The Ogre of Bracken Wood, Ch. 02

That night was the loneliest I had spent in my whole life. Soaking and wet, the autumn night chilled me to the bone. I tried to work at my bonds, but the ogre knew his knots, and there was no way to get my hands free. Weak and hungry, pry as I might, I knew I could not get the binding to budge. Tied up, damp, it was impossible to get comfortable there on the wooden floor. On the bed was a ragged blanket. With one foot, I hooked it free, and covered myself as best I could. It was small comfort, but it was all I had.

Below me, I heard the creature stamping about, his ungainly shuffle on the floorboards. Once he went outside, and I heard the sound of sloshing water, from a well that I had not seen on my way in. When he returned, I heard him cooking The stolen chicken I presumed. At least it wasn't me. At least not yet. What his plans were for me I could not fathom. What did ogres do with their victims? Perhaps he simply intended to torture me. A mad hope came that he would use me as a bargaining chip with the villagers -- but I had never heard of such a thing before and even I wondered what they would pay for me. I was useless, lazy, a daydreamer. It was better I was gone.

The autumn night became colder. Outside, I could see the edge of a purple sunset setting over the black trees. My clothes were damp with the creature's stinking piss, and my arms uncomfortable. I tried again to undo the knots, but if anything I was weaker. The smell of the roasting chicken came through the floor and made my stomach grumble. I hadn't eaten since my breakfast of oats, what seemed like another life ago. Surely, if he intended to keep me alive for a time, he would need to feed me? I contemplated banging my foot on the floor, but I hesitated. I didn't want to anger him. Maybe there was a chance he would forget about me, maybe he was that stupid -- but as soon as the thought came it went. No. I had to give up foolish hopes and face my fate as bravely as I could.

Brave! Ha... I was the least brave person I knew. Well, I had got my comeuppance now.

Below, I heard the beast eating. The crunch of bones. The chicken smelled delicious, and my guts growled. The ogre groaned, then let out a satisfied fart.

I curled into a ball beneath the thin, scratchy blanket, and tried to sleep. Downstairs, I could hear the ogre, lightly snoring. I shivered. I wanted to cry. I held on as long as I could but I couldn't stop the tears. Great sobs of loneliness and fright shook me. I was so weak, so powerless. Afraid. It felt like the tears would never end, but then suddenly the snoring below stopped. I bit my lip to prevent another wail escaping and prayed that the beast would go back to sleep. I didn't want to wake him. To remind him that I was here. I prayed to the Great Father that he would fall back to sleep.

My prayers went unanswered. I heard his step on the floor downstairs. And then climbing the stairs toward my room. I jammed my eyes shut, pretending to sleep. The door opened. The floor quaker as the beast drew closer. Close enough to smell. Sweat, animal musk. I kept my eyes shut and prayed I wouldn't cry again.

A huge foot jabbed into my side. I opened my eyes. The huge creature was silhouetted above me.

'Don't hurt me,' I heard myself whimper pathetically.

The beast's eyes held no expression. His eyes went up and down my body. He reached down and plucked the blanket loose, tossing it back on the bed, then his huge hands reached down and took hold of my tunic. With one rapid movement, he tore the still-damp garment off, revealing my smooth torso to him.

The other village boys had hair on their chests. When we swam in the pond in summer they laughed at me and asked me if I was a girl. The ogre himself, I could see, had a huge thicket of chest hair, black and silver. Yet he seemed horribly fascinated by my hairless body. Ran a thick warty finger down from my sternum to my belly button, making me shiver.

Then his hands reached up, and with a swift dexterity that surprised me he undid the bonds holding me. My hands were numb and I shook them. The ogre said nothing - could he even speak? - just nudged me with his foot the way you would get a mangy cur to move. I staggered to my feet, my legs bloodless. With his head, the ogre indicated the door. I felt certain he meant to do me harm, but I was too exhausted to be very afraid, so I did what he asked. As I made my way from the room on unsteady legs, the ogre kept close behind me, so close I could feel his huge bulk. Beyond the door was a short landing with other doors, but I didn't have time to take much notice as he hustled me down the rickety stairs to the kitchen.

Here, the floor was made of rough stones and dirt, with no rug for comfort, just an old chair set in front of a crude fireplace over which hung a metal spit. On a table were the remains of the ogre's meal - just a greasy plate and some bits of chicken gizzard. The only exit was a larger wooden door, and a window with a rag stretched across it as a crude curtain.

At least there was some warmth from the fire.

The ogre was right behind me. I knew to flee would mean my death. I was fairly certain he meant my death anyway; though if he meant to eat me I prayed he would kill me before he stuck me on that spit.

From behind the ogre hands grabbed my shoulders. He ran his hands down my arms and backs. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but his hands were huge, and I could feel the immense strength in them. With a simple nudge he turned me round, and now I was facing him, and staring up into that hideous mis-shapen face. His eyes were looking over my body. Despite the warmth of the fire, the room felt cold, and I could feel goose pimples forming on my flesh. I didn't dare look in the beast's eyes, but kept my gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

My death was near, I knew it. I just prayed my courage would hold and I wouldn't cry and shame myself any further. He inspected me with his hands. His knuckles were hairy and the skin rough. He brushed my neck, down along my clavicle, then my nipple. Like a lord selecting which part of the feast to eat first.

Only I was the feast.

The ogre's hands trailed further down to the rim of my breeches and probed at the entry there. I was beginning to become quite concerned about what he intended to do before he killed and ate me. Suddenly, one hand grabbed my waist, and with the other he tugged hard, pulling my breeches off in one gesture. These he tossed in the corner, and now I was fully naked before the creature. In the village, the codes around nudity were quite strict. It was rare for me to be unclothed in front of anyone else. A fiery blush crept up my body to my face, even as the heat from the fire and the cool of the evening made my skin tingle and my nipples erect. I was proud of my body, though. Despite being admittedly one of the laziest workers in the village, I had been blessed with a fine, toned physique. I didn't acquire fat, and my lean body tanned easily. In the summer evening, occasionally myself and some of the other youngsters would splash about in the river, diving and cannonballing and cavorting in the cold water. I'd noticed then, when I'd get out of the water, my breeches sticking damp to my thighs, the water droplets glistening on my torso that I'd often get admiring looks from the girls. Even sometimes some of the other boys.

The ogre's gaze on my body now was a cruel parody of that. His eyes ate me, devouring every inch of my bare skin. Instinctively I put my hands over my crotch to protect my sex from his hungry gaze. A warty finger ran down my supple torso. I could see a bulge growing behind the ragged loincloth he wore as his inspection continued. Death would be better than this.

Desperately I looked around for any makeshift weapon I might use to fight him off. I couldn't beat him, I knew that, but if I could provoke him, perhaps he would end it more quickly. But I was too much of a coward.

The bulge in his crotch grew and grew. I knew my own cock was not small, not compared to some of the other boys in the village at least -- as youths we played games of comparison when out of sight of the elders or the girls -- but whatever was behind the ogre's increasingly flimsy-seeming loincloth was nothing like that. The ogre stood over me, crouching beneath the ceiling. His tumescence was obscene, vulgar. Like one of the squashes the farmers competed over growing, but bigger perhaps even than that. He strode around me, slowly, taking me in. As he came behind me a calloused hand briefly touched my bare buttocks and involuntarily I whimpered. If he intended to use that to penetrate me... but no the thought did not bear thinking about.

And, as it turned out, he had something else in mind.

Returning to my front I could see his face again. An expression I did not like crossed it: feverish and impatient and hungry. He wanted me, the brute. For what... activity I did not know. He moved over to the immense ratty armchair in front of the fire and sat himself down it. He spread his huge tree trunk thighs. His erect manhood -- his ogrehood? - was pushing hard against the fabric of his loincloth, lifting it up. Without wanting to look, I could see the edge of his immense, hairy and warty testicles, easily the size of large cooking apples. I gulped and quickly raised my gaze into his waiting face. The corner of his mouth twisted up in what could have been a smile, revealing a gleaming canine tooth, and then crooked a finger at me, beckoning me closer. I am ashamed to say this, but I obeyed. What else could I do?

I stood naked before the ogre. Even seated my head was not higher than his. With a vile leer, the ogre pulled back his loincloth, and his gargantuan erection sprang forth. I nearly shrieked. If he meant -- if he meant to impale me with that... monstrosity, I would die screaming in agony. It was the length of my forearm and wider around as my fist. The shaft stuck out slightly to one side, dark blue veins pulsing along its length. Here and there, thick black hairs sprouted, and it was dotted with warts. At the top, the glans, as purple as the sunset, poked through a long fold of foreskin. A dribble of clear liquid pumped out and slid to the floor.

The ogre was ready.

He reached forward and pulled me down roughly to my knees. Now I was face-to-face with the head of the enormous member. A sour smell of stale sweat, horse's stables hit me. The ogre grabbed my head and shoved it suddenly into the corner of his thigh, where his cock and huge balls met. Rough with hair and stinking, he pulled my head in and rubbed it around, moaning disgustingly. I wanted to retch, the smell was so strong. But the ogre didn't notice, using my face as a toy for his nether regions, he rubbed me against the base of his shaft, his testicles, his thighs, all the while a soft growl of pleasure came from him. His hand was rough. Not violent, but firm. I tried to push back, to escape that stale sweaty stench, but it was useless.

This rubbing continued for some minutes. All the while I could feel him getting more and more excited, his movements more vigorous and none too concerned with my feelings. His other hand was gripping the top of his cock and slowly rubbing the tip. A thick dribble of that glassy pre-cum slid down, matting my hair and cascading down my cheek. Then, suddenly as he had grabbed me, he released my head with a heavy exhale. I pulled back, taking deep lungfuls of the comparatively fresh air.

But I had no time for respite. With one of his hands the ogre pushed his cock down till it met my mouth, and with his other hand he pulled my head forward.

His intentions were clear. I didn't want to put it in my mouth. I was fairly sure I wouldn't be able to. Panicked, I tried to pull back but the ogre had me by the scruff of my neck. He turned my head up until I was forced to meet his gaze. He gave the slightest shake of his head, then bent me back down to face my task. He pushed the tip of his cock, slimy with precum against my closed mouth. I had no choice but to open a little as he rubbed the tip across my lips. Nervously, I extended my tongue a little, and the ogre seemed to like that judging by the moans. I ran my tongue up and down along the slit, disgusted by myself and by the sour-salty taste of the leaking fluid. The ogre moaned louder as I increased the intensity. Perhaps, I wondered, I could make him... finish like this and I wouldn't have to try to take it in my mouth. But that thought was short-lived. The ogre reached up with his other hand and brought my head down onto his penis.

Shocked, I barely opened my mouth as the tip of his enormous member entered. Even stretched as far wide as I could, the edges of my mouth felt like they were going to tear and my jaw clicked painfully. Still only the bare tip was inside. The taste was worse than the smell -- like mucking out a stable, with a faint hint of mushroom. I wanted to retch, to vomit. Desperately, I tried to get breath through my nostrils. The ogre grunted in satisfaction as he pushed his cock further in. I didn't think I would be able to take any more, but somehow, agonisingly, he got more of it inside me. I started to choke but there was nothing I could do to move it. Perhaps this would be how I died, asphyxiated by his huge penis.

He pushed and pushed, half an inch, an inch more, until I was sure my skull would crack with the pressure. My vision began to darken, my eyes watering. Just as I felt sure this would be the last thing I knew, the ogre suddenly withdrew. I gasped, taking in great lungfuls of air. Foul, sweaty ogre penis was all I could taste. I started to crawl back on my hands and knees, but a moment later and the ogre thrust his cock back into my mouth. I am ashamed to say this time was easier, as if he had loosened my jaw bone to accommodate him. He started to thrust, bucking his huge hips up to meet me, the tip of his cock rubbing against my tongue and lips. Each thrust was accompanied by a low grunt, and soon he started to build up a rhythm. In and out, in and out. I barely had time to catch my breath. I had to time it on each withdrawal to ensure I didn't choke. Deeper and deeper into my mouth the ogre took me. I screwed my eyes closed and focussed on my breath, on not retching, on suppressing the urge to gag. His cock was hitting my teeth and throat, and to steady it I reached up my hands to guide it into a position that would be easier for me to manage. I could barely get both of my hands round the meaty, warty shaft, but it did make my job that bit easier. And the ogre seemed to like it, if the increasing volume of his grunts and groans was anything to go by.

I had to make this ordeal end as soon as I could if I was to survive the night. I had the idea then, whorish and disgusting as it may sound, to reach down with one of my hands and gently caress his balls. I knew that when in private moments I pleasured myself, I liked to keep one hand cupped around my own sack - though the ogre's balls were many times the size of my own, heavy and hairy and pendulous. Gingerly, I took one in my hand and squeezed gently.

It worked.

With a shudder and an almighty roar the ogre exploded in my mouth. Hot thick stuff spurted from his cock in a great flood, hitting the back of my throat. I pulled my head back quickly but not quickly enough to stop a mouthful of his viscous, salty seed sliding down my throat and into my guts. Even pulling back the flow did not stop. Thick ropes of pale white ogre seed pulsed, covering my face and hair, the central vein in cock spraying the stuff on to me and the floor. It seemed it would never end -- eight, ten, fourteen spurts of the stuff. My hand was still on the ogres' nuts and I felt them pulse powerfully. All the while the ogre's huge frame shuddered and his fat lips emitted a groan of intense pleasure, his yellow eyes half-lidded. I just sat there on my hands and knees, the aftertaste of his seed on my lips, and my face and hair covered in his fluid.

For a while, the ogre sat totally still, his eyes closed, his great barrel of a chest rising and falling. I wiped myself clean as best I could with my hand and quietly got to my feet. My jaw still ached from where the ogre had used my mouth for his pleasure, and my knees were sore from the floor, and I felt a sense of absolute disgust at what I had done, had partaken in, not willingly perhaps, but willing enough to do what I must to survive, even if that meant completely degrading myself. And through all that, was there another feeling, somewhere deep within me that I wanted to suppress but couldn't completely -- a feeling of satisfaction that I had been able to use my ingenuity to save myself from some other, more awful fate.

The ogre slept on. I looked about me. Was now the chance to escape? But outside, a great curtain of blackness covered the earth, and the branches of the trees of Bracken Wood scraped and squeaked in the night wind. I had no clothes, no idea where I was going. Even if I could outrun the ogre or sneak away while he slept, I felt sure I would not survive a night in the Wood, for there were other threats than ogres I had been warned about - bears, lynxes, hungry ghosts. To run would be to die. Still, the air flickering the makeshift curtain and caressing my body whispered to me of freedom.

I swore then that I would escape this foul creature. I would be smart, I would be clever, I would be slow. But I would get my freedom -- and once I had that, I would plan my revenge. I did not have long to indulge such dreams, for with a start the creature awoke. He gave me an odd look I hadn't seen before, suspicious perhaps but also perhaps with the faintest measure of fondness. Then he swept me across his shoulder and hauled me back up the stairs. Within moments, I was back on the floor and lashed to the bed frame again. The ogre left me there in my nudity.

Away from the fire it was cooler up here. The blanket I had used earlier was just within reach, and I pulled it out and tried to make a bed for myself. Exhausted by my day, despite the discomfort I managed to drift toward sleep. Just as I was on the edge of sleep, I realised something odd. Though it had been many hours since I had breakfasted, I wasn't hungry in the slightest. But the thought was only vague before I fell to slumber.