

It’s like they know my deepest darkest desires. Like they’ve seen my dreams and know my very fantasies.

There’s no stopping them.

The goshawk takes another step towards me, and against my better judgement, I push myself back against the wall.

The owl also takes a step towards me, then another, his gaze pinning me to the spot. “Well, little hare,”

he murmurs, his voice haunting and low. “If you want us to stop, all you have to do is say the magic word.”

“Please,”

I whisper, my eyes locked on his, feeling like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. But I can’t bring myself to say stop because I know I wouldn’t mean it. I don’t want them to stop. Instead, I’m begging them to make good on their dark promises.

The owl shakes his head slowly. “I can’t,”

he says simply. “I won’t until you get it right.”

I try to scramble away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. I'm trapped. Helpless. There’s nothing I can do to stop them. I’m at the mercy of their whims. And I’ve never been so turned on in all my life.

The coyote’s smiling mouth is inches from mine, peeking out from the bottom of his mask and taunting me. His hot breath tickles my face as he teases me by staying just out of reach. The fox’s hands slide up my legs making them tremble under his rough caress, but he doesn’t touch me where I need it most. The goshawk’s lips are on my neck, sucking and nipping but I crave the pain of a stronger bite. And the wolf-man’s dark eyes shine with a hunger I’ve never seen before as he watches the others take me in their hands.

“Please,”

I whisper again, my voice breaking as heat pools in my belly and desire burns through my veins.

“No,”

the coyote whispers, shaking his head, still grinning. “You’re not saying the right word.”

“Please,”

I plead again, barely able to speak the word now, I’m so desperate. They know it. They’re toying with me and it’s cruel.

If they won’t take me, I’ll have to take them.

“What do you want to say?”

the goshawk murmurs, his lips pressing against my neck. “Say it for me, little hare. Tell us what you want.”

“Please,”

I plead again. “Please may I suck your cock?”

The goshawk laughs, his hand dropping to my chest, his thumb brushing over my nipple, making my knees buckle. “Oh, you’re finally getting it right,”

he purrs in my ear. “If you want to suck my cock, you may.”

The coyote tugs on my hair and I fall towards him, my lips parted, my mouth ready for his. He kisses me until I’m ragged and then pushes me to my knees.

The goshawk undoes his jeans, presenting his thick hard cock to me like a gift. My mouth waters at the sight of it. Long, thick, and angry-looking.

“Be warned, little hare, you have to treat us all the same, to keep it fair.”

His hips press forward until his cock is against my lips, demanding entry. My mouth parts and closes around his hard and silky-smooth shaft as he slides it deeper. My eyelids flutter closed as he pushes deeper and deeper, until he’s pressing against the back of my throat and tears stream down my face.

I’m beyond aroused at having this masked stranger’s cock in my mouth, at having his hands in my hair, his hips rocking back and forth, fucking my mouth. That’s when another moves in behind me. I don’t have much warning before he’s there, pressing the head of his thick cock against my dripping pussy.

The goshawk releases me and I use my momentary reprieve to glance over my shoulder and see who’s taking me. It’s the fox. His bright gaze locks on mine as he slides his cock further into me.

At first, his cock stretches me uncomfortably, and I’m not sure I can take it, but it’s too late to back out now. The goshawk brings my attention back to him, feeding me his cock once more, and the fox pushes in until he’s buried balls deep inside me. I moan around the cock in my mouth and at the sensation of being filled in both holes at once.

“You feel so good, little hare,”

the fox grunts. “But we want more.”

He thrusts in deeper still, pumping my aching pussy, the sound of my wetness clinging to him filling the room. “More,”

he demands.

The goshawk pulls his cock from my mouth, and I lick my lips, desperate for more. Before I can complain, the coyote has his hands on my shoulders, his long, pierced cock nudging against my lips. I open wide and suck him into my mouth, my tongue exploring and tasting him as his salty tang explodes across my tastebuds and the ring through his tip scrapes across my palate. I bob back and forth between the two cocks, swallowing everything they give me.

Hands are on my body, caressing me, pulling me this way and that, encouraging me to move faster, their fingers urging me to take them in deeper.

I can’t help myself – I meet the fox’s thrusts, pushing back against him, a low cry escaping my lips.

“Soon,”

the goshawk murmurs. “Soon, it will be our turn...”

The coyote groans. “I can’t hold on much longer…”

he says, and then he pulls out of my mouth and his hot cum spurts onto my chest, marking me in a way which should disgust me, not send me careening closer to me own orgasm.

“You’ve got four left,”

the goshawk says, staring down at me as I swallow him deeper.

Behind me, the fox’s movements reach a fever pitch that has me moaning and clenching as he comes in my pussy, hot and wet, flooding me. He didn’t use a condom.

I’m not sure I care.

“Three,”

Fox says, his voice low and ragged as he catches his breath.

I pant as the goshawk guides me back onto his cock, and the owl trades places with the fox, his powerful hands gripping my hips and pulling me back to meet his cock.

There’s something about the Owl’s movements, the way he uses my hips to get deeper, that hits differently. He’s buried so deep inside me that each thrust borders on pain, but my body surrenders to his rhythm and rides it.

I close my eyes and imagine the five men taking me at once, taking me in every hole, fucking me until I’m raw, until I can’t take any more, and I almost come undone at the scene that plays out like a movie in my mind.

I groan as the goshawk thrusts in and out of me, and my tongue flicks over the top of his cock as I swallow him. His grip on my chin tightens, his cock swelling in my mouth as he pants and releases his cum down my throat.

“Two left,”

he says, and I can hear the strain in his voice as he strokes my hair and helps to hold me up as the Owl powers into me from behind.

I try to concentrate, but the pleasure is so intense. My pussy aches from the constant pounding it’s being given, each thrust a wave of sensation that threatens to topple me over the edge and send me spiralling into bliss.

“I’m coming,”

the owl gasps. His hands are on my hips, digging into my flesh, his grip powerful and possessive. Then he stills, his cock jerking deep inside me as he finds his release.

When he pulls out, it’s only the goshawk’s grip on me that prevents me from falling. I’m so tired, too exhausted to do anything but kneel there and wait for whatever comes next.

“One, little hare. Only one more hunter left to serve.”

“And then you’ll let me go?”

I ask in a tired, almost reluctant voice.

They laugh but don’t answer. My legs feel like jelly, and my arms are cramping but I don’t move. There’s one more left. One more predator to please, then surely they’ll let me go?

“Well, little hare?”

the wolf-man says softly. “What now?”

I lick my lips and sit back on my heels. “Please,”

I say, and the mixed cum of the fox and the owl trickles down my thighs. “Please, sir. I want you.”

He cocks his head and looks at me, his eyes sharp and piercing. I can’t look away. “Show me what you want. Show me how much you want me.”

I whimper as the goshawk releases me. My legs shake as I crawl towards the wolf. I can see by the hunger in his eyes that it’s the wolf that has won, and I wonder how I’ll escape this time.

When I reach him, he presses his fingers to my cheek and I lick his thumb, tasting his sweat. I turn and nuzzle against the wolf’s belly, and my tongue flicks out, lapping at his thick cock. It’ll never fit in my mouth, but I’m going to fucking try.

My hand wraps around him, my fingers not even close to reaching my thumb, and I stroke his hard length. The thought of it filling my tight pussy makes my mouth water. I lap at him, making my tongue soft and wet as I slide it back and forth over the head of his enormous cock, stroking him to make up for not being able to take him as deeply as the others.

“You’re so big.”

I look up at him as he strokes my face. “I want you inside me so bad. Fuck me like you mean it.”

He growls and leans down to kiss me, his hand on my lower back, urging me into position as he moves to kneel behind me, pressing the head of his cock against my pussy. It’s just too big. I close my eyes and whimper as he pushes in, just a little.

“Fuck. You’re tight, little hare,”

he groans as he presses further into me, tearing me open and working his cock in deeper. “Thought the others would have loosened you up a little for me, but no…”

He takes me in deep, filling me, and I cry out as he thrusts, his hand on my back holding me still, keeping me still for his cock. I’m so full of him that I can’t think, but I’m so close, so damned close.

He slides out and then fills me again, fucking me hard and fast. He’s not like the others, not remotely careful or gentle. He holds me still, fucks me like I’m not even there, not a willing participant, just a vessel for his pleasure.

I moan and cry out, barely able to breathe. The orgasm builds inside me, making my muscles twitch. My pussy burns hot and wet from the wolf’s rough handling, and painful pleasure rises like a tidal wave, threatening to destroy everything in its path.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”

I chant, and the wolf pushes back inside me, harder than before. He gives a low growl and he stiffens, filling my pussy as he comes. His cum spills out of me, dripping down my thighs and onto the floor.

“Thank you,”

I murmur. The wolf pulls out of me and moves aside, and I slump to the floor, spent and exhausted.

“Now, then, little hare,”

the goshawk says, kneeling down beside me. “Time for you to catch your breath.”

I nod, the most I can muster. “Then what?”

I eventually ask.

When no one answers, I force my eyes open and stare at the five masked men before me. They stare back at me with an insatiable hunger that makes my core clench despite the exhaustion I’m feeling.

“Then you run, little hare. Because we’ve not had our fill of you yet, and is still young.”

The End