The R-Word
The tavern was rowdy that night. But, then again, when was it not? Drink poured constantly from the taps and kegs, filling every empty cup, mug or even chalice to the brim with a nice foamy cider or ale. However, this particular tavern was quite unique on the world stage, for the cups held by its patrons were both hoofed and taloned. The rowdy establishment made its home in Trottingham, where both griffons and ponies resided together. To say they lived in harmony would be a stretch, but prejudice and interspecies barriers oft dissolved with a belly full of beer and bread. At some tables, griffons and ponies sat side-by-side, and aside from some good-natured jabs, nary a table was devoid of laughing and merriment. Both species sang songs inaudible over the rest of the tavern’s racket and told jokes that neither side entirely understood yet guffawed regardless. Some even tried to prove whose liver was the best, downing as many drinks as it was physically possible. Needless to say, the question remained unanswered as always, the valiant pioneers more often than not found sleeping their drunkenness off beneath the table for the night.
However, amongst the alcohol-fuelled revelry, there did remain one secluded spot in the establishment, a spot where a smile didn’t dare enter, and eyes didn’t dare peek. A relatively dim spot, where the light around seemed to even stray away. At a small round table, her back to the wall was a single, sleepy-eyed, earth pony mare. She didn’t drink, nor did she eat, and it would appear that her purpose for being there was simply to take up space or even yet, to act as a counterbalance to the immense volume of fun going on around her. The tip of her hoof traced an untidy circle on the unvarnished table wood. Her red eyes lacked a lustre, but were not so dark as to appear crimson in their hue. Her coat was an off-white, and her mane a charcoal shade which favoured neither grey or black. Rather ironically, atop her head was a black, puffy beret. A piece of apparel worn often by an artist seemed ill-fitted to her particular head. The beret was not isolated in giving the mare an inquisitive air, but additionally, a tight-fitting black collar hugged around her slender crest. The final and intriguing detail about her was the mark upon her flank, a rather cryptic sun; black, with its rays separated by about half an inch. She was a paradoxically interesting, yet completely unapproachable figure. And she preferred it that way.
“Hey, Harp. Harp, buddy. Who’re you lookin’ at?” an ivory pegasus stallion asked, his speech slurred and his vision as rickety as an old train.
‘Harp’, who went by Harpy – and infrequently Harpthorn Puffington the second, reputably the third - was a particularly stout example of his species. His feathered chest was broad, his arms thick with strong muscle, and overall, he lacked the litheness expected of his kind. Yet, despite the imposing nature of his figure, his yellow beak seemed permanently curled into a roguish smile; his purple eyes bright with life and cheer. The brightness of his outward personality contrasted greatly with the darkness of his feathers and coat, the former being composed primarily of light greys whilst his coat was the subtlest shade of dark brown, bordering on black. “That mare over there,” he answered, pointing lazily towards the aloof mare.
The pegasus was slow to look where Harpy pointed, first taking a greedy swig of his drink and offering a quick glance over his shoulder. His eyes widened a little with familiarity, looking to the griffon with a degree of doubt. “Who? Her? That mare?”
“Yeah, I’ve been coming here for a while now, and she’s just sitting there. She doesn’t drink, she doesn’t talk to anybody. Then, after a while, she just leaves out the back door. Every day, every single night. Ain’t that weird?” Harpy’s face scrunched up into a humoured expression, with just a tincture of disbelief. “You agree with me, right?”
The pegasus gave Harpy an incredulous grin, downing another gulp of cider before slamming his mug back onto the table with a throaty exhale. “Yep. Weird.”
Harpy was glad to have his stance affirmed, and once more he leant to his side, looking at the enigmatic mare with a leer. “I think I might go to her and-”
“Woah, ho! I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the pegasus warned, hoof raised to bid Harpy to remain seated; shaking his head slowly as not to rattle the brain in his intoxicated head.
It was Harpy’s turn to look incredulous. “Why not? She’s not gonna eat me is she?” he asked playfully before his expression suddenly went serious. “She isn’t, is she?”
“I think if she did, she’d vomit...” the pegasus spoke vaguely, raising his mug to gulp down another mouthful of cider, stopping when he realised it was empty. “Darn.”
“What d’ya mean by that?” Harpy inquired, head tilted slightly.
“Cannibalism aside, around these parts, Auriga sometimes goes by the name of ‘Second Sun’,” the pegasus answered cryptically, gesturing with his empty mug before looking into it, frowning mournfully.
“Oh. Because of her cutie mark, right?”
“Because her hate for griffons burns hotter than the sun,” the pegasus replied nonchalantly, expression bored and sullen. He preferred banter over petty gossip. “Or something like that.”
Harpy shrugged, wearing a carefree smile. “I’ve never been one to turn down a challenge.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it, Harp. She’s got a heck of a temper. Has never smiled once. She might even use the B-word on ya if you open your beak.”
“Then why come to a place renowned for its griffon clientele? Methinks she’s just ogling all the forbidden fruit on display, if you catch my drift,” Harpy punctuated with a waggle of his eyebrows, swinging off his stool and making his way over to the reclusive pony, swagger in his unsteady steps. “I’m gonna make her smile.”
“Your funeral pal,” the pegasus replied drily, offering a weak shrug, bringing to mug to his mouth, frowning upon remembering that it was empty.
Auriga glanced up, looked back down, before looking up again, eyes widened. She didn’t know what to think when she saw the large, heavyset griffon approaching her. She almost sneered at him in disgust and was even tempted to hop from her seat and leave right away. She didn’t invite nor encourage anyone’s company, much less did she desire the company of a bird at her table. Yet, as she looked at him, her face plastered with the expression of a mare who definitely did not want him anywhere near her, he continued coming, wearing that off-putting smile of his. Unfortunately for the young mare, her attempt to ward him away with a stare was a futile effort. Harpy found her petulant frown rather funny, cute even, to an extent. He couldn’t wait to talk to her. Perhaps delve into her thoughts and learn about her peculiarities.
As Harpy got close, he swiped the stool out from under another griffon who stood for a moment to reach for a drink, carrying it for a few steps more before throwing it beneath himself, sitting across from her, smiling warmly. “Hello!”
His jovialness vexed her. “Go away,” she replied immediately, leaning back in her chair to add just the slight more distance between herself and the offending griffon; who himself just leant even farther forward over the table to negate the added space.
Harpy ignored her bilious attitude. “Why are you here?” he asked straightforwardly, wearing a bright beam to try and shine a metaphorical light on her dim mood.
“Because I want to be,” she answered curtly, wearing her displeasure plainly on her face. She wasn’t lying.
“No drink?”
“Not thirsty.”
“No company?”
“Don’t want any.”
Harpy smirked. Those questions were too easy, and he admittedly hoped a few moments with his cheery candour would be enough to provoke a smile of some sort from her. He decided to high ball her. After a small pause, the empty silence spent crossing his arms into an annoyingly relaxed posture, he decided to pop the question. “Word is, you hate griffons. Mind telling me why that is?”
“I just hate them,” she answered, no beats missed. The slight waver in his smile almost, in turn, provoked a smile from Auriga, but she was stalwart in remaining stoic.
“So you hate me?” he asked coyly, his slight smile suave.
“I do,” she nodded, certain. Her expression was still passive, giving off airs of silent contempt, but she appeared more bored now than agitated. Harpy considered that progress, however slight.
“Do you hate hippogriffs? Zebras? Minotaurs? How about changelings?”
“No, no, no and if they shapeshift into a griffon, then yes,” she answered plainly.
Harpy blinked several times, a small crease appearing between his brows before he released a nervous scoff. “Okay... so, what’s the story there?”
“There isn’t one,” she replied promptly, sparing no thought to the question.
“Oh come on, there has to be.”
“Does there have to be one? I don’t like oranges but that doesn’t mean there’s a tragic tale to unearth. No griffon killed my parents, my mommy and daddy didn’t raise me to hate them, nor has a griffon ever cut in front of me in a line,” she meandered on, head rocking from side to side as she named off each example. “I just don’t like griffons.”
It was hard to argue with that logic, mostly because it was so simple in nature that the griffon found it hard to pick apart. Harpy sighed. “Fine, fine. Be that way. But I came over to you to do two things. Firstly: to change your mind that griffons aren’t so bad. Although from seeing where you stand on that issue… well, there’s always another time. So how about the second thing? Tell me, what can I do to put a smile on your face?”
Auriga glanced down to the floor, lips puckered in a momentary state of pensiveness, looking back to the griffon with the slightest of curls at the corner of her lip. “A drink would be a start,” she began, before bringing her hoof to her chin in thought, “I’m thinking… tell me, what off the swill they have on offer here do you detest the most?”
The griffon's brow rose. The question was odd. “Um, wine, I think? Makes an awful mess if you spill it. The smell's also so fragrant it makes me nauseous.”
“Then that will be my order,” she replied, dead serious.
The griffon chuckled, firm in the belief that the mare was succumbing to his charm. He flexed his talons up high, flagging a serving wench – a petite mare in a tight-fitting blouse – who approached the table lively, her smile dimming somewhat at the sight of Auriga. “Wine for her, vodka for me,” he requested, his sideways smile leaving the mare flustered as she left. Right after he affixed his eyes back on the off-white mare across from him, taloned hands interlocking; glancing to her beret. “So, the beret, the choker. It just screams artist. Are you a painter or something?”
“No.”
“So... you just wear it for fashion?” he probed.
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, no, no, not at all,” he put his hands up, trying to disarm her despite her lack of change in either tone or expression. “I just didn’t expect you to have, you know, a fashion sense.”
“This coming from someone whose entire race wear nought except for the occasional hat?”
“Here you are,” a mare’s voice suddenly intruded before Harpy could reply to her. Placed onto the table in front of them were their respective drinks. After delivering them, the mare curtsied, before departing without another word; others were in need of something to satiate their parchment.
Right away Harpy squeezed his thumb and index talon around the small glass of vodka, holding it aloft with a grin. “Cheers.
Auriga examined the cup. The deep, rich red and fragrant scent could only be a fine wine. She wrapped her hoof around the handle, risking a sip. The taste of fermented fruit and the oak of the cup blended into something not all too unpleasant. After swallowing down some of the alcohol the mug parted from her lips with a contented sigh. The top of her was lip stained red, her tongue wiped it away – Harpy watched that small act closely – and then she offered the griffon that which he so desperately wanted. “Thank you,” she smiled.
“You’re welco-”
Splish!
Mid-sentence Auriga jerked her hoof towards him, splashing what remained of the wine over the griffon adjacent to her, adorning her sneer once more as she firmly placed the emptied cup onto the table. The act was done with so little flourish that not even some of the closer patrons noticed that it had been done, although the sheer volume of alcohol coursing through their collective systems would make anyone a little less perceptive of their surroundings. Harpy was understandably a little wide-eyed at the suddenness of the act, paralysed in place; drink still held aloft. He tried going over in his head why she did it. He had been nothing but cordial, a little unrelenting perhaps, but cordial all the same. She did this just to spite him…
The glass trembled in his hand as he attempted to keep his anger at bay. What annoyed him even more than the wine was her silence thereafter, and the self-satisfied smirk on her face. She hopped down from her chair and walked past him, not a single word was uttered by her, and she didn’t even offer him a second glance – she simply didn’t care for him at all, had no reason to. Harpy remained still for quite some time, a menagerie of thoughts running through his mind. He didn’t watch her leave, but after a little while, he finally brought the vodka to his beak and downed the shot. The glass was slammed back down onto the table and he pushed himself from it, his features firm as he went on the pursuit…
No one noticed him leave.
Auriga left through the back door of the tavern, closing it behind her and muffling the rumbustious noise of the interior. The back exit led out into a cobbled crossroads of sorts, a constricting maze of alleyways which served as her shortcut back home. Moonlight helped guide her way, the rays shone through the cracks of the tightly packed buildings. She meandered onwards at a relaxed gait, the cool night air her favourite aspect of these walks, the soothing nature of it almost enough to alleviate the slight feeling of claustrophobia she experienced snaking her way through the narrow paths. However, one of those pleasant breezes became a cold chill, one which rode up her spine to her skull, prompting her to glance back into the alleyway behind her.
She stared long and hard into the empty space behind her, her eyes scanning for anything discernable and suspicious. “Hello? Is anyone there?” she called out, not that she expected anything to come of it. After a few moments, she felt some relief, taking a step forward and looking in front of her, before getting a face full of dense plumage.
“That wasn’t a very nice thing you did,” Harpy stated with a low tone, furling his wings back close to him as Auriga retreated back a step. He had quietly been following her from the rooftops, peering down on her from above through the gaps. They were about twenty minutes away now from the tavern. He would have revealed himself sooner if she had not taken such a slow pace. “I think I deserve an apology, don’t you?”
Auriga spat at him, taking steps back as he advanced imposingly towards her. He wasn’t that much taller than her, but he was still indomitable, intimidating. She felt the icy grip of fear wrap around her heart. “I didn’t ask you to sit with me! I didn’t want you anywhere near me! Just leave me alone!” each sentence yelled through gritted teeth, emphasised with her glare and flared nostrils, but Harpy didn’t stop his advance towards her.
“No. Not until I get an apology,” he took another step towards her, and he watched as her body beginning to shake – fear and adrenaline. “It doesn’t have to be ha-”
“Help!” she called, pivoting on her hind hooves and started to make a break for it. Unfortunately for Auriga, Harpy’s reflexes weren’t too slowed by the alcohol coursing through his system. Her tail was yanked with such force she fell onto her belly and the beret flew from her head. She feebly tried to pull herself forwards as the griffon slowly pulled her back towards him. She tried to kick and flail free from him, but his accrued muscle wasn’t a mere accessory – he was strong! “Help, help! Somepony, anybody, please help me!”
“Nobody can hear you,” he informed with a smile. She continued to try and free herself, her hind legs only stayed from kicking by his strong grasp around them; holding them still and to the ground. She tried to crawl from him but it was a futile effort. “I can’t believe you’re going through all this over a measly word. You don’t even have to mean it, I’m a kind guy,” he spoke, although he suspected his words fell on deaf ears considering her constant barking for aid.
As Harpy held her down, he became acutely aware of the situation, his drunkenness no doubt dulling his sense of self-awareness. Her coat felt soft. His thumbs rolled circles around where he gripped her. And, as she tried to wiggle away, he watched her taut, toned plot move almost hypnotically from side to side, her wide hips seeming almost purpose-built for swinging about such a wonderful derrière. He didn’t know what exactly it was about pony females and their rears, but it seemed almost unfair to Harpy that ponies could walk around looking as risqué as they were. It’s probably why, secretly, he preferred them over his own kind. No offence to she-griffons, but all their hot attributes were hidden beneath layers of feathers. Then, suddenly, no doubt prompted by her irritation, she swished her tail. The griffon was beholden to a sight that stayed his breathing. Her ashen tail was now lined down the outside of her thigh, and Harpy was granted a forbidden view of her most intimate parts. Between her parted legs was planted a plump, tight blossom, right beneath a large puffy sphincter that he paid no mind to. After he registered it, he finally released a breath and felt something start to stir within him, something criminal, something primal...
“If you don’t want to verbally apologise, I can think of another way...” he said lecherously, slyly smiling towards the mare who only now bothered to look back at him, eyes widened.
“What? What are you...” she trailed off, finally acknowledging the sensation of the night’s crisp air against her cunt. She looked at the griffon, whose eyes were lidded seductively, his beak cracked into a grin. She shook her head, bringing her tail back to cover her indecency. “No, no I’m not-”
“I’m not asking,” he interrupted her, pulling down on her legs, his talons like daggers now upon her body; bringing her closer and closer to him.
“Let go of me!” she demanded, defiant despite her fear. Her hooves could find no grip upon the cobble. So she was doomed to watch the distance become ever more distant; brought ever closer to her assailant.
“Yeah… no,” he replied casually, his thumbs now pressing into her inner thighs, agonisingly close to her puffy grey mareslit. He licked his lips, but realised how… frigid she was. Understandable, really, that much he had to admit. Fortunately, all he’d require was some lubricant, and since he left his spare bottle in the pants he didn’t own, he had to improvise. And he had just the right idea how. Finally, her mouth would be used for something that wasn’t snark and biting remarks.
He gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back. He then inched his own behind forwards to sit on her kicking hooves and began the process of travelling up her body. He knew for every inch she’d fight for as long as possible, but it was an endeavour he was willing to endure. On her belly, he was careful to avoid her punches, the sounds of her grunts and audible exertion only helped in stoking his own lusts, and he felt reluctant to even stop her swinging. She was easy to pacify, his talons able to snap around her fetlocks and force them to the ground beside her head, now straddling her chest.
“Punching isn’t very nice,” he taunted, looking down on her.
“Says the rapist!” she spat the insult through a hardened jaw, face fixed with a scowl.
“Oh, don’t be like that. I haven’t technically raped you yet!” he chuckled with ill-humour.
She growled, not giving up, pushing against Harpy’s talons. “You can still get off me and leave, pretend this never happened. I’ll never come back to the tavern again! It’s not too late to change your mind!”
He gave a low chuckle. “It’s far too late for me to go changing my mind now...” he spoke with foreboding, and then he spread his hind legs apart, planting himself on the mare’s chest…
Auriga tried squirming under the added weight, but she quickly realised it was to no avail, and glanced downwards at what the griffon unceremoniously put on display for her. She didn’t want to look but found it so distracting and horrific that she couldn’t help herself. Two large and furry balls were splayed out on her chest, about the size of oranges, no doubt roiling full and heavy with potent griffon seed. Atop it, poking out of its plump sheath was the leaking tip of Harpy’s tapered griffon dick. Auriga tried to lean further away than she possibly could but her neck was unyielding. She watched the member gradually slide and pour from its sheath. The obscene sight begged to be looked upon, and as much as she tried to resist, Auriga acquiesced. Unlike the cocks of her brethren, the size of the griffon’s tool was deceptive on the first appearance. Whilst the sight of a stallions’ flare gave a good indication as to the size of the rest of his prick, the griffon’s pink-hued cock gave Auriga a fresh surprise every inch that was revealed. It widened in girth as it was exposed to the night air, going from a size Auriga thought she could handle to something truly out of her depth to something that truly started to scare her. When it was about half-way revealed, it flopped down onto her chest from the sheer weight of itself, and she could feel every throb and faint twitch. As it continued to grow it left a trail of precum up her chest like some sort of obscene slug, and as it poked into her jaw she became acquainted with the third and final feature of the griffon dick: its fat bulbous knot.
“Please don’t do this,” she pleaded, quietly, offering the griffon a sincere stare as the tip of his knotty cock almost pressed against her lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh there, there,” he consoled with a tone of false care, smiling down at her. “Think of the bright side. Whenever anyone asks why you hate griffons, at least now you’ll have a half-decent answer.”
In a flash, Auriga adorned her fitting scowl. “I’ll bite it off.”
“You really wanna make me that mad?” Harpy smirked, raising a brow.
“What’re you gonna do? Murder me?” she scoffed. Harpy thought it admirable to some capacity that she could so easily ignore the cock pressed against her chin.
“Hey, it’s not a griffon thing. Bite off any guy’s prick and I’m pretty sure murder is the best-case scenario for you,” he mentioned idly. “It’d be ironic, I think, for the mare who wears a choker to get choked. Although from the size of your mouth, I don’t think I necessarily have to do that with my hands...” he gave a sly smile, cock flexed for emphasis. The mare beneath him summoned the gumption to roll her eyes despite the threat.
“I’m not going to make this easy or fun for you, you overgrown bird!” she insulted.
“And I think I just lost the last of my guilt,” he announced matter-of-factly, smiling carefree down at her. “Now, open wide!” he suggested, and immediately she set about doing the opposite. She clamped her jaw tight and sealed her lips, nostrils flaring; shaking her head like a disobedient foal “Tut, tut, tut. Ah well, I know how to open that pretty mouth of yours...”
Auriga clenched her eyes shut, expecting the pain to come forth. Instead, she felt his grip loosen around her hooves, and before she could thrash about again he had manoeuvred his knees to rest down on her limbs, firmly, but not enough to cause too much pain, just discomfort. How kind of him… due to the positioning however, she could feel it on her face, the warm, smooth organ rested on her cheek. It continued to twitch, and she could smell his masculine scent. It was almost enough to make her vomit, especially when coupled with the slight gyrations he practised, running it up and down her face. It was humiliating.
Now that his talons were free from keeping her restrained, he rather playfully sent his thumbs to plug her nostrils; grinning. After a while, her white cheeks began to turn pink, which soon spread to the rest of her face.
“Haa!” Auriga gasped, and she immediately regretted not allowing herself to go unconscious. For as soon as her mouth parted to greedily swallow down air, she was forced to swallow down something she desperately didn’t want.
Harpy lurched his hips forwards, stuffing her gob with his twitching pink prick, the girth ballooning her cheeks whilst his tapered crown poked the back of her throat. The griffon let out a contented sigh upon feeling her warm, moist mouth envelop some of his shaft. Her tongue’s attempts to push him out only increased his pleasure, the way it lashed over the tip; inadvertently lapping up his pre and polished his swollen sceptre was quite the feeling. Not even her gags and grinding teeth were enough to sour his mood from the pleasant sensation. He adjusted his hips, angling himself better so that dick rested on her jaw whilst he sent his hand to keep her jaw open. It’d stop her teeth from scraping along his length at least. It wouldn’t stop her gagging – genuine or otherwise – but at least he wouldn’t be having a bad time.
“So your mouth is good for something after all,” he quipped, enjoying the sight. She tried to speak, no doubt sending back a scathing retort, but with her mouth stuffed full of cock the end result was sending a series of throaty vibrations up the length of his cunt stuffer. “Oh yeah,” he groaned, his member giving an appreciative throb, “keep complaining, it’s coming in use for once.”
Auriga thought about growling aggressively at the fiend, but she loathed the notion of giving the griffon any modicum of pleasure, inadvertent or otherwise. She fought to clamp down on his member, but his prior threat combined with his grip on her jaw meant she was reluctant to try, but she resolved to lessen his ‘enjoyment’ or the act. Her tongue remained flaccid, and she remained still, closing her eyes. That didn’t stop his lewd groans from entering her ears however, as she felt the stiff organ gently enter and exit her mouth. Auriga thought his slowness was due to the difficulty of the angle, although the notion that he was being ‘considerate’ wasn’t too insane. Harpy meanwhile, just wished to savour the sight of his rigid organ sliding in and out of her contemptuous gullet.
It wasn’t too long after he began to softly fuck her mouth that his prick glistened with her spit and his own pre, and that he steadily began to test her limits. She had been forced to take a quarter of his griffonhood up until this point, and it was rather easy to ignore, but as he forced in half his girth she began to notice the strain. She didn’t even have to try and clamp down now to have her teeth scrape his meat; his cock was so thick it forced apart her jaw. The difficulty of acting as an oral sheath to his pink ‘sword’ prompted her to let out some strained grunts, fidgeting beneath him in discomfort. Now that she was forced to face reality rather than ignore it, she received a sensory overload of smells and sensations. Despite being in the open, the scent of his masculinity clogged her nostrils, a cocktail of sweat, musk and testosterone. If she tried to ignore the smell, she was forced to confront his taste. The flavour of his precum was dense in its taste; uniquely different from a stallion and arguably stronger than even some of the spirits to be found in the tavern. The combination of smells and taste would have been erotic, blush-inducing, if not for terrible circumstances and the fact it was a griffon doing it to her… changes to the latter would not have negated the former. However, when he experimented with pushing to the base of his shaft, she began to cough and gag around him, the knot of his cock keeping the rest of his dick from sliding down her throat. What stayed Harpy from forcing himself to the hilt was the genuine worry he had about breaking her jaw, not even being on the brink, of the brink, of climaxing, was enough to forcibly cram all of himself into her.
“Do you think your jaw could handle my knot?” he asked. Whilst it was completely rhetorical, he disguised it as a threat, one he delivered with a smile.
“Uh-uh,” she replied promptly with her stuffed mouth, panic in her widened eyes.
“Are you sure? You’re quite the viper. Are you sure that your jaw doesn’t unhinge?” he jested, pushing his cock deeper into her mouth as her face became red, and her eyes wetted with tears. She managed to breathe in trickles of air from her nostrils, but now his cock occupied a space in her throat, clogging her airway and leaving her desperate for air. “Although, if you do something good with that forked tongue of yours, I might be willing to reconsider...”
Tired of the snake metaphors and fearing for her poor, innocent jaw, Auriga reluctantly began to circle the tip of the pointed prick with the least amount of enthusiasm she could muster. As her moist muscle dragged over the smooth hot flesh of his prick, he finally relented in how deeply he embedded his cock, the mare now able to breathe with greater ease as she sucked on his dick.
“Mm-hmm,” Harpy hummed contentedly, her tongue – whilst sluggish – was simply delightful against his knotty cunt stuffer. “You’re doing an okay job, but you could do with showing a bit more gusto…” he complained, forcing back in the inches he removed from her mouth, sending her face red once more. “How about this: you do a good job, I take more of my big, fat friend here out of your mouth. A bad job? Well, I hope you like not being able to breathe, Auriga.”
Auriga said nothing – not that she could around his dickmeat – and instead closed her eyes, and set about doing a ‘good job’ with her tongue. She couldn’t really imagine the thing in her mouth as anything else but his cock, but she could at least save herself the sight of his face as she pleasured him. Her lips formed a seal so she could suckle on his rigid pink stalk, her tongue licking up and down the tip; wiping away beads of his dense and salty pre. As she continued to lick and suck, she felt some of his inches leave her, relieving her jaw and giving her some faint hope that this nightmare was soon over. She let her hope act as momentum, and she became fervent in servicing the prick, doing her best to make him feel good. She felt his hand rest on the back of her head, his talons running through her mane and curling around the hairs, either an act of appreciation or a reminder that he was in control, she knew not which. Whenever her tongue would slow she’d feel him push more of himself into her, which she tried desperately to combat with even more tongue lashes and loud suckles. However, besides withdrawing more of his jaw-strainer, Harpy saw fit to ‘reward’ her in another way…
“Mmph!” Auriga half-moaned, eyes slamming open as her faced flushed pink. Although this time, it wasn’t from lack of air.
“Yeah, you’d be surprised how much I can do with these things.”
Auriga became squeamish as she felt the griffon’s talon wiggle inside of her like some unwanted worm. If she had her eyes open she would have seen the griffon use his mouth to lubricate the digit that had entered her twat. It hooked inside of her, and she tried to force it out of her by clamping around it, pressing her thighs around the griffon’s hand. Unfortunately, this only succeeded in keeping it within her tight pussy. His talons were pushing up against the roof of her pink canal, and her body involuntarily shivered with unwanted pleasure as he pushed against her g-spot. Her face scrunched up, and her jaw hardened, but try as she might she couldn’t stop her clit from winking – making the tides of pleasure washing over her obvious to the world. She whimpered, damning her body for ignoring her commands to block it out. She wasn’t allowed any respite, for the member in her mouth moved deeper down her throat, reminding her of the obligation forced upon her poor mouth.
“If you cum before I do, I promise – and I really mean it – you will never hear the end of it,” Harpy simpered with a brief chuckle, lightly rocking his hips in the mare’s mouth whilst his finger continued to enter and leave the mare’s cooch; prodding her special button. Soon after his thumb joined in, pushing against her button and coaxing a delightful shiver from her; an annoyed grunt coming from her throat. “I’m a heck of a multitasker, aren’t I?”
Auriga grumbled. She didn’t have a retort to that. He was correct, technically, but she was focusing all of her will into not acknowledging the growing fire in her loins. It didn’t take long for his talon to slide in and out of her with ease, her pussy moistening with lustful secretions; her clear nectar dripping onto the ground below. With her being so wet, a second talon joined the first, spreading apart her clenched canal even further. The velvety walls of the pussy felt delightful around his talons. Her wet cunt was exquisitely soft. The way they hugged his digits left him in something of a reverie and he was soon left wanting for more than a snug mouth to encase his cock in, even if her limp licks and disheartened suckles were enjoyable enough.
“Change of plans,” Harpy announced suddenly, withdrawing his glistening talons from her snatch and his cock from her mouth; her spluttering coughs didn’t faze him.
“What? You decided against raping me?” she sneered the question rhetorically, not flinching, even as his talons wrapped around her.
“Nope!” he replied, awkwardly jovial despite the situation.
“Thought so...” she mumbled, thoroughly disheartened by the situation. Her mouth tasted of him now, of his wretched essence – his pre – and his lording look over her as he fucked her petite maw was permanently engraved into her mind. Never had she been so low. But as he picked her haggard, tired body up by the neck, forcing her to stand, she knew she could be forced to go even lower.
“Where’s the fight gone?” he asked, one talon curled under her collar forcing her to stand; his other wrapping around her dock.
“Just get it over with,” she grumbled, becoming malleable to his lecherous grip. Now standing, she was forcibly pushed against the wall of the narrow alley, her cheek almost pressing against the cold brick and mortar. When she tried to gaze back, her mane was harshly grabbed, made to look forwards.
“Starting to enjoy this?” he teased, knowing full well that she wasn’t.
“No!” to spat back, full of bile.
“Good,” he said, and she could feel his shadow embrace her, the tip of his dribbling dick prodding against her ass cheek as he mounted her, forcing her to use her forehooves to lean against the wall. He licked his beak, feeling like he was about to partake in the next course of his gourmet meal. Her mouth was the appetiser, but now he was about to take part in the main course, the sight of her broken, used and abused body no doubt the desert he looked forward to.
The mare felt her hind legs spread apart with his feet, spreading them far enough apart that when he pushed her tail to the side, she was blatantly exposed. Her mare’s cunny was wet with both his spit and the arousal forcibly pushed upon her from his machinations; her honey glistening the tight black lips of her labia. She didn’t want to look back, not wanting to see his talons rubbing over her, playing with and twisting parts of her coat. She felt him back there. Two of his digits rubbing against her prized and most intimate flower, splitting her apart and surveying her canal, spreading apart her pink trench with his dexterous fingers. He pushed down inside of her, searching for something with a careful scrape.
“Hng,” she suppressed a moan behind her lips, her hind legs quivering as he pushed against the switch that was shallow within her pussy. He continued to press against it, her moist cunt quivering and contracting around the talons; her mind wanting them out of her but her body pleading for them to stay inside. She felt tears well in the corner of her eyes as she tried to keep a stoic expression, biting down on her tongue to keep the vocalisations silent, but she could feel her cunt’s enthusiastic reply to him. Her body had betrayed her, and at that moment, she felt even more helpless.
“I think you’re ready now, you winking slut,” he taunted, the insult delivered with some bite, and with what was happening now in her head, it struck an even harsher chord. He then aligned his knotty prick with her slick hole, easing his hips forwards, before puncturing the tip of his cock into her moist pink trench. Auriga whimpered when she was impaled, the griffon burying his dick to the knot; the core of her femininity was stretched almost painfully around his large hybrid girth. She almost retched at the sound of his satisfied grunt, the throb of his manhood within her pussy, the tip poking at her cervix. She felt as though she was being split in half. “Woo-wee, you’re one tight mare,” he both lauded and taunted, “I’m guessin’ since you make most guys shrivel up after one conversation, your hole doesn’t get many visitors.”
“...” Auriga said nothing, ignoring his insults. She was committed to remaining silent, both out of defiance and fear that she’d break out into sobbing. She stared at the brick, blank-faced, teardrops trailing down her cheeks and dropping onto the ground below. She clenched her eyes shut when she felt him pull out of her. The smooth prick glided effortlessly out of her, and no amount of bracing could have prepared her for when he slammed back in; the forceful thrust shook her entire body with an unpleasant mixture of pleasure and pain. She couldn’t clench around the phallus to force it out, the twitchy organ too big for her abused hole.
Unfortunately, the flexing of her vaginal tunnel only increased the pleasure for Harpy, whose rhythm catered to this sensation; pounding deep to the knot, leaving slow, so that she would have to suffer every pleasurable inch that left her. Harpy didn’t know personally how long he would be able to endure her vice-like cunt, the tight sopping canal was practically euphoric in the feelings it imbued in him, but thankfully he was able to squeeze every second he could out of his rhythm; the slide-out granting him a brief respite from the chasing of his own bliss. However, that didn’t stop him from growing rougher and rougher as the rape continued, his harsh thrusts knocking the breath out of Auriga’s lungs, her grunts and heaves sounding like the facsimile of a moan for Harpy’s ears; which increased his own personal enjoyment further. Auriga could feel his breaths on the back of her neck, the heaving moans and groans of the griffon. She became nothing more than a hole for his pleasure, and only a hate sink at the miserable best. With his harder thrusts, he threatened to puncture her cervix. She loathed any thought of having any part of him in a place she couldn’t clean, but the further and further the act continued the more it became an inevitability. She felt his grip around her neck and dock tighten, the griffon abandoning the tortuously slow withdrawals and opting instead for a ravenous and primal pounding that shook her entire body. He confirmed her thoughts of griffons. They were animals. But not even she could find refuge in her hate. She eventually felt it swell, the fat sex-ram within increasing a quarter of the size as it pumped with even more blood, the swollen organ sending pleasurable tingles throughout her and giving her a sense of dread for what came next.
“It’s coming,” he growled into her ear, her expression contorting into a wince. Releasing a taloned hand from her dock, he reached down to grab one of her legs, raising it, allowing his fat meaty spear to lance even further within her canal. Auriga released a gasp when she felt his tapered tip pop into her womb, but that wasn’t only it. The second, most terrifying and powerful thrust was accompanied with her twat splitting even further apart for the huge knot to fit snugly within her clam’s pink canals. With the cock fully embedded within her, knot and all, she felt insanely overcapacity, but she knew that it wasn’t over yet. Throwing his head back, Harpy groaned as his furry sack flexed. His big griffon cock throbbed and twitched as fertile semen gushed from the tip and directly into her womb. His torso curled over, giving Auriga an unfiltered view of his face contorted in pleasure as he filled her foal-maker directly with cum. Ropes plastered her womb’s walls, filling up her box and even then, spilling out from her core into her pussy’s walls and spilling out onto the ground below. White griffon seed now plastered her pussy, her womb, and even the ground, but that wasn’t enough for the griffon. Grunting, he unsheathed his cock from her pussy with an obscene pop, placed his jizz covered cock on her back; smearing her with various juices, and dribbled some excess cum onto her formerly immaculate coat. In a way, it was like a marking, a lewd and metaphorical brand of ownership. He had conquered her...
And now the deed was done.
“Phew, wasn’t that the experience. A pretty good one I might add,” he commented with disgusting casualness as he released her, assured that she was too fatigued from the act to do anything else as he walked back to lean against the adjacent wall of the alley. “I’m beat. How about you?”
She remained true to her pledge. She didn’t say a word, but her entire body trembled until eventually, she gave out, falling to the ground, Harpy’s white essence leaking from her gaping pussy; cunt filled to the brim with his seed. As soon as she buckled, Harpy shot from the wall to catch her, wrapping an arm under her chest and another under her head.
“Be careful now, wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” he added, wearing a cocky grin as he slowly placed her onto her side, slowing the descent of her head to the ground; her eyes struggling to stay open. “Should best leave you here for a rest. I would offer to take you home, but something tells me you wouldn’t want to divulge that particular piece of information?” he asked rhetorically, casually brushing some dirt from her shoulder, her red, hateful eyes staring at him through her squinted lids. “Nothing more to say, huh?” he probed, offering her a glance as he took a few steps over to her fallen beret, picking it up. “Eh, I expected that,” he shrugged off, stepping back over to her and lowering to affix the beret back atop her head, smirking. “I’ll see you later,” he said to her nonchalantly, the words ringing like a promise in her ears. He took a few steps from her, and as her eyes closed, darkness consuming her, she heard him call one more time. “Oh, and one last thing. Try not to say the wrong thing to the wrong someone. You don’t want to attract trouble. You don’t know what kind of someone is walking these streets at night...”