Hellhound (Part 2)

As you might’ve guessed from the title, this is part 2 of a 4 part series. 
This is the first thing I’ve ever done with monster-girl’s, so feel free to let me know how I’m doing. The first part can be found here


    Coursing through him in a violent wave, the energy of the impact forced the air from his lungs and sent the man’s mind whirling; shortly-thereafter, having hardly had enough time to recover from the vicious slam, the man then felt the weight of the beast-girl’s body roughly deposit itself on his pelvis. Then in a storm of movement that he was powerless to resist, nearly all the clothing donning the man’s upper body was gripped, ripped, shredded, and viciously torn away from him.

Shortly after vainly attempting to keep the hound from pulling the last scrap of shredded cloth off his chest, Laius quickly found his hands seized within the abominable-aphrodite’s inescapably powerful grip; wriggling and fighting against it as hard as he could, the man’s lively attempt at escape from the girl’s clutches merely saw her grip sequentially tighten around him.


    “Stop struggling,” the beast warned smoothly and imperiously as the bones in the man’s hands began to audibly crack. Despite his spirited resistance, the sound and sensation of the body part’s impending destruction speedily doused the fires of the man’s recalcitrance: promptly sending him, brokenly, into a reluctant submission to his tormentor.

Forfeiting control of his arms to the command of the beast, the backs of the man’s agonized hands were then promptly pressed into the ground.

As she glared down at him, the creature’s luscious mane of sable shifted and spilled down around her face, its darkness accentuating the already unearthly glow of her rutilant eyes.
“Keep those as they are, or I’ll dislocate both of them. . .understand?” the despotic creature catechized, speaking the words of her query with a surprising degree of patience and stability.

Nevertheless, she was met with neither word nor gesture of her captive’s comprehension; giving a slow shake of her head, the beast heaved out a heavy sigh, and rolled her eyes.

To convey the sincerity of her words, the barbarous beauty then evenly increased her grip on the man’s arms until the compression was so intense that it felt as though the bone was liable to burst within the arm’s flesh; then, slowly rising from the man’s lap, she firmly placed a large, clawed, lupine foot on his naked chest and began to slowly pull both of his arms toward her.

Unwilling to come to know the pain of having his arms pulled from their sockets, the man succumbed to the hound’s domination once more and frantically nodded his head in supplicant compliance.

“Good boy,” the hound-girl praised: modifying both the pitch and cadence of her voice, she weaved the two words into a protracted purr that slithered mellifluously into her captive’s ears; reaching deep into his overwrought mind, the words imperceptibly touched something within the man – forcing an all too visible shudder from him.


    Seeing the knowing grin spread across the hound’s face, the man felt his heart sink and his face heat with embarrassment.

“Now with all that struggling dealt with. . .” the vicious virago voiced cattily, letting her words hang in the air as she took measured, graceful, steps around the man’s suppinated figure like a predator about to sink its teeth into captured game.

“I think. . .” the termagant stopped to sultrily stoop down and caress the man’s chin, “it’s time. . .” she then trailed that same paw down his chest, briefly delighting his horripilated flesh with a warm and tender touch before inexorably sweeping it farther and farther down his abdomen, “We got acquainted. . .” she roughly grappled onto the thigh of his pants, digging each of her claws into the material, before she then began to pull at the garment, “. . .Don’t you?!” the beast roared in a burst of excitement before promptly tearing the entirety of one pant-leg apart with a single rough jerk of her paw.

Gripping two pawfuls of material at a time, the fiend began to swiftly rip through the remainder of the garment – but found herself halted.


Throughout the majority of the beast’s attack Laius remained anxiously compliant, but when the girl was poised to claw away the few remaining scraps of modesty that still clung to his hips, the man’s hands automatically launched to his defense.

Instantaneously, his protest was met by its punishment; with a quick snap of her arm, the beast drilled a fist into the man’s gut before she proceeded in tearing away the few remaining scraps of cloth that he had foolishly sought to guard from her.

Clutching his pained solar-plexus, the divested man fought to draw breath back into his chest as he mutely rocked within a chaotic nest of his own tattered and shredded clothing.


    Gathering up his rucksack, his boots, and the remainder of the man’s equipment, the fiend quickly assembled the items into a crude conglomeration and swiftly hurled the mound off into the darkness.

Only having scarcely caught glimpse of where his accoutrements had been thrown, the man quickly redirected his focus to that of hiding his nudity from the hound’s smouldering gaze.

“Ah! No you don’t,” she barked, but witnessed as her scolding outburst failed in halting the man’s movements. Fixing a stern, threatening gaze on him, the hound hooked her paws on her hips and growled at the man’s disobedience.
“Uncover yourself and lay back,” she rumbled in a low and authoritative tone as she firmly pressed her gaze down onto him.

“What? Why?!” scoffing, Laius felt a catch rise to the back of his throat: he hadn’t even an inkling of an understanding of what the beast wanted from him, but. . .he did have a suspicion, and a horrid one at that.

Snorting at his defiance, the hound-girl ignored the question, folded her arms, and coolly leveled a warning at him, “Either heed my bidding voluntarily, or I’ll simply force you to. How painful this experience becomes for you is entirely at your own discretion, human.”

When Laius looked upon the more human aspects of the creature’s physiology, her words seemed abjectly preposterous, laughable. . .she was just a girl, but. . .
when he looked upon the creature’s flesh-rending claws, and heard the ungodly, horrifying, inhuman sounds she could emit – those once laughable words suddenly came to bear an impossible, ominous, weight.


Gods, how could this happen?
he puzzled, repeating the question to himself like a kind of incantation.

Choking back the catch of shame in his throat, the man began to haltingly shift his hand away from himself; lamentably, knowing he was being observed made the act all the more hard-going, and all the more shameful.

“Good boy” came the hound’s praise once more, her voice sweetly venomous, like a lion coaxing a lamb to its slaughter, or like a. . .

Suddenly, his thoughts were cast back to the monster tales of his childhood – and a horrified comprehension flashed into his mind thereafter.

Thinking back, he recalled that the flagitious monsters in those once so fanciful stories, having either drawn-in or merely happened upon their hapless victims, would nigh invariably deign to do one or all of three things: they would either torture and brutally kill their prey, eat them alive, or. . . rape them.

His eyes widened in shock. Realizing the creature’s intent, Laius felt a wave of panic rip through him and set his heart thundering violently in his chest. Tears of abject terror began to well up in the corners of the man’s eyes; he couldn’t believe such nightmare-creatures were real, nor could he imagine that such a horrid thing was actually happening to him.

Pathetically, his entire body began to violently quiver as all the strength in his muscles recreantly vanished, disappearing just as he came to need it more than ever before.

In a near shriek, he covered himself and pleaded for his captor to take his rations, his equipment, even his life. . .if she would only spare him the agonizing damnation that would await his soul were his chastity to be violated.


Despite his earnest, almost shameless supplications, the beast’s only response was to offer a cruel chuckle at his words before she pushed him onto his back.

Screaming, the man struggled to quickly rise back to his feet, only to once more find himself being thrown to the ground before his ankles were succinctly snatched up by the beast’s paws.

Frantically kicking his legs about as the appendages roughly dragged him to his defiler, Laius repeatedly scraped his hands along rock in a desperate clamor to find something to grip onto and use to pull himself away from the beauteous corrupter.

Appallingly, the more he screamed, growled, fought, and cursed. . .the more the creature’s smile broadened. . .as though it were nothing but a game to her; for Laius, it was all so much more than that. . .for him, it was a living, breathing, nightmare from which there was no waking.


   Quickly working her way up the squirming man’s anatomy with alternating grips, the beast finally pulled Laius beneath her and quickly threw herself down onto him.

Once atop her quarry, the hound-girl roughly entangled their legs and shifted herself into a desirable position before she harshly grappled a pawful of short, messy chestnut hair at the back his skull; securing control of the hysterical man’s head, the beast’s flourish of movement was completed when she tore the grapnel-esque breast-coverings from her chest and promptly shoved her exposed bosom into her prey’s face.

Smothering the screaming man with her supple mounds of grey flesh, the maenad pushed and manipulated the man’s head until the dark, areolar, flesh of one of her nipples slipped into her victim’s screaming mouth – swiftly muffling his distraught cries.

After a prolonged, horrific bout of futilely battling against the beast’s strength, the man’s air supply was nearly exhausted – and with it, so too was his will to struggle.

With the fiend’s pillowy flesh intractably pressed over his airways, Laius was desperate for oxygen; although the thought of it passed through his mind, something powerful and inscrutable within the man denied sense and obdurately refused to allow him to bite down on the girl’s flesh. . .even if it meant saving his life.

As his respirations, thoughts, and movements began to slow to a crawl – there finally came a promise of mercy, hidden away within the form of a command.

“Suckle, and I’ll let you breathe.”
Proud as he was, the man’s lungs were far too alight with a painful desire for air to think to question such lenity – so he obeyed.

Drawing on the fiend’s teat with all the desperation of a starved calf, Laius found he was consequently treated to a gasp of precious oxygen. . .then another, and another still as he compliantly kept at the task.

Slipping into a natural rhythm as he sucked at the beast’s breast, the man suddenly felt one of her deathly paws grip the back of his head and begin to tenderly massage it; however, he simultaneously felt as the beast’s other paw slowly, almost tauntingly, crept its way down to his waist.

    Despite all his fervent, muffled, protest and wild squirming, nothing halted the appendage’s movement – before long, he was wrapped up in its breathtakingly warm and irresistibly comfortable grasp.

As the hound busily fondled and played with his flaccid member, Laius fervently sub-vocalized a litany of prayers; beseeching any and all gods who would listen to his pleas, he begged for mercy, for protection, for guidance. . .for forgiveness. All of it was in vain, every word.

Though he couldn’t see it, Laius could feel his body heedlessly responding to the girl’s insistent touch; his member began to twitch, to lengthen, to harden, and to very swiftly begin to ascend to verticality – stupidly readying itself for the coming defilement, for the theft of his chastity, for the violation of his dignity, and the inevitable despoilment and condemnation of his very soul.

He didn’t understand how, despite everything he had been subjected to, his body could be so yielding, and so damnably perfidious; the whole scenario was disgusting, horrid, and unimaginably embarrassing. . .yet his body was so ready for it, so willing. It didn’t make sense.

Heat slowly built in the man’s face, growing ever more calescent, until hot tears of shame and self-condemnation began to freely flow down his cheeks – suddenly thereafter, as though in response to his weeping, the molesting touch of the hound halted.

Dropping his half-arisen member from her grasp, the hound began to audibly snuffle at something in the air shortly before she roughly adjusted her positioning atop her hapless quarry; pulling her breasts off the despairing man’s face, seemingly as an afterthought, the beast then brusquely tilted her head up into the air and took another series of sniffs.

Furrowing her brows, the hound-girl pulled her face into a thoughtful grimace; slowly lowering her gaze down to the bloodied and beaten man spread across the ground beneath her, something in her eyes seemed to brighten.

With a deciphering bounce of her brows, the she-beast then lowered her face down to the man’s and took a deep inhalation.

“Ahh, so that’s what I’ve been smelling. . .” she remarked in an ostensibly stern, yet subtly amused tone.

Wiping a tear from the man’s face with an exquisitely soft paw-pad, the defiler unflinchingly stared into his eyes as she then brought the sample to her lips and flicked a pink tongue across it. “Your tears are so sweet,” the devilish-damsel remarked with an exaggerated smack of her lips.

“Tell me, human. Whatever could be causing them? Whyever are you weeping?” she innocently cocked her head at him, scarcely concealing her contemptible delight beneath a flagrant mask of undue, wide-eyed, concern.
“It couldn’t be. . .because of me. . .could it?” she cocked her head to the opposite side, and promptly flashed a gentle, fabricated smile at him. “You should be g–”

“I weep because if you are to defile me,” he turned his gaze away, blinked away tears, then directed an abstruse glare into the beast’s eyes, “I’m uncertain and of what may become of my soul.”


Snapping her gaze away from the man’s, the hound’s face strained with effort as she scarcely managed to suppress an outburst of laughter.

Finally letting slip a string of giggles, the relieved hound-girl mirthfully refocused her otherworldly gaze on her captive. “S-so” she began, stifling another fit of giggling, “You fear the wrath of your gods, if you should come to know the touch of a woman?”

“Before wedlock, yes. In my culture it is a sin t–” he halted, wondering why he was so readily sharing words with his nemesis. He shook his head and shut his mouth.


Frowning at her victim’s sudden silence, the hound gesticulated for him to resume, but was only met with further silence. “Aw, are you finished?” she thrust her bottom lip out at the man in a mock pout.

With no forthcoming reply, the girl dropped her facade and straightened her expression into austerity. “Now, I shall tell you something. . .human,” she uttered in a trenchant rumble.
“My kind, were created by gods – haughty, opprobrious, gods. Gods that saw themselves as the masters of all that they had brought into being, including my kin.”

She paused, allowing her words to sink into the man’s baffled mind, before then continuing.

“For millennia, those gods sought to bring my kind under heel, but ultimately found that they could not. So, rather than continue their attritive struggle against their unruly creations, and being too proud to admit to their glaring defeat, they merely deigned to cast us away and forget about us.”

The monster-girl paused once more, stifling the smile that attempted to grow across her face when she saw she had the man’s rapt attention. “So,” she resumed, “if man is similar to man, just as beast is to beast. . .I would wager, that the gods you revere are analogous to the ones that bore my kind into being – and as such, are doubtlessly very far from the omnipotent and wrathful figures they would like themselves to be seen as.”


Finishing her impious denunciation with a huff, the hellion then tenderly cupped the man’s chin in the warmth of her paw and spread her lips into an oddly comforting smile. “There is not, and will be no forthcoming perdition. So you’d do well to stop your crying,” the creature chided delicately, giving the man’s head a teasing shake, “after all. . . you’ll be needing those tears for later.”

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2 thoughts on “Hellhound (Part 2)”

  1. My first impressions: good, but overly complicated language. I appreciate flexin on em with a SAT word every now and then but chill a little. The way the characters speak is so far removed from the narration it can be a little jarring. I like the violence, power dynamics, setting. 4/5

    1. Hey hey, thanks for the comment broheem, I appreciate your feedback.
      I know that I went a bit overboard with the pretentious wording, but I figured that given the setting I could (maybe) get away with it.
      Anyways, thanks again for your critiques. They’re definitely appreciated.

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