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Ravaged by the Pack of DeathClaws An Ice Age Historical Erotica Story, by Jezebel Rose

It was in times such as these that she wondered why the hell she hadn’t just stayed in Sanctuary to plant tatos. Life would be so much simpler without having to face Gunners, Raiders, fucking Super Mutants, and their bastard Hounds, those blasted Mirelurks, or Deathclaws, which just so happened to be her current problem.

For some reason – God knows why – she had stumbled onto a Deathclaw nest, and the guardians were not happy about it. Even less so as it was mating season, and they didn’t seem pleased to have her invade their territory.

Yet, for some reason, they just stood there, watching her. It was terrifying, to say the least. Her heart raced like a thousand wild horses, and sweat beaded on her forehead.

She could count four males and one female guarding the nest where a small cluster of eggs was bundled together. The eggs were giant, roughly half the size of a rugby ball, had a sick color between brown and yellow, and were covered in black spots.

Taking a prolonged step back proved to be a big mistake. She had barely moved her foot before all four males lunged forward and effortlessly forced her on the ground. In the blink of an eye, she had her rifle ready and aimed, but a fraction of a second later, giant claws swiped it away, and it clattered to the ground, the barrel aiming at the Deathclaws as if to say ‘good luck without me.’

She needed that luck because, in the next moment, those same claws had slashed away her armor and underlying clothes, leaving her exposed and as vulnerable as could be beneath them. Staring up at them in horror and just waiting for the cold embrace of death, her life flashed before her eyes.

Her wonderful spouse. Her darling son. Everything she had done together, everything she had done alone after awakening from the Cryo-sleep. It was as if she relieved all of those years, but in the fraction of a second, while one of the monsters leaned over her, the semi ram-like horns nearly scratched the ground.

His face was mere inches away from her, and the hot breath rolled over her face, making her gag. It smelled of decay and old meat left out too long on a hot summer day. This close, she could almost count all of the scales covering the terrifying creature, and as its eyes raked over her face and down her body, she noticed several missing plates of scale, witnessing tough fights. But close to nothing was tough enough to take out a Deathclaw, let alone a whole pack.

When the monster didn’t bite into her, slashed or maimed her, or anything equally gruesome, her head started working again.

Something was entirely wrong here. Deathclaws were notorious for killing first and not even bothering to ask. But these hadn’t killed her yet, and there would soon be more than just the five adults. Shouldn’t they be scavenging all the meat they could…?

Then she noticed his nostrils flaring, and a huff of air left his mouth, giving her a view of jagged, yellow teeth that would leave a shark jealous. He sniffed her.

She frowned. This had never been witnessed before, or then no one had lived to tell the tale, and it quite frankly unnerved her. Was he checking if she was fresh enough? Hadn’t caught any diseases? If she would be a proper mate? The thought was nothing short of nauseating.

The answer was given mere seconds later when the Deathclaw grabbed her thighs, nearly crushing them, and harshly tugged her towards his hind legs. Instantly, she felt the reason she was still alive. Although, she doubted she would be after what was no doubt going to happen.

Between the creature’s hind legs was its cock. Monstrous and already dripping, she somehow found the courage to raise her head and look at it. Seconds later, she regretted it immensely.

Not alone was the cock massive – absolutely not going to fit, no matter what – it was also littered with spikes that no doubt ensured the cock would stay inside a female during mating.

Her heart, which had momentarily gotten some rest when it seemed the Deathclaw wasn’t interested in murdering her, once again started racing.

Oh shit.

“God, please don’t,” she whispered, knowing it wasn’t going to help anything. It was a simple reflex. Of course, the Deathclaw didn’t listen – or understand, for that matter – and started rubbing himself against her with a chilling growl. She couldn’t keep back a sound herself, to her immense humiliation, and prayed to whatever god that might still be alive that it was out of fear. Any other reason was inexcusable.

Generous amounts of pre-cum was smeared over her entrance and made her shudder and whimper, once again begging the monster to stop. As expected, he huffed, the disgusting breath hitting her face in a nauseating wave, and the scaly hands effortlessly kept her in place as the Deathclaw ground firmer.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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