Charles Richards - A Kingdom Of Love

Her mind reeled in its fantasy. Before she was fully aware of how it had occurred, her thoughts turned to sex. Could she get the lion to fuck her? The thought sent chills goosepimpling up her spine. Fuck a lion? That would be some act!

The beast roared again and the immensity of the noise deafened the girl. He was restless in her grasp and moved suddenly, surprising Joan off balance so that she fell onto her back. Playfully Andy batted her with his paw on her shoulder and sent her rolling over onto her face.

Thank God his claws weren't extended, Joan thought as she lay still, wondering what to do. Her shoulder began to throb and cautiously she moved her head to see if there was any blood. No damage-but what was Andy doing now? She had to risk a look. With the same fearful caution, she turned her head back toward him. He was staring at Mae. The food.

Would he forget her? She lay completely still and held her breath.

Where was Myrna anyway? Why couldn't she be early for once? Joan wished frantically as her mind cast about for some escape from the dilemma in which the sound herself. Myrna, help! She called silently as she watched the beast gaze across the ring at Mae. He roared again, this time with challenge in his voice and the girl trembled at the sound.

The lion saw her motion and returned his gaze to Joan. Almost as if urging her to move again the lion slapped his huge paw across the girl's buttocks and Joan heard the leather pants rip. Cool air suddenly surrounded her ass. She rolled away from the lion just as he swiped again. This time his claws glazed her hip with thin lines of blood while the front of her pants were ripped away to the knees.

Suddenly Joan was naked from the knees up and her eyes watched fascinated as three pencil lines of blood welled out of the scratches on her white flesh. The shreds of her leather pants wound round her lower legs and now held her as if she were bound by them to the lion.

But to Joan there was something magnificently sensual in spite of the danger. And absurdly her mind wished through the fear for the cat to scent her sex instead of her blood. Andy paused in his playful swipes-it was as if somehow the big cat sensed the thought. Joan watched his eyes change from playful to lusty. She hoped it was not a blood lust as he roared once more with a sound that was even more savage than before.

Joan was chilled to her bone marrow as the lion looked down on her.

When he lowered his head toward her naked abdomen, she was caught in indecision between terror and a fantastical lust.

His large rough tongue came out and licked from the top of her crotch up her belly. Then his wet nose prodded her thighs apart, and his hot wet tongue licked the lips of her pungent box.

Joan's terror gave way finally and supremely to passion. She was experiencing the intimate in a bestial act that was completely beyond her control except for the power of giving herself up to lust. She no longer feared any motion Andy might make, but rather, welcomed it.

As a lion's purr of pleasure rattled in Andy's throat, he settled down on his haunches with his magnificent head between Joan's legs.

Unmindfully, she extracted her legs from beneath his forepaws and threw them around the beast's neck. She could feel the huge, awful muscles rippling beneath the soft long fur of his neck. She tensed her thighs as the rippling sent tingles of lustful joy charging up her body.

They were met at the tip of her clit as it pulsed beneath the rough cat tongue. One of Andy's licks took care of her whole snatch-from the slurping roughness on the taut skin of her asshole, up the tender sponginess of her aching vagina, wagging wet and strong on the soft, tingling lips of her vulva, and finally flicking her helpless cut again with a rough erotic strength that Joan had never before experienced with any other creature: neither human, nor reptile, nor beast.

She moaned in ecstasy and reached down to stroke Andy's cold nose. The lion continued his velvet purring and licking, only closing his eyes as her impassioned hands mindlessly caressed his huge soft face.

The thought flitted across her mind that she wished she could stroke the lion's balls and suck the spear point of his savage cock. She saw in her mind the cock of an alley cat: the tiny pink prick had always reminded her of her own clitoris and the connection kept her in a constant state of erotic excitation whenever she wore her leopard leotards.

Now, she smiled blissfully as she thought of Andy's prick and how the licking, slurping, sucking he was giving her had made her vibrating clit feel as though it must be just as big as a lion's cock.

Still frustrated by her wishes, but yet almost frenzied by sexual surfeit, she wailed softly in gasping, heated whimpers as her hands left Andy's face and brushed over her hips and belly. Her fingernails glazed the drying blood of the lion's scratches and the slight pain sent new chills coursing through her loins and brain at the same time.

Her hands caught at her breasts and began pinching and palming the pouting swollen nipples. As she mauled her own breasts, her head lolled from side to side and beads of salty perspiration ran down her forehead and temples, dripping into her eyes and catching on her gasping, parched tongue. Her hair massed in sweaty curls around her face as her whimpering breath became yet more frenetic. And still, the rough softness of the lion's tonguing kept up in a steady driving rhythm. He maintained the rhythmic licks, forcing the girl beyond the possibility of climax.

Her erotic capacity was so filled past overflowing that her body had no outlet but to go numb. Wailing with the unrelenting orgasms, she spasmed and her body shivered and trembled into an unconscious catastrophic climax. She fainted suddenly, although her body took a long time after that to relax. And Andy kept up his slow contented licking, tasting the musky sweetness of her cum as it spilled over his soft muzzle.

It was nearly dark and the dusk light, full of tension when Joan woke.

The changes in the light told her immediately that some time had gone by without her knowledge.

She heard a tense heave by her side and looked up at the shadowed form of the giant lion as he prepared to charge. But he was not paying the girl the slightest mind.

He stood facing where she surmised Mae had to be; his tail swished more slowly with the passage of time. She could feel him ready himself-it was as if she were part of him somehow. The dynamic energy that flowed from the savage beast infected Joan with something primitive and demanding which beat in her heart. Then she felt the air chill on something wet at her crotch and she started to move her hand to feel what it might be.

"Don't move, Joan!" The voice was a whispered hiss and instinctively the girl obeyed.

"There's going to be a fight. Come to the door as soon as Andy charges." Joan recognized Myrna's voice and her eyes strained to see the woman.

"Freeze," hissed Myrna.

And at that moment Andy's tail stiffened. Joan heard a gurgling roar deep in his throat just as he charged.

"Move!!" Myrna screamed at Joan.

But the girl's muscles were frozen. "Move!" screamed Myrna again at the top of her lungs but the sound was nearly drowned out by the impact of the lions' meeting. There had been something terribly human in Andy's roar but now the sounds from the fighting cats were horribly bestial.

"For God's sake get up, Joan!" Myrna's voice was terror stricken just as the girl finally began to move.

In Myrna's eyes, the youngster seemed to be caught moving in slow motion. Myrna had seen big cats fight before and had experienced then the same perception. It was as if the animals fought with such energy that everything about them slowed down to compensate.