Shifters, Beasts, and Monsters (55 page)

“You’ve given me no choice,” said Beauty, her voice hard.
“We won’t die here.”

“That’s a good girl,” said the wolf. “Very principled, in
your own way.”

“I do not need your approval,” said Beauty. “Nor do I desire
it.”

“That’s fine, then.” The wolf let go of her hair. “Get on
your hands and knees, whore.”

The word ought to have enraged her – it was certainly
meant to. But instead, Beauty felt a painful throb between her legs. Yes, she
was a whore. And it was her choice to be so. She was a whore to save herself,
her family, and that was exactly what she wanted to be just now. She was not a
delicate flower or a china doll, to be placed gently on a shelf and kept there.
She was a whore. She was wild. She wanted the wolf.

She threw herself onto the ground and presented to him, wet
and quivering, the scent of her arousal thick in the air.

He was on her in a second, his massive rod thrust deep
inside her needy channel without preamble. She shrieked, clawing at the forest
floor. He was larger even than the beast – who stood watching,  quivering
– with anger, Beauty supposed, but even her lust-clouded eye were not
blind to the stiffening of his member as he watched them.

He might no longer wish to be the one defiling her, but he
still wanted to see her defiled.

Triumphant, Beauty threw back her head and moaned aloud,
letting the sensations from the wolf’s massive manhood tear through her and
shake her to the core. It had been so long since she’d felt like this. Every
thrust was so deep it felt endless.

The wolf’s thrusts were getting even harder now, faster with
every second. Beauty could feel her climax twisting inside of her, winding ever
higher, threatening to explode at any second. Her own wetness was spilling out
of her, running down the insides of her thighs. Her inner muscles squeezed as
tightly as they could around his huge girth.

Suddenly, she felt him begin to swell inside of her. He kept
on thrusting until he couldn’t, held tight inside of her by his own member.
Beauty whimpered, feeling stretched beyond her limit. He felt like a fist
inside of her.

“Shhh,” the wolf said, nuzzling the back of her neck.
Gentling her.

Then, he threw back his head and howled.

She distinctly felt each long, hot pulse of his seed
shooting into her, his swollen flesh holding it all inside, so it had nowhere
to go but deeper inside of her. Somehow, it was this feeling that pushed her
over the edge, screaming her ecstasy into the canopy of leaves.

Beauty was barely able to hold herself up anymore, but the
wolf’s hardness did not flag in the least as she sagged beneath him. Finally,
he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto her side, still inside
of her, lying behind her in an obscene embrace.

“It will pass,” he whispered. “It just takes time.”

It felt like an eternity – lying there in Wulfric’s
arms, waiting for her freedom.

“Is it always like this?” she wanted to know.

“Yes,” he said. “To make sure my seed is planted deep. A bit
useless at the moment, I will grant you that.”

Beauty had to smile.

She ached when he was finally able to pull out of her.
Standing on shaky legs, she went back to André and climbed into the saddle.
Wulfric’s seed was sticky on her thighs.

“Very well,” said the wolf. “You may pass, although I still
believe you are on a fool’s errand.”

As they made their way onward, the trees began to grow sparser.
Beauty thought she could see a meadow just beyond, and then the beginnings of
the mountain they must cross.

“You know him?” she asked, finally, hardly expecting a
response.

The beast made a soft noise. “From years and years ago,” he
said. “I knew him first when he was a man. I would have thought he’d have
forgotten me after all this time.”

“He won’t ever forget you now,” said Beauty, smiling into
the distance.

She expected him to be at least a little angry, but he never
even so much as raised his voice to her. At times she felt him looking at her,
but when she turned to meet his gaze he looked away. It was as if he’d perhaps
seen a side of her that he didn’t realize existed, although he was the first
one to awaken it.

As they reached the foothills of the mountains, Beauty could
just begin to make out the small crevasse that was to be their passage through.
She felt a chill run down her spine at the sight, for reasons she could not
imagine.

The shadows were beginning to grow longer. Beauty held her
breath as André first set foot in the pass, her heart beating faster and faster
as the walls came together, the path growing narrower and narrower. Soon she
could no longer tell if the sun was sinking fast, or if the walls were meeting
far above their heads and blocking out all of its light. She lit her lantern
with shaking hands, urging André forward, clicking her tongue soothingly at
him, despite her misgivings.

The beast was silent, watchful, his head snapping to stare
in the direction of every slight noise.

There was a damp smell in the air. André came to an abrupt
halt, hooves scraping on the ground. The beast had stopped too. His nostrils
flared.

Then, Beauty heard it.

Very faintly, off in the distance, there was a strange,
faintly metallic noise. Almost like a chain being dragged across a stone floor.
Beauty looked down, lowering her lantern a little. Indeed, the floor beneath
them appeared to have turned from hard earth to wet stone – this wasn’t a
pass, so much as it was a cave.

The noise became more distinct. Chains. Chains, being
dragged and dragged across the cave floor, growing ever closer to them. Next
came the noise of huge, shuffling feet of whatever was carrying them.

Then, the breathing.

It was close, whatever it was. Beauty’s blood ran cold. She
had a feeling that, whatever this creature was, there would be reasoning with
it, no bargains she could strike. Not like the wolf.

Slowly, a huge, hulking shape came into view.

It was tall and grey, slightly hunched at the neck, with
long, lank hair hanging down either side of its scowling face. In its right
hand, a club was hanging. In its left, there was fold after fold of a long
rusty chain, trailing behind it, so far that Beauty could not see the end.

“Does it speak?” Beauty whispered.

The beast was crouched, ready to pounce. “I never tried.”

The troll was huge – twice the beast’s size, at least,
and armed too. Beauty’s eyes drifted to the scrap the fabric that was slung
around its waist, acting as a loincloth. Perhaps speaking wasn’t necessary
after all.

As it came within a few feet of them, Beauty stepped
forward, facing the troll with her head held high.

He was confused by this, to be sure – his nose
twitching, staring down at her, unsure what to make of being challenged by such
a small, delicate creature. If only he knew.

Beauty smiled, a strange sense of calm descending over her
as she began, once again, to unbutton her dress. The troll was frozen, his
clubbing arm drawn slightly back, as if he’d been preparing himself to strike
until he saw her.

As the dress fell to the cave floor, the troll’s eyes
widened. He grunted, leaning down towards her, struggling to process what he
was seeing. Beauty wondered if there were women of his kind. If he’d ever had a
mate. Would he even understand what she was offering to him?

All the hostility had melted from his expression. He was
looking at her in wonderment. Beauty spread her legs slightly, giving him a
peek at the pink flesh there, nestled under fire-red curls. He reached out with
his chain arm, letting the cold metal drag across her body, draping over her
shoulder and curling up and over, sliding down her chest. Her nipples stiffened
into hard peaks. Beauty closed her eyes and shivered.

He dropped the club with a loud thunk, then reached up and
looped the chain around her neck. The beast growled softly.

Beauty held perfectly still. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt
– not yet. Her womanhood, which she knew ought to have been spent and
aching from the wolf, was aching now in a different way. Seeing the power that
she had over these creatures, how simple it was to bend them to her will, was
more intoxicating than any wine. She needed to feel him lose himself in her,
forgetting everything, forgetting his violent ways and his instinctive need to
guard this cave against all intruders, knowing only the heat and softness of
her body.

The troll grunted, letting go of the chain. It hung freely
on her body now, like some kind of strange adornment. Beauty smiled at him and
stroked the cold metal.

“Thank you,” she said, softly. “It’s lovely.”

He stood there for a moment, looking confused, his hardness
jutting out from under his loincloth. He reached down and grabbed himself with
his hand, stroking up and down roughly. He had utterly no idea what to do with
her. Beauty spread her legs further, using her two fingers to separate her
nether lips, like she did when she was alone in bed, thinking of the beast. The
troll tilted his head, watching her.

Beauty bit her lip, wondering how on earth she could convey
the idea of proper mating to him. Her eyes drifted to his club, lying on the
ground.

The wide end was far too large to fit inside of her, even
after coupling with the wolf, but the other was smaller and looked smooth
enough at the end. Beauty picked it up, lowering herself to the ground, sitting
down carefully on her fallen dress. The cold seeped through the thin fabric
almost immediately, and she shivered as she spread her legs, acutely aware of
the penetrating stares of both the troll and her beast.

The end of the club felt strange, pressing against her. It
was so unlike living flesh, cold and hard and unyielding. She exhaled and
pressed harder, feeling herself loosen and spread open, accepting it. She
couldn’t hold back a moan as the club filled her completely.

The beast was breathing heavily now. She met his eyes; there
was no disapproval there, but his expression was otherwise unreadable. His
member, on the other hand, was long and stiff, curving slightly upwards, making
his true feelings about her performance very clear.

Beauty began slowly moving the club in and out, mimicking
the thrusting motions she was hoping to inspire in the troll. He watched her
with rapt attention, stroking himself faster, but he made no move towards her
or any indication that he understood what she was trying to communicate to him.

Beauty looked at the beast.

“Come here,” she said.

He hesitated, staring at her.

“Please,” she said.

The beast drew close, looking as confused and hesitant as
the troll did. Beauty pulled the club out of her with a wet sound, and set it
aside.

“Show him,” she said to the beast.

And he was on her in a second, deep inside her in a single
thrust, making her cry out. All of the anger and frustrating at his
predicament, at her behavior, at his self-imposed abstinence, punctuated every
thrust.

Overwhelmed by the sensation, by the knowledge that she was
finally getting what she’d been wanting all this time, Beauty moaned aloud with
every breath. She was coming almost before she realized what was happening, a
gush of wetness coming out of where they were joined.

The beast finished with a roar soon afterwards. She could
feel him twitching and pulsating inside of her, all of his pent up desire
releasing itself in massive bursts of his seed.

Beauty looked at the troll. He was dumbfounded, staring at
the two of them like he had never seen anything of the sort in his life –
and it was very likely that he hadn’t.

The beast stepped away.

The troll advanced slowly, gripping his massive rod, staring
at the juncture between Beauty’s thighs as if it was the most complex mystery
he had ever encountered. He dropped heavily to his knees between her spread
legs, leaning down until his swollen cockhead was pressed directly against her
opening. Beauty moaned encouragingly, nudging her hips forward. He slid inside
of her with agonizing slowness, the girth of him stretching her even further
than the wolf’s knot had. Beauty would not have believed it was fitting inside
her so easily, if the proof were not laid out before her very eyes. The look on
his face was amazing to behold: the moment the sensations hit him for the first
time, the heat and wetness of her, the place he was always meant to be. He was
quivering like a newborn calf.

And then, his instincts took control.

He started thrusting into her, hard and deep. He could only
fit halfway before he bumped up against her core, but he seemed not to notice
or care. Beauty felt her pleasure building, low and slow in her stomach, until
her inner muscles clenched around him and she grabbed at the slippery stone
floor. She was making wild noises, but was unable to stop herself, her own
voice echoing back to her in the cave as the troll stilled inside of her. Then,
in a series of small thrusts, he filled her up all over again with massive
bursts of his hot, thick seed. It seemed to go on endlessly, and when he
finally pulled away, Beauty whimpered at the feeling.

Her dress was ruined. As she stood up, Beauty surveyed the
damage – it was filthy and torn, wet from the cave floor, with a large
sticky puddle in the center. Wordlessly, the beast unclipped his cloak from
around his shoulders and laid it over her. It dragged on the ground, but at
least it was enough for her to cover herself.

“Thank you,” she said.

They went on until dark, until they’d passed through the
cave, and slept in the shadow of the mountain. In the morning, as they reached
the foothills, Beauty looked over the horizon and thought she saw the spires of
a great castle somewhere in the distance, far below them.

She urged André on.