Unquenchable Fire

I thought that leaving him would make me more complete. I would be allowed to be myself; to murder, to hunt, to fornicate without being bridled. However, I am once again proven to be ineffective against whatever sway that asshole has on me. I told him he belonged to me, once. I told him I knew him better than anyone ever will, because I knew the killer inside of him. It's all still true. That puppy will never stop being a monster, and I'll always be a better monster than him. What I failed to grasp is that it wasn't about changing him, but about the change he had made to me.

I've changed from a monster without remorse to a woman...who happens to be a monster. He is no less of of a monster, but I have become more of a woman because of him. He is a human, so he will remember me as he spirals through his short-lived life, saving and destroying lives as he goes. But I am a being without a concept of age; I cannot, and I will not forget him. He'll always be mine, but because of that I will always be his.

Now here I am, alone in self-exile. I figured since I was a demon I had two choices: continue to terrorize humanity in Klaime, or go where all the other demon-exiles live--Setaimia. It's cold, there are few resources a normal person could manipulate, and worst of all there is little to eat. I can hunt well enough, but when prey is sparse, the regular predators that I get to prey on aren't filling. I've been able to bait a few animals into foolishly attacking me, but the animals around here are smarter than the ones in Vailya's west spoke.

My home is a small hovel I've made from what little plant and stone material I could find. Large rocks form the majority of it, with sticks, skins and dirt forming the roof. To give myself more space I've also dug down a bit. It's a home for an unrefined demon. but I'm not unrefined. I dislike this home and how it becomes a slithering monster. My pride demands I improve this place, so I constantly try to make it out to be more of a household. I've moved at least three times to better home locations.

The current location is along the western foothills of Setaimia. It's not quite as cold here, so more flora grow here, and birds can be seen occasionally. Still not ideal for someone like myself, but I could have lived here with the puppy, and a better house. My natural housewife instincts demand a fence from me, so I've been working on collecting sticks and parts of bushes that I can weave into a fence. This has become more of a hobby than a craft. As a challenge to myself, I don't use any magic to warp the wood.

The best wood is quite a way northwest of my location. Actual trees grow there, and the best meat is found there. However, its also guarded by some uninviting Bat and Tiger-Aurrah, so I only raid the area for supplies, or when I'm really hungry. Among my best gains from the area are a spear that likely belonged to an unfortunate Kiszuik, and plenty of sharp bones and claws from my skirmished with the Aurris. I generally use the spear to dig narrow, vertical holes for my hovel's fence. This is where I find myself during a very particular encounter.

"Well what fortune fell on my lap this day!" A gruff, male voice calls out. I turn to see a Kiszuik approching with two companions in toe. "Whatdoyasay, boys? Draw lots to see who keeps her?"

Can they not tell I'm a demon? My form is convincing, but I thought that other demons would be able to at least feel or smell my differences. This is dangerous! I can already feel predatory excitement welling up in me. This is his trap, his trap to fall into. I could have him. My demonic instincts demand me to. Fuck him. Enjoy him. Kill him. Eat him. I am greater! He is lesser!

I shudder. He takes me involuntary shudder and wide-eyed stare as fear. His smile grows, and the snowy-white vulpine ears of his narrow as if he's on the prowl. If I had fur, it would bristle just like the fur on his tail and on his one, clawed arm. This is my first time seeing a Kiszuik alive. I thought they were stronger and smarter, with more natural, bestial talents. I was wrong...but because of that, I feel even more wrong.

No. Using him wouldn't satisfy my hurt. I could fuck him until he simply couldn't move anymore to satisfy my lust, but that would satisfy my love. I could kill him, rip him limb from limb like I have so many other humans, but that wouldn't satisfy my blood lust. I could eat him, and all three of his companions, but that wouldn't satisfy my hunger. I could satisfy the monster, but then the woman would be lacking.

I heft the spear to me side, looking him over and not responding, wait for him to draw lots with his friends like he said he would. They don't seem interested. I vaguely recognize the idea here. If her can defeat me and rape me, I will be his lesser, and bear his kits. I will be a prize for a strong hunter. It makes sense to me. Too bad he's not strong enough for me. But then again, the puppy wasn't stronger than me. He was better than me. The demon can overpower this man; the demon can be stronger. I, the woman, want to be better; to proove to myself that maybe I'm worthy of that puppy's affection.

I don't like weapons, but this seems like an interesting compromise. If I use my claws and limbs I may very well give in to my nature and destroy this poor fool. But if I try and beat him with a weapon? To use a weapon as its intended to be used? It doesn't quite make sense in my head, since that would be killing him. The spearhead is dull, but I could shove this wooden haft through the man easily. No...this isn't my spear. This is going to be his sword.

I hold the end of the spear in both hands, as if it were the same sword that he beat me with multiple times. I've seen him fight others enough to understand what he does. Its about quick, technical work and domination of the senses at a distance, before closing in and removing a limb or other preforming some other important strike. The man laughs, telling me that combat doesn't suit me, since I can't even hold a spear correctly. I wait....

The men do indeed cast a few lots, with my prey being the unlucky winner. As he approaches he speaks, pulling his own spear forward getting ready to lunge, "Woman, just give up. Bodies like yours are for the taking, not the proving." His jovial, self-praising demeanor falls as he commits himself fully to the hunt. It's time!

He's nearly ten paces from me, so he is not expecting the fight to start yet, but that is part of the sword style I'm mocking. I close the distance more suddenly than the puppy could have ever done, jarring the man from his predatory advance. He quickly realizes that he has become the prey. He attempts to verbally protest, but can't before he has to defend himself.

His spear shoots forward, missing widely as I parry it with the "blade" in my hands. He is smart enough to retreat, though, and try to get a better position. I let him. I want this to last! I can tell he has some sort of idea how to fight, because he changes his guard a bit to match the "weapon" I am using. He makes a few fake thrusts which don't phase me. Now is the puppy's craft; waiting. He is impatient, for a hunter. He tries to circle me, but I counter his circling. He tries to move away from me, but I close the distance. I am always just within striking range, but outside of a comfortable commitment to a fight.

The fear! I can smell his fear. I can taste his uncertainty! This is so fun! Yosho was truly a monster to kill people like this. Certainly this one-on-one fighting is much slower than a real, dedicated fight, but the slow, agonizing burn of uncertainty and desire is divine. I'm becoming aroused at this sensation. It's not the fighting I usually did. This isn't a struggle where one fights for their life, but instead a struggle where one fights with themselves. He tortures them.

Finally, the poor hunter puts himself out of position attempting a quick step to the side, followed by a lunge. It's easy for my to side-step, draw the spear along his outside arm and rush past him, using my swinging "blade's" momentum to come back around and "slice the man's head off" from behind. I don't even knock him out. I don't need to hurt him. I just need to show the fool I am better. I cockily turn my back to him and grace them with my gentle, sultry voice as i mock his friends.

"Do you boys want to try....?" I bring the spear up, resting it on my shoulder like Yosho would. They shake their heads, holding up their hands and backing away.

I have a brief flashback to the last time I fought Yosho as a demon. I lunged forward from behind him as he was walking away, tired, his sword where mine is right now. As if expecting me to do it, he whirled around and batted me squarely in the head. The man lunges from behind me with his spear, "No...." I exclaim and swing around. I hit him with enough force to crack his skull, and the skin is broken and delicious blood begins to seep from his wound as he lay on the soft ground. "Take your idiot with you." I demand, kicking the unconscious man once as I head back to my home.



Thus began the tale of a beautiful, crimson-haired woman with an amazing pair of tits living in the foothills. Or at least that's what I assume started the charade of men seeking my body through a showing of force and the occasional gifts. They likely use other words like "extremely powerful bitch", or "inhumanely strong and beautiful woman." Or other glorifying terms I can apply to myself.