User blog:MockingJester/A primal land's citizen: a prey spoken for

The Jho. Aborigine beast in an aborigine land. A predator in a realm of predators. One among the top of the most feared of monsters, even with the raw appeal of a woman. A woman with a high peak of hunger and 'hunger'.

A woman and creature rumored to be nigh untamable for the overwhelming majority of men hoping to prove their rare prowess. Only for almost all of them to end up on the road, gashed of their armors and weapons, their private area exposed for all to witness their failure.

With that happening to so many times, rumors were born, giving credence to the Jho's high maintenance in food and concupiscence. That only the maddest of men would still seek to tame one as a mate. One whose values cannot be underestimated.

And yet, Jordan is among the rare few with the hands to prove his feat. The irony is pungent, as he remembers the feat fresh in his mind. She wasn't strong. She wasn't hungry. She wasn't lustful. But sad.

Dwelling in a cavern where sobs were heard, he once came across her. Mil'dry. Whimpering at the heart of it all after a confrontation with another of her kind. A scarred winner from the conflict, unable to joust any fun out of violating the other Jho, left unconscious to lick her wounds.

A hollow victory, as he remembered, her voice, infested with a sadness he didn't think a Jho could feel. Cursing the others' lack of consideration for her output, scared or hateful.

He remembers himself feeling a way similar, yet different. A lonely thought persisting through his time in the dense forests as a gatherer. His hands moving to encourage her while hidden with stacks of food specially prepared for long trips. Ordinary meals packed with a special component designed to fulfill one's stomach with but a chicken leg, at the very worst. And he came with this recipe on much larger meals.

Slowly enacting her to move further and with greater effort, to then clean her wounds and soothe them with various medicinal herbs. And watch her from afar, rubbed from head-to-toe with smell-hindering products and a bit of arcane press, earning him the name of the 'predator'. That, or it was his attire portraying a vicious wanderer in spite of his repeated testaments speaking of it being a simple deterrent to creatures.

And he thought he had left her to press her might, perhaps with a bit of consideration for the weaker. And she did. Starting by hunting him down. Through a den of men. Through herbivores. Even throughout an order camp, knowing full well they had no chance against her.

He was always somewhat confounded at her refusal to 'handle' herself to a pack of knights with probably double the prowess he thought they had.

Every awakening morning continually spat at this concept, his mind strongly sharp, displacing the groggy state one usually wakes up with. An obvious answer for this state of mind comes from the need to remain sharp-witted in a strife-filled land, acclimated to the focus it can bring to this looking to thrive within.

An even more obvious source for that comes in the shape of a 'pickle' tailed woman dozing on the side of his chest, enveloped in his respective arm. Lifting the covers offers the common present of Mil'dry in nothing more than a top one size or two over her measurements, even with the hardened muscles considered. As for the question of her bottom, this was a mystery with a fifty chance of underwear not being present.

He places his free hand on her cheek, a lulled set of words looking to wake her "Alright, come on. Time to get up".

"Hnnn..." She groans in a subtle shake of the head filled with a spiked style of hair, the edge of each lock tipped in what looks like a crimson dye.

"Complaining isn't going to let you lounge, now. Come on " He tries again, a little more insistence in his tone. No rush, no impatience, no unnerve. Nothing higher than a master looking to wake his reposed companion.

"Huh-uh" Once again, she shakes her head, just a bit more energy placed in this solitary movement to meet his voice.

Nobody told him it would be hard to convince a Jho out of bed with the taste of satiation still fresh on her tongue. Fortunately for the 'predator', he was anything but without an idea to spurn her awake. The simplest of solutions when bound in intimacy with any monster, let alone one thrilled by the deed.

"Ok then, if the mind isn't going to wake up, then..." Jordan pulls from the inevitable opening desire being so close to a sultry monster brings and reaches under her shirt. Immediately, she jolts, yielding to the fondle of one of her breasts.

One that persists, spurning the beginning of heavy breathing from the pickle reptilian. Close to fawning, close to Jordan, her body awakening as her mind is. Her lips pant, longing to return this simple, yet serene touch.

And just before she gets the moment, he pulls his hand from her. Not only that, but the bed feels lighter, devoid of half of its oppressive weight. Mil'dry recognizes it as a strategy to pull out of bed.

And it works. Teased by his hand and denied further affection, she stands on the bed, poised to pounce at him with a pouting growl. One not of violence, but mere displeasure of being cut off so soon.

Jordan expects it, already content seeing her fully awake, if only to lunge at him. A reason among many for his sculpted body, rising to meet the utmost of swoll a man can be on a lithe physique.

"Feeling robbed, are we? Come on then". He teases her further, braced for her pounce. A growl-startled pounce seeing her land on him, legs clinging on his waist. Arms doing the same to his back. All brought to a hammer swing of an accolade by the hefty tail following closely behind.

"Oof!" His body is brought to use the cultivating strength if its muscles as to both combat the kinetic energy of her rushing embrace and keeping them both standing.

Somewhat brought low by this mere jump, Jordan can't help but smirk a bit with the wet sensibility of her tongue smooching his cheek and a purr to accompany it. Her signature way of shelving this slight as water under the bridge.

"Alright, alright, come on, let's get prepped up". His steps to the bathroom are monotonous but gradual. Inside, he bears her open her mouth, a surprising sublime row of pearly white presented to him. Considering how often Mil'dry has something between her teeth, maintenance was at an all-time high. And his efforts paid every morning and evening with little in the need for extended cleaning.

Nothing more than the manual removal of specs of meat playing an affront on her teeth. Which he does, though every bit dislodged bids her tail wagging. Having her teeth flossed is apparently a tickling moment, compounded by a much more relaxed brushing session as demonstrated by her comfortable gaze, hands joined on her knees and her knees on the ceramic tiles.

Barely done with rinsing the paste away, Mil'dry plunges her lips on Jordan's, a longing in her throat. A brief smile flashes in the interim of said smooch, as always, refusing to take a 'no' or 'hold on' as an answer. Not that he could, his mouth busy exchanging with hers on the bare tiles.

This chain of events would lend itself to an uncontrollable urge to mate right here and then, if not for her grumbling belly sapping the mood. Then her groan and his sigh in contentment in spite of this pattern, a mere display of fondness "Hungry, are we? Right, come on, I'll put something on the spit roast".

The kitchen fills with a meaty aroma, cooking a greased up piece of poultry. Jordan mans the kitchen, looking over the process. And an impatient Mil'dry swinging her tail back and forth, weighing down on the floor at its limit. Sitting on a chair was a no for her, her rump preferring the ground to wait.

And the final piece came as he decorates her breakfast: a chicken the size of a Dodo with the slight powder of arcane to apply for someone of her hunger. A touch to exacerbate the nutriments within the refined meat and assortment bringing it a better sense of filling.

"Kind of glad to have met that fellow in the garb. I don't have to go after a dozen just for feeding session" He utters in relief, watching Mil'dry down the massive poultry in but minutes, currently busy biting down on the marrow.

With this done, he went to the basement of the encroaching morning giving way to the day. Before going for a hunt, before going for the wilder lands, Jordan went to the basement. Minutes string alongside, spent waking his body completely in his training gear. Weights to bring the flow of oxygen to his muscles for a half-hour. All under Mil'dry's watchful eye, impatient to go out into the sun and air.

Unbeknownst to her, this building of iron and natural might has the second objective of preparing himself for another night, expecting to feel her approach him with longing in her eyes. Attempting to sleep with a Jho without a sufficiently resilient body is a...hazardous activity, one sure to bring nothing but a disappointment to both parties, the man, exhausted to the point slipping out of consciousness and the Jho, prompted to look for another victim to satiate her. While he had proven capable of that, keeping his 'performance' to its peak is still a must.

But, at last, with the morning fulfilled, Jordan arms himself in his panoply of gathering and combat gear. Clippers and vials, a bag and kleenex for harvest. A suit of leather and hindering herbs, arrows, and bow as well as the subtle magic of light refraction for a hunt and possible self-defense. Possible with Mil'dry covering this somewhat delicate part.

He opens the door, seeing her rush out in the search for prey. Today's unfortunate victim wandering in their path. Their pace brings them to an open field filled with many favorable plants and flowers. Perfect harvest for his scalpel with two equally favorable options for their use.

One of trade. Always needy for medicine, many are willing to pay off a handsome sum for the things he gathers in places few are willing to wander in.

The other, his own supply. Mostly for Mil'dry and her superficial wounds who enjoys a great deal of time being pampered by his hands, if mostly just for chances to bear sloppy smooches on his cheeks and hands.

Regardless, the land they stand on is a fertile place for his scalpel to work the day. He turns to Mil'dry, waiting on his work "Ok, so this is where we'll stay for today. Good harvest to collect. Remember: anything that attacks is fair game".

She grins with glee, already on the prowl for potential dinner in a wandering circle wherever Jordan may tread. Like a land shark circling, she wanders the place, seeking hiding spots to goad any creature's sense of confidence.

Many come seeking to plunge their teeth on his throat. Their necks, however, become victims to Mil'dry's own leering at the walking feasts in the thoughts of sinking at her own mate. Long after licking and nibbling his body enough for anyone to smell her touch on him.

The kingdom can often be a place of desperation for some creature, as Jordan comes to hear, their starved screeches howling in the air, snuffed out midway by her talons. Or her claws. Or her blows. To then consume them on masse, her speeding enthusiasm comparable to a pack of piranhas.

Only then by the end of the day is the onslaught ended by his voice "Mil'dry? Really? You ate them all? Did you at least save one?" And thus, she comes with excitement in her eyes with a large dead creature in her hands.

He looks to the kill, seeing it as intact enough to cook "Ok, that will have to do. Let's go back" With the last days spent devouring meat brought from foreign lands, having a dose of local was a new experience all over again for her. An experience fully telling of why they seldom stay in one home among many, this one being their main domain.

And they wander back, leaving the land filled with creatures once foolish enough to think him an easy catch as nothing more than bones dried of any meat... --- Disrobed of his outside panoply, Jordan once more stands before the spit roast, cumulating minutes at watching the results of his preparations for a feast. One beast for today. Every bit chopped, tenderized and dipped, save for the bones and talons.

All of this with Mil'dry longing, her chin on his shoulder. She purrs as her stomach growls, counting the second before readiness. Every spin simmering the meat is one made in eternity, testing her willingness to wait, taunting the plighted stomach aching for sustenance.

All the more flavorful when she finally sinks her teeth in the results, an overstating upgrade to the raw kills she devoured en masse before their return.

A meal she is overly grateful for via her typical way of licking her lips clean of any residue alongside those on her plate before plunging straight at Jordan, the latter, again, surprisingly unprepared for an overt gesture of appreciation, locking them against his.

With night coming close, Mil'dry's affection commonly becomes brilliant, more explicit, populated with humming purrs between her nibbling across his neck and shoulders, his body long resilient enough to make this showcase of affection nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

With this action, her body moves as well, pressing on his chest with a slight trembling. He had come to recognize this set of behaviors in their repetition, the herald to her needy demeanor punctuated by a soft if exacerbated pant in his ear. Mil'dry had eaten. Mil'dry had drunk. And now, graceful toward her cook and ever endearing mate, had her appetite flaring up, 'hungry' again for different sustenance.

Being teased by Jho saliva by regular kisses, of all things, had the effect of burrowing the well-established desire of the woman beast back to her by his truly.

And, as their first night together, Jordan had no intention of shying away from this, another 'way' to keep himself sharp as clear. Anyone with a monstrous woman as a wife would easily see through his excuse to bed the slightly rash, but overwhelmingly more affectionate beast. Not that they'd complain, joined as they already would be.

Firstly, though... "Impatient as always, I see. Well, you're going to have to bear with me for a bit". He rises, seeing Mil'dry's confounded by his words, and more so by his passage down to the basement.

Descending on his trail, the fearsome creature became flustered, seeing him spend this 'little bit' lifting and stretching. Her monster instincts feel the delectable essence shaping itself, bulging and ridding the far less desirable bits. It is like a prey dousing itself in condiments before running and rolling on the nearest open-source of heat.

And, she was salivating. Proverbially. And a bit literally. Mil'dry's temptation flirts close with the longing to pounce directly at Jordan's exposed back, to immediately satiate herself. A struggle to keep it contained, at least until he feels...ready.

Seeing one of the refined, but crude equipment dent the floor is a bell ringing fiercely in her ears, prompting her to rush at him just as he turns with a smooch on his cheek, coaxed with her potent saliva "What the--!?" to then run upward to the bedroom in a playful manner. The best spot for her 'feeding' session.

Even with how many times he's been nibbled, kissed, licked or overall came to direct contact with her enzyme, any thought of acclimating to its endowing effects falter like a house of glass hurled with a large stone, flushing his body with a throbbing sensibility, largely ignored throughout the day.

He runs after her, well intent on retaliating the way she did this morning. And he does, her sprint upstairs deliberately sluggish for this reason. Feeling his hands place decisively, yet softly on her hips fills Mil'dry with a returning readiness to be satiated once more, turning quickly to kiss him again. This night among many, Jordan was not going to have any sleep.