“Good, good. More efficient that way, I think. And after all, we’ve got feasting to do!”
And suddenly, I was in the Wolf’s arms. I looked up at him, at his face which was handsome in all the most wrong ways—ways that made me hate myself for loving him, for lusting after him.
“You must hate me,” he whispered. “You must despise me—do you?”
“I do. But not as much as I hate myself.”
The priest, meanwhile, began the blessing.
“Why hate yourself?” the Wolf asked, his cruel lips pulling back into a grin—the kind of grin that I found hard to resist, as much as I wanted to—as much as I wanted to be the kind of paradigm of purity that the priest was attempting to bless.
“Othon, look down upon these young lovers and grant them bliss, grant them health, grant them prosperity, grant them children, grant them…”
“Because… Because I liked it…” I whispered, hoping that he wouldn’t hear… Hoping that no one would hear.
The Wolf laughed softly to himself.
“Othon, grant them…”
“I always found church boring,” the Wolf growled, gripping me hard by my ass, squeezing me hard. I gasped, blushing, as he pressed his lips to mine, kissing me hard. I all but melted into that kiss, and I hated myself for doing that, for succumbing to his rough, evil charms in front of my parents, in front of everyone, for being so nasty, for having moaned and screamed the things last night that the Wolf had wanted me to scream…
God, why did I give in to him?
Because, that was what was expected of me.
And because I wanted to—I couldn’t forget that most important of parts.
We kissed now, the distant voice of the priest lost to us as our tongues dueled. I’m sure it was gross for my family to watch but I didn’t care…
Eventually, the priest gave up trying to deliver his sermon and perform the rites. He merely declared us married, gave his blessing, and that… Was that.
The Banquet
Then the festivities began. A huge sow had been roasted for the occasion and was laid out on the center of the banquet table, right in front of myself and my… my husband, us, the happy couple—it was laid out, dead and smoking, the decadent and intoxicating scent of its meat filling my nose.
The chef, a talented slave from the northern provinces whom my father had plucked from a tanner’s workshop when he smelled the porridge the poor wretch had constructed out of the detritus of a peasant’s lunch, darted in with a long knife to slice open the sow. Out poured cooked pheasants, stuffing, sausage, and a thick, luxurious cheese sauce that made my head spin.
“Not bad, the way you nobles live,” the Wolf muttered to himself, spearing one of the pheasants with a fork and guiding it to his hungry maw.
“We don’t live like this all the time,” I said with a sigh, picking at the slice of pork the chef graciously loaded onto my plate. “Besides, you’re a noble now… You know.”
“I suppose that’s right—what shall my title be now?” the Wolf declared with a bitter laugh. “Do you hear that? I’m one of you now!”
He roared this at the assembled noblemen and women and courtiers, who smiled politely, struggling to contain their contempt and disgust as he, my husband, emptied another goblet of wine into his hungry mouth. I knew, before long, that I would be the one he would be tasting all over again…
“You’re a Prince Consort, because you’ve no title originally,” I stated, matter of factly. It was a standard part of our education, learning the various ranks and permutations of the table of ranks—how one became a noble, how one fell from the nobility, whose nobility meant what and where…
“Bah. All vanity. Nothing more. There’s no difference between you and your cook there.”
I flushed hotly.
“Well, I would say there’s some difference…” I said curtly. “Dear husband… This is your world now, and you ought to learn how it works. You exchanged the forests for the court and there are rules here.”
“No rules in the forest. No rules in the court, either. If there were, I wouldn’t have been able to fuck you in the ass last night for everyone to hear.”
A jolt of ice cold water passed through my veins. I hated the way he said that and I loved that I hated it—loved the way I hated it, loved the way I hated him.
“Well… Regardless… There are distinct differences… Nobles have been raised to be refined. Our stock is more refined. Education. Refinement. All that. It’s been done… Over many centuries.”
The Wolf rolled his eyes, grinning to a serving boy who had been waiting on him attentively all evening, filling his glass of wine whenever it fell below a certain point.
“Look at this—the same willingness and devotion to service that characterizes you nobles—I find in this humble boy of twelve. Lad, what’s your name?”
The serving boy looked at me with wide, terrified eyes at being addressed directly. I nodded kindly and he relaxed visibly, although only somewhat.
“Timofey, sir.”
“Timofey, what makes you different from my wife, the princess here?” the Wolf asked, slurping down another gulp of wine. Timofey opened and closed his mouth several times in amazement at the question.
“Why, sir… First off… She’s a girl… And I ain’t…”
The Wolf roared with laughter.
“Depending on who gets a hold of you, lad, you may be made into a girl yet… But what else? What makes the nobles different from you and your kind?”
“Why… They’s nobles, sir. That’s all there is to it. They’s educated, they’s refined, they’s got money and breeding.”
“Is there any reason you couldn’t have those things?” the Wolf asked, suddenly deadly serious. The boy shrugged.
“I wasn’t born into them, sir…”
“So? Were you born in those clothes you’re wearing?”
“No, sir.”
“So, why do you put them on?”
“Why… It’s my only matching shirt and pants, sir.”
“But you bought them, you acquired them, they were sown for you—I don’t care how you got them, but you did and now you’ve got them—you wear something you did not before. Is that right?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with anything…” I started to say but the Wolf hushed me.
“So why shouldn’t it be the same with nobility? Why shouldn’t it be the same with money and privilege and refinement and breeding and education—all these meaningless words that you fools insist make a noble, even though none of you can point to any concrete reason as to why all these buttery little swine in here—“ and now he gestured at all the nobility assembled, the courtiers and my father himself—“deserve their position in life.”
“This is treason, what you’re saying…” I scowled.
The Wolf looked at me with a peculiar expression in his eyes. It wasn’t contempt or disdain or lust. It was… Pain? And almost… Compassion?
“You moan like the poorest, most desperate whore when I put my cock in your ass,” he said softly to me, so that, fortunately, only I could hear—the words were not, as far as I could tell, intelligible to the serving boy. “But that does not diminish your moans in my opinion—does not make me desire them any less.”
A flush spread over my face once again and I held out my cup for more wine from the boy.
“More. I’ll need it to get through this night.”
After the Dinner
The dinner ended with a performance of jesters and jugglers. This was my favorite part and even the Wolf seemed to enjoy himself. I found him laughing—actually laughing, genuinely, and not sarcastically, not cruelly, not evilly—for the first time. It shocked me and it delight me and I wanted to cry out with joy when I saw it.
He would grip my thigh, in a salacious way, but not one which I disliked. In fact, I rather enjoyed the way his fingers found their way up my leg, working their way under the
folds of my golden dress, teasing along my inner thigh.
As was our custom, I wore nothing under my dress—no noblewoman wears undergarments when she wears a dress, though I cannot exactly say why that is—practicality, I suppose?—and I shuddered as I felt his fingers getting closer and closer to my bare sex.
“Please…” I whispered desperately, as I realized I was getting wet and I realized that he must know it. “Please, don’t touch me yet… Wait…”
“I cannot wait…” the Wolf muttered. “It’s like asking a drowning man to wait for air, or a starving man to wait for food… You wouldn’t tell a man dying of thirst in the desert that he must wait for water, would you?”
“But you’re none of those things,” I insisted. “So please…”
“I can smell your arousal… You loved this—the way I touch you.”
“Yes… Yes, it’s true…” I murmured, unable to meet his eyes.
“So, why would you want me to stop?”
“Because… Because it’s shameful.”
“Shameful to enjoy your body? Shameful to take pleasure in your body and in the touch of your husband?”
“I…”
I couldn’t bring myself to argue with him. I simply closed my eyes and allowed him to touch me, allowed him to work his fingers up and up and up—closer to my bare cunt.
“That’s it…” he whispered as he glided his fingers over my inner thighs. “This is the territory I’m going to conquer tonight, all over again…”
“Yes…” I whispered. “Please. I’m yours to conquer.”
“I’m going to storm in and violate you…” he whispered.
“Yes…”
“I’m going to do such filthy, nasty things to you…”
I reached down and gripped his wrist as I felt his fingers—those strong, delicious digits—glide over my wet lips. I let out a silent scream of pleasure and then looked around, hoping no one had seen me. Fortunately, everyone was far more focused on the jugglers and the jesters and their imaginary, buffoonish brawl than on the pleasure made legible on my face.
“Please… Please, stop…”
“You don’t want me to stop,” the Wolf muttered, running his finger up and down over my slit. I closed my eyes, trying to control my face, trying to give the impression that I was merely tired and not that I was being molested under the table—but I feared that it wasn’t working.
“No… No, I don’t, but I’m embarrassed…” I whispered, feeling the delicious way my juices lubricated his run over my swollen pussy. “Please, be merciful… I’ll do anything for you tonight, so long as you let me be right now…”
“I’ll make you cum right now,” the Wolf growled. “And you’ll still do anything for me tonight. You’re still in my power and don’t you forget that.”
Now his fingers found my clit, circling it, teasing it. I gasped, which fortunately coincided with a fire-breathing act performed by the jesters, and so my gasp was matched by gasps from everyone else in the banquet hall.
“Yes… That’s it…”
“Please…” I whispered again, grasping his wrist hard.
“Please what?”
“Make me… Make me cum…”
“That’s right. That’s right. Beg me for it.”
“Please… Please, I need it.”
The Wolf just chuckled cruelly, speeding up the motion of his fingers on my clit, teasing it faster and faster, touching me in the way that I loved to be touched the most, tickling my clit, swirling his finger around the hard, swollen nub and sending waves of the most delicious electricity running through my body.
“Please, I’m getting close…” I whispered. “Don’t stop… I need this…”
The serving boy came by to refill my wine and I forced a smile to him.
“Thank you…”
“Do you remember our friend’s name?” the Wolf said, smiling seemingly benignly, though I knew the truth.
“Of course… Timofey… Thank you… Timofey…” I murmured, doing everything I could to keep my face looking normal, to keep from betraying any traces of the exquisite pleasure I was experiencing at that very moment.
“You’re welcome, your ladyship,” Timofey said with a deep bow before starting to step away. But then the Wolf raised his own half empty goblet with the hand that wasn’t already busy between my legs.
“Why don’t you fill me up too, boy? That’s a fine lad—“ the Wolf said with a smile, glancing sideways at me, at my agonized face as he brought me ever closer to orgasm. I forced a smile and then squeezed my eyes shut.
And then, I was cumming. I gripped the seat of my chair hard and closed my eyes as my juices flooded out of my pussy, flooded out of my abused and owned and disciplined sex, covering my dressing, covering the seat of my chair. God, but it was good. God, but I hated him for this.
I hated him for making me cum like this, here, in front of everyone. And no one knew. No one was looking at me—out of pity, perhaps, for the poor princess forced to marry a brute against her will, but what did they know? They were entranced by the tomfoolery in front of them. Who cared what they thought? So entranced, so entertained, that they couldn’t see the real show—the real show which was the silent scream of agony covering my face.
“That’s my good girl,” the Wolf whispered with a devilish grin. “That’s my very good girl.”
Wedding Night
We couldn’t get back to the bedroom fast enough.
“You’ve got me quite ready…” the Wolf growled as he escorted me to our chambers, the gorgeous bridal room made ready by a veritable army of servants.
“Me? You’re the one to blame,” I said teasingly, dropping my hand beneath the skirt of his armor to find the huge length of arousal straining at his woolen trousers. He growled when I touched him and dug his fingers into the flesh of my behind.
“I’m going to make you scream tonight…”
“Been there, done that,” I said, still teasing as I ran my fingers over his length.
We burst into our chambers and without even taking off his armor, the Wolf began to undo his trousers. He dropped them and his massive, hairy length, knot and all, sprang to life.
“On your knees,” he ordered me. “Wife.”
I obeyed, undoing the straps of my dress and letting it fall down to my waist, revealing my perky young noble breasts. The Wolf ran his fingers through my hair as he pulled me close, his cock in my face now.
“You are very ready, aren’t you…” I said, taking hold of his shaft and running my fingers along it, feeling the blood inside, feeling the desire that was pulsing just beneath the barrier of his flesh. “You want me to touch you like this? Do you want me to taste you, my Wolf Lord?”
“Use your mouth,” he growled, forcing my lips to his cock. I gasped, loving the way he dominated me, the way he told me what to do.
“Yes, my Lord…” I whispered as I ran my lips over his shaft. He grunted with desire, his fingers gripping my hair hard.
“That’s it. Lick it. Make love to it.”
“Make love to it, my Lord?” I asked innocently, stroking his shaking with one hand while I played with his thick, ever balls with the other.
“Yes. Make love to it with your mouth. You know how to do that.”
“I’m not sure I do, my Lord…” I whispered. I knelt beneath him, running my tongue over his balls, teasing them, tasting them. “Like this, my Lord?”
I took one of his balls into my mouth, rolling it around with my tongue as I tasted him, tasted the sweat hanging over his flesh—the flavor of desire. My Wolf Lord growled with frustration as I jacked his cock slowly, seemingly unable to decide if he wanted me to keep playing with his balls… Or to move onto the main event.
“No, lick it.”
“Like this, my Wolf Lord?” I asked, still doing my innocent act. I ran my tongue up and down the shaft, again tasting that exquisite delicious sweat of desire as my tongue reached the tip of his cock, reached his bulbous wolfhood’s
tip. I suckled at it, swirling my tongue around and slurping away at it, hungrily, nibbling ever so slightly on my Wolf Lord’s cockhead, on his thick, hungry wolfhead…
“Like this?” I asked, teasing the hole with the tip of my tongue, savoring that sweet and salty flavor of his pre-cum, letting me know exactly how much he wanted to deposit his seed in my mouth…
“Yes… And now, take it inside.”
I closed my eyes and took his cock as deep as I could, feeling it slide past my lips, letting my teeth grace his flesh ever so slightly while it dick invaded my throat. I gagged a little, tears coming to my eyes, but my Wolf Lord’s firm hands on the back of my head let me know that failure was not an option. I would have to take his cock as deep as he wanted—there was no other choice.
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