“I’m Red Crow,” he told me, perhaps in his own language, or possibly in English, I do not know. The liquid inside was dark and there were soft pieces of something floating in it, like meat I thought at first, but after I took one of the spongy chunks into my mouth, I spit it into my hand and looked at it. I was close to the fire, moving slowly now, languid and cautious, upright at times and hunched over at others, and finally on my hands and knees. My Master was there, my human Master, sitting with the council and talking, drinking something and smiling. I felt dizzy and ecstatic and desperate to feel his seed. I sighed and reached between my legs, feeling my pussy plump and loose. I could feel the needle points of his teeth, the humidity in his breath. There was a heavy flow of juices, his and mine, that poured from my gaping sex and washed down my thighs. His jaws were at my throat, closing around my delicate neck as I lay there, defenseless and unmoving. I stared into the flames, seeing the spirits dance and celebrate this union. My body shook with the force of the animal’s thrusting, the tip of his cock driving up and in, over and over while the tribe around
