("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
Ghost Dog Of The North Wind
by Mister (misterk9@aol.com)
***
A young woman finds a special companion in the
wilderness. (F/beast)
***
My dad was a New Zealander, proud and tough. My mother
was a NA Inuit -- I guess that's why I have hybrid
vigor, and the strength and stamina it takes to survive
in this land. My long dark hair offset my pretty
features and athletic figure, as I gazed at myself in
the mirror -- a pretty but petite young girl of 19
years I really had little time for anything else but
survival, and most men I had met had not really
interested me yet.
It was a very cold morning -- the water bucket against
the wall of my room in our humble cabin had a thin skin
of ice -- "allapa" it was cold! I readied my gear for a
trip out to check my "subsistence trapping" lines and
see if I could bag an Elk or a Moose -- the frozen meat
I brought back would keep us going for a month or more.
My dad, a good bush pilot, was gone most of the time
but my parents trusted my survival skills and did not
really worry when I was out on a hunt alone for weeks
at a time.
Dad said, "Fawn, I have a dog for you, he's an Inuit
dog and knows how to take care of himself."
"Dad, I don't really need one," I replied. "I work
faster alone."
"I know," he said. "But the bears are worse than ever,
the climate is getting warmer and the Polars and
Grizzly bears are moving south." He insisted that I
needed a good dog for protection.
"OK, I'll have a look at him," I replied.
Stepping out the door into the cold dry air towards my
pack sled I gasped to catch a breath -- then I saw him
standing against a snow bank, he's to nice looking for
a native dog I thought -- most of them are black and
ugly looking. One third wolf, I suspected, he was white
and black with pale gray-blue eyes -- and he stared
right through me. Due to the loveless code of the
north, these dogs are not treated as pets, or even
given names, they sleep outside on the ice and eat
frozen seal meat or unborn baby seals -- if they are
lucky enough to get them.
"Can he harness?" I inquired through the open door.
"Sure can," Dad replied. "He led a team in the Ididerod
open last spring."
Okay I thought, maybe I'll give him a try on this trip,
and if things don't work out we can take him back to
the camp.
Trying to keep warm I worked rapidly as I readied my
gear -- I mustn't forget anything as that could be
fatal I thought. I rigged the dog to my pack sled with
my 200lb of supplies plus his dry dog food, I figured
we could get the rest of our food en route. For hunting
I took a rifle, and a pump shotgun for bears -- just in
case.
This time of year it stayed light most of the time,
this far north of the Arctic circle, on the northern
slope of Alaska's Brooks Range -- too cold and dry to
snow much we made good progress, and I shared pulling
the sled on my skis just behind the dog. I didn't have
to match his pace as his four legs were shorter than
mine and he provided a steady but strong pull once we
got underway. Hours later and close to my first trap-
line I paused to look around. A huge drift near a
beaver dam blocked my view. I snapped out of my
bindings and climbed up and over the drift with my dog
on his chain.
"Grrrooowwl!!"
I heard as I saw him, a huge Polar-bear crouched down
and chewing on what looked like a bearded seal. "Oh
shit!" I exclaimed. I knew surprising a bear was one
thing, but a feeding bear, well that was a disaster!
My dog bolted upright and standing five feet tall he
growled furiously loud at the bear and he hurt my ears.
I pulled my bear gun and fumbled for a slug from the
pocket of my parka... my mind racing, I dropped the
shell into the open shotgun port and shucked it in...
sshhclick! and I aimed for the bear's chest, just below
the neck.
My dog was pulling me so hard I could not aim and I
knew if I just wounded the bear I would be done for. My
left hand on the dogs chain I decided to quick release
him so I could get a clean shot. Like lightening my dog
ran behind the bear and snapping at his rear legs and
avoiding his deadly claws, he worried him savagely.
"Good dog!" I shouted. Then I heard another loud growl
from the nearby scrub fur trees. A large silver tip,
probably hungry, had wandered onto the scene! My dog
stopped his attack on the Polar and took after the
Grizzly in earnest -- they both just vanished into the
drifts making loud animal sounds.
Before I could move the great white "Nanuk" slapped me
to the ground, and I thought my shoulder had broken --
I lay still playing dead. I could feel the bears hot
foul breath on my cheeks as he hovered over me. By some
miracle he stopped and began covering me with snow.
He's not hungry now I thought, he will cover me up and
come back to eat me later I thought, as I fought the
urge to break and run.
I lay still for what seemed like hours, knowing it's
just not possible to outrun a bear, then I felt a hot
tongue on my face -- eyes closed I prayed the end would
come quickly.
Then I realized the tongue belonged to my sled dog! Not
seriously injured I rose to my knees and with gratitude
gave my beautiful husky a big hug -- surprised at such
abnormal human attention he just wined and licked my
face. "I think you have at least earned a name," I
said. Not even thinking I said, "I will call you
Ghost... yes, Ghost... dog of the north."
I gathered my gear and put on a new parka-shell as my
down jacket had been ripped open by the bear, and we
proceeded to make camp about a mile upstream in a
sheltered area. As I chained Ghost outside, I noticed
the weather was unseasonably warm and I feared an
approaching storm. I secured the tent with ice screws,
climbed inside and lit my candle lantern and stove,
then I proceeded to melt ice.
I made enough for myself and some for Ghost, although
he was used to eating snow and ice, I wanted to treat
him special -- after all he had just saved my life!
Soon the wind came then blowing snow and I crawled out
to check the tent anchors and feed and water my dog, he
was curled up on the ice, half buried in snow -- I was
freezing and thought how cold he must be out there!
After I fed him I decided to lengthen his chain so he
could shelter in the tent crawl space a bit out of the
storm. My hands were numb and I accidentally let go of
him.
Like a shot he crawled into the tent as I chased after
him. I found him comfortably dug into my sleeping bag!
"No! get out!" I scolded. "You're tracking in snow." I
pushed on his back in an effort to dislodge him.
He weighed almost 100 lb. and with all his dead weight
and stubborn temperament I just couldn't budge him.
Tired and freezing I got my extra bag from the sled
pack and opened it flat covering him, then I quickly
undressed and got under it next to him for warmth. How
wonderfully warm he is I thought as I snuggled my
frozen toes under his flank, this unsettled Ghost a bit
and he rolled on his back to give me a little more
room.
This is strange I thought, "Don't pamper your dogs the
natives say -- you'll spoil them -- and you must never
get attached to them." Questioning this wisdom, I could
see my policy of discipline and distance had been cast
to the winds.
With all that heat and moisture in our tent, ice soon
began to form on the roof and the wind flapping the
tent caused it to slough of and rain down on my face.
The ice was cold and it stung me, so I buried my face
in the thick luxurious fur of Ghost's massive neck, and
very soon I was fast asleep.
The morning dawned crisp and clear, our tent had
withstood the storm which passed during the night, so I
readied Ghost and my sled for travel. I needed to find
a Caribou or something soon for a supply of fresh meat.
Setting out north across an ice flow near shore we
moved swiftly.
I was able to harvest one Caribou, a Moose and a
bearded seal that day and spent all day packing and
drying the meat and hides -- nothing can be wasted out
here, so I fed the scraps to Ghost as he stood
hungrily, but patiently buy as I worked. We camped
there, some distance away, as I knew that bears would
smell my kill and come in the night.
I was right -- awakened in the dim light of late
evening by Ghost's howls outside I grabbed my gun and
jumped in my stiffly frozen snow suit to poke my head
outside. I saw the bears shadow and that of Ghost
standing tall outside on his chain leash, huge and
ominous. Ghost doesn't have a chance chained like that,
I thought as I reached for a road flare. Striking the
cap I gagged as the acrid sulfur smoke of the flare
choked me.
Tossing the flare quickly it rolled under the upright
"Nanuk" and to my surprised he grabbed it with his
mouth -- Ouch! We were lucky I guess, between my flare
tossing and Ghosts demoniac howls this bear gated off
to lick his wounds. Still shaken I went outside and
gave Ghost a hug, as I tried to explain to him how much
I had grown to love him during the brief time we had
shared together. I think he really understood my
affections for him. All this polar-bear stuff was just
fun for him I began to think! It was now time to move
out again.
Over the next five days I checked my trap lines, got
another Caribou and then decided to head home. I
decided to cross the ice going back as it was quicker,
although a bit risky, this time of year. Once, when I
was blinded during a whiteout storm, Ghost acted as my
seeing eye dog. Although I was 100 meters or so from
the tent I could never have found it in those
conditions without him. He had saved my life again.
That night in the tent, as the storm raged outside and
feeling safer and more secure when Ghost was close to
me, I decided to let him inside. He looked magnificent
as he lay stretched out next to me in the flicker of
the candle lantern -- he must be very lonely I thought
-- but it's the way all those dogs live. I wanted to
reward him for his faithfulness and trust and began to
look at him as I would a man, at least as a man that I
felt I could give my love.
Restless and cold in my own sleeping bag I decided I
wanted him, but I was not sure if he would want me -- I
mean he was still just a dog after all. I don't wear
anything while in a down sleeping bag, that makes you
colder, so kneeling part way out of the bag liner I
stretched out to reach my pack in the corner of the
tent, my breasts and nipples were firm and tender, not
so much from the cold as from what I was thinking...
If I could just get on my back with the pack under my
hips maybe I could coax... I stopped short as Ghost,
getting up quickly, was probing my rear with his cold
nose -- he began licking me! This isn't going to be as
difficult as I thought, looks like they were right,
Ghost knew how to take care of himself -- and me -- I
giggled with delight.
If it had not been so brutally cold I could have
stayed like that forever as he worked his tongue into
my pussy. I let him mount me from the front and with
one hand tried to guide his stabbing member into me,
but he growled a warning, so I let him go and scooted a
bit more under him.
As soon as his hot tip found my pussy and pushed inside
then nature took over, I had watched dogs "do it"
before as a giggling young schoolgirl, and I knew he
would not disappoint me now! We made love for what
seemed like an hour, his throbbing doggie-cock filled
me to the point I thought I might burst -- he hurt just
a bit at first, but then all I felt was wave after wave
of pleasure as I came again and again.
Suddenly his pressure lessened and he rolled off my
chest and out of me with a "plop" and then immediately
began licking my reddened cunt till I screamed -- no
one can hear or see what we do out here I thought. I
looked at his huge member hanging down in front of me
from the sheath and thought "Oh my god, he's huge!" I
couldn't believe all that had been inside me.
The storm raged for seven days and nights, but I didn't
really care. With plenty of supplies, Ghost and my
books for company, I could have bivouacked there
forever.
The eighth day brought good weather, warmer, and no
wind -- time to go home -- I called to Ghost -- he
eagerly let me harness him. We moved swiftly over the
ice pack toward the tundra and home.
Crrraaacckk!
I heard a death sound that meant only one thing -- bad
ice! For safety, I took Ghost off the sled and headed
out cautiously to find a safe place to cross with the
sled.
Pop! Pop! Crracckk!!
The pack had broken and tilted to a dangerous angle --
I slid toward my death in the cold black water.
Gasp! The cold shock pushed the air out of my lungs as
I was immersed up to my waist in the icy water. I could
dig in one of my ski poles to stay partially on the ice
but I could not even scream!
Ghost, knowing I was in trouble, grabbed my nylon pack
strap and with a savage tug he pulled me out and onto
the tilting ice and I scrambled toward safety.
I jumped the four foot wide gap rapidly forming between
me and the snow pack and scrambled to the sled. I had
heard many stories like this about these Inuit Husky
dogs before, but now I knew first hand they were true!
I turned to call Ghost but to my horror he was no where
to be seen. "No! No, no!!" I cried, as I dashed around
behind the break, totally ignoring the danger.
I looked for a time but knew if I did not change my
suit quickly the wild north would claim me next. The
cold, and sometimes cruel, north had spawned my beloved
Husky and given me a brief chance to experience his
love -- now it had taken him from me forever...
I dropped to my knees on the snow covered ice and
cried for my ghost dog of the north wind.
END
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 50