Wolves

by W. A. Hoffman

  We did not discuss the future: we could not know it. We made vague and happy jests about surely needing a large cave to house so many baby centaurs—and their mothers.

  The weeks passed, and eventually the air grew cooler. Crossing the ocean in the final leg of our journey proved to be a level of Hell from our perspective. Norman found a westerly wind to push us as fast as the Lilly could sail across the cold northern waters, but it came at the price of a following sea that bounced the sloop continuously. In the hold, with no horizon by which to steady ourselves, we suffered from sea sickness as we had not in many years. When Norman told us they had spotted land on May Twenty-Eighth, we were actually relieved and had little thought for what it meant other than a cessation of the ship getting her arse slapped again and again for nearly a fortnight.

  Once we were sailing in calmer waters down the coast of Wales, the cold night air began to seep into our bones and hearts in equal measure, and dread became our companion. We were bound for Portsmouth, and even with fractious winds we would arrive in a matter of days.

  The day we turned east along the southern English coast, Gaston woke me in the darkest hours of the night. At first my cock and Horse held hope he might wish to tryst—as we had not felt inclined to do in several weeks between the sea sickness and our arrival on this forlorn shore—but then I remembered where we were and the promise of passion was dashed on the rocks.

  “What?” I asked. I could not see him in the darkness.

  “We should talk.” His voice sounded small.

  “Are you well?”

  “Enough,” he sighed. “I have been thinking or what we might face.”

  “Do not,” I whispered.

  “Non, we should talk,” he insisted and kissed my cheek.

  I sighed and moved to embrace him. “What would you have me hear?”

  “You have ever been brave when confronted with pain; and I am too, though it is usually my Horse that bears the worst of it. I do not know how well I will be able to sit Him under that kind of duress.”

  My breath caught as I realized how very close to the bone he wished to speak. I sighed. “My love, I do not know how I will behave this time. If I am tortured as Thorp did, my resolve will crumble. If I must watch you tortured, I will crumble. I do not know how I will bear that. I will likely cry, scream, beg, and act anything but brave.”

  I felt him nod. “Oui, I do not know how I will survive seeing you hurt: it will break my heart, but… There is no shame, my love. There is only one thing you could do—or I could do—that would bring shame to us.”

  “What?” I asked with alarm.

  “We must not forsake one another. No matter what they do, we must not forsake one another. I do not care if it will save my life or end my suffering, please do not forsake me.”

  I took a ragged breath. “I understand. I will not. I did not before…”

  His fingers were on my lips. “I know, and I pray I can be as strong as you in the face of… your pain. I know I can suffer anything for my own ends – at least I have in the past.”

  I kissed his cheek and held him tighter; and allowed myself to think of what my father had wished before and might wish now. “That is what he will wish from me: that I forsake you. And oui, the irony will be that they will most likely use the object of my love to try and break me.”

  “Those are my thoughts,” he breathed. “I know I ask much. It is just that I would rather die—no matter how horrible the death—knowing they did not win.”

  “They will not win,” I assured him with conviction. “And you do not ask anything other than what you deserve—and very likely what the Gods demand. I am forsworn and forsaken in all I hold holy if I renounce you. I will not, even if they tear you to pieces before me, or you are reduced to begging me to do so…” I could not continue for the constriction in my throat. I could not help but imagine that of which I spoke. I buried my face in his neck and sobbed quietly.

  “And I vow the same to you, my love,” he whispered and kissed my hair.

  We arrived at Portsmouth on June Second. Norman once again placed us under guard while the Lilly sat anchored in the harbor for three days. Gaston and I had spoken no more of what we would face, but a pall of doom hung over us all the same. On the night of the Fifth, Norman handed us a bottle of rum and told us we would be delivered tomorrow night. We drank ourselves drunk, tried to make love, failed, and laughed and cried ourselves to sleep. In the morning we nursed our aching heads with water and good food—Norman was indeed treating us like condemned men—and waited. When the Lilly finally moved toward the wharfs, we pissed and shit as we were able. Then we sat holding hands.

  When the ship bumped against the wharf, my stomach roiled and my heart clenched, and I gripped Gaston hard enough to make him wince.

  He looked to me with his Horse rearing in his eyes. “I love you,” he said fiercely.

  “I love you.”

  “I want to fight,” he said.

  I was scared, and months of telling my Horse that we were not to attempt to escape had left Him confused. I knew He would find his feet once rough hands were upon me, though.

  “I do not think we should allow men to abuse us unanswered,” I said. “We are here to see my father, and our battle lies with him. I do not wish to turn the other cheek to common dogs my father has hired. Do you see the matter differently?”

  “Non,” he said firmly. Then he sighed. “But we should not seek to abuse them. They are only doing what they have been told. If they choose to take glee in our discomfort, however, then oui, they must be taught a lesson.”

  I found thin humor in our justifications. “We will give our Horses some rein then, oui?”

  “Oui.” He chuckled weakly.

  We heard Norman welcome someone aboard, and then there were high, black, ornate boots descending the stairs. I recognized him before he doffed his hat and turned into the light to regard us. My heart clutched painfully and I was rendered mute. I could only crush Gaston’s hand.

  “Well, look at you two: such hair,” Thorp said with a mock grimace. “You look like Puritans—or Jews.” He grinned at our expressions. “What? Surprised to see me? Did you think I drowned?”

  “Non,” Gaston said with insouciance that surprised me. “We are amazed Will’s father still employs the incompetent. I would think the frigate would have been an expensive lesson for him.”

  I pulled my gaze from the hated bastard and fixed it on my matelot with gratitude. I found him calm and alert, with just a touch of his Horse. He would have to be my anchor in this. I was drifting into the maelstrom just seeing Thorp. I prayed to the Gods Gaston could be my anchor.

  “Lovely,” Thorp said with a touch of annoyance. “When you are not growling and thrashing about, you think you share your lover’s wit. Have them both gagged and bound.”

  I heard Norman snort. “Do it yourself. They already cost me six men.”

  “Wonderful,” Thorp said.

  “Unless your men engage in petty cruelty, we have no quarrel with them,” Gaston said. “We are here to meet with Will’s father.”

  Thorp laughed. “Oh my…” He ascended the stairs.

  Norman paused before following him: his eyes on us. “Godspeed,” he said quietly.

  “And to you,” Gaston said.

  Then my matelot’s mouth was on mine with great fervor before Norman had finished ascending the steps. His plunder threw me into confusion, but it pushed the fear away for a moment. I met his earnest gaze when he released me.

  “He was stupid and arrogant when he abused you, oui?” Gaston asked. “I recall that from your accounts.”

  I shook my head helplessly. I could not think.

  “When he took you, he did it alone, oui?”

  I nodded tightly.

  “Good, then he will be easy to kill.”

  I blinked.

  “The Gods sent us here to meet your father, and we will not fight their will; but Thorp is another matter.”

&nb
sp; I took a deep breath. “So we will seek to kill him—despite…” I asked hopefully.

  “Oui, we have vowed to do so. I cannot see where the Gods cannot honor that considering the bastard’s unwarranted abuse of you.”

  My Horse was happy with this news, but afraid. “I want to kill him; but my love, he scares me so.”

  “I know. You must trust me.”

  I nodded.

  “You must let him pull your strings.”

  The idea filled me with dread and revulsion. There were boots on the deck again.

  “Will, trick him into giving us an opening,” Gaston said with a gleam in his eyes. “Do it for me.”

  I could deny him nothing, but this was… I took a deep breath and nodded as Thorp returned with four men who regarded us and the cramped quarters with trepidation.

  “’Ow do ya want us ta do this, sir?” the oldest man of the bunch asked.

  Thorp shook his head with annoyance. “Bind their ankles, and then their wrists, and then bind their arms to their sides. Gag them. Then remove the chains.”

  Gaston scooted forward and put his legs out with his ankles together. He crossed his wrists in his lap. Then he looked at me expectantly. I did the same. I had already had to extend one leg when he moved.

  “Don’t trust them,” Thorp warned his men.

  “We are far more trustworthy than he is,” Gaston assured them.

  They seemed torn between pillar and post, but at last the older man crept forward and tied my ankles together quite carefully. Emboldened, one of the others did the same with Gaston. Soon we were trussed like two sacks of grain and they were carrying us out of our home of three months and into the chilly night air. I closed my eyes: I did not want to see the curious or pitying looks of Norman’s crew, nor did I wish to witness being dangled over the water as they got me onto the wharf. We were finally dumped side by side on our backs in the bed of a wagon. I opened my eyes and found Gaston’s calm green ones regarding me with love in the lantern light. I sighed around my gag and watched the stars drift by overhead as we clattered through cobblestone streets.

  I expected us to leave the city; but instead, the wagon slowed and maneuvered, backed up, and then the stars were eclipsed by a high, beamed ceiling. We were pulled out and deposited in the straw of a large, box horse stall. I glimpsed crates and barrels stacked along the walls at the edge of the candlelight as we were moved. I guessed us to be in a warehouse. I wondered why the Gods felt the need to add straw and the smell of horses to my duress.

  “’Ow will we go about bathin’, shavin’ and dressin’ ’em if they be so dangerous?” the older man asked.

  Thorp had entered the stall and now stood looking down at us. “Very carefully,” he chortled. “We have an advantage: neither of them will wish to see the other harmed; or most likely attempt to escape alone. So we will do them one at a time, with a gun at the other’s head.”

  “But…” the man said. “That be Lord Marsdale, correct, an’ ’Is Lordship said…”

  Thorp glared at him. “Shut your hole.” He squatted beside me. “Lord Marsdale knows I am capable of harming him without marring him if I wish.” He ran a hand up my thigh to my crotch and cupped my member.

  I fought the urge to scream in the gag.

  “Mister Thorp!” the old man protested. “’Is Lordship said there were to be none o’…”

  “Shut up, Carmichael!” Thorp growled and tightened his hold on my cock.

  This was what Gaston wanted. I closed my eyes and willed my cock to rise. It regarded me with incredulity—as did my Horse. Even my Wolf stood slack-jawed.

  Thorp caressed a little and then merely hovered. “But nay, this did not like me as much as I liked the rest of you. Perhaps your lover…”

  I bucked my crotch against his hand. I did not open my eyes to see his expression as he returned to cajoling my reluctant member. He would see my revulsion and the game would be off if I did.

  I could not imagine it was Gaston touching me, but I could imagine my man standing there with the cruel gleam of his Horse in his eyes, watching me squirm as the knots in my soul tightened. My Horse and cock understood that. And once my member was on the rise, any touch, even Thorp’s, felt good enough to continue.

  “My, my,” he whispered. “I am flattered. Nay, amazed.”

  I kept my eyes closed and forced myself to groan a little with pleasure; being careful not to overact lest he suspect something.

  “Oh, and you do not like this one bit,” Thorp crowed.

  I turned my head and looked to Gaston. He was glaring at Thorp with murder in his eyes.

  Chortling, Thorp stood and walked to the stall doorway. He pushed the gaping and offended Carmichael out and closed the door, telling him, “Go have a drink at the tavern – all of you.”

  I glanced back at Gaston. He winked at me. I wanted to kiss him as I never had before.

  “This is a wrong thing,” Carmichael was saying.

  “Aye, it is. It is horrible of me. I am the worst sort of man. Aye, aye,” Thorp said with an insolent shrug. “But if you tell anyone, you will be without employment, and I might tell His Lordship things about you that will lose your house as well. Who will he believe?”

  I heard receding footsteps. Thorp waited to see them leave before turning back to us.

  “Now how shall I do this?” he asked as he came to gloat over us. “I definitely want you naked, both of you. Hmmm… And I think, ah, aye, that will do. I can’t have either of you feeling lonely while I attend to the other.”

  He slipped out of the stall.

  I looked to Gaston and found him grinning around his gag. I was greatly amused. We were very bad men, and Thorp was indeed very stupid when aroused.

  Our quarry returned with a satchel. From it he produced a fine, large, carved-ivory dildo and a crock of grease. I understood well why any man with our predilections carried grease, but I still wished to ask him why he carried a damn dildo. I recalled the assortment of them he had on the ship and I suppressed a shudder. My fear crept back: what if we could not get him before he got us?

  He set the dildo on the straw between us, looking from one to the other of us to see our expressions when we saw it. Gaston feigned concern at the sight, which amused Thorp and he gave a gleeful grin and hurried off again. When he was gone, Gaston met my gaze and flicked his eyes at the dildo with a frown of befuddlement. Despite my growing fear, I had to suppress a chortle. I shrugged as best I could, and my matelot chuckled.

  Thorp returned with a heavy, double horse yoke. He dropped it on the floor above our heads, and Gaston and I recoiled with surprise at the resonant thud in such close proximity to our skulls. Then Thorp was squatting over me. He rolled me toward Gaston and onto my belly.

  “Now,” Thorp said eagerly. “We will not be stupid, will we? I am going to release the rope about your chest, and you are going to work your arms up over your head until you touch that yoke. If you struggle, I shall hit you until you are stunned, and then when you wake, I will cut on him as your punishment. Do you understand?”

  I nodded and kept my eyes on Gaston. He was alert and not scared. I strived to be the same.

  Thorp untied the rope that held my arms at my sides, and I pulled them up my body. Once I had my bound wrists even with my chin, he pressed his knee between my shoulder blades to pin me. I finished extending my arms and touched the yoke. Squatting on my head, he began to tie the length of rope he had removed from around my arms to the rope about my wrists.

  With a great show of growling, Gaston began to squirm and roll away.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Thorp said, and stood. He kicked down hard between my shoulders, driving the breath from me, and then he went to retrieve Gaston.

  I sucked air into my lungs in a great gasp and pushed to my knees. Gaston spun and knocked Thorp off his feet and onto his back. Despite the straw, there was a solid thud as the bastard’s head struck the floor. He cursed and blinked and reached for a knife at his belt. Gaston
dove atop him, but with his arms bound at his sides, he was no more than an impeding worm.

  I needed a weapon. I supposed I could strangle him with the rope around my wrists. Then I spied the dildo. I grabbed it in both hands and bucked my way across the floor to throw myself on Thorp. I planned to hit him with it, but he opened his mouth to yell and I jammed the dildo there instead. He let out a muffled roar and I pushed the phallus deeper while struggling to get some of my weight across his body and still maintain leverage with my bound arms. Then my world was reduced to his bucking and struggling beneath our weight as I pushed the pole down his throat, seeking to either strangle him or break his spine. I prayed he had not pulled the knife; and I expected to feel it in my side or hear Gaston grunt in pain at any moment. Mere inches from mine, Thorp’s eyes were wild and terrified, and increasingly distended. He made muffled roaring sounds. His hands began to claw at me and I stopped worrying about the knife.

  “What the bloody ’ell?” came from the doorway.

  I looked over and found Carmichael and two of the other men standing there with weapons drawn. Thorp reached toward them with a shaking hand. They stood transfixed.

  I kept pushing. If we could at least kill Thorp, I did not care what they might do to us.

  Thorp stopped bucking and his hands dropped to clutch feebly at the straw. Then even that ceased and the light left his eyes. Finally, he became still and limp.

  I released my desperate grip on the dildo and rolled off the body. Gaston regarded me with relief and satisfaction. I pulled the gag from my mouth and looked to the men. We could not defend ourselves from the three of them even if I pulled one of Thorp’s knives; and he had left his pistols and sword hanging by the stall door—behind the men. My Horse was panicked and wished to trample another enemy. I summoned my Wolf.

  “Stand down, we mean you no harm,” I said with authority.